{"id":28702,"date":"2025-08-01T10:01:30","date_gmt":"2025-08-01T14:01:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=28702"},"modified":"2025-08-01T10:01:37","modified_gmt":"2025-08-01T14:01:37","slug":"when-never-enough-and-ever-plenty-go-walking-hand-in-hand","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2025\/08\/when-never-enough-and-ever-plenty-go-walking-hand-in-hand\/","title":{"rendered":"When “Never Enough” and “Ever Plenty” Go Walking Hand-in-Hand"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

[Image: “Sufficient Unto the Day…,” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see\u00a0this page<\/a>\u00a0at\u00a0<\/em><\/em><\/em>RAMH.)<\/em><\/em>]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From whiskey river’s commonplace book<\/a><\/em> (first three stanzas):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Snow Geese<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!
What a task<\/span>
to ask<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

of anything, or anyone,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

One fall day I heard
above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound<\/span>
I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was<\/p>\n\n\n\n

a flock of snow geese, winging it
faster than the ones we usually see,<\/span>
and, being the color of snow, catching the sun<\/p>\n\n\n\n

so they were, in part at least, golden. I<\/p>\n\n\n\n

held my breath
as we do
sometimes
to stop time
when something wonderful
has touched us<\/p>\n\n\n\n

as with a match,
which is lit, and bright,
but does not hurt
in the common way,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

but delightfully,
as if delight
were the most serious thing
you ever felt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The geese
flew on,
I have never
seen them again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.
Maybe I won’t.
It doesn’t matter.
What matters
is that, when I saw them,
I saw them
as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Mary Oliver [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Actually, love is something entirely different. Just like intelligence is a quality of the mind, so love is a quality of the heart. We don’t just have intelligence when we have to solve a difficult mathematical equation; we don’t just have intelligence when we have to make logical connections; the mind remains intelligent whether we do that or not. It’s the same with love. The loving quality of the heart remains with us whether there’s anybody in front of us that we can actually extend that love to or not.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Ayya Khema [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Sin<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The worst part is failing to kiss the ground each morning.
Or the cold pot of resentment stirred and simmered
well into the evening. Everything else comes from this, grows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wouldn’t be so bad if such immense portions
of good fortune weren’t squandered each hour,
minutes the long dead would ransom eternity to regain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even now, ripe apples lie rotting casually about the floor,
single bites taken from each – there is
no worm, no snake . . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

only this failure to praise.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Dane Cervine [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Lightenings<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

i<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shifting brilliancies. Then winter light
In a doorway, and on the stone doorstep
A beggar shivering in silhouette.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So the particular judgement might be set:
Bare wallstead and a cold hearth rained into—
Bright puddle where the soul-free cloud-life roams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And after the commanded journey, what?
Nothing magnificent, nothing unknown.
A gazing out from far away, alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And it is not particular at all,
Just old truth dawning: there is no next-time-round.
Unroofed scope. Knowledge-freshening wind.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Seamus Heaney [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From elsewhere:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

What You Missed That Day You Were Absent from Fourth Grade<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen
to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took
questions on how not to feel lost in the dark<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After lunch she distributed worksheets
that covered ways to remember your grandfather\u2019s<\/p>\n\n\n\n

voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep
without feeling you had forgotten to do something else\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

something important\u2014and how to believe
the house you wake in is your home. This prompted<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing
how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts
are all you hear; also, that you have enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The English lesson was that I am<\/em>
is a complete sentence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation
look easy. The one that proves that hundreds of questions,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking
for whatever it was you lost, and one person<\/p>\n\n\n\n

add up to something.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Brad Aaron Modlin [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

[The TV series Ted Lasso<\/em>]<\/span>\u2019s out-of-the-gate conceit is that a protagonist inhabiting the stereotype of the blissful fool is wiser than the rest of us and has more to teach than to learn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ted Lasso<\/em> began streaming in 2020, when, my Times<\/em> colleague Margaret Renkl astutely observed, we were all \u201cmired in an America we no longer recognized, a nation so dangerously polarized that many people would think nothing of cutting off their closest family members if they didn\u2019t vote the \u2018right\u2019 way.\u201d And the show struck a nerve, Renkl added, because there was \u201csomething about Ted Lasso\u2019s sunny optimism and faith in silliness as a social lubricant, something about his openness and his unshakable kindness, that lifted Americans\u2019 pandemic-worn hearts.\u201d Renkl recalled a particular scene in which Ted tells a player who is stewing over a defeat which animal is the happiest in the world: \u201cA goldfish. It\u2019s got a ten-second memory.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Frank Bruni [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Lightenings<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

viii<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The annals say: when the monks of Clonmacnoise
Were all at prayers inside the oratory
A ship appeared above them in the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The anchor dragged along behind so deep
It hooked itself into the altar rails
And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A crewman shinned and grappled down the rope
And struggled to release it. But in vain.
‘This man can’t bear our life here and will drown,’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The abbot said, ‘unless we help him.’ So
They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back
Out of the marvellous as he had known it.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Seamus Haney [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: “Sufficient Unto the Day…,” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see\u00a0this page\u00a0at\u00a0RAMH.)] From whiskey river’s commonplace book (first three stanzas): Snow Geese Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!What a taskto ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours,and not by […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":28709,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federated","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Mary Oliver, Seamus Haney, et al.: 'When \u201cNever Enough\u201d and \u201cEver Plenty\u201d Go Walking Hand-in-Hand'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[183,247,1393,4701,250,251,4159],"tags":[595,1152,2555,5534,5977,6155,6161,6162,6163],"class_list":{"0":"post-28702","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-everyday-life","8":"category-ruminations","9":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","10":"category-my-photography","11":"category-art","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-mary-oliver","15":"tag-seamus-heaney","16":"tag-ayya-khema","17":"tag-good-news-bad-news","18":"tag-bad-news-good-news","19":"tag-frank-bruni","20":"tag-dane-cervine","21":"tag-brad-aaron-modlin","22":"tag-getting-past-by-getting-through","23":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/08\/sufficientuntotheday_johnesimpson_med.jpg?fit=1024%2C731&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7sW","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28702","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=28702"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28702\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":28718,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28702\/revisions\/28718"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/28709"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=28702"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=28702"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=28702"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}