Thursday, July 7, 2011

succulence

Back in 1999, when I was in training to be a Peace Corps volunteer, I met this beautiful group of women (Sam, Heather, (me) Katie & Jamie). We spent a LOT of time driving around pulchritudinous Guatemala in a tiny minivan, going from site to site to learn about our new program, our new country, our new language and most righteously, each other.

Sam was our resident poet and was always reading us poems she loved and poems she wrote. She could make the shabby spectacular with her Mary Poppins bag of magic. Within minutes of arriving to a dungy, dark hotel room she would have it transformed by hanging her tie dyed sarongs onto the wall, pulling out and lighting candles, and usually she had a hidden box of wine and some cups for sharing. 

One book she always had with her was The Bodacious Book of Succulence by Sark.
I had completely forgotten about Sark's books until recently (looking @ this site) so I of course clicked on over to my lovely library catalog and put it in the queue.

Here's something Sam would have (and probably did) read to us:

We Are Succulent!
We are succulent with our shredded fantasies, 
our Unread Books, 
our misguided perfectionism, 
our hiding in bed eating rows of cookies, 
or neurotically running to and away from things.
We are succulent
Just like this.
Just the way we are Now.
Our mysteries, our insanities, our relentless self-improvement programs are all pieces of succulence.
We are succulent.
Half finished, in process, eyes swollen from crying and denying our weaknesses.
We are this.
We are succulent.
How odd. It can feel like there is so much to Do.
The tending of all of our parts becomes full time, seeing to block out spontaneous moondances and playing bingo naked.
We must continue to celebrate the moon...it softens all our edges.
We lie in our beds, hoping for enough sleep to repeat the Do-Do of yesterday.
We are propelled from our beds into a 
B U S Y life.
Yet the real succulence occurs in the gaps, the in-betweens, the unexpected moments of luxury in our souls.
It is the unplanned life, the being truly alive in each moment.
WHATEVER that moment might contain.
All that we do NOT do is succulent also.
Just to be a human bean
is the ultimate bodacious succulent act!

Last week I watched Ani DiFranco on the Artist's Den and love, love, super love the song she wrote about her daughter:

lately i've been glaring into mirrors
picking myself apart
you'd think at my age i'd of thought
of something better to do
than making security into a full-time job
making security into art
and i fear my life will be over
and i will have never lived it better
always glaring into mirrors
mad i don't look better

but now here is this tiny baby
and they say she looks just like me
and she is smiling at me
with that present infant glee
and yes i will defend
to the ends of the earth
her perfect right to be here

so i'm beginning to see some problems
with the on going work of my mind
and i've got myself a new mantra
it says: "don't forget to have a good time"
don't let the sellers of stuff in power enough
to rob you of your grace
love is all over the place

there's nothing wrong with your face
love is all over the place
there's nothing wrong with your face

lately i've been glaring into mirrors
picking myself apart 










love is all over the place:)

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