Poems, Prose, Photos & the Art of Being Human
I love living here because Winter Solstice is the perfect day to dump jacket & boots
and barefoot it along the shore, whether playing
or working
or willets interacting
or eating
sandcrabs…
even the western snowy plover
is enjoying this perfect day on Point Reyes‘ shore.
Nothing is less real than realism. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.
Carla Zilbersmith, inspiring theatre arts creative director, teacher, singer and comedian to her final words, wrote and performed her critically acclaimed one-woman show not long before her ALS diagnoses, which undermined the serious interest about to bring “The Wedding Singer” and Zilbersmith to a larger audience.
Carla is part of my self-portrait since she helped me develop hand character for my class monologue. People loved Carla. I loved Carla. There are no words for such loss except ALS sucks! and her own:
You must learn to be still in the midst of activity and to be vibrantly alive in repose.
yes
is a world
and in this
world of yes
live all worlds
Sometimes you hear someone through the door calling you as a fish out of water hears the surf's Come back! This turn towards what you deeply love, saves you.
The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the ways its animals are treated.
If you hear a voice within you saying, “You are not a painter,” then by all means paint, boy, and that voice will be silenced.
NIGHT SNACK
Tonight we plucked that apricot moon and ate it, not in a gulp, but with long laps of tongues, carving of teeth, squeezing nectar against palettes till it trickled down our open throats.
Thank you to the editors Linda Watanabe McFerrin and Laurie McAndish King for first publishing this in HOT FLASHES 2.
Elizabeth Oakley Weaver 