I finally took time to crack open the enormous collection of e.e. cummings that my husband got me for my birthday (nearly a year ago!) I fell in love with this one; the first line is so convicting, isn’t it?

LXIII by e.e. cummings

be unto love as rain is unto colour; create
me gradually(or as these emerging now
hills invent the air)
breathe simply my each how
my trembling where my still unvisible when. Wait

if i am not heart,because at least i beat
–always think i am gone like a sun which must go
sometimes,to make an earth gladly seem firm for you:
remember(as those pearls more than surround this throat)

i wear your dearest fears beyond their ceaselessness

(nor has a syllable of the heart’s eager dim
enormous language loss or gain from blame or praise)
but many a thought shall die which was not born of dream
while wings welcome the year and trees dance(and i guess

though wish and world go down,one poem yet shall swim

 

[Photo.]

From the rooftop of her north-side apartment, we could see Lake Michigan moonlit and lapping quietly only two blocks away. How surreal to see its vast expanse emerge past the high-rises and city streets, past the rush of human life and commerce into pure nature.

It is a funny beautiful world we live in.

And because it’s been a long week (long month, long year, long life) and the hot night begged us to, we made a spur-of-the-moment walk down to the shore where we let the waves race to our ankles and we gazed at the blend of blue darkness. The brightest stars overhead were just visible beyond the florescent glow of street lamps, and I, speechless with wonder, expelled a deep sigh of relief.

Sometimes the best way to put our trivialities in their place is to step away from them into the vast expanse of life, the life you cannot control but can enjoy because you are in it and it is a miracle.

What was your favorite moment this week?

A few good reads :

The time that she almost got published.

Dear Morning.

Hello, it’s Mr. Nasty.

We are the real rebels.

Young ones with old hearts.

Just ask Jo : Blogging as a Career.

“If you love your reader, you will go first. You have to lead them on this journey.” On Writing with Vulnerability.

“What I learned that day is that sometimes the most liberating exercise of freedom is voluntarily laying it down.” The Best Drink I Never Had.

“But it’s not about deserving anything. It’s about loving ourselves anyway. Because God loves us… Because we are slums being turned into holy temples.” The Day I Stopped Eating.

“I think much of the blogosphere can’t do without [conflict.] We have become the outrage-industrial complex, building a digital empire by speaking in the vitriolic language of us vs. them.” A History of Outrage.

“As a blogger, it’s taken me some time to learn, but I realized one day a long while ago that I didn’t want the readers or the blog traffic the professionals had if I had to push people away from each other instead of bring them together.” Great thoughts on careful consumption online.

 

[Photo.]

On his twenty-first birthday, a letter to the kid that burst my only-child bubble,

I know you’ve never quite gotten over my initial rejection of you, little brother, but I think after two decades I have. Your presence in my life initiated a lot of frustration and inflicted a lot of bodily harm, but we have both survived and we’re all the better for it.

And I know you hate the mushy stuff, but just for one real second, I want to tell you :

Thank you.

Thank you for helping me grow a tougher skin.

Thank you for helping me laugh with your dumb humor, even at your own expense.

Thank you for always telling me when I’m being a little (a lot) crazy, and for supporting me when I’m not.

Thank you for being a pillar in my life, a sounding board, a deep-text-conversations-late-at-night kind of friend.

Thank you for surprising me with your wisdom and encouragement and for bearing my burdens.

I always set out to help you, but your words always help me instead.

I’m thankful that God gave me a “baby boy brother” instead of the “baby girl sister” I wailed for in the doctor’s office 21 years ago.

I love you. Cheers!

It’s been awhile since I guest posted, but today I’m happy to share a story over at Melissa Tydell’s blog, Inspiration and Rough Drafts. Melissa and I had the pleasure of meeting at Jess Constable’s Business in the City gathering in December, and we love to keep tabs on each other in the blogosphere and our professional writing endeavors. She is a freelance writer with her own business, Melrose Street Custom Content – you should check her out! Thank you Melissa for this opportunity!

“We climb slowly into the conversation we’re here to have, about creativity and literature and art and making it through my twenties. He, in his early 30s, tells me about the penniless dates he and his wife had when they first moved to Chicago a decade ago, when he started grad school at the School of the Art Institute and they had no kids and didn’t know how they were going to make it through their twenties.

He asks me about my freelance work. Oh, yeah…” (Continue Reading)

I was that girl. The one that couldn’t go leave home without a book. The one that would get bored at social outings and find a corner to read. The one that would read in a car, in the store, at family reunions and during recess at school. I was painfully shy for a long time. Books were my portable haven when I felt lonely or awkward or bored.

As an adult I’ve mostly grown out of this deep-rooted introversion and found a thriving social life. I can leave my book at home and designate time for myself to read, but every once in awhile, the thin spine of a well-loved paperback finds it’s way into my purse just in case I can steal a moment to escape into its world.

Do you carry books with you? What are you currently reading now?

~

book·ish/ˈbo͝okiSH/Adjective

1.  (of a person or way of life) Devoted to reading and studying rather than worldly interests.
2. (of language or writing) Literary in style or allusion.
3. (of art and all manner of lovely things) devoted to the written word as a form of art and as a way of seeing the world.
4. (of BethanySuckrow.com) anything of the aforementioned characteristics as they are found on the interwebs and reposted by Bethany, because bookish and writerly things always give reason for amusement.