Connie's Corner

Expression....

I looked for poems about birds today and the following went right to my core...

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—


And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—


I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.


Emily Dickinson

Not being much of a poet myself, I wanted to know more about the person of Emily Dickinson. In Amazon I found that a couple of years ago a biography had been written about her, Lives Like Loaded Guns: Emily Dickinson and Her Family's Feuds by Lyndall Gordon. I have no idea if this was known before, but in the excerpt the author puts forth that Ms. Dickinson may have had epilepsy and that this may explain many of the strange aspects of her life.

She may have been reclusive to avoid seizures in public, she may have remained unmarried due to the laws of the time period, she took drugs routinely given to those with epilepsy, when seen in public she wore white perhaps in hope of reducing overstimulization, i.e. seizures, and that temporal lobe epilepsy is associated with creative genius.

Along with epilepsy, she endured many familial struggles, according to the biography. Isn't it astonishing that with all these things to overcome, she found and created so much beauty, beauty she shares with us today. Or could it be that when we struggle, we have a need to search out beauty so that we may capture it within ourselves?

until next time...c