So what's this Gravy all about? For those unfamiliar with Raymond Carver, he was an American short-story writer and poet (1938-1988), Carver struggled with alchoholism most of his life. The poem Gravy is inscribed on his grave.
Gravy
No other word will do. For that's what it was.
Gravy.
Gravy, these past ten years.
Alive, sober, working, loving, and
being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
ago he was told he had six months to live
at the rate he was going. And he was going
nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
After that it was all gravy, every minute
of it, up to and including when he was told about,
well, some things that were breaking down and
building up inside his head. "Don't weep for me,"
he said to his friends. "I'm a lucky man.
I've had ten years longer than I or anyone
expected. Pure Gravy. And don't forget it."
I've started other blogs and then stopped, not sure if I had created the right venue for my thoughts. I tried to compartmentalize my life into specific blogs, and I am sure that works for most people- after all, people interested in antiques, for example, will look for a blog that writes about antiques. I just can't operate that way. So I am going to use this space to write about any and all of the things that interest me, experiences, feelings, or people that come my way. Probably not a great way to get readers, but I guess I am not too bothered about that. I mean, if you're here and you're up for it, then welcome.
The type of person who may be bothered enough to follow this, will likely be the sort who is interested in everything. I hate that society expects us to specialise. I admire the people who can do it and give up everything else. You know, the sort who can go all out on British politics, or baking cupcakes, or taking black and white (not colour, mind!)photographs of a specific breed of tortoise that I don't even know the name of- although I wished I did as I love knowing the names of things. Good for them! There must be great pleasure in knowing everything about your chosen subject, being a supreme expert who could probably appear on Mastermind and win. It's why I dropped out of university- after my first year of doing Medieval history, English literature, Russian grammar, creative writing, and philosophy, I just couldn't decided what to choose for a specialty and what to leave out. I didn't want to leave anything out and promptly fell into a depression over the stress of making a decision and failed my second year.
So I've decided that as long as I have time and space and energy for everything, then why not? Life is big, why not make the most of it? I haven't always been like this but a year of therapy and some very useful coaching has made all the difference. I'd recommend such to anyone. I think sometimes I needed my own permission to live a big life. And for once, I have it, thank you very much. I hope you do too. Or maybe that was just me that needed it!
So where I am now: in second year (part time) of studying for a certificate in archaeology. It's going well, and I love it, but it's very demanding. For example, I should be writing my essay on bronze working in the Iron Age but instead I am here. I am also taking a part time online course in poetry. I have been writing and reading poetry all my adult life. Have published a few bits and bobs, years ago. I belong to a wonderful poetry workshop group called The Sounding Bowl, but since moving to Worcestershire, I find I don't make it to the weekly workshops often as the group meets way back in Wales. I've been in a slump poetry writing-wise, but I am coming out of it now, a bit at a time. I also have a friend back in Wales who runs a poetry evening so I may pop along to it, now I am feeling more confident.
The garden is greening and the daffs are coming through- I love spring. The renewal of the spirit and all that but I believe we need spring to feel life greening in us again. Imagine a world without spring-unthinkable.
That's plenty for now. As you were.
No comments:
Post a Comment