PRAISE FOR PRAISE

1.

(a grandpa having fun – and being serious – with words)

This is a day for praise,

because wherever I turn my gaze

I see the soft and steady rays

of kindness shining, and the blaze

of sweet-tempered friendship. Yes, today I raise

my voice in mighty praise

of the million million ways

the universe continues to amaze

me, the way it always

 stays

so full of love that evil doesn’t faze

it, not at all, for always

there is love, and all days

are days

for praise.   

2.

(about Sharon Z., 78, Blessings, CT)

When she was 56, she decided to stop criticizing

and, instead, to simply praise. She started expressing

appreciation for almost everything, applauding

each particular hour, paying tribute to small

or spectacular events. She now speaks highly

 of even rainstorms and disappointments,

for she knows that wisdom of some sort waits inside them.

She even sings the praises of loss and sorrow,

since they can often create superior understanding.

She pats every single day on the back,

and takes her hat off to every moment,

hailing the arrival of 12:00 

and 12:01 

and 12:02 

and so on.

* * * * *

Yesterday, we took another strenuous (for me) walk up and down some fairly steep hills in Lenox, and luckily the views of majestic mountains in the distance made the walk almost a pure pleasure. The big event, though, was Aaron's arrival after lunch for a two-day visit. We almost immediately drove over to the Shakespeare and Company theater for a wonderful performance of "Intimate Apparel", an inspired play about the experiences of black people in 1905 New York City. I loved it, start to finish. 

* * * * *

This morning, we took our bikes over to the rail trail in Cheshire for a long (20.5 mile) ride in shade and sunshine. It was great fun for me to ride among serene hills and along lovely lakes with such good friends. I was totally drained at the end of the ride, but so happy we did it! 

* Cia and Hammy with a  new friend *

* an unusual way of stacking wood *

* a table in Lenox, built on a tree stump *

* the end of "Intimate Apparel",
performed in the lobby after the theater lost power *

* three bicycling pals *

Tonight we attended another marvelous dance performance at Jacob's Pillow. As we sat in a cooling summer wind and looked out at a smooth range of Berkshire hills in the distance, on stage the dancers leaped and swirled and swung in astonishing ways. Among other things, it made me think of writing, and the way good writers make words leap and swirl and swing. Thanks to Cia for organizing this evening for us!