Light-catcher

Today is Wednesday, the middle of the week before the new semester begins for us at the University.

For the morning, I'm in Cafe Stella, now my favorite coffeeshop in the neighborhood (it is just a little over a month old). I am here to do some final polishing on my two syllabi for the courses I am teaching in fall, while also keeping an eye on office email.

Here is a snapshot of some of the light-catching crystal and silver on Cafe Stella's display tables in the back.

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I'm also trying to take a deep breath and to s-l-o-w down a little bit.
(Shouldn't we all?)

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Yesterday, we had a bit of excitement in these parts.

I was in a packed auditorium hall with around 200 faculty and staff members in my college, to listen to the State of the College address and reports given by the Deans and Department Chairs. We were a half hour into the program when the room started noticeably shaking. I felt dizzy, and wondered for a moment if it was still the effect of my new prescription glasses. Then we looked at each other as the shaking continued: earthquake.

Later we found out that it was the "most powerful quake to originate in Virginia since May 31, 1897."

Thankfully no one was hurt in this area. Friends and family are safe.

But I had a few moments of panicked flashback to the 1990 earthquake in Baguio, my home city in the Philippines. As a result of that earthquake, we lost a home we had just built on a government housing loan; and my beloved father passed away two weeks after, on a makeshift cot in the broken wing of the Baguio General Hospital. We continued to experience aftershocks in the two to three months since that earthquake.

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Perhaps because of all these reminders of our fragile temporality, my poem for the day yesterday was this one, at Via Negativa--- "Acompanamiento".

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And my friend Jan has been asking me to see if I can find a poem that she can use in her class, as we come closer to remembering the events of 9/11. I'm not sure I can find the exact one she wanted, but perhaps one I wrote this past spring will capture some of the spirit she seeks in such a poem: "Look".