Carolyn Miller

The World As It Is

November 16, 2016

Photo courtesy Patrick Fore

Introduction by Ted Kooser: It is enough for me as a reader that a poem take from life a single moment and hold it up for me to look at. There need not be anything sensational or unusual or peculiar about that moment, but somehow, by directing my attention to it, our attention to it, the poet bathes it in the light of the remarkable. Here is a poem like this by Carolyn Miller, who lives in San Francisco.

The World as It is

No ladders, no descending angels, no voice
out of the whirlwind, no rending
of the veil, or chariot in the sky—only
water rising and falling in breathing springs
and seeping up through limestone, aquifers filling
and flowing over, russet stands of prairie grass
and dark pupils of black-eyed Susans. Only
the fixed and wandering stars: Orion rising sideways,
Jupiter traversing the southwest like a great firefly,
Venus trembling and faceted in the west—and the moon,
appearing suddenly over your shoulder, brimming
and ovoid, ripe with light, lifting slowly, deliberately,
wobbling slightly, while far below, the faithful sea
rises up and follows.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2009 by Carolyn Miller, from her most recent book of poems, “Light, Moving,” Sixteen Rivers Press, 2009. Reprinted by permission of Carolyn Miller and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2010 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Anniversary

Seven Years and 813 Blog Posts Later...

November 11, 2016


Guess what? Today marks the 7th anniversary of Catching Happiness. That’s a lot of simple pleasures and everyday adventures!

Catching Happiness began as a place for me to explore a more personal form of writing than what I had been doing, writing articles for magazines and web sites. I hoped to sharpen my skills, and, ultimately, see if I had material for a book. As I got into it, I developed a way to look at life and a personal philosophy that I feel comfortable with and that, I think, is a positive addition to cyberspace and the world. Over these past seven years, I’ve also learned to notice more because I want to share things with you.

There have been highs and lows to write about, discoveries of happy little things, Field Trip Friday excursions, and many new online friends. The structure of posting has kept my writing muscles limbered up and ready to go. Now and then I’ve burned out and wondered whether I should shutter Catching Happiness and spend that time pursuing paying writing outlets, and every time I’ve decided not to—Catching Happiness is a labor of love and I’m just not ready to let it go. I just renewed the domain name for another year.

I want to thank each one of you who has taken the time to read my posts, even if you never or rarely comment. I’m grateful you take the time to visit. Your thoughtful comments and encouragement have meant a lot to me for the past seven years.

So as we go forward, I have this to ask you: What would you like to see more of? Less of? What are your favorite types of posts, and what could you live without? Do you have any suggestions or comments to share? I’d love to hear from you.

I believe I wouldn’t have learned as much and had as many adventures without Catching Happiness. I will always be grateful for it, and for you, the reader. Thank you for being a part of the past seven happy years!

Growth

At the Edge of What's Possible

November 09, 2016

Photo courtesy Joshua Earle

“Life is lived best in the place of risk and trust. Things are more thrilling when we are at the edge of what’s possible, beyond what is expected or considered normal. And when we push ourselves to do what we aren’t sure is possible, we grow.”
—Jeff Goins

Bill Murray

Link Love: How Can It Be November Already? Edition

November 04, 2016


I’m not complaining, but how did it get to be November already? It seems like it was January just a few moments ago!

Recently I haven’t spent much time roaming the internet (I’m w-a-a-y behind in reading the blogs I follow), but I do have a few tidbits of interest to share:

“How Living Like a French Woman Helped Me Lose 75 Pounds” is not really about losing weight—it’s about embracing life.

Click here for more ways to live a happier life today. 

This film sounds intriguing. Read an interview with the filmmaker here.

Making a vision board is fun, but you have to actually do something if you want those envisioned dreams to come true. Tonya Leigh writes about the importance of taking action in “Vision Boards Are a Waste of Time. Try This Instead.” 

Whether it’s due to a life-changing illness or simply the natural process of getting older, many of us are questioning and reordering our priorities. Here’s one woman’s take on that: “Priorities: The Art of Letting Go of Things That Don’t Matter.”

Congratulations to the Chicago Cubs for their World Series win! Here’s Bill Murray, using an, um, unorthodox singing style, performing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the seventh inning stretch of game 3.


Have you discovered anything interesting online lately?

Natasha Trethewey

We Save What We Can

November 02, 2016

Photo courtesy Gerhard Gellinger

Introduction by Ted Kooser: Beginning writers often tell me their real lives aren't interesting enough to write about, but the mere act of shaping a poem lifts its subject matter above the ordinary. Here’s Natasha Trethewey, who served two terms as U. S. Poet Laureate, illustrating just what I’ve described. It’s from her book Domestic Work, from Graywolf Press. Trethewey lives in Georgia

Housekeeping

We mourn the broken things, chair legs
wrenched from their seats, chipped plates,
the threadbare clothes. We work the magic
of glue, drive the nails, mend the holes.
We save what we can, melt small pieces
of soap, gather fallen pecans, keep neck bones
for soup. Beating rugs against the house,
we watch dust, lit like stars, spreading
across the yard. Late afternoon, we draw
the blinds to cool the rooms, drive the bugs
out. My mother irons, singing, lost in reverie.
I mark the pages of a mail-order catalog,
listen for passing cars. All day we watch
for the mail, some news from a distant place.


American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2000 by Natasha Trethewey, “Housekeeping,” from Domestic Work, (Graywolf Press, 2000). Poem reprinted by permission of Natasha Trethewey and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2016 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.