Catalog your luminous debris
I
believe that the ordinary objects and small, private rituals of daily life,
sometimes poignant, sometimes so commonplace as to be overlooked, are sacred
and elegant. – Anthony
Ulinski
What of the stuff of our
lives?
responsibilities
and airplane flights and speeches and deadlines and interviews and, and, and,
will make us more important?
What is the appropriate behavior for a man or a woman in the midst of this world, where each person is clinging to his piece of debris? Where debris is our title or our stuff or our impressively complicated calendar? What’s the proper salutation between people as they pass each other in this flood?
Perhaps the ordinary
objects and small, private rituals of daily life are sacred and elegant.
Perhaps they are the buoys that buoy us in that flood.
Or perhaps the love of
ordinary objects and the stuff of our daily lives is what Billy Collins was
talking about when he wrote Consolation.
My thanks to Rick for
reminding me of that poem. Perhaps my urge toward the simplicity of a table
with a coffee cup is embedded in another of his poems:
more than this one,
an ordinary night at the kitchen table,
floral wallpaper pressing in,
white cabinets full of glass,
the telephone silent,
a pen tilted back in my hand?
It gives me time to think
about all that is going on outside--
leaves gathering in corners,
lichen greening the high grey rocks,
while over the dunes the world sails on,
huge, ocean-going, history bubbling in its wake.
But beyond this table
there is nothing that I need,
not even a job that would allow me to row to work,
or a coffee-colored Aston Martin DB4
with cracked green leather seats.
No, it's all here,
the clear ovals of a glass of water,
a small crate of oranges, a book on Stalin,
not to mention the odd snarling fish
in a frame on the wall,
and the way these three candles--
each a different height--
are singing in perfect harmony.
So forgive me
if I lower my head now and listen
to the short bass candle as he takes a solo
while my heart
thrums under my shirt--
frog at the edge of a pond--
and my thoughts fly off to a province
made of one enormous sky
and about a million empty branches.
-Billy Collins
It seems fairly obvious
that he is writing these poems just for me. For me to say, "enough." To say, "no, it's all here."
Enough. Draw the outline of a small 2”x2”
square on a piece of paper or on a roll of a child’s art paper. A manageable,
consistent size. Each day, draw a new square. And create something on one of
these squares every day to remind you of your day—it
can be a portrait of a simple object you love. It can be a record of your day,
how you felt, the color of that day for you—in collage or pencil or paints. It
can be a short poem or a quote or a solid block of color. It can be anything
you want it to be. It's a small size; you can do this. Perhaps it is a painting of an ambrosia apple every day for
two weeks until you really see it. Create one every
day for a year. That’s what life is.
Sometimes I've thought of my sketchblog as a mapmaking project, as a cartography of everyday life, unrolling along the journey and noting the tiny landmarks en route.
Thanks for offering the phrase, "luminous debris," I love it.
Posted by: Elizabeth Perry | 03 February 2008 at 12:58
I've long believed life is made more of the little moments than the attention-grabbing highlights. And that in each of those miniscule moments there are richness and ritual and communion with the divine. It's just hard to remember that sometimes, but when I do, well, that's when magic happens.
Posted by: deirdre | 03 February 2008 at 13:23
I agree to a huge extent. I've also noticed that people do what they hate a job then get stuck in it due to the treats they buy them selves for being somewhere they hate... get out of it totally stop doing the thing you hate. As a friend says 'too much of what you don't need will never be enough'
BUT ! I'd rather buy the organic carrot the free range egg and the fairtrade coffee than just the cheapest. What we do buy we should have care of who toiled to make it what impact it will have after us...
Posted by: m | 03 February 2008 at 18:12
oh and can I recommend Tom Hodgkinsons' book 'How to be Free'
and also how much I love libraries... all the books without having to buy them all
Posted by: m | 03 February 2008 at 18:13
I did it! It wasn't hard at all. yay!
Posted by: Caren | 03 February 2008 at 19:21
I knew this reminded me of something from when my oldest was a preschooler -
http://tinyurl.com/22lqny - click on "One Square Inch"
One Square Inch - where you cut out a one inch square and really notice what you see when you look at something through it. Slightly different than drawing in a two-inch square, but still about noticing.
Posted by: Caren | 04 February 2008 at 09:19
What a wonderful essay ... your words are powerful reminders about the sacred moments of life. I've passed along "A Roar for Powerful Words" award to you over at my site. http://janepoe.blogspot.com/2008/02/walking-poetry.html
Peace & love,
JP/deb
Posted by: JanePoe (aka Deborah) | 04 February 2008 at 10:04
It is such a sad state of affairs to see how many people in America have taken to spelling "self esteem" with two dollar signs.
I can't claim immunity to those urges to become important by buying something expensive, but this morning I felt the pure, simple, honest joy friends bring to one when they remember his birthday. Just that gift of remembering proves that I really do exist in the hearts of others, not just in the computers of the companies with whom I have an account.
Such a simple pleasure, and yet I am still smiling.
I'll be listening for the bass candle. His solo is bound to happen soon.
Thanks, Patti!
Posted by: Rick | 04 February 2008 at 11:33
I love Anthony Ulinski's joyous palette. Thank you!
Posted by: ruby | 04 February 2008 at 13:52
I take pictures of my daughter virtually every day. Today, it was a picture of her and an ice cream cone. Yesterday it was a picture of her leaving the house 'with her purse' since Mommy always carries hers. The day before it was a picture of her on her sit and spin that she's finally figured out how to use. THESE are the moments worth treasuring--not just her professional glossy 2 year old pictures or her 45 trillion pictures of her birthday party (which I do have and cherish, but still). She says, "Bless you" every time I sneeze. I love it.
That's not to say I'm not materialistic. I am. I like 'stuff'. But in the end, it's all 'stuff' like you said. My favorite thing right now is my mug that I drink my tea out of. It has a silly picture of my daughter and I on it, and it's for that picture, that I love it.
But I don't need more 'stuff'.
Posted by: Becky | 04 February 2008 at 15:10
I suppose I would have gotten much more from this post had I not immediately wanted to find out how to own one of Anthony Ulinski's gorgeous pieces of art.
Posted by: Miss G. Marshall | 04 February 2008 at 17:33
beautiful post! i just wrote about it on my blog.
Posted by: leah | 04 February 2008 at 17:54
Simplicity is a beautiful thing. I like the 2 x 2 square challenge; it makes us stop for a moment and amidst the chaos, focus on what really mattered for the day! =)
Posted by: Joy K | 05 February 2008 at 00:26
Oh, this is a deep post that I just love. I'm coming from Creative Everyday... reminds me of the small 'moments' I posted about on my blog a couple of days ago. We've GOT to capture them!!! I may share this on my blog very soon as well!!! Ohhh, so good!
Posted by: PJ | 05 February 2008 at 09:40
Beautiful, Patti. I recently wrote a short poem about our everyday stuff...from a little different angle. I'm sometimes surprised by the quotidian stuff I come across when I reach deep into a cupboard or drawer...
http://marilyn.typepad.com/moojo_cafe/2008/01/listen.html
And I recently used one of my all-time favorite Patti posts to write this... ;)
http://marilyn.typepad.com/moojo_cafe/2008/01/desire.html
Posted by: Marilyn | 05 February 2008 at 10:05