“I declared my high intention to be free
I cut myself shaving”
~From The Flame by Leonard Cohen
Two lines of poetry that describe the human dilemma of being both bound and free, both man and God, both ideal and actual description.
This war of the corona virus that we are waging will not be won with words. Nevertheless, words will arise as both men and women succumb.
My hair is too long but I dare not drive to the salon to get it cut. I dare not let the maids come in to clean the house. And all of these measures we are taking may or may not hold up against the evil enemy.
This feels like poetry, this tug of war between life and death. Right now death seems to be winning; the stakes are high.
The heroes and heroines are thrust into the blood never ready to handle the disastrous display of death.
And I sit here typing words to be read by a handful of people that are self-quarantining with a great sense of meaning.
I have lost to death twice; I welcome life in any form it comes. And the brave are up to their eyeballs in sorrow and bereft of solace.
I followed Leonard Cohen to Amsterdam to hear him sing one last time there. He was stooped and frail and elegant in his dying days.
He sat on the porch at Tremaine and scribbled into his precious notebook. Then only he was dying, not the whole damned earth.
I write these lines for Leonard:
You who knew the final truth and shared it all without a bow.
Your music sings its fragile note; I always hear it now.
Vicki Woodyard
Thank you, Vicki. I loved Leonard Cohen, still play his The Future album often.
Just read this prayer by Max Erhman. Made me cry.
Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair overcome me, may I not forget the strength that comforted me in the desolation of other times.
May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of a quiet river, when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God to have courage amid the tempests of the changing years.
Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded moments. May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit.
Though the world knows me not, may my thoughts and actions be such as shall keep me friendly with myself.
Lift up my eyes from the earth, and let me not forget the uses of the stars. Forbid that I should judge others lest I condemn myself.
Let me not follow the clamor of the world, but walk calmly in my path.
Give me a few friends who will love me for what I am; and keep ever burning before my vagrant steps the kindly light of hope.
And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life, and for time’s olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening’s twilight find me gentle still.
I love the Max Erhman quote that you sent. Believe it or not, I fall asleep to Leonard’s music every night. I never tire of it. So many of us in our hearts call him Master.
Ps. I wacked off my own hair this morning, had to get it out of my way. Who cares what I look like? I won’t look in the mirror!
💕👋
Send us a picture. I dare you!