Felix

Felix is a very big bird. If Felix were a turkey, it would be Thanksgiving. Felix is king of a little pond on one of our walks, and I would not want to tangle with him.

There were so many people strolling by the ocean today, whole families wishing each other Happy New Year and enjoying the sunshine, exploring the tide pools that were revealed by the low tide.

I have not made any resolutions, but I did take out this poem to remind me of a few important things for the new year.

Advice to Beginners
 by Ellen Kort

Begin.  Keep on beginning.  Nibble on everything.
Take a hike.  Teach yourself to whistle.  Lie.
The older you get the more they’ll want your stories.
Make them up.  Talk to stones.  Short-out electric
fences.  Swim with the sea turtle into the moon.  Learn
how to die.  Eat moonshine pie.  Drink wild geranium
tea.  Run naked in the rain.  Everything that happens
will happen and none of us will be safe from it.
Pull up anchors.  Sit close to the god of night.
Lie still in a stream and breathe water.  Climb to the top
of the highest tree until you come to the branch
where the blue heron sleeps.  Eat poems for breakfast.
Wear them on your forehead.  Lick the mountain’s
bare shoulder.  Measure the color of days
around your mother’s death.  Put your hands
over your face and listen to what they tell you.