Moving Forward With the Past
Last night I dug out a box full of old notebooks, journals, and paper scraps looking for a particular poem I wrote many years ago. I found the poem in question but I also found some surprising things that I didn't even remember writing. I'm going to approach that box of writing with curiosity and a grateful heart for the old me who wrote it all down.
The following poem was one of the ones that started coming to me, seemingly out of nowhere, and I ran to write it down. I still remember jotting it down on the little desk next to the window in our yellow walled living room as the afternoon sun poured in. Most of it was pure flow but then I did tinker with it a bit and two years after the initial writing I re-wrote the fifth stanza. In reality, this didn't come out of nowhere because it came at a time when I was starting to question some of my hedonistic behaviour. It was a very fun and exciting time in my life when I was on fire academically, socially, artistically, romantically, sexually. But I could sense there was something missing. Spoiler alert: I crashed big time the next year.
I'm revisiting it today because I think there is a lesson or at least a reminder here for myself as I begin to engage more and more with the outside world again. I've been in a cocoon built in a time of motherhood, recovery, and grief. But I must engage with the world and I want to do it in a meaningful way and with a sense of connection. What's more, I deserve it.
My apologies to Epicurus, whose name was wrongfully, yet intentionally, dragged through the mud.
Epicurean Dream
My bed is lined in silk
my pillow filled with down
At night I watch the stars
in a red velvet gown
The sunlight dances here
with leaves upon the ground
While music ever plays
the joyful chords resound
I walk on plush carpet
in lemon scented halls
I receive only friends
the taxman never calls
At meals I eat rich food
and drink the finest wine
Only lift a finger
for petals on a vine
I'm with you freely now
strict vows remain unsaid
This is the game we play
This, what stands in love's stead
World built on pure delight
I could not tire of this
Constant, steady, and stale
unvacillating bliss
-written in 2001 and revised in 2003
PS: I changed one word again in that 5th stanza today and I think it's better.
The following poem was one of the ones that started coming to me, seemingly out of nowhere, and I ran to write it down. I still remember jotting it down on the little desk next to the window in our yellow walled living room as the afternoon sun poured in. Most of it was pure flow but then I did tinker with it a bit and two years after the initial writing I re-wrote the fifth stanza. In reality, this didn't come out of nowhere because it came at a time when I was starting to question some of my hedonistic behaviour. It was a very fun and exciting time in my life when I was on fire academically, socially, artistically, romantically, sexually. But I could sense there was something missing. Spoiler alert: I crashed big time the next year.
I'm revisiting it today because I think there is a lesson or at least a reminder here for myself as I begin to engage more and more with the outside world again. I've been in a cocoon built in a time of motherhood, recovery, and grief. But I must engage with the world and I want to do it in a meaningful way and with a sense of connection. What's more, I deserve it.
My apologies to Epicurus, whose name was wrongfully, yet intentionally, dragged through the mud.
Epicurean Dream
My bed is lined in silk
my pillow filled with down
At night I watch the stars
in a red velvet gown
The sunlight dances here
with leaves upon the ground
While music ever plays
the joyful chords resound
I walk on plush carpet
in lemon scented halls
I receive only friends
the taxman never calls
At meals I eat rich food
and drink the finest wine
Only lift a finger
for petals on a vine
I'm with you freely now
strict vows remain unsaid
This is the game we play
This, what stands in love's stead
World built on pure delight
I could not tire of this
Constant, steady, and stale
unvacillating bliss
-written in 2001 and revised in 2003
PS: I changed one word again in that 5th stanza today and I think it's better.
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