recycling

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT
by Dylan Thomas



Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.


Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.


Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

it is unavoidable to become aware of the power of nature at times in our lives. on the plains in colorado, we have been kissed by our first winter storm this season. for several days this week, we had been heralded of its coming with all sorts of snippets as to its magnitude. it arrived yesterday afternoon and slipped in quietly without much fanfare. there were some howling winds, but the attachment to the holiday meant the traffic was down to a minimum as was the disruption.

but this morning as i wake, i look out upon an additional layer of silence as the sky has been quietly shaking down flakes for 14 hours or so. not big wet ones, as in some storms, but a dusting of dryer icier snow that blankets without being too weightbearing.

we sit on the eve of the next adventure amid the quiet of this storm and its impact. introspection, meditation, and pausing are the actions called for. internally, i have felt the stirrings of change in my world. determining whether this is pattern or insight remains to unfold.

i know that the image accompanying this blizzard is one of the spring thaw. the loosening of ice and the flow of new energy. perhaps what i sense is simply the next season. however, i also know that the image and sensations i have are core. evolution is happening in my life, whether it is subtle or it is blatant.

i have found myself severed from some family and some acquaintances. i convince myself there are boundaries involved. i know, however, that avoidance is my safety net and i use it in lieu of growth sometimes. i have had conversations recently with a relative that i haven't really spoken with since i got sober. it has been quietly powerful for me. i realize my feelings have not stopped around our relationship. they have only been blanketed with quiet.

maybe that is part of the spring thaw i am sensing.