as small as a world and as large as alone

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember he troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.

--E.E. Cummings

E.E. Cummings is one of my favorite poets. I posted once about my favorite love poem of all time, which is his poem “i carry your heart with me.” If you’re not familiar with E.E. Cummings, I will point out that part of his poetry is the actual display of words and punctuation on the page. So, any lack of spaces, capitalization, strange punctuation, etc., is completely intentional.

I discovered the above when I took poetry during my sophomore year of college. Although the class was ridiculous because of my absurd teacher, I loved reading through our poetry anthology on my own. This poem has a childlike sing-song manner and imagery about it, but the last two stanzas stirred something in me when I first read them, and still do today.

Yesterday I made sure to get out of my piso for most of the day. After a very cold week the temperatures finally rose to a pleasant 13 degrees and it felt incredible to be outside. I ran errands, met with a friend, and window shopped. Finally, I headed up to my favorite bench in Parque de los Pinos. It faces east, and over the lines of rooftops I can see out to the campo. It was around 5pm when I sat down with my book, my journal and my thoughts. The sun was warm on my back and I played with the images my shadow projected onto the ground for a few minutes before letting my thoughts just flow out and into the breeze.

I once told my mom that I considered myself an outdoors-type and she laughed at me. She pictured what we probably all picture when we think “outdoors-type”: hiking boots, white water rafting, cutting down wood for a campfire and catching your own fish to cook over it, etc. Ok, I am not that outdoors-type. But I do love to be outside. I need the green, the open-air, the sounds of water or crinkling leaves or waves. When I first got to my pueblo, I felt suffocated by the small streets with tall buildings closing me in. After a few weeks I discovered the park at the top of the hill by the library that offered me a tiny respite from stone and concrete. I also discovered little bits of nature all around me and stopped taking them for granted. When I walk down the steep hill that leads from the center of town to the barrio bajo (lower neighborhood) where I live, I can see out to the countryside and I feel relief. Every morning when I walk to the end of my street and across the river to head to my school, I feel a little exhilaration and a little decompression. I see the flowing murky water, the various plants growing from the embankment, the jagged hillside and the smooth hillside flowing together, and the various colors of the sky on that particular day.

I may not be a hard-core outdoors girl, but I need nature. I love going to the coast and seeing the water stretch out and on into infinity. I love going into my precious Colorado mountains and seeing how the view changes with each bend in the road and I love hiking high up into the sky and away from the worries and problems of everything down below. Open fields, creeks, wide lakes, dessert sand, rolling hills, winding rivers—I love them all. Every type of nature and scenery has its own glory.

What’s more, I think that being outside helps me discover things about myself. I feel like I can do my best thinking when I’m not confined by walls. I find things I thought I’d lost in myself. I redefine my world and its limitations. I let things go and breathe more deeply.

When I first read the last two stanzas of Mr. Cummings poem, I identified with them. They speaks to something I know. I appreciate the light and care-free subject of the poem mixed with what I find to be a very powerful ending.

“For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea”

And beyond all that, I just love the way this poem sounds rolling off of my tongue.

Side note: Thanks to the beautiful homage to writing and its importance in the book “Matched,” I have taken on a little goal of trying to study and memorize some poetry this year. I was really moved by the idea of keeping words inside of us because there they cannot be destroyed. Anyway, I felt I was getting undue credit when I mentioned that I recorded the Shel Silverstein poem from memory—while that was true, it was a recent memorization and not one from childhood which I think is what some of you thought. In reality, I selected that poem as my first. I love having the words with me. I find myself using them to brighten up when I’m feeling sad. The poem in today’s post is my second memorization.