From the blog:
about a handful of stones
a small stone is a polished moment of paying proper attention. A shiny new stone will be published here every day.
The metaphor is to poetry: a stone is short poem, or poem-like observation of life. It is an expression of the practice of being absolutely alive, in this moment of being alive life. The selection of poems is exceptionally fine, and I recommend this blog highly.
I here thank Fiona Robyn, the blog's owner, for rekindling my love of the small poem. There was a time when I wrote them regularly, but life's busy-ness has kept me from the practice for many years. Today, on this Remembrance Day, with Fiona's blog-prod, I re-visited my small small poem collection. It was a pleasure to see my successes and failures, and to discover that I was even less prolific than I'd remembered. And it was an even greater pleasure to revision/revise some of them, now that decades have drifted by.
But in so doing have I not failed to respect the intent of 'being absolutely alive in this moment of life' by remembering past moments?! Sigh! More philosophical puffery! How can I be in the moment reading poems of yesterday? Well, how can I not be alive in the moment of writing what I am writing? Answer me that! In re-writing them, I felt completely alive in the moment.
Of course, I was doing this instead of what I was supposed to be doing — which was writing course material for the continuing education course that, I learned yesterday, had been accepted by the school district for their winter calendar. I will be teaching 'Economics Demystified' — assuming I get enough students to take the class, of course.
I began this blog to publish, publicly, one of my 'polished stones,' in order to break my fushigi bender — although another one popped up last night, that I will be blogging anon. But, in this moment:
From seven rings
Multijeweled,
With practiced fingers
Multihued,
Carefully, gracefully
She extricates
the white
glove
fluff.
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