Those lost moments are evidence of the distractibility we all suffer at times. The modern world bombards us with data, demands, and to-do's. When we retreat to that place where there are no phones, we have no energy to engage with life.The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novelas if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones...
In Postcard From Home, Al Zolynas plays on the familiar theme of vacationers who write to their friends 'Wish you were here. Notice how Zolynas turns this theme into a revelation about self-forgetting with these lines:
The less we're fully present the more we lock up our potential, and the more likely we are to be somewhat Bored as depicted by Margaret Atwood:Sitting on the deck, bare feet...
Each detail says "This!"
and has always and ever only said "This!"
Wish I were here.
The speaker acquiesced to someone who knew what he wanted to have done. But why? Why wouldn't she unlock her feelings? Why wouldn't she say "I have other things I cherish that I want to do. Saw it yourself!" It's an admirable trait to be cooperative, but we keep ourselves and others bored when we refuse to take a strong position, when our focus became too narrow, with no space for errant feelings or thoughts.All those times I was bored
out of my mind. Holding the log
while he sawed it. Holding
the string while he measured, boards,
distances between things, or pounded
stakes into the ground for rows and rows...
John Updike's "Dog's Death" is touching because the dead puppy in his poem had worked so hard to earn her owner' praise for being good:
The dog's death is a metaphor for going to sleep to oneself. Once aware, once awake and able to engage in life with passion, we can appreciate the presence of any day: a sky, air, light. See how life sings in Denise Levertov's "Variation on a Theme by Rilke:"Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
A certain day became a presence to me;
there it was, confronting me...
...it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self...