Well it finally happened, didn’t it? Friday went by…no Going Public piece…then Saturday…then Sunday…and around 1:30 this morning, I realized that the ship had well and truly sailed. No “ishing” it this week.
So here’s what we’re going to do, the Going Public New Year’s Manifesto, so to speak…no more waffly deadlines! Friday is Friday. It is not spelled S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y or S-U-N-D-A-Y. And as a way of recommitting myself to this, I’ll be posting a new piece each day this week, Mon – Fri.
You know, originally I called it “Week of Penance!” as a joke of sorts…but “penance” to whom? Why shame myself? Why let that in, even in jest? So no…this is a Week of Recommitment – to something that feeds me as much as I feed it, that feeds others as much as it feeds me, that is offered freely, that I’ve created and can feel pride in doing.
And in that spirit, I’d encourage each any of you out there struggling with a resolution or perceived “failing,” to set it down for a moment, and before picking it back up, find a way to view it as a recommitment to something, rather than a punishment for something.
We’ve got Frost and Tom Jones for you this week – enjoy! And welcome to 2015!!
Birches by Robert Frost
Read by Xe Sands
BIRCHES has never grabbed me…until about a week ago. There’s just something about it that reached under my jacket and sweater and shirt, right down to my skin, then through it, between those upper ribs…right to my heart. And poked it. I don’t know how to explain what this poem means to me right this minute, but it means something. That’s about all I can say about it, I think.
A Winter Eden, by Robert Frost
A Winter Eden
By Robert Lee Frost
A winter garden in an alder swamp,
Where conies now come out to sun and romp,
As near a paradise as it can be
And not melt snow or start a dormant tree.
It lifts existence on a plane of snow
One level higher than the earth below,
One level nearer heaven overhead,
And last year’s berries shining scarlet red.
It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast
Where he can stretch and hold his highest feat
On some wild apple tree’s young tender bark,
What well may prove the year’s high girdle mark.
So near to paradise all pairing ends:
Here loveless birds now flock as winter friends,
Content with bud-inspecting. They presume
To say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.
A feather-hammer gives a double knock.
This Eden day is done at two o’clock.
An hour of winter day might seem too short
To make it worth life’s while to wake and sport.
Image: Peter Davey
Tom Jones, Book XI, Chapter10, by Henry Fielding
Read by Mark Turetsky
Book 11 Chapter 10 of Tom Jones.
This is part of an ongoing project in which I will record and post one chapter per week of Henry Fielding’s Tom Jones over the course of four years.
In this chapter, Fielding gets down to brass tacks about appearances, concerning Mrs. Fitzpatrick staying at the house of a married man while in London while his wife is away, and also the particulars of Sophia’s lodgings while in town.