Thursday, April 13, 2006

Middle Aged Memory

I remember exactly what I need until the moment I leave the room in search of it. It’s as if a magic breeze flows through the house, sweeping my mind clean of its every intention the moment I cross a sill. Gone. Empty. Forgotten. I stand there, bemused, searching for the thought I had possessed a scant moment before. Where was I going? What was I looking for?

If I fight it, if I get angry or frustrated, if I grieve my aging acuity, all is lost.

But if I stand receptive, in silence, lo and behold. The currents swirl, the breeze comes around again. Gentle as a settling leaf, it drops my thought back into my head, and twists away chuckling.

Joker.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Bill Cosby has a funny routine about this. He claims your memory is in your butt. You have to go back to the spot where you were sitting before you moved to the new room, sit back down, and then you will remember why you got up. The memory's in the butt!

mary bishop said...

By eliminating a few words here and there Peg, - you have created a lovely poem! You even have the title: Joker

Very funny comment first50 - I hadn't heard that routine...it makes sense -- elephants are supposed to have a wonderful memory and they certainly have the butts in which to store it!

Peg Spencer said...

marybishop- wanna create the poem? Go for it. You have my blessing. For...for...what was my blessing for again?

mary bishop said...

Joker

I remember exactly what I need
until I leave the room
in search of it.

As if a magic breeze flows through the house,
sweeping my mind clean of its every intention
the moment I cross a sill.

Gone. Empty. Forgotten.

I stand there, bemused.
searching for the thought I had possessed
a scant moment before.

Where was I going? What was I looking for?

If I fight it, if I get angry or frustrated,
if I grieve my aging acuity,
all is lost.

But if I stand receptive, in silence,
lo and behold.
The currents swirl, the breeze comes around again.

Gentle as a settling leaf,
it drops my thought back into my head,
and twists away
chuckling.

Anonymous said...

Peg and Mary,
My, you two are a Team!
I like both the prose and the poetical version of the prose. Why do I? Because it hits close to home either way. But you know, lately when I have this similar experience I tell myself, "whatever it was that I forgot from one room to the next, maybe wasn't worth remembering". I have to think that life is more about the big picture than the details of the day to day routine.
I think we all owe ourselves a group retreat into the Jemez Mountains now and then for a getaway from the day to day routine. We could have a few laughs and a few heart to hearts, and I'm still hung up on lighting a fire in a fireplace and wrapping up under some afghans and calling it a 'Getaway for girls who like to spill it out on blogsites retreat'.
Have a gallopping great weekend all you blogging tonight! And don't forget, the next time you forget something, say to yourself, what I've been lately thinking, "it'll come back to me in the sweet by and by-if it's that important".
Love you! (the sound of a kiss, kiss!, on the one cheek, other cheek! x's two)

Anonymous said...

Gosh, Marybishop, it looked pretty snazzy "writ up" like a "poym". Maybe you and I oughta go into the poym business.

Giovanni - good point about the...the...what ARE "keys" anyhow?

I don't know about nuub. One day he was blogging; the next he had vanished into the cybervoid.

Peg

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