The Warning Signs

It’s been non-stop this week, in so many good ways, and I am a day late on this blog and more days late on other things. There is a short film workshop going on, and my friend Jive is in town leading it. We drive from Bethesda to Ft. Belvoir and back each day and sometimes I laugh so hard at his observations and stories I think I might crash, and other times he says something that affects my understanding of the world so deeply, I write about it for months after–sometimes it’s the same thing that makes me laugh and makes me think. He’s the sort of person who is so fully himself that he makes you feel like whoever you are is enough. So that’s where I’ve been these past few days, driving around the beltway thinking and laughing, and feeling a whole lot like myself. But I’m tired, and a little over-extended–I did my schedule wrong, you guys. Yesterday evening, after a long day at both hospitals, some of us went to see the Combat Veteran Players perform “A Comedy of Errors” at Wallace Theater. I was becoming grouchy and my spine was turning slack, and dear Wytold replied to something rotten I said with, “Oh no, it’s getting too late for you.” I basically have the sleep habits of a toddler. I wake up really early running and then I run until I dissolve into a pile of tears or grouchiness and crash out completely. I should not be allowed to make any decisions after 9 pm.

I have plans to hang out with my friend Karl this weekend but he doesn’t know that by “hang out” I mean eat ice cream and pudding and other foods you don’t have to chew while wearing stretchy clothes. But now you know, Karl. I think they sell pajama-jeans at CVS, get on it.

The poem below is from POETRY magazine, and I read it on Tuesday and gasped. I love this image of rising from despair with diver-like caution. And of course the ending line: “Screech loudest when you/are the predator.” What if we all did this? Really warned others when our intentions were not the best? I don’t know if it’s even possible–if most of us even know when we are motivated by jealousy or fear. But how much hurt and guilt could we avoid if we policed our own behavior by calling ourselves out and letting the people around us know to watch out/back off for a while? But would others even heed our warnings?

What does it look like when you are being a little dangerous in your daily life? What do the early stages look like, what are the early warning signs? For me it’s when I start to feel insecure about or uncertain of my own competence. When I really loathe myself, I am the most dangerous to others. Best of luck, beauties. Looking in is the hardest work. But it’s necessary if we are to do any of our other work without poisoning the air around us.

SUSAN ELIZABETH HOWE
Advice from the Grackle

the seven songs

After joy raises you into the stratosphere,

ride earth’s colors as you wheel down.
Fear backs you into a cave,

only then do you cackle and hiss.
Curse at a tornado and it might curse back.
Why kick pebbles on your enemy?

You will die without burying him.
The ascent out of despair

must be steady, slow, or your lungs

will explode, your blood boil.
Which is wisest: to endure hunger

or waddle among wolves?
Warn those you love when the predator

approaches. Screech loudest when you

are the predator.

Also, I am so pleased to have this poem up at The Offing.