the panther by Rilke

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Various Portents

By Alice Oswald

Various stars. Various kings.

Various sunsets, signs, cursory insights.

Many minute attentions, many knowledgeable watchers,

Much cold, much overbearing darkness.

Various long midwinter Glooms.

Various Solitary and Terrible Stars.

Many Frosty Nights, many previously Unseen Sky-flowers.

Many people setting out (some of them kings) all clutching at stars.

More than one North Star, more than one South Star.

Several billion elliptical galaxies, bubble nebulae, binary systems,

Various dust lanes, various routes through varying thicknesses of Dark,

Many tunnels into deep space, minds going back and forth.

Many visions, many digitally enhanced heavens,

All kinds of glistenings being gathered into telescopes:

Fireworks, gasworks, white-streaked works of Dusk,

Works of wonder and/or water, snowflakes, stars of frost . . .

Various dazed astronomers dilating their eyes,

Various astronauts setting out into laughterless earthlessness,

Various 5,000-year-old moon maps,

Various blindmen feeling across the heavens in braille.

Various gods making beautiful works in bronze,

Brooches, crowns, triangles, cups and chains,

And all sorts of drystone stars put together without mortar.

Many Wisemen remarking the irregular weather.

Many exile energies, many low-voiced followers,

Watches of wisp of various glowing spindles,

Soothsayers, hunters in the High Country of the Zodiac,

Seafarers tossing, tied to a star . . .

Various people coming home (some of them kings). Various headlights.

Two or three children standing or sitting on the low wall.

Various winds, the Sea Wind, the sound-laden Winds of Evening

Blowing the stars towards them, bringing snow.

in winter's deepest night

Triumphant in man’s deepest soul
Lives the Spirit of the Sun;
Quickened forces, set astir,
Awake the feelings to His presence
In the inner winter life.
Hope, impulse of the heart,
Beholds the Spirit victory of the Sun
In the blessed Light of Christmas,
The sign of highest life
In the winter’s deepest night.

Rudolf Steiner.

The Golden Tunnel

I am in the Golden Tunnel today. Great to be back. Everything is holy in the Golden Tunnel. Everything is happy. Love is all around. So is Light.

Various Portents

By Alice Oswald

Various stars. Various kings.

Various sunsets, signs, cursory insights.

Many minute attentions, many knowledgeable watchers,

Much cold, much overbearing darkness.

Various long midwinter Glooms.

Various Solitary and Terrible Stars.

Many Frosty Nights, many previously Unseen Sky-flowers.

Many people setting out (some of them kings) all clutching at stars.

More than one North Star, more than one South Star.

Several billion elliptical galaxies, bubble nebulae, binary systems,

Various dust lanes, various routes through varying thicknesses of Dark,

Many tunnels into deep space, minds going back and forth.

Many visions, many digitally enhanced heavens,

All kinds of glistenings being gathered into telescopes:

Fireworks, gasworks, white-streaked works of Dusk,

Works of wonder and/or water, snowflakes, stars of frost . . .

Various dazed astronomers dilating their eyes,

Various astronauts setting out into laughterless earthlessness,

Various 5,000-year-old moon maps,

Various blindmen feeling across the heavens in braille.

Various gods making beautiful works in bronze,

Brooches, crowns, triangles, cups and chains,

And all sorts of drystone stars put together without mortar.

Many Wisemen remarking the irregular weather.

Many exile energies, many low-voiced followers,

Watches of wisp of various glowing spindles,

Soothsayers, hunters in the High Country of the Zodiac,

Seafarers tossing, tied to a star . . .

Various people coming home (some of them kings). Various headlights.

Two or three children standing or sitting on the low wall.

Various winds, the Sea Wind, the sound-laden Winds of Evening

Blowing the stars towards them, bringing snow.

remembering my childhood thrill over Xmas trees

the berlin wall

The Berlin Wall fell, I think, in 1989. Katie was seven. I don't remember paying much attention to the event but Katie must have heard about it at school. While Christmas shopping, for Xmas 89 or 90, we came upon a display in Dayton's Department Store: they were selling chunks of the Berlin Wall for $9.95. It was like a pet rock only with a putative historical significance. I don't remember how but the opportunity to own a piece of history captured Katie's fancy. She wanted to buy one for her dad for Christmas.

I tried to discourage her. I swear. I knew, instantly, that he-who-shall-not-be-named would think I was making a commentary, comparing our divorce to the falling of the Berlin Wall.

And he did. He was furious about that piece of the wall.

Katie was oblivious to any possible undertones in that hunk of the wall. She thought she was giving her dad a piece of history. She thought it was thrilling

The wisteria are in bloom again. . .

I lived in the Upper Midwest,  until I moved to the West Coast in 2002. I've been in CA since 2006.

I don't think wisteria thrives in the very hard frost of MN winters.

At my first CA swimming pool, one of my favorite parts of that pool experience was the walk home. I walked there on one route and walked home on another. My walk home took me through a private apartment complex, a very nice one, probably an expensive one. It has a long trellis that became completely drapped with luxuriously verdant wisteria.  I liked that walk all year round but when the wisteria were in bloom, I'd walk up and down under the archway from which hung dense wisteria.

Here in Berkeley, there is always a lot of wisteria. Wisteria must like cool, misty climates. Fog!

There is an Oakland public library on College Avenue that is fronted with many trellises. Right now, the wisteria is (are?) overflowing on those trellises.

When I lived in Seattle, I lived on the northernmost boundary of the city. I lived on 145th Street, which is where Seattle ended. Across the street from my building was a suburb. It was a poor, shabby part of Seattle, plus remote from everything anyone would want to do in Seattle. With just one bus line that snaked through north Seattle, then through the University of Washington campus and then snaked back up north on the other side of the city. It took forever to go anywhere on that bus.

I came up with self entertainment. I decided early on that all the front yards that I had many hours to view on the always slow bus were 'my garden'. I tried to memorize the gardens and then savor how they changed with the seasons.  It turned out to be a surprisingly satisfying expeirence. I came to quite love trees, shrubs, perennial gardens.  My point is that I paid a lot of attention to flowers in Seattle and I don't remember seeing huge plantings of hanging wisteria. Not anywhere there.

So I am wondering:  where else does wisteria thrive as it does here? I bet wisteria really likes the foggy, misty air of the bay.