a day of extended metaphor

The past couple days I've felt "o'erspent with gales," to borrow from Emily Dickinson. Actually it's been three days. Today was the third and it began wearily, in spite of the beauty of the morning. I made eggs, took the dog for a walk, and as we walked, I tried to talk myself out of the slump, nearly concluding with Solomon that all this effort is in vain if I'm going to spend the rest of my life doing this every day. It's just not how I want to live.

I got home and carried my pile of books that I'm reading to the front porch. One of them is the collected works of Emily Dickinson which I've enjoyed more than I anticipated. I usually read until I hit one that I need to read multiple times because it resonates so deeply. "Adrift! A Little Boat Adrift!" was that one for me today.

So simple, yet so timely. On my walk, I felt like I was sinking and I'm very aware that in those moments I need to decide, sink or swim. But what happens when you don't know what do next? I allow so many factors to make sinking out to be the most accessible option. But after I read and reread this poem, the images of "retrimming" and "redecking" stayed with me. That's what you do after a storm. It may take all night, and addressing the wear and tear of the storm is exhausting, but that doesn't hinder the exultation of surviving and continuing on.

Shortly after that, I opened my Bible to Matthew and scanned chapter 8, which picks up with the miracles of Jesus after the Sermon on the Mount. The disciples' fears and the calming of the storm settled in my understanding more deeply than ever.

Now that the day is over and I have returned to the poem and the verses, I just keep thanking God for poetry, for image and how it performs the marriage of the abstract with the concrete. He gave me this day of extended metaphor and it's ended better than it began.

#30

Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So Sailors say -- on yesterday --
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say -- on yesterday --
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat -- o'erspent with gales --
Retrimmed its masts -- redecked its sails --
And shot -- exultant on!

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And they went and woke him saying "Save us, Lord; we are perishing."

And he said to them "Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?" Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm.