Georgia and the Bird

on October 2 | in Poetry, Thinking Out Loud | by | with No Comments


“One day a hummingbird flew in–It fluttered against the window til I got it down where I could reach it with an open umbrella–

–When I had it in my hand it was so small I couldn’t believe I had it–but I could feel the intense life–so intense and so tiny–

…You were like the hummingbird to me… And I am rather inclined to feel that you and I know the best part of one another without spending much time together–

–It is not that I fear the knowing–It is that I am at this moment willing to let you be what you are to me–it is beautiful and pure and very intensely alive.”

― Georgia O’Keeffe

I can only guess for whom O’Keeffe wrote this.  (I only know her work, and little snippets about her life.)  And I once saw a video of her as an old lady scrambling over her favorite hills in New Mexico.  But the quote speaks to my daily pondering, for my play LUNA, on the “anatomy” of family.  The real “stuff” of parent/child, child/parent includes much letting go, much savoring of tiny gifts of a moment here, a moment there.

Another of her quotes could have come from my mother’s lips in a rare glimpse of her inner workings:  “I’m frightened all the time. But I never let it stop me. Never!”

And this could be me talking to my son, but really coaching myself:  “Making your unknown known is the important thing.”

Speaking of inspiring birds, the photograph for this post is my image for the cover of Frank Wallace’s new composition for solo guitar, White Albatross, soon to be released on Gyre.

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