Archive | Quoth the Raving

Apple Sauce for Eve

The Jewish new year begins at sundown and I, for one, am glad. All summer I’ve been gripped by fear and now everything is coming to a head. Will I transcend these challenges? I have so far to fall and nothing tangible to catch me, not since I left my father’s house and stopped looking for new daddies in other men’s eyes. I pray to rise with my work and my heart above existentialist struggles, for the bravery to handle what comes next, for the faith to live in a brighter light. I am grateful for every quality that has brought me here, as vulnerable as I currently feel, and I am grateful for those before me who’ve had the temerity to make themselves. I pray for the wind of this new year, new moon, new day for me, for you, for we. And (again) I think of Marge Piercy’s words:

Those old daddies cursed you, Eve, and us in you, damned for your curiosity…You are indeed the mother of invention, the first scientist. Your name means life: finite, dynamic, swimming against the current of time, tasting, testing, eating knowledge like any other nutrient. We are all the children of your bright hunger. We are all products of that first experiment, for if death was the worm in that apple, the seeds were freedom and the flowering of choice.

L’shanah Tovah.

Of Art and Nature and You and Me

I am sitting on the expanse of my friend’s yellowed, crackly Hamptons lawn. It is a meadow, really, and its overripeness is not unappealing. It is comforting, a scent and sign of a summer well-lived. As my own summer was not, I cannot help admiring such wear and tear.

And yet: I am here now. This friend, who has worked for everything she has, listened to me say, with more than a little self-pity, that I needed a break but could not afford one. Then, rather than murmur the platitudes most offer when confronted with others’ hardships, she did something practical and immensely kind. (The most immense kindnesses are always of a practical nature, I find.) She took a key off her ring and handed it to me. “I will be out of town for the next few weeks,” she said. “Stay in my house while I am gone.” Continue Reading →

The End of Summer


An agitation of the air,
A perturbation of the light
Admonished me the unloved year
Would turn on its hinge that night.

I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.

Blue poured into summer blue,
A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
That part of my life was over.
–Stanley Kunitz

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy