Kissing: Can it reboot the soul?
Think of things that disappear . . .
writes poet Naomi Shibab Nye
Things evanescent as infancy, childhood, youth,
a glass of wine,
a kiss.
Think of beings, or moments, that blend in so well we seldom notice them.
You might miss a person, or a pet, whose company you’ve cherished. Perhaps they’re gone now, or changed in some essential way.
You might miss what once defined normal days. Time and circumstance have dumped your files, deleted your template. (Feels that way at our place.)
Biologically alive, like the Greek word, Bios, we’re living, breathing, functioning, coping. Even laughing.
But fully alive?
Fleeting recognition
Centuries ago, William Blake, another poet wrote:
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise
What is “kissing the joy as it flies” if not delighting in the mundane?
“‘Delight‘ is a word that might scare people,” a friend of mine once wrote. “If I heard it in a disengaged conversation in a crowded room, it would probably snap my head around.”
After reading my last post, he (gently) re-sent me his essay. (A friend notices when we lose touch with “kissing the joy as it flies.”)
My friend spoke about “the person who has made a conscious decision to not only find more joy in her own life, but to make her zest available to others, while not jamming it down their throats.”
Recognition flared in me, charged as air after a lightning strike. Point (gratefully) taken.
Puckered up
Into our humdrum, getting-it-done, daily mindsets a small recognition arrives, freighted with meaning. We feel lucky, even rich, having brushed up against Beauty.
Pause, exhale, savor each tiny, once-in-a-blue-moon event.
Zoe, the Greeks call this: vital, abundant, eternal aliveness.
(Poet Nye again:)
Think of what you love best,
what brings tears into your eyes.
Something that said adios to you
before you knew what it meant
or how long it was for.
Last weekend a soap bubble at our grandson’s birthday party kissed my imagination awake: another invitation to Zoe.
. . . Lessons following lessons,
like silence following sound.*
More kissing
The kissing theme re-appeared when I recently read a poem for Seattle NPR: “Maple Grove” describes a kiss (Read, or listen, here, or below.) A year ago, the poem languished in my Compost File. Time plus distance revealed the gap; then, something to fill it.
Poet Nye seconds this observation:
“I have always loved the gaps, the spaces between things, as much as the things. I love staring, pondering, mulling, puttering. I love the times when someone or something is late—there’s that rich possibility of noticing more, in the meantime . . .
“Poetry calls us to pause. There is so much we overlook, while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.”
Absorb today’s abundance, I tell myself—before it disappears.
What joy is flying past you this week? Might it want to grow into something more?
*”Adios,” by Naomi Shibab Nye
“Eternity,” by William Blake
“Maple Grove,” by Laurie Klein
“There is so much we overlook ( like a tiny bubble on a sleeve!), while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.” With you I want to absorb each day’s abundance that God so graciously endows. Last month I started a new section in a notebook journal: A Celebration of Small Things. Each day I’m trying record an observation or experience worth noting. So far so good! Monday I was feeding turtles with my brother and sister-in-law at Shady Grove (a creekside restaurant in Austin, TX). Lush foliage provided the backdrop, sunlight played off the water ripples, a gentle breeze kept us cool. We savored the delights of such a perfect afternoon, and since the event is now recorded, I’ll be able to enjoy it again .
and again. Thank you, Laurie, for your inspiration that has helped me see more of the abundance!
Nancy, that sounds like a perfect day. Moving at the luxurious pace of the turtles, drinking in the atmosphere and excellent company.
I love your journal idea. I often describe a meal or lodgings in detail in my journal because I find when I re-read the entry, even years later, my senses reawaken to the memory and even the emotion of the experience (really helpful for writing, too!). Whoever said “God is in the details” had nailed it. 🙂
Laurie, you did it again. Your words burrowed into my soul & then lifted longing out into the fresh air. Tears falling, even.
I read this post a day or two ago & knew I needed to read it again–when I had time to savor the words.
Thank you for letting our LORD speak through you.
As per Emily Freeman’s words, I know I need to pay attention to what brings tesrs.
Dear Carol, your words today are now nesting in my soul, lifting it in spite of dark skies and rain. Thank you for not only reading but returning, savoring. Listening for God. And letting me know.
I admire Emily Freeman and join you in saying yes to the unbidden tears that ambush us. I want to think more about this. So grateful for your response today.
your words always bring joy and a smile to my face….like a kiss from a bubble pipe. Thank you for being a person who exudes joy and never ever makes one feel like it’s getting shoved down one’s throat.
Oh, I love this: “like a kiss from a bubble pipe.” Thank YOU, dear Jody!
Laurie, do you take the photos which illustrate (so beautifully!) your blog?
Lynn, yes. And thank you. The camera helps me “see”—in the moment, and afterward, too, when words find me.
You are amazingly gifted. These are utterly stunning. I can’t seem to capture anything but my thumb on my Android! What talent you have with images and words that paint them!
Plenty of thumb shots for me, too. 🙂
After reading such undulating, fizzing, effervescent words, I am moved to say thank you, but to remark that your work is perfectly wonderful, sounds cloddish and simple. Please know, from my soul, I am entirely smitten with your poetry and essays. 😘
Pacia, what a wonderful gift to me on this rainy-again morning. Thank you. When I try to imagine all you juggle on a given day, I feel such gratitude you read my stuff. You’ve put some fizz into my step today!
😘
I was just telling my husband about you and your work, Laurie, and what I joy it is to see your essays in my inbox, though they are less frequent than some (and I would love to see more of yours. 🙂 ) Yet, perhaps this anticipation of something so beautiful makes me appreciate them all the more. I love that Blake quote and used it in my book. And I love your emphasis on its kissiness. 🙂 Rather than mentioning the kiss, I had emphasized the notion that we can’t clutch at joy and try to hold it, imprisoned. But we can fully appreciate it as it comes and then flies on. I love thinking about gaps, too, and minding them. Oh and rests…. those beautiful, pregnant pauses in music where, while the singers or musicians pause, the music actually continues. The beat goes on and the conductor keeps conducting. And oh the richness of re-entering and taking up our joyful place in the score once more. Kisses, pauses, beats, all evanescent in their own way, but all joy producing. I’m so glad you showed up, Laurie, leaving a email kiss for me to enjoy! 🙂 May the Lord continue to bless and kiss your work as it flies through cyberspace gracing all who read and savor it!
Love
Lynn
My dear Lynn, you are an encourager extraordinaire, and I the grateful beneficiary of your gift today. I love the way you see patterns and so eloquently highlight them here. “Kisses, pauses, beats . . .all evanescent in their own way, but all joy producing . . . ” and then the “email kiss . . . ” and the work now doing a little flying of its own because God extends its life like a blown kiss— a thought I’ll return to again and again. Feeling rich, indeed!
Love this!! A blown kiss! Oh that all of us might blow kisses rather than landing blows w/ our words! You make me see in such beautiful, new ways, Laurie. Thank you!!
I’ve been trying to teach my grandson to blow me a kiss when I leave—my favorite way to make a grace-filled exit. 🙂