The Moments Between

I look at “the moments between” in several different ways. First, almost everything I do is accomplished in the moments between “necessary” activities of daily living. During the moments between, more than at any other time, creativity takes place. On a larger scale, however, these are the moments between birth and eternity, the only moments we have before time itself becomes meaningless. 

All moments are meant to be put to good purpose.

Alien Life

They live among us,
only slightly alien–
their DNA so close
that some of them can breed
with some of us.
A cross-section of each
is close enough
to be the other…

And so, who is alien,
after all? You? I?

I won’t tell,
if you don’t.

###

Liz Bennefeld, © 2 Nov. 2009

Halloween Poetry Reading

Since 2006, I’ve been coordinating the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s Halloween Poetry Reading page. SFPA members make digital recordings of themselves, reading one of their own poems. Some really fun stuff, and some a bit too edgy or twisted actually to be children’s Halloween poetry.  This year, as in 2007, I wrote a new poem for the page; my recording is way at the bottom, if you’d like to hear me reading it. Here’s the text of this year’s poem:

 

Halloween at the End of the Universe by Elizabeth Bennefeld

In the asteroid belt, the veil between the worlds grows thin. Here, graveyards are orbits around the rocks that once were home to those who circle round and round, peering through our windows with empty, farseeing eyes. Beyond, one by one, the stars blink out, with no short, clear path from Earth– a failure of applied topology– to the one bright-burning star that promises the beginning of a new beginning. So, Trick or Treat? Here we sit on this hunk of rock and ice, watching through the windows for the ghosts of Grandpa Pat and  Great-Aunt Selene to push aside the thinning veil, resume their bodies, and guide our spaceships through the wall between our worlds– to celebrate Halloween together at the beginning of a new-born universe.

Serious catching up

I made it through the last of the allergy season and had several good weeks before catching the flu. So here I am, back in bed! The netbook computer has proved to be a good investment, being eminently portable when I am not.

The excitement during the past thirty days included the eventual arrival of Star*Line 3.4 (July/August), in which was published my poem "Endings." There was also a check and a contributor’s copy, mailed along with the subscription copy.

 

“Endings”

Elizabeth W. Bennefeld

Lulled to sleep by weeping sands against the window,
mixed by winds with sleet and snow,
I dream again of golden, glorious clouds
racing before that one last towering storm–
the day the Earth last heard our voices,
felt our steps, and then
was washed by rains no more.

Published in Star*Line, July/August 2009 issue.

At the end of September Al and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary with an early supper at Applebee’s. The next weekend was my parents’ 67th anniversary, and I do not know what they did to celebrate the occasion. I do know that Dad is finally (he turns 93 in December) turning loose his last job, because he asked me, this week, to write a letter of resignation for him effective the end of the year. Mom says that he’s just sent them off to the board members. As he said, he can do the job just fine, but having to go out into the country in the winter makes him a bit nervous, now.

My work load has been even more seriously pared down by the flu that’s sweeping through Fargo-Moorhead. I hope that I will be well by next week, when some hope to reschedule. I usually don’t get the flu, not since I cut wheat out of my diet, 18 or 19 years ago. I’m assuming that’s what I’ve got, even though I’m not running a fever. All the other symptoms match.

-~*^*~-

It’s sort of funny that I come out of the allergy season totally disoriented. It breaks the continuity of my life. I have not retained the details of last spring, before the allergies hit, and the intervening time is quite blurry. Who am I? What do I like to do besides dance and pray?

One major change in the household that occurred between allergies and the current bout of flu is that I’ve started getting up when Al does in the morning. I make breakfast for both of us before he heads off to work. That’s going well. I like starting the day with eggs and toast and meat of some sort.

Another change is that I have returned to going to bed when I am sleepy, rather than waiting until Al is done watching his last TV program, somewhere between Midnight and 1:30 a.m. Getting into bed between 9:00 and 11:00 in the evening is helping me to stay caught up on sleep and feel more rested.

Guess I had better fix lunch for Al, who will be home sooner than I’m prepared for. Or, is one ever prepared for the moment after next? Really?

The Joy of Autumn’s Arrival

The temperature is below 60, the wind is blowing, skies are cloudy, rain is forecast for today, and I am feeling refreshed and renewed. I hate summers. The sunlight, higher temperatures and the allergens leave me feeling uncomfortable, listless, and half-awake. Fall and winter weather, with the  cold rains, strong winds, bracing temperatures, revitalizes me. Over the past week or so, I’ve started feeling like a "real person," again. I’ve enough excess energy that it makes me feel almost edgy.

The dogs aren’t really patient with this sudden move from the quiet of the basement to the cold wind blowing through the gazebo, between the floor boards, and the sound of wind in the trees, whose leaves are turning color and littering our back yard. Soon, they’ll decide to scratch at the gazebo door. "Let me out of here! I want to go into the house, where it’s warm," they’ll plead. They’d rather be with me, but there are limits. Samantha, the younger dog, has already tried to pull my computer off my lap. [There they went, quite happy to go inside without me.]

It is finally autumn, again, and I am pleased.

Before the Long Weekend

I very much look forward to the long weekend. Not so much because this has been a busy week, because it hasn’t been, but because I will be able to turn off the telephone with a clear conscience. Unstructured time is a blessing.

Pinball Dulcimers

Reflections from the Silence

Yesterday’s meeting for worship was interesting to me. Someone said something about goals in life being reached…or not being reached–I don’t remember which–and I was caught up in reflection on goals and gods and people who have served as role models or mentors.

When I was little, people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I don’t know how it is with other people, but the idea of being grown up was of itself foreign. I was firmly planted in the “now” and had no desire to change that. To be someone other than me didn’t appeal to me, either, grownup or child. What I really, truly wanted was to be left alone to read all the books there were and learn everything there was to learn. Not realistic! For one thing, I discovered that not all books are worth reading. Nothing I saw around me appealed to me in terms of spending even part of my life at it, and so I picked a couple career goals to use as responses when grownups asked: “I want to be a jet pilot (or astronaut or biophysicist).”

So much for goals! I didn’t have ‘em!

The same turned out to be true for the questions concerning people I admired or looked up to or wanted to emulate. I didn’t see anyone I would want to emulate, who was doing something that I thought I might want to do. There was nobody I wanted to be like. No role models, and no mentors. There was no one I wanted to be around, and aside from playing in sports, I didn’t have much to do with my peer group.

It’s odd to look back fifty years and be aware of it for the first time in a significant way. I really did just want to read books, write down my thoughts, and interact with and get to know other people in unstructured settings. That was my life’s goal!

It is clear to me, now, why I have not been a goal setter, why I have not been competitive or ambitious or “driven” at any point in my life. I have been doing what I wanted to do for most of my life. The main conflicts between me and other people have arisen from other peoples’ visions of what I could do, what I might be, or what I should be accomplishing, from their various perspectives.

There is nothing else that I want to do, other than what I have done and am now doing. Each day sparkles with some delight or other. There are little things here and there that I can do for some person or another, and I do them. Lots of times, I just listen. Most of the time, I understand.

My life is not made up of big things, major accomplishments, recognitions, awards, or acts of heroism. Rather, it’s little sacrifices in order to be able to give quietly, listening to others and speaking soft words or remaining silent, or creating a work of art that might add a moment of pleasure or a shot of energy to someone else’s day.

Do I want to be an astronaut? No, not really! I would rather be me.

Spring, floods, and pollen

I missed April totally. Spring rains have brought out flowers, the trees are blooming, and I’ve actually seen dandelion blossoms in our yard. Such is the Red River Valley of the North! Late fall and winter are so comfortable for me that I forget what spring promises. The temperature rises, and the trees put out pollen, and all the irreplaceable books and electronic equipment are moved from the basement into the living room and office, and wherever else there may be a corner. There is no room to turn around, let alone clean. Which is just as well, I suppose, because my energy level isn’t that high.

How often I want to do something, but can’t find the energy! I’m on autopilot, and it’s a wonder where I wind up.

There was meeting for worship, today, and I have some thoughts from that, but I don’t feel quite ready to write them down.

Flood Photographs, Fargo, N.D. and Moorhead, Minn.

2009_03_28

Winter Art

I wrote a short narrative to accompany my series of frost photographs on JPGMag.com: Nature’s Winter Art. I hope that you’ll enjoy it.

One of the benefits of living in the north country is nature’s artwork on the windows.