JP of the UK has struck again! Here’s her communique from last week:
“Today I went into Oxford to meet my son for lunch. He teaches English to foreign students. I told him and his colleague about WDW and asked them if they had any suggestions for a venue. MOMA (originally Museum of Modern Art, now known as Modern Art Oxford) was suggested; Jon chose the poem. He went for ‘rhyme of an ancient mariner’ because Coleridge’s ‘version’ :-) is one of his favourites.
“We left the poem in the museum café which, as you can see from the photo, is also the entrance to the gallery (at the back). This release was totally different: completely down to earth…no spiritual shenanigans involved. Despite it being only 20 minutes by car, I rarely go into Oxford, but I felt it deserved to be the proud owner of one of your masterpieces, and I loved involving someone else in the choice of poem and location.
“It would be good to have a few more poems because I have to keep ‘timid hearts’ for myself. Too precious to give away…”
Ask and you shall receive, JP. Another poetry packet is poised to head to England: the third one winging its way to JP and her assorted accomplices.
Unfortunately, some sort of Divine interference prevented Christine in New South Wales, Australia, from receiving her packet in time for the “Blue Moon” trip she and her husband are taking to Europe. Undaunted, I sent her by email two poems that she planned to print out and carry with her to Ireland. (Not surprising, one of them is the above-mentioned verse, which is the only nautical-themed poem of the group of 12. The second is “this is for those of us who weep.”) In addition, I will be forwarding a new poetry package that will be waiting for Christine when she makes her way to Paris.
It’s fascinating to hear of the experiences of some of our first-wave participants. KE in Colorado says, “The poem is sitting on my table, all ready to go. But it’s clearly not time yet, so there it sits until I learn more.”
And remember SS in Ontario? She had perched a poem in a chair at an elder nursing home, and returned the next day to find the chair empty. This is where our ability to release any attachment to outcome takes center stage. We may never know who picked up the poem and what transpired next…
…or, will we?