The rain and gray has returned and I found myself looking through some old photos sent to me by a friend who had been somewhere on the coast near here when there was a gathering of sailing ships from all over the world. The photos are marvelous and I've included this one. But as I spread them out to look at them and felt the old restlessness returning, I also remembered this poem that I read not too long ago and that pin pointed me pretty accurately.
The Double Life
By Don Blanding
How very simple life would be
If only there were two of me
A Restless Me to drift and roam
A Quiet Me to stay at home.
A Searching One to find his fill
Of varied skies and newfound thrill
While sane and homely things are done
By the domestic Other One.
And that's just where the trouble lies;
There is a Restless Me that cries
For chancy risks and changing scene,
For arctic blue and tropic green,
For deserts with their mystic spell,
For lusty fun and raising Hell
But shackled to that Restless Me
My Other Self rebelliously
Resists the frantic urge to move.
It seeks the old familiar groove
That habits make. It finds content
With hearth and home dear prisonment,
With candlelight and well loved books
And treasured loot in dusty nooks,
With puttering and garden things
And dreaming while a cricket sings
And all the while the Restless One
Insists on more exciting fun
It wants to go with every tide,
No matter where… just for the ride.
Like yowling cats the two selves brawl
Until I have no peace at all.
One eye turns to the forward track,
The other eye looks sadly back,
I'm getting wall-eyed from the strain,
(It's tough to have an idle brain)
But One says "Stay" and One says "Go"
And One says "Yes," and One says "no,"
And One Self wants a home and wife
And One Self craves the drifter's life.
The Restless Fellow always wins
I wish my folks had made me twins.
6 comments:
that is a great poem, thanks for sharing it
I am a single minded person, I guess. While I can understand the conflict of the twin I was either one or the other. Until I got so old I was always the restless one wanting to travel and be on the go. Then something happened; old age set in and now I am quite content to stay home.
Wow, lovely. I've lived all over the world and there's a million more places I'd like to see; but a deep deep part of me envies the people who have roots in a single place, knowing their neighbours, enjoying big family gatherings every holidays, and knowing they will be buried among family and friends. Impossible to live a life that satisfies both longings I suppose, but I dream all the same!
Thanks for passing it on Sylvia.
I love this poem! Thanks for posting it, Sylvia.
Nice one, Sylvia. And oh, so true.But, as Darlene pointed out, there comes a time....
I am now content to travel via computer and TV. It would be books as well, but that is even going out of reach of my old eyes.
Most of us remain in conflict- torn between two selves, or even several, sometimes. The joy of travel and the comfort of home and hearth have found expression, beautifully in your poem. The pics are exquisite!
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