It’s science, of course,
how the sugars in beets
will caramelize when heated,
a process that includes conversion,
condensation, dehydration,
collisions, and the formation
of thousands of volatile compounds.
And though it’s not simple,
and though this process of sweetening
is not fully understood,
sweetening happens. Every time.
Is it wrong this gives me hope
for other hard and bitter things?
Just asking the question,
already I feel myself begin to soften.
Posts Tagged ‘science’
Self-Portrait as Root Vegetable
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beets, science, self-portrait, sweetness on January 28, 2023| 6 Comments »
Centripetal
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, love, mother, science, unseen forces on January 14, 2023| 8 Comments »
While we stand at the stove
making potstickers
my daughter leans into me
and drops her head on my shoulder
and those twelve seconds of stasis
become the center of rotation
on which the whole day spins
and F equals mv squared over r
is just another equation for love.
I have ridden enough roller coasters
through the loops so to speak
that I trust how this works,
trust that in this wildly spinning world
there’s a force that pulls us
to the center, that won’t let us
be pushed off the path.
I trust it so much in this moment
I don’t even try to hold on.
Randomized
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged experiment, science, self-perception, who am I on November 14, 2022| 9 Comments »
I feel like I’m this experiment called Joi.
—Joi Sharp
Now that we’re calling this life an experiment,
it’s suddenly more fun to notice
what makes a Rosemerry angry?
How does a Rosemerry learn?
Can we make her annoyed?
What if we frustrate her with insurance claims?
With slow traffic? With politics?
With fill in the blank?
What conditions help her forgive?
How quickly might a Rosemerry
be moved to tears?
What makes her want to cast blame?
What if she meets guilt in a crowded room?
What if she has nowhere to hide?
What makes her feel small?
What makes her feel vast?
How does a Rosemerry
heal from a wound?
What happens when she is infused with love?
What if it’s more than she can hold?
What inspires a Rosemerry to laugh?
What if she deviates from her thoughts?
If we minimize the variables,
can we predict what brings her peace?
If we control confounding factors,
can we repeat our findings?
Faced with the data,
can she still embrace the unknown?
Can she stay open to possibility?
Lose her attachment to outcomes?
Such a curious subject,
elusive as a song.
What if we change the stimulus again?
Who is she now?
Neuroendocrine Prophesy
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged endocrine, science, waking up on February 14, 2022| 9 Comments »
The pineal gland walks down the street.
No one notices it, of course—
so few have any idea what it is.
Not to mention it’s the size of a pea.
Though a mouth sees it
and whispers to an ear,
“I heard she secretes melatonin.”
The ear titters, as if it’s a joke.
It’s no joke. The pineal gland
ignores their chatter. Because it’s true.
And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“Hey, PG, don’t worry about them,”
says the open yawn walking by.
“You’re amazing. I should know.”
The pineal gland nods and sighs.
“I feel so misunderstood,”
The yawn grows wider.
“It’s no small thing what you do—
to let in light and darkness.”
The pineal gland gives a shrug.
“In fact,” says the yawn,
“thank you for letting it all in.
That’s the only way
this world will wake up.”
*
(um, yeah, I know i just totally geeked out, but hey …)
Bioluminescence
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beach, bioluminescence, dark, light, science, shine, unity on January 18, 2022| 9 Comments »
Sometimes, when I fear
the small light I bring
isn’t big enough or bright
enough, I think of that night
on the beach years ago
when every step I took
in the cool wet sand turned
a glowing, iridescent blue—
and the waves themselves
were a flashing greenish hue—
imagine we could do
what 7.9 billion
one-celled plankton can do—
can shine when it’s dark,
can shine when agitated,
can shine with our own
inner light and trust when we all
bring the tiny light we have,
it’s enough to illumine the next step
in the long stretch of night.
And Mean It, Too
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged body, love, neutrino, science on February 15, 2021| 5 Comments »
In every second, one hundred trillion neutrinos
pass through the body: One hundred trillion
subatomic particles move through us
as if we were sieves, no, as if we were nets
with holes so big that whole islands
travel through without us noticing.
It thrills me to think of the self so porous,
so leaky. Imagine if thoughts, too,
could clear us with so little friction,
so little effect. How many hopes and hurts
just today have I let stick? Imagine
them breezing through the aorta, imagine
them gliding through the brain, slipping through
the core of us, finding no purchase, no anchor.
Imagine the miracle that in any given moment
we don’t fall through our chair, our bed, the floor.
Imagine, permeable as we are, we still coalesce
enough to look at another, to see each other as whole.
We still manage to pick up the mesh of a phone,
succeed in moving our holey lips,
and hundreds of trillions of neutrinos later,
with total certainty, manage to promise a solid I love you.
Imagine, with these pervious hands
we might carry each other, might cradle
each other, might welcome each other home.
Ephemeral Prayer
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged laughter, prayer, science, sun on April 20, 2020| Leave a Comment »
In five billion years, the hydrogen fuel
at the core of the sun will be spent.
Forces of gravity will take over,
compressing the core. The rest of the sun
will expand, vaporizing the earth.
I’ve studied the science, read the texts.
In the meantime, I live in a canyon
with rock walls one-hundred-fifty million years old—
and sometimes, like this morning,
despite rumors of doom,
the forces of gravity take over
and I fall on the floor laughing—
a riotous squealing and braying,
tears leaking, chest heaving,
grateful to big time for this very moment
when I am almost seamlessly joined with my shadow.
It rolls with me on the floor as I hoot and giggle,
praying in the language I know best.
Dear Somebody’s Version of Albert,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged einstein, epistle, letter, love, science on March 28, 2020| Leave a Comment »
*Dear readers: Sooooo. After really investing myself in the letter (linked below) and writing the poem below, I found out the letter is a fake. And I thought about just taking down the poem. And then I thought, well, even though Albert didn’t write the letter, I still believe in what it says. So I changed the title and made note here that the letter is fake. I guess my poem just turned into fan fiction??
***********
If we want our species to survive, if we are to find meaning in life, if we want to save the world and every sentient being that inhabits it, love is the one and only answer.
—a fake letter from Albert Einstein, in a letter to his daughter, Lieserl
Thank you for your letter.
I know you wrote it
for a daughter,
but I read it as if
you wrote it for me.
You spoke of making a love bomb,
a device powerful enough
to entirely destroy the hate,
selfishness and greed
that devastate the planet.
I want to believe it’s possible.
Now. Somehow, because it is
your assertion, it feels
more possible than something
the poets propose.
But count me in. Let me help
verify your equation in which
the energy to heal the world
is obtained through love
multiplied by the speed of light squared.
Let the experiment begin
in my heart. Let me always
let love write the proof.
Let me find the infinite energy
inside me waiting to be released.
Let me be driven by love.
Let me remember everything
is in relation to everything else:
Planets in their orbits. A virus. Black holes.
How I meet the world. The bending of light.
*to read the full letter, click here
It Comes Down to This
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, loss of self, love, protons, science, space on February 8, 2020| 5 Comments »
Not that I want to be someone else,
just that I want to be less myself,
which is to say less the woman
who thinks she knows anything
about anything—gardening or writing
or skiing or parenting or loving—
I want to be less who I am and
more what a tree is, what a star is,
protons fused with other protons,
and the strong force that holds
particles together in the center of atoms,
and the weak force that breaks the atoms down,
and the electromagnetic force that binds
all molecules. Yes, this is how I want to meet you,
without a name, unencumbered by a me,
a collection of atoms and forces that rhyme
with you, linked as we are from the very beginning.
How easy it is then to say hello, to fall in love
with each other, the world.
After Jack Sends Me the Definition of Black Hole
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged astrology, black hole, god, poem, poetry, science on January 7, 2020| 2 Comments »
A black hole is a region of spacetime exhibiting gravitational acceleration so strong that nothing—no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.
—Wikipedia
Perhaps black hole is just another word
for God—a force that pulls in everything,
regardless of how that everything looks or prays or votes.
A cup that runneth—not over, but ever in. A shepherd
so adept at shepherding that nothing—
no sheep, no man, no star, no dust—
could ever be lost in its spacetime pasture.
It creates communion, obliterates separateness.
In pictures, it’s a vision of still water.
In truth, it’s unable to be known.
A force that overwhelms all other forces.
It devours some, and in others spurs growth.
And what isn’t, I suppose, another word
for God: Ledger. Valley. Garden. Death.
Rhubarb. Rod. Human. Staff.
There is this gift to see the divine in everything.
There is this force that pulls the everything in.
Every particle. Every everything. Even (my god) the light.