Simple Pleasures

Before the Throne of Beauty

/ James Browning

mother-natureOne heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth.

I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul – my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness.

I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing the firmament when an hour, wearing a sprig of grapevine that covered part of her naked body, and a wreath of poppies about her golden hair, suddenly appeared to me. As she realized my astonishment, she greeted me saying, “Fear me not; I am the Nymph of the Jungle.”

“How can beauty like yours be committed to live in this place? Please tell me who you are, and whence you come?” I asked. She sat gracefully on the green grass and responded, “I am the symbol of nature! I am the ever virgin your forefathers worshipped, and to my honor they erected shrines and temples…” And I dared say, “But those temples and shrines were laid waste and the bones of my adoring ancestors became a part of the earth; nothing was left to commemorate their goddess save a pitiful few and the forgotten pages in the book of history.”

She replied, “Some goddesses live in the lives of their worshippers and die in their deaths, while some live an eternal and infinite life. My life is sustained by the world of beauty which you will see where ever you rest your eyes, and this beauty is nature itself; it is the beginning of the shepherds joy among the hills, and a villagers happiness in the fields, and the pleasure of the awe filled tribes between the mountains and the plains. This Beauty promotes the wise into the throne the truth.”

Then I said, “Beauty is a terrible power!” And she retorted, “Human beings fear all things, even yourselves. You fear heaven, the source of spiritual peace; you fear nature, the haven of rest and tranquility; you fear the God of goodness and accuse him of anger, while he is full of love and mercy.”

After a deep silence, mingled with sweet dreams, I asked, “Speak to me of that beauty which the people interpret and define, each one according to his own conception; I have seen her honored and worshipped in different ways and manners.”

She answered, “Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive. When you meet Beauty, you feel that the hands deep within your inner self are stretched forth to bring her into the domain of your heart. It is the magnificence combined of sorrow and joy; it is the Unseen which you see, and the Vague which you understand, and the Mute which you hear – it is the Holy of Holies that begins in yourself and ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination.”

Then the Nymph of the Jungle approached me and laid her scented hands upon my eyes. And as she withdrew, I found me alone in the valley. When I returned to the city, whose turbulence no longer vexed me, I repeated her words: “Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.” “Before the Throne of Beauty XXVI” by Kahlil Gibran

Kahlil Gibran’s work has been deeply meaningful to me since my introduction to it back in my “hippie days” in the 70’s. More than most things, his words have stayed with me, inspired me, taught me and helped me through my most difficult times. I am grateful to Gibran for his writing that has brought me a better understanding of my sorrows and joys, has made the unseen seeable, has allowed the vague to be more understandable and allowed what is silent to be known.

Beauty is eternity
gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity
and you are the mirror.
Kahlil Gibran

Image by Tusi Roy

A Powerful Elixir

/ James Browning

nightfall_by_nelleke-d4yt7swThere comes a time in life when you have to let go of all the pointless drama, and people who create it… And surround yourself with the people who make you laugh so hard… That you forget the bad, and focus solely on good. After all life is too short to be anything but happy. Justice Cabral

Happiness flight 01

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin–real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. Alfred D. Souza

shutterstock_1610167

gratitude for life;
gratitude for good health;
gratitude for my education;
gratitude for the car I drive;
gratitude for the home I live in;
gratitude for the spiritual sense within;
gratitude for my friends and loved ones;
gratitude for a curious and seeking mind;
gratitude for the sun that rose this morning;
gratitude for the abundance and plenty in my life,
gratitude for the inspiration to write my thoughts down;
gratitude for knowledge and wisdom left behind by others.

All this and so much more I am thankful for. Writing down a simple list of twelve things I feel gratitude for this morning helps me embrace the day with enhanced appreciation. Taking a moment to say “thank you” is a powerful elixir.

God gave us the gift of life;
it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.
Voltaire

Great Wealth of Life

/ James Browning

daffodil-bill-wakeleyGrab  your imagination hat and put on your best fantasy shoes.
Dress up in daydreams and set your mind on make-believe.
Then come along with me in a delicate journey of words arranged to inspire.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
“I, Wander’d Lonely as a Cloud”
by William Wordsworth

memories dock EDITOld favorite memories are treasures carried invisibly inside. There is no one who has the same ones stored away as I do. My memories are mine and mine alone to keep as long as my mind works enough to recall them. The dearest ones don’t fade. Those memories grow more vivid over time, embellished perhaps, but more beautiful just the same.

Just as Wordsworth later remembered seeing “ten thousand daffodils” by a lake when he laid on his couch and daydreamed, I have my own cherished reminiscences. Memories are the great wealth of life. To realize that while I am not too old to remember them is something to be grateful for!

If you have true gratitude,
it will express itself automatically.
It will be visible in your eyes,
around your being, in your aura.
It is like the fragrance of a flower.
In most cases if there is a beautiful flower,
the fragrance will be there naturally.
The flower and its fragrance cannot be separated.
Sri Chinmoy

Too Much Work and Not Enough Play

/ James Browning

rudolphEleven days off work has turned out to be one of the best experiences I have had in ages. Once again I am reminded that too much work and not enough play dulls my senses and washes the color from my life.  In the spirit of that statement I have taken the liberty of re-posting today from a Christmas past.

Originally Posted on December 22, 2011

Yesterday day at work I recited to someone an alternate version of a favorite Christmas song he had never heard.  With it fresh on my mind, I tried it out on two others who it turned out had never heard it as well.  So today it is getting shared here for the “betterment of posterity”.

I have no exact memory of how old I was, but my favorite uncle taught me this alternate version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” when I was still in elementary school.  It took him teaching me on and off for a full weekend before all the words were indelibly stamped in my brain where they have remained now for fifty years.  Here goes:

Randolph, the bow-legged cowboy
Had a very shiny gun
And if you ever saw it
You would turn about and run.

All of the other cowboys
Used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Randolph
Join in any poker games.

Then one day the bank was robbed
And sheriff came to say
“Randolph with your gun so bright
Won’t you guide my posse tonight?”

Then all the cowgirls loved him
As they shouted out with glee
Randolph the bow-legged cowboy
You’ll go down in history!

There are many alternate versions of Christmas carols and poetry of the season, but none I enjoy more than this slightly twisted version of “Twas the Night before Christmas”.  It is a reminder of what the season is truly about.

Tis the month before Christmas, we’re all going nuts;
With so much to do, there are no ifs, ands or buts.
Buy presents, hang tree lights, pop cards in the mail,
Send gift packs, thread popcorn, find turkeys on sale.

Decorations need stringing up all through the house.
And you haven’t a clue what to buy for your spouse.
School concerts, receptions, open houses with friends,
Long lineups, short tempers, tying up the loose ends.

With all our mad dashing, we’re reeling from shock;
Let’s stop for a minute and really take stock.
It’s crassly commercial, the cynical say;
If that’s true, that our fault… it’s us and not they.

Take time for yourself-though hard as that seems—
Enjoy your kids’ laughter, excitement and dreams.
Take a moment out now, don’t get overly riled,
Instead make an angel in snow with your child.

The shortbread can wait, and so can the tree;
What’s important to feel is a child’s sense of glee.
The holidays aren’t about push, rush and shove;
They’re for friendship and sharing and family love.

Hear the bells, feel the warmth, light up with the glow
Of a message first sent to us so long ago:
Peace, love and goodwill, and hope burning bright.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Now is the time of heightened goodwill, of giving, of loving one and all.  It is a time of celebration of children; the ones we adults used to be, the ones we brought into the world and the one who was born in a manger over two thousand years ago.

Aldous Huxley wrote:  Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted.  Without doubt that phrase was abundantly true about me during much of my life.  This year I have more Christmas spirit than I probably have ever had and the reason is two-fold and simple:  I have more love in my life than ever before and my gratitude for living is at an all time high and growing.

I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.
Charles Dickens

Yes, Santa Claus, There IS a Virginia

/ James Browning

Originally Posted here one year ago on December 20, 2011

Yesterday found here was the well-known “Yes,Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” editorial from 1897.  Thank you for all the positive feedback on reprinting it on the goodmorninggratitude.com blog!

Today this blog features a follow-up piece written a hundred and twelve years after Virginia wrote her famous letter.   From a blog Fortune Magazine’s Stanley Bing writes each day called Bing’s Blog comes ” Yes, Santa Claus, there IS a Virginia”.

“DEAR BLOGGER: I am very old and live at the North Pole. All of my little friends up here say that there is no Virginia any more. Mrs. Claus says that if I see it on the your website, it’s so. Please tell me the truth: Is there a Virginia? Signed, Chris (Santa) Claus, 115 Workshop Way, North Pole.

Monday, December 21, 2009 at 11:35 am
Chris,
Your little friends are wrong. They have been consuming too much media, and have been infected by the material that gains the most attention there. They do not believe that which doesn’t rise to the top of the search stack or get the highest ratings 18-49. They think that nothing exists but that which is measured by hits, twitters and chatter, or makes its way by other means to the top of our collective mind.

You see, Chris, in this world of ours, all attention spans, be they those of children or of adults, are very tiny, very short, and very, very fragile. As we make our way through the vast cloud of information, entertainment, opinion, music, random noise and other forms of auditory, visual, and intellectual stimulation, each human being is a minuscule atom, a quark within the boundless physical and virtual universe that surrounds us. None of us can grasp the total picture.

Yes, SANTA CLAUS, there is a Virginia. She still exists as certainly as love and hope and childhood exist inside every person, as you know they do, shining unaided within each of us and lighting our way to true peace and joy that transcends this time and place.

Good Lord! How gray the world would be if there were no Virginia. It would be as gray as if there were no Santa Claus! There would be no song, no poetry, no rhythm to our existence beyond that which we can do and see and want and buy. The eternal childhood that makes our lives have meaning would be extinguished. Not believe in Virginia! You might as well not believe in quantum physics!

Can you find her? Perhaps not by looking with your eyes. You might get your elves to scour the brick-and-mortar malls and online destinations, chat rooms and Facebook pages from one end of the world to the other on Christmas Eve to catch her, but even if they did not see her hanging out in one random location or another, what would that prove? Nobody sees Virginia, but that doesn’t mean she’s not out there.

Did you ever see an aura? Of course not, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have one. Or karma? Can it be measured? Certainly not. But still it shapes the length and color of our days. How about the Higgs boson? Talk to 1,000 scientists from here to CERN and not one will disbelieve in it, and yet nobody can find a single one, even with a trillion-dollar accelerator.

There is a firewall between us and the unseen world. Only love, kindness, understanding, and simplicity can lift that veil. And in the end, amid all the noise and haste, what lies beyond is really all that matters, all that has ever mattered. No Virginia? Thank God, she lives, Santa, and she always will. Ten thousand years from now, when we have evolved into strange, unrecognizable amalgams of organic material and cybernetic wetware, she will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Through the traditions of Christmas my life has known great joy as a child and then shared with my son as a little one.  I am grateful for spirit of Santa Claus and all the children like Virginia who have believed in him.  Certainly Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Christ, but it is also a celebration of all children, every where, of all times.

Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories
and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year
for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.
Laura Ingalls Wilder

Find Bing’s original blog post here:  http://stanleybing.blogs.fortune.cnn.com/2009/12/21/yes-santa-claus-there-is-a-virginia/

The Day Before The Day Before Thanksgiving

/ James Browning

Today, tomorrow and Thursday/Thanksgiving Day GoodMorningGratitude.com will feature a favorite poem about the holiday. I feel gratefulness year round more than I have ever, but never as acutely as I do right now. I know this stretch of holidays from now until after first of the year will be a truly special time.

“Thanksgiving” by Edgar A. Guest
Gettin’ together to smile an’ rejoice,
An’ eatin’ an’ laughin’ with folks of your choice;
An’ kissin’ the girls an’ declarin’ that they
Are growin’ more beautiful day after day;
Chattin’ an’ braggin’ a bit with the men,
Buildin’ the old family circle again;
Livin’ the wholesome an’ old-fashioned cheer,
Just for awhile at the end of the year.

Greetings fly fast as we crowd through the door
And under the old roof we gather once more
Just as we did when the youngsters were small;
Mother’s a little bit grayer, that’s all.
Father’s a little bit older, but still
Ready to romp an’ to laugh with a will.
Here we are back at the table again
Tellin’ our stories as women an’ men.

Bowed are our heads for a moment in prayer;
Oh, but we’re grateful an’ glad to be there.
Home from the east land an’ home from the west,
Home with the folks that are dearest an’ best.
Out of the sham of the cities afar
We’ve come for a time to be just what we are.
Here we can talk of ourselves an’ be frank,
Forgettin’ position an’ station an’ rank.

Give me the end of the year an’ its fun
When most of the plannin’ an’ toilin’ is done;
Bring all the wanderers home to the nest,
Let me sit down with the ones I love best,
Hear the old voices still ringin’ with song,
See the old faces unblemished by wrong,
See the old table with all of its chairs
An’ I’ll put soul in my Thanksgivin’ prayers.

With a spirit of thankfulness and a sense of year round gratitude, I wish you peace that lasts, love that endures and the sense to appreciate them.

The very quality of your life, whether you love it or hate it,
is based upon how thankful you are toward God.
It is one’s attitude that determines whether life
unfolds into a place of blessedness or wretchedness.
Indeed, looking at the same rose-bush,
some people complain that the roses have thorns
while others rejoice that some thorns come with roses.
It all depends on your perspective.
Francis Frangipane

A Song to My Soul

/ James Browning

One of my habits near an addiction level is used books. I have my nose in a book just about every day. My interests have changed over time and rarely do I read anything but non-fiction. Reading to learn and explore has become my driving force and somewhere along the way I picked up a love of poetry. Old or new, if it rhymes with good meter a poem often feels like a song being sung to my soul when I read it.

Used books stores are favorite places and when visiting a city it’s a special treat to visit one of the local stores stocking previously owned books. My favorite in the town where I live is a huge, cluttered and rambling place called “Gardner’s”. The store is not just enjoyable, it is a sort of refuge for me. If I am feeling down, going there is always a pick me up whether I buy something or not. That’s the reason for a late afternoon visit yesterday.

It’s particularly meaningful when I read an inscription a person wrote in a book given as a gift. Other times I find interesting clipped articles that may or may not have anything to do with the subject of the book. Bookmarks left in an old book sometimes present food for thought. Then once in a while I’ll come across family photos and feel a little sad that the images have been separated from the loved ones where they belong. Always before there has been no information on any such photos so I could attempt to return them; at least until yesterday.

On my desk before me are the four photos at the top of this blog. My favorite is the one of the two elementary school children. The others help me to know what they grew up to be. The boy became a military man and the girl became a care giver.

The only date indicated is the bottom middle photo: May 2001. That means the top center photo of brother and sister is from somewhere around the late 70’s, maybe early 80’s. The top center photo has info on back I hope will allow me to return to where they belong: “Nici & Travis Unser, Colo. Spgs, Return to Lynn Unser”.

For all the slams the internet may receive, there are many benefits such as looking up strangers from just a little information (assuming it is done with good intentions such as mine). Here’s what I found that I believe relates to the Unser’s:

Nici and Travis’s father is Al Unser, who retired not long ago as CEO of the Greater Tulsa Association of Realtors. Travis graduated from Bishop Kelly High School in 1996, and in 2000 graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Civil Engineering from The Citadel in Charleston, S.C.. In late 2008 he came home from serving his third tour in Iraq as a Naval Aviator with the U.S. Marine Corps. Nici (Nicole) lives in Dallas and is a Neonatal ICU nurse for Baylor University Medical Center. “Nici” was recognized as Nurse of the Year in her unit, and has been nominated for the Dallas’ Great 100 Nurses award. She is a 1993 graduate of Bishop Kelly High School and a 1997 graduate of Baylor University. Here’s the photo that accompanied this info.

With further digging I discovered that Mother, Mary Lynnn Unser, passed away in June of 2007 in Tulsa. Since the little kids photo was back inscribed “Return to Lynn Unser” I feel especially compelled to get these photos back to her family. I am certain the inscription is in her hand.

In the grand scheme it’s not a big deal if I am successful in returning the photographs. Only a small act of kindness will have been accomplished. As emotion wells within, I hope I succeed but realize that the doing of the self assigned task will benefit me most. It is in making a different; in doing little things to make the world slightly better for having been here that are meaningful to me. I am grateful to have grown into my skin over the years to be a gently caring man to whom something like this would matter.

There is overwhelming evidence
that the higher the level of self-esteem,
the more likely one will be to treat others
with respect, kindness, and generosity.
Nathaniel Branden

Namaste, Have a Nice Day, Good Morning

/ James Browning

“Namaste” is a word I hear quite frequently these days, usually from someone who’s taking yoga or Ti Chi classes. I tend to be around “spiritual seekers” of one kind or another a lot and know the word seems to always be spoken positively in the context of a blessing and good wish. I got curious about what “Namaste” really means.

Namaste, is a common spoken valediction or salutation originating from the Indian subcontinent. It is a customary greeting when individuals meet, and a valediction upon their parting. A non-contact form of salutation is traditionally preferred in India and Namaste is the most common form of such a salutation.

When spoken to another person, it is commonly accompanied by a slight bow made with hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointed upwards, in front of the chest.. Wikipedia

Namaste, when simply put, means ‘I bow to you’. It is a respectful salutation and is used as a courtesy greeting. When two people greet each other with a Namaste, it is an act of recognizing the presence of divinity in the other as it is in oneself. Therefore, Namaste is a not just a greeting but a reminder that a higher Spirit resides in you as it does in me. So, an alternative definition for Namaste would be ‘I honor the Spirit in you which is also in me’. This definition is attributed to author Kabir Chopra in the book ‘Buddha: A Story of Enlightenment’ by Deepak Chopra.

Namaste also has another meaning. The ‘NA’ in Namaste signifies a negation; ‘MA’ means ‘mine’ and ‘TE’ as mentioned earlier means ‘you’. When put together, it simply means ‘not mine but yours’. Thus, saying Namaste is a subtle way of giving up one’s ego and surrendering to the Supreme Spirit that is recognized to be present in the other person. http://voices.yahoo.com/

In coming to know the true meaning of Namaste it seems similar to “bless you” frequently heard in western countries. My curiously continued pushing me toward the roots of this expression as well. What I found was the term “bless you” actually comes from an ancient superstition that a person who sneezes might actually sneeze their soul out of their body. Ok, how about “have a nice day”?

Some say “have a nice day” itself first appeared in the 1948 film “A Letter to Three Wives”. According to Roland Dickison of California State University “have a good day” first appeared in Geoffrey Chaucer’s 1387 “The Canterbury Tales”.

What about “Good Morning”? As we use it started as a greeting, “have a good morning” with a shortened version of “good morning”‘ dates from around 1400, as “gode morwene”.

Now I have some relatively useless information stored in my head to dump onto others at opportune moments. Interesting I can remember such trivia for years and years, but can’t remember a phone number more than 12 seconds.

“Namaste, have a nice day and good morning” seems to cover my bases on wishing everyone a meaningful day. I am grateful to get to share my thoughts and ramblings here every day!

Lord I know I’m not here to stay,
but thanks for waking me up today.
Prepare me for what may come my way.
Cee Lo Green

The Year’s Last, Loveliest Smile

/ James Browning

The first chill of fall has hung around for three days now and there is change in the air. Lawns and bushes are still holding their green, but leaves are coming down. The time of autumn’s grand display is not far away when frost turns most everything into bright yellow, vibrant orange and brilliant red.

The seasons have long suited me in a different manner than is typical where Spring is the first season, Summer comes after, Fall arrives third and Winter comes at the end. Autumn is the season I love best and comes first in line for me. Fall to me is the awakening; a new beginning. Winter comes afterward as a time of growth, study and reflection. Spring growth comes with a general bursting forward followed by Summer which is just Spring in old clothes; over-grown. After all a season with two names, Fall and Autumn, must be special!

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale. Lauren DeStefano

Squeeze your eyes closed, as tight as you can, and think of all your favorite autumns, crisp and perfect, all bound up together like a stack of cards. That is what it is like… the wonderful brightness of Fairy colors. Catherynne M. Valente

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. George Eliot

Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter’s deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world’s oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter. Shauna Niequist

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. Albert Camus

Gratitude overflows on these cool days and chilly nights of Autumn. Feeling the fresh air of Fall on my skin and seeing the landscape unfold in an abundance of color is truly one of my favorite things. It is some of God’s greatest art.

Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile.
William Cullen Bryant

Stuck Like Song Lyrics

/ James Browning

It’s autumn’s first cool night,
And a chill rides upon the air;
The sort that wakens memories
Some sweet; Some old; some fair.
So come; come one, come all
And sit by the fire with me,
And listen closely with your heart
To Poe’s sad story of “Annabel Lee”.
James Browning

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Edgar Allan Poe

Stopping by a chain bookstore today I spent time browsing some editions of literature they carry that are beautifully and ornately hard-bound. One particularly striking book I purchased as an early start of my Christmas shopping (for my son). Another striking book I picked up, thumbed through and laid down. I picked it back up and laid it down three times. Each time “The Works of Edgar Allen Poe” opened to “Annabel Lee”. On the first two glances I read just a little, then thumbed to other pages. The third time I stopped and read the poem all the way through once then twice.

I am grateful his “ode to love” touches me as it does and makes my heart soar. A sad story for sure, but the bitter-sweet kind in just the correct measure to make one feel delight in its telling. Hours have passed but Poe’s words still sing in my head, stuck like song lyrics there.

Every heart sings a song, incomplete,
until another heart whispers back.
Those who wish to sing always find a song.
At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.
Plato