Wild daffodils in the woods
Tunes for a Tuesday morning

Myth & Moor update

Nattadon Hill

I can't cope with the news from either of my countries (US & UK) this morning -- so I'm heading out for a walk with the hound to clear my head and get good earth under my feet. My apologies for the delay in getting the Myth & Moor "Monday Tunes" post up...look for it this afternoon, if my workload permits, or tomorrow.

"Let us keep courage and try to be patient and gentle. And let us not mind being eccentric, and make distinction between good and evil."

- Vincent van Gogh (The Letters of Vincent can Gogh)

Hill 2


Tipping Point

There is always a tipping point
between what is good and sane
and the trigger finger of evil.
The passenger pigeons knew it.
The people in the seas of Hiroshima
looking for mercy from the searing waves.
The dinosaurs, both meat eaters
and gentle giant vegetarians knew it,
cowering under the hail of the sky.
And we now walking between
the third rails of honor and venality,
balancing on the precipice,
trying to dance our way
out of the quicksand of politics
know what a tip we are in.
The world has become a garbage dump.
Only the heavens above us
still promise sanctuary,
though we are told we have to die first
to get there.

©2019 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

PS Sorry to be so depressing. But it is well earned.

This is a very sad poem, my dear. Which is appropriate, since the situation we're in is very sad (and enraging) too. I am holding tightly to the image of a million-plus people from all over Great Britain flooding the streets of London this weekend. Despite all the bile pumped out by the Murdoch media on both sides of the Atlantic, there are still people who know right from wrong, good governance from greed, compassion from cruelty...and we are legion. Even now.

Be of good courage. Your words inspire and comfort me and mine every week. We are quiet, but we are many.

In the vernacular of my people: FEELS

I know and empathize with how depressed and shocked everyone feels. It sees like the world has gone horribly astray into excessive greed, power and hate. We are becoming estranged from a system of justice and merciful values, not to mention one of true humanity. The soul of the earth has become charred by the ruinous fires of others. It a world that is burning; and I pray some how and in someway, enough of our resistance, prayers and action can stop it. But still, we have to live in our immediate situation and routine. I have dealt with the sadness, this morning, by listening to more of W.S. Merwin's poetry/views on you tube and allowing his words to deeply sink in. Then I shut off my pc and went outside viewing our palm tree. It instills both contemplation and comfort along with some of the natural details that surround it. I know Merwin took great pride and wonder in planting a diverse variety of them -- the same wonder I feel viewing mine and another species, The Joshua trees in the field next to my house.

Depression and rage cast a darkness over us that depletes our bodies and our minds. Creative impulse and endeavor are overshadowed by a sense of hopelessness; and when tragic circumstances/injustice keep filling our lives through the news, we are entitled to these feelings, this bout of sudden inertia. Yet, maybe renewing ourselves with that walk in the fresh air, the smell of spring's earth rising to encompass field and road, and the simple presence of a tree, we can (for a moment) regain a different perspective. Perhaps, we can remember the smaller but very significant things that have been sidelined by the larger and the loathed. A moment that allows us relief but also the resillience to cope, to resist, to be inspired.

Remembering The Tree

On the last day of Earth,
the poet said he'd plant a palm.
And on this day,
when our world of compassion
and truth seems to cease,

I go outside and stare
at the one on our lawn. Sunlit and winged,
its body a thatched breastplate
strewn with dust and seed, its breath
salted with air
blown in from the sea,

the tree stares back, transfigured (perhaps)
into an archangel -- not here
to battle & claim triumph

but to hand back
our power to breathe, witness
a moment of beauty.

And out of that moment
other moments grow --
past and present.

Rains drenched the desert
in green this winter, older

Joshua trees
nursed the younger
so they could bloom, stretch
further toward the light,

and today a raven
stands on the side view mirror
of my car, guarding

a perspective
on what is coming
from behind, or more intensely,

what's been side lined
along the curb: catkins, blossoms
and tinier birds

curiously sorting
through the first scatterings
of Spring

Take care everyone,

Yes Jane

And we now walking between
the third rails of honor and venality,
balancing on the precipice,
trying to dance our way
out of the quicksand of politics
know what a tip we are in.

It is definitely "well-earned" and a poem that defines the dark truth of it with an intense eloquence, one that draws out our own sense of rage and despair. One that speaks of historic tragedy and our own
estrangement from hope/salvation. This poem is not only your voice and perspective but so much of ours, the readers, the citizens of this tipping point, and the ones left to react and in our own individual ways resist. Thank you for sharing this and speaking out.

So much appreciated,

Sigh--my rage is barely controlled these days. Only poetry calms me.

See above in my answer to Terri. Sigh.


I shall hold that image of palm tree as archangel instead of planting my face in my palm and weeping. Thanks you, dear Wendy.


Dear Jane

I read your reply and can totally relate and understand. I can't watch the news, too much, or my blood pressure soars and my whole boy aches from frustration and despair. Poetry/writing is my release and yes, like a soothing balm it calms me down. And walks outside, reconnecting with nature and her inhabitants also help a great deal.

Please take care,
we are all suffering through this ,hoping, praying for change and soon! Let us find strengh in art, each other and hope!

peace and blessings


Dear Jane
I hope it helps and brings a bit of solace. I know that tree is there as a witness to beauty and strength, in a way kind of guardian that inspires and protects.

Take care,
my best always

Beloved and brilliant ones. I could simply say 'me too' but it's not so simple for me. Thank you for acknowledging the dark we find ourselves within and for the light you poured in to it. May I offer both my appreciation and some encouragement from Glorious Gloria Steinem at eighty:

Thanks so much for the link to Gloria Steinem which I listened to (twice) starting at midnight because I needed to hear all of her / our story.

It's 2 am and maybe now the dreams will réparent the wounds!

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