Saturday, November 1, 2008


And now, November

All down through literary time, poets have turned to the seasons of the year as the perfect metaphor for life. Who could blame them? With innocent lambs frolicking in new green meadows, what could Springtime be but a crystalline illustration of youth? The juicy ripe abundance that is Summer is such an obvious representation of mankind at the peak of his power, it seems almost prosaic to draw the parallel. And now, November...when the clocks are turned back and the days become shorter. If one follows the poet’s well-trod path, this is to be a month of gathering in, of reaping what has been sown, of thoughtful contemplation of what has gone before and preparation for the colder days to come. I have always considered November the more serious of all the months; when conclusions are drawn, decisions are made and, if one is fortunate, contentment settles round the bones like down. It seems much more temperate of spirit than May or September, certainly. It is fitting, therefore, that we as a country make a most momentous choice every four years in November. Fitting also, that at the end of this reflective month, we observe a day of Thanksgiving for the gift of the year past.

No matter what month we happen to be in as we move through our year, November is always there, on everyone’s calendar, with his hands folded under his chin, patiently awaiting our arrival. In all the days of all our months may we endeavor to sow kindness and compassion so that we may reap contentment, thoughtfulness and tolerance so that we may reap wisdom, and love so that we may reap more love.
And may this November be a thankful one indeed.
I for one am thankful for this amazing poem from my favorite poet,
Mary Oliver.

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.


Painting Above by Atkinson Grimshaw


28 comments:

  1. I love your atmospheric pictures. Is that another Atkinson Grimshaw?
    I am from the North of England so those scenes are familiar to me. I used to go to school in the town but now I live in the country so my Novembers are less built upthan they used to be.

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  2. Beautiful poem..it really moved me.."and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
    and I consider eternity as another possibility"...this will stay with me..Thank you..

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  3. The moment I saw it, I thought Atkinson Grimshaw.
    He absolutely OWNS damp autumnal streets.
    So evocative and lovely.
    (So says the art. hist. major!)
    your blog is always a treat.

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  4. I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
    or full of argument.


    Yes.

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  5. Me, too! At the end I want to be able to say to myself I enjoyed the journey!

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  6. I love Mary Oliver too, I had not read this one and it brought a tear to my eye.

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  7. Fascinating poem. I hope its a long long time before the iceberg hits either of us between the shoulder blades, and alas, no matter how we spend our time here on earth, we are, at most, only visitors. We enter through one door but our stay is not eternal. One day, sans any luggage, we must depart.

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  8. I love your sentiments about November, but the poem really hit me.

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  9. Interesting post and well written. As for the poem, I expect to be stepping into the light and not the dark though.

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  10. I love the poem you posted particularly the lines: When it's over, I want to say: all my life
    I was a bride married to amazement.

    While fall is such a pretty season it has always seemed so sad to me because it reminds me that the dark and cold is coming and then the earth turns brown. I try to focus on things like quilts, fireplaces and lots of candles in crystal candle holders. These things bring the light and warmth to make it through the dark of winter.

    A wonderful post.

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  11. You have a beautiful blog, both visually and verbally. My four-legged brood and I will be back to visit you and Edward often. We found you via Boulderneigh.

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  12. lovely photo and poem, especailly the ending, i like Mary Oliver's work a lot. I like your thoughts about November too.

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  13. "a bride married to amazement".....I love that part. Mary Oliver is one of my favourite poets. Beautiful painting too.

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  14. It's very difficult to write anything after one of your very eloquent pieces of writing, yours is a hard act to follow! I loved both your prose and the poem, you never fail to amaze me.

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  15. Your post has awakened an epiphany for me, Pamela. I have not read Mary Oliver before and in doing so, and enjoying it much, I am overwhelmed by the awareness that there are so many other poets and poems that I have yet to experience and perhaps never will. It fills me with exhilaration to know this, but also saddens me since I can not hope to accomplish all that my mind would truly wish. I could weep.
    November is the perfect metaphor for this eternal struggle.

    Kat

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  16. November is a lovely month, but it brings American Expats one of the bittersweetest of all missed US holidays--Thanksgiving. Yes, we have a little celebration here, but we dearly miss our extended family.

    Such a beautiful painting and thought-provoking verse.

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  17. Lovely poem. Not read that before and loved your picture as well. Very atmospheric indeed!

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  18. Beautiful poem and great picture! I enjoyed this. ♥ ∞

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  19. Beautiful poem and painting. November is when you know Winter isn't far off -it's bite is in the wind. For me it is a busy month preparing presents for Christmas, snug inside out of the rain and wind. An in-betweeny month where Bonfire Night (5th) happens and after that it's all about looking towards christmas.

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  20. I think I may have said it before - if I haven't I have meant to - that your prose borders on prose-poetry - and often, as here, steps across the border. The poem and the images all play a part, but the writing is exceptional - and rarer than the other elements. A fine post.

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  21. Wonderful, wonderful writing. Thank you for sharing both your words and those of Mary Oliver. I leave your post moved into contemplative silence!

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  22. I love the Grimshaw painting, the poem, your article - all very pleasing reading on a dull November day here in UK.

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  23. Hi Pamela! That is another Mary Oliver poem that I love....so perfect for November as the days shorten and the winter beckons.

    Exciting day tomorrow!

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  24. I love the picture of November waiting with its 'hands folded under its chin' - exactly!

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  25. You've made me see November in a completely new light -- the stunning photo, the poem -- it's a much more beautiful time than at first thought . . .

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  26. Lovely. Although I can't believe it is November alreday! :-P

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I love to read your comments! Each and every one! Though I'm always reading your comments, I may not respond in the comment section. If you want to write me directly, you may do so at pamela@pamelaterry.net. Thank you for reading!