Sunday my friend said he was thinking of making a blog, and I said "me too!" He said he was stumped by what to call it, which surprised me as I hadn't even gotten to thinking about that yet; but I realized how much that did matter to me. I wouldn't know what to call it without knowing what I was going to do with it - I have some blogs I follow and each has a particular purpose. I had to think about what my purpose would be - but as is so often the way with me, I need to find the purpose in the doing. I just knew I wanted to move on from the kind of posting I'd been doing on that social network we all know, or think we know, until they change it again.
I woke at an odd hour and couldn't go back to sleep. I saw in my mind an aerial view of our beautiful planet, with water coursing, threading, soaking: springs, rivulets and streams, rivers, marshes and bays, and the sea. I saw an estuary, a tidal marsh, where sometimes the water is flooding in fresh, and sometimes it's washing in salty. It goes both ways, and makes a fertile home for fin and feather.
"Lagoon," because I like the word, I like the coupled circles of O preceded by the Romantic Article. And it will be about things I see, pictures of those things, art and nature, or things I make for you to see. What washes in and what seeps out. But just don't expect me to be as regular as the tides.
Here's a wonderful poem by Czeslaw Milosz. I took it from the internet and regrettably don't know the translator's name, but maybe I'll find it later. It is too apt for my mood to not post tonight.
Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills -
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:Who serves best doesn't always understand.