Happy Happy Joy Joy

Two poems I shared yesterday are about birds – and pure joy. In “Before you thought of spring,” a bluebird perches upon “some superior tree / without a single leaf” and sings “for joy to nobody / But his seraphic self.” In “The way to know the Bobolink,” the bird is distinguished from all other birds “Precisely as the joy of him.”  He sings “Extrinsic to Attention / Too intimate with Joy.” As a result,  “He compliments existence” – so much so that the meadow is “nullified” when he has withdrawn!  How frickin joyful is that!

These two poems called to mind another work of birds and joy, “The birds begun at four o’clock.”  In this poem, at dawn, a “force” of birds created “A Music numerous as space” – and why?  Not for applause, but for “independent Ecstasy.”  Be sure to check out that final stanza – it leaves me awestruck.  I wrote about the poem HERE

I noted yesterday that symbolically the birds represent those who pursue their passions for pure joy and intrinsic reward  – those who create for no one but themselves (think Emily Dickinson). I asked, “For what do you have passion? Do you write? Sing? Play an instrument?  Quilt? Dance? Paint? Whatever it is you do, do you do so ‘Extrinsic to Attention / Too intimate with Joy’?”

That reminded me of a current art display in a local coffee shop I visit often.  The owner there invites different artists to share their works on a rotating basis, and this go-round, I thought the paintings looked a bit…simple…unrefined…like folk art?  Perhaps painted by a teen just finding their way in the world of art?  I then read the bio on the wall.  

You go, Richard Gallagher!  Paint on, my friend.  Paint for the pure joy of it!