Life is such a random trip sometimes. You never know when someone will walk into your life carrying poetry in their hearts. Or when an appreciative eye will recognize a work of art correctly positioned. It's a slow day in the shoppe, but it has lent itself well to interesting conversations.
A woman came in, noticed the poet stamps, and quoted William Carlos Williams. It's amazing how much really does depend on a red wheelbarrow... It led to a discussion of the usefulness of English degrees, as well as how they suck a bit of joy out of vapid reading... And it brought a spark of joy to my soul. Somehow it served to remind me that the lives we live matter, even on days when we seem insignificant. Her day had fallen behind schedule, but she spent a good twenty minutes just chatting with me about the joys of literature and learning. I felt somehow elevated.
Sometimes it seems that every day I'm reminded more and more how little I know, and what a dramatically huge step I've taken into uncertainty by buying a business. I don't know squat about running a business. Filing taxes is a deep dark dread that makes me quiver. A calendar of the Czech Republic on the wall at home, and a week spent watching an episode of Prostreno every night on the computer, reminds me of other lives lived, and how very distant that relatively care free life is now removed from my future.
Poetry, however, has not been forgotten. And the bits of art that are cropping up on the walls reminds me that there is beauty all around, just waiting to be expanded upon. Even in the face of gargantuan uncertainty there hope quietly sprouts in my heart, like the radishes and peas, cilantro and mint in our tiny clay soil garden.