Distance and Treasure

Last week I shared a poem in class called "Threshold" by Tony Hoagland. It is an older poem, from the book Sweet Ruin. It begins with a detailed description of an old woman in a grocery store--providing the reader with two easily relatable images. When the poem moves to mortality and a consciousness of time, it becomes a celebration as well as an awareness. I love the idea that reminders tap me on the shoulder, brush up against me in the subway, send me letters in shaky handwriting. How many days and hours pass blindly? When I have time, I realize that life can move at a slower pace. Within that slowdown is the necessary awareness for creativity. I don't relish returning to the pace I have created for myself. Sometimes I marvel at people who seem overwhelmed doing more than one thing in one day. While I appreciate being able to multi-task, it comes at a price. Staying with an idea until its nuance and potential emerges takes patience. The rewards are many--a fully realized perception or piece of art, the satisfaction of following through, the wonder. All around me, colors merge into a giant panorama. I hear water trickling over rocks, see the play of light changing. It's all there. Today I am here watching.