Some: Times

Navigating life through coffee, volunteering & laughter.

Recent Posts

  • The “not” returning to “normal.”

    Here we are 2 months after opening up & the country is under new restrictions from Parliament. Masks are once again the thing to have on buses & the unvaccinated now face a battle with the government.

    It’s sad really that it didn’t take long for a new wave of COVID to hit us. I am disappointed in all the folks that don’t believe in the vaccine & are now putting the rest of us in danger.

    We’re getting vaccine passes much like everywhere else in Europe. Something I quite like because if you don’t have a pass you won’t be able to attend events. Hence, cutting down on the transmission of the virus.

    But we shouldn’t have had to do this but people have become careless with their health & don’t stay home IF they’re sick. That’s why we’re in this position in the first place. It angers me that we’ve gone backwards instead of forwards.

    Soo much for returning to “normal” we shelve that for the next 6 months. It was what I was most afraid of & now it’s happening. They’ve said that they’re not going to lock us down again BUT the beginning stages of it are already happening.

    Get vaccinated or get lost. I like what Singapore is doing making the unvaccinated sick pay for their own medical care. You should because you’re the reason we’re back in this mess.

  • Between the lines

    I have been opening one of Mary Oliver’s books to random pages & then I read that poem. She had written a poem about Mud & bogs & how hard it is to walk through. It reminded me of a tough July I had this Summer. Clambering between tall grass to not sink in. That’s how I felt this Summer when most days where filled with tears & not much else.

    I like re-reading poems that cause me to pause & to think about things. I also found my book of Contemporary American Poetry from university, opened it up & discovered that I still like the same poets & their tone. Li-Young Lee for example brings everything together in a poem titled The City In Which I Love You. He brings up terror & love almost in the same paragraph.

    China & the US are side by side in the poem. Darkness & light hold hands in that poem as it sways between the two worlds. It reminds me of what I lost & what I have gained. July still makes my heart ache & that’s why I love the narration in Mary Oliver’s words. How she punctuates the poem & direct her feelings towards a person or a feeling.

    My Fall has been full of exclamations & punctuation this year. Maybe it’s because I have a lot on my mind or maybe because I finally see 2 faced people for what they really are. Lying to your face also means they lie to others. Hence, not worth any space in my blog.

    No, love isn’t simple & it’s complicated to say the least. This Fall has really gotten me think about my relationship & the friendships I have with others. I think honesty is the best policy no matter how much it hurts or brings joy. I will never lie for the sake of someone.

    Maybe it’s because I am Present with my feelings no matter how hard they may be to feel. It’s one thing my trauma has taught me to be Present. It’s just better than pretending or lying. Something I don’t condone. Either be Honest or get out of my life. I guess is my new motto.

  • Track 22 from my book Greylight.

    Mouth opens to sky filled with zodiac; flashbulbs from cameras.

    Impatience stands by the information booth, waiting.

    Announcements over the PA—blinking train tracks & men in fatigues greet me. Street opens to car horns & midweek, midtown mayhem.

    Sitting at Rockefeller center counting tour books & cameras. Greeted by loss & joy. Saint Patrick’s opens its arms wide,

    pulling me in. Listening to languages, cameras coming in for solitude & pain. Sitting front row—listening to echoes of souls bouncing off

    the stained windows, leaping across marble floors.

    Tree-line means I’m at the park—crowds thinning & doormen appear, flagging taxis; ordered cars, where Money is.

    Crossing

    across eastside, old Irish bars that survived, stand firmly through temporary cosmopolitans, fusion menus.

    Watching

    my old self, I find solitude over a plate of waffles & intimacy of weddings 3000 miles away from home.

    Downtown

    heading towards Lexington—suits having lunch–daily grind. Down into the 6; waiting minutes, while smelling stale air, rats scurry, tucked between time out & college students I go downtown, walking familiar corners; I find indecision in a dressing room. Whistling to Blur—we change.

    Wondering what is exactly behind door number two, three. Late Summer heat bring hormones to the surfaces like small flames. On a street

    corner

    fate stands lost & indecisive, time is only something that catches us at Grand Central–venus’ flytrap. Pondering stroll & watching landmarks pass, seeing myself twenty years earlier; tired feet finds track 22, leaving zodiacs, 20 second crushes, smell of acid air, yellow cabs, 125 street station

    announces my departure.

    Copyright Cecilie Roaldset from book Greylight.