Both of these thoughts reminded me of this poem I found last week.
The Thing Is (Ellen Bass)
to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weighs you down like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
This peace is not still. Full of noise and prayer. I like to imagine holding life and all its catalysts, the building up and the tearing down, like a face between two palms and saying I will love you, again. And again. And again.
Happy New Year to all