inauspicious beginnings

Yesterday was the first day of class. I overslept, forgot to bring paper to class, made a frustrated and snarky comment about hoping that people wouldn't emotionally process in class, made an ass of myself at Common Meal, and then called it a school day and went to work. Last night's work experiences have been chronicled in a previous post, after which I went home, stomped around my apartment, came back to school to write about it until it was funny, and then showed up at Aaron's house after the Princess's birthday party was already gone.

A little storytelling, a little listening to poetry, a little Aaron guessing that I hadn't eaten supper even though it was after 10, and I finally got home around 1. Forgot to turn on the alarm, and woke up at 7:45 for today's 8:30 class.

So, still no notebook paper, on the second day of class. But I do like this poem from last night:

The Layers
--Stanley Kunitz

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers,
not on the litter."
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.