OOH LA LA! #20

the dark will be your home tonight, and other wisdom by David Whyte

I am thinking of Irish poet David Whyte.

I feel tired today, not just in a sleep-tired way, but deeper than that, and I’m thinking of a line from the beloved poem Sweet Darkness: “when your eyes are tired, the world is tired also. When your vision has gone no part of the world can find you.”

What do you do when the world can’t find you? David’s wisdom is to “go into the dark, where the night has eyes, to recognize its own.”

And so I’ve gone.

Night after night, I take myself out for a walk in the dark, wandering around quiet tree-lined streets in Brooklyn, past empty benches in McGolrick Park, in peace near other late-night walkers, where I feel, as the poem suggests, I can be sure I am not beyond love. The darkness is a home, and the night has given me a horizon further than I can see.

I am living this poem, remembering the truth: the world was made to be free in.

The poem ends with an invitation, a call to action that, should you accept it, may change everything.

”Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.”

It is terrifying to give up all other worlds, but to see so much in the dark, to have a vision become so clear - it cannot be unseen. “Sometimes it takes the darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn, anything or anyone that does not bring you to life is too small for you.”

I know I am not saying much clearly now, but I will say this - I’ve finally said yes to giving up what is too small, including parts of myself, including ideas, including people, places, dreams. So much is unfolding for me now that soon I will find a way to say, but until then, I will keep walking and writing until the time is right.

What I know for sure is that this commitment to OOH LA LA! and to this space I’m cultivating somewhere, somehow, with all of you, is a large part of this unfolding, of saying yes, of giving up what doesn’t belong, in order to open up to what does.

May this poem, and the sweet darkness of your own night, be a balm for you too.

May you give up all other worlds, except the one to which you belong.

May you remember the world was made to be free in.

Thanks for being here!

This week’s OOH LA LA! list includes: soft air after rain, the smell of wood burning, waiting for my coffee order.

We’ve been having a heat wave in NYC, so most days, even at night, the air is thick, and dirty. On Wednesday, I was at a clown show when it rained, hard, in a way that made whole parts of tree branches split from the center and fall to the ground. I didn’t experience the rain itself, only the soft air after the rain. Suddenly everything felt new again, clean and fresh and tender. The ocean, falling from the sky, washed away all the heaviness and left me feeling light. The ocean always does that. What a wonder.

One of my all-time favorite smells is the smell of wood burning. Near my new neighborhood, there are late-night warehouses and workshops, and every now and then, though I don’t know from where exactly, I catch the sweet scent of fire, though only ever for a moment. Still, in an instant, I am transported to my childhood backyard on a summer night, with my friends, gathered around, watching the blue and orange flames. I once had a boyfriend whose family lived in a log cabin in the mountains, and when the fire burned in the fireplace, the scent filled every crack and corner of the room. After leaving, my clothes would still smell of smoke, like I’d been sleeping outside by a campfire. If I could live in a scent, it would be this one.

I nearly laughed out loud this week waiting for my coffee order when I had the feeling of being a dog waiting for a bone, or a rat waiting for a crumb. After I had placed my order, I moved from the place where you pay, to the place where you wait and joined the group of other coffee-waiting-friends, eagerly watching the barista, hoping for my name to be called. One minute became two became three became ten, and I was feeling more impatient, and restless. It felt like time had slowed, but then I looked around and saw the other wide-eyed, watchful waiters, and I laughed. To suddenly see us all in the true light - vulnerable, anxious, and full of anticipation. I’m sure there is some poem here, some existential idea about expectation and waiting, about how we are all just baby birds, waiting for a worm, but for now, let’s have a laugh. Next time you’re in line anywhere, look around and see, full humanity.

And now from OLL Readers…

Allie: My ooh la la this week is learning to skateboard for the first time at 35 years old. There’s a great skateboard park in our neighborhood, and since moving here two years ago, I’ve had a fantasy of learning how. I found the cutest board with sunny orange and purple flowers at a discount store for $14 this weekend and decided now is my time! It’s scary and I definitely worry about breaking something, but that feeling of trying something new is electric!

Ambika: My ooh la la this week was finishing a mini golf hole the first putt!

Thanks for reading!

I’d love to know - what is an OOH LA LA something you experienced or observed this week?

Reply to this email with 1-3 sentences about your current obsessions, passions, joys, and pleasures and why you love it! Or, simply send me a poem or a photo!

XOXO,

LJ

My favorite park, after the rain :)

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