keats for valentine's

three years ago i spent a graduate summer with keats and professor ronald sharp
studying every syllable, every letter to family & friends, and every bit we could
about keats, skepticism, and the religion of beauty.
it was common for all of us students to leave class in hushed tears.
minds and hearts blown far, far away.
it was the perfect way to begin my graduate studies in english literature.
and i've been a devout keatsian ever since.

so i thought it quite appropriate to share with you some of my favorite
lines from poems and letters concerning love for the big day tomorrow.

the thing that got me so much about keats was his ability to capture paradox
with every word and syllable.
you see, the thing that makes love so very powerful is that we could lose
it all at any moment--all of us.
death is all too close. so we must love.

hope you find ways to share these lovely words with loved ones.

taking time to let this autumn mood settle in : via john keats's "to autumn"

i woke up to a drizzle of raindrops, and went on my run through the sycamore-canopied streets in the dark...not knowing how thick the sky was with clouds--though i did notice i could not see the stars.
i drove to work before any warm light of the sunrise had appeared, but as the sky barely began to light i noticed low misty clouds settling at the base of the mountains, and heading straight up the canyon...
where the snow has started to fall. the first snow. it's here...up there in the mountains.

as usual, there is lots on the to-do list today, but i'm feeling a need to take a break--
to let this autumn settle into my heart. i've been so busy i've hardly had time to enjoy the leaves
changing in the mountains. there's been no baking of pumpkin spice nor has there been any
butternut squash soup. it's been a busy fall, and so now i'm soaking in this gray sky and its mists.

i'm dreaming too. i'm letting myself drift for a bit away from now. i'm imagining future days ahead.
i think about a home--because every fall i feel like i'm ready to put roots down in a small
home with wood floors, white walls, and big windows. i'm ready to have a kitchen to heat up spiced milk while reading ecological, botanical, and musical articles. i'm ready to have an office space to organize, create spreadsheets, make phone calls, and create business cultures that flourish. i'm ready to put pumpkins out on my porch, and set up the gravestones we made last year for halloween. i'm ready to crush up fennel seeds to make my favorite homemade ice cream. i'm ready to see my books stored and organized for me to browse through in the evenings...

but i'm feeling that "miles to go before i sleep" sensation. all of that sounds so comforting right now, and so i'll let it comfort me. because some day i'll have my roots planted. and now...back to now. back to studying in my small little room. back to trying to manage the clutter. back to taking one step at a time. back to appreciating a cup of licorice tea. back to appreciating arvo part's "my heart's in the highlands" piping through my headphones. back to this lovely gray sky and the snow that i know is somewhere up there in the mountains.

"the advantages i have gained by knowing john keats would to gain any other way have doubled and trebled the time"

during my summer in oxford i took a few breaks from my 

studies to explore all of the cultural delights that were at my fingertips.

on the top of my list was visiting the home that john keats lived in

for two short, but prolific years.

this is the home where he met and fell in love with fanny brawne.

this is the home where he wrote his best poetry--where he sat beneath a tree

and wrote ode to a nightingale.

after my first summer of grad school in asheville, north carolina

where i was able to study his letters and poetry in depth

i became entranced by his words in both prose and verse.

this was a human being full of a deep understanding of the heart, the soul, and this life.

when i took an afternoon to go to london to the hampstead heath neighborhood

i was immediately smitten with this charming area filled with homes that

will most likely never be within my means.

it was raining which just added to the melancholy and simultaneous joy that i was feeling.

this home is one of the most peaceful places i have ever walked in.

you could feel john keats pacing through the hallways,

and walking out the door to meditate on words and the heart. 

keats died of consumption in italy, far from his love.

it is incredibly heart-breaking, yet beautiful, to read joseph severn's letters

documenting keats' harrowing death. 

i was lucky enough to visit the house on the final day that they had the

actual last letter that keats wrote to fanny brawne.

it was quite incredible to see his handwriting for myself with my own eyes.

last night i spent some time in the library revisiting my writings from oxford this summer.

i was reminded of how powerful poetry really, truly is--how it has changed me forever.

my thoughts were on john donne and john keats

which reminded me of my visit to this place. 

if you ever visit london, it is worth the trip to see this holy house.

"you shall not look through my eyes...you shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self."

i have returned to an old routine: starting my day with the reading of poetry while i eat breakfast.

it's been absolute bliss, and sets a deliberate and wondrous tone for my day.

most often i turn to whitman or to keats--poets that are essential witnesses to the beauty & suffering of this world.

simply from reading their words i have been inspired not only in my daily life,

but have found inspiration for my academic pursuits, which i cannot wait to find time to research and write about.

words of poets have always guided me and brought me great peace & comfort. 

they allow me to choose if i'd like to stay near the surface or dive in deep.

here's to a deliberate day...

the lake district {part two} : dove cottage

i fell in love with dove cottage, william wordsworth's house in the lake district.

such a simple home where the best of his poetry was written.

i loved walking through each room, and seeing documents that this great romantic poet signed or possessed...my favorite was his little worn suitcase on a bed that he had written his name upon. 

do you like wordsworth? i quite love his poetry. 

last year my love was sealed after taking a class on the romantic poets.

for the first time i read "the ruined cottage" aloud. you really must do this.

it will change you. it's long, but oh so worth every single word and syllable.

try it. it will roll off your tongue, and if you're like me, you'll be in tears.

so beautifully sorrowful. 

that night, after visiting dove cottage, ceej and i walked down from our farm

and found a beautiful spot overlooking the lake.

i read wordsworth aloud. magic.

...she sleeps in the calm earth, and peace is here,

i well remember that those very plumes,

those weeds, and the high spear-grass on that wall,

by mist and silent rain-drops silvered o'er,

as once i passed did to my heart convey

so still an image of tranquility,

so calm and still, and looked so beautiful

amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind,

that what we feel of sorrow and despair

from ruin and from change, and all the grief

the passing shews of being leave behind,

appeared an idle dream that could not live

where meditation was. i turned away

and walked along my road in happiness...

the old man rose and hoisted up his load.

together casting then a farewell look

upon those silent walls, we left the shade

and ere the stars were visible attained

a rustic inn, our evening resting place.

{p.s. you should totally check out marte's photos of the interior of beatrix potter's home...so pretty!}

this film about "insect genealogy" from "tiger in a jar" has my heart today

you must take a moment to watch this film of roy reading some of his poetry...

julie and her huz, matt, have quite the gift for story telling.

visit her blog here. see more of their films here.

insect genealogy from tiger in a jar on Vimeo.

desktop quote & manifesto monday: words, poetry, physicians, letters

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