sunday bear: li-young lee

June 17, 2012October 2, 2017 ~ jama ~ 5 Comments

The Gift
by Li-Young Lee

To pull the metal splinter from my palm

my father recited a story in a low voice.

I watched his lovely face and not the blade.

Before the story ended, he’d removed

the iron sliver I thought I’d die from.

I can’t remember the tale,

but hear his voice still, a well

of dark water, a prayer.

And I recall his hands,

two measures of tenderness

he laid against my face,

the flames of discipline

he raised above my head.

Had you entered that afternoon

you would have thought you saw a man

planting something in a boy’s palm,

a silver tear, a tiny flame.

Had you followed that boy

you would have arrived here,

where I bend over my wife’s right hand.

Look how I shave her thumbnail down

so carefully she feels no pain.

Watch as I lift the splinter out.

I was seven when my father

took my hand like this,

and I did not hold that shard

between my fingers and think,

Metal that will bury me,

christen it Little Assassin,

Ore Going Deep for My Heart.

And I did not lift up my wound and cry,

Death visited here!

I did what a child does

when he’s given something to keep.

I kissed my father.

***

♥ Today’s Sunday Bear Hug is brought to you by Mr. Cornelius, who wishes everyone a Happy Father’s Day. He would also like you to have a piece of lemon meringue pie, favorite of Jama’s father James. ☺

((((((HUGS))))))((((((FATHERS)))))))((((((((HUGS)))))

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sunday bear: deng ming-dao

June 10, 2012October 2, 2017 ~ jama ~ 8 Comments

*“Little Bear Blue” by Donna Hodges (champagne mohair, velveteen jacket and beret, antique lace collar, 1986)*

Hilly village lanes,
Whitewashed sunlit walls.
Cerulean sea.
The laughter of children.

No matter where in the world you go, no matter how many languages are spoken, and no matter how many times cultures and governments clash, the laughter of children is universally uplifting. The mirth of adults can be variously jealous, insecure, sadistic, cruel, or absurd, but the sound of playing children evokes the ideal of a simple and pure act. There are no concepts, no ideologies — only the innocent pleasure of life.

We as adults dwell upon our grizzled complexities, our existential anxieties, and our preoccupations with responsibilities. We hear the merriment of children and may sigh over our lost childhoods. Although we can no longer fit into our old clothes and become young again, we can take comfort in the optimism of children. Their rejoicing can gladden us all.

We are too often in a rush for our children to grow up. It is far better for them to fully live each year of their lives. Let them learn what is appropriate to their time, let them play. And when their childhood is spent at adolescence, help them in a gentle transition. Then their laughter will continue to resonate with cheer and hope for us all.

~ from 365 Tao: Daily Meditations by Deng Ming-Dao (Harper, 1992).

♥ Today’s Sunday Bear Hug is brought to you, as ever, by your handsome friend Cornelius. Well-practiced at play and laughter, he wishes you small moments of joy to lighten your busy day. The only thing he doesn’t laugh at is a broken cookie; he is too busy eating every crumb.

Feel free to wear blue today. You can be the sky.

((((((((HUG))))))))(((HEE HEE))))(((HA HA)))))(((((HO HO))))))(((((HUG))))))

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sunday bear: rainer maria rilke

June 3, 2012October 2, 2017 ~ jama ~ 6 Comments

*K.C. Beariphone II by Teleconcepts (Speaker phone; caller’s voice activates eyes and mouth, 1989)*

A New Morning

And today, once again, a new morning: bright, with close, rounded clouds that frame expanses of the immeasurably deep sky. Agitation in the treetops. In everything else, restfulness. Windfall of apples. The grass softly invites you to walk out of the house. The dimness inside is alive with lights on antique silver, and their reflections in the looking glass confuse the eye as to what is enclosed within the mirror’s frame.

There are so many days here, none like the other. And beneath all their differences is this great similarity: the gratitude in which they are received.

~ from Early Journals (A Year with Rilke: Daily Readings from the Best of Rainer Maria Rilke (Harper One, 2005)

***

♥ Today’s Sunday Bear Hug is brought to you by Mr. Cornelius, who is thankful for today and for you. He would also be grateful for any strawberry tarts you might like to send his way.

(((((HUGS)))))((((((((((TODAY))))))))(((((((((HUGS)))))))

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chatting with cobi kim about veggietorials

May 30, 2012September 3, 2017 ~ jama ~ 43 Comments

I’m excited today to welcome my lovely niece, Cobi Kim, to the Alphabet Soup kitchen!

Cobi hosts the beautiful food blog, Veggietorials, where she shares her passion for all things plant-based. She features delicious recipes, product reviews for items she uses in her daily life, travel and cooking videos, and lots of photos and tips about what to order when eating out.

She prefers “plant-based” and “vegan-ish” when describing her lifestyle, choosing not to call herself a “vegan,” since she is uncomfortable with labels that tend to separate rather than unite us. She aligns herself with the principle of “Ahimsa,” doing no harm by leading a life of non-violence.

Continue reading →

sunday bear: rumi

May 27, 2012October 2, 2017 ~ jama ~ 10 Comments

*“Laura” by Pam Wooley (antique lace collar, distressed mohair, 1988)*

UNMARKED BOXES

Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round
in another form. The child weaned from mother’s milk
now drinks wine and honey mixed.

God’s joy moves from unmarked box to unmarked box,
from cell to cell. As rainwater, down into flowerbed.
As roses, up from ground.
Now it looks like a plate of rice and fish,
now a cliff covered with vines,
now a horse being saddled.
It hides within these,
till one day it cracks them open.

Part of the self leaves the body when we sleep
and changes shape. You might say, “Last night
I was a cypress tree, a small bed of tulips,
a field of grapevines.” Then the phantasm goes away.
You’re back in the room.
I don’t want to make anyone fearful.
Hear what’s behind what I say.

Tatatumtum tatum tatadum.
There’s the light gold of wheat in the sun
and the gold of bread made from that wheat.
I have neither. I’m only talking about them,

as a town in the desert looks up
at stars on a clear night.

~ from The Essential Rumi translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne (Harper San Francisco, 1995)

***

♥ This week’s Sunday Bear Hug is brought to you by your loyal friend Cornelius, who wants you to have the stars.

((((HUGS))))((((STARS))))((((GOLD)))))(((((TULIPS)))))(((((HUGS)))))

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