After the reading, I wanted to tell Carver how much his writing meant to me. It was impossible to put into words. Also, I had a couple years of sobriety too, and wanted to tell Raymond Carver this! When it was my turn at the signing table, star-struck and trembling, I told him that I, too, recently found sobriety. I asked him to inscribe the book with “Keep it Simple” \u2014a slogan from AA. Then I mumbled something about the slogan perhaps also being able to refer to his unique writing style, which is why I chose it for the inscription. Secretly, I thought I was rather clever to make that connection, and further thought that maybe he would be impressed by this insight. I cringed a bit right now remembering saying that to such a great writer.<\/p>\n
Years after his death, I understood that he would never have referred to his own writing as simple. He called himself as a “precisionist”. (Of course, that’s it.) At the signing table, though,\u00a0smiling, looking into my eyes with kindness, he said, “That’s great<\/em>!” and he wrote exactly what I requested:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I noticed for the first time today as I took these photos, that the photograph of Carver on the back cover was taken in front of a wall of cedar shingles, same as those on the old screen porch where I now write, overlooking a small lake.<\/p>\n Water coming together with other water.<\/p>\n In honor of Raymond Carver today and of the power of writing to inspire, and at times rescue us, here are five of his poems, ones that I have held deep in my heart all of my adult life. As I assembled them, I realized they create a short, yet clear and powerful journey through his life. As I now face stage four cancer, I am inspired by Carver to practice his “attitude of gratitude”. Here’s hoping you can read these through in one sitting to get a glimpse of Carver’s life and writing in these beautiful, precise<\/em> poems:<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Fear<\/strong><\/p>\n Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive. I’ve said that.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Waiting<\/strong><\/p>\n Left off the highway and <\/p>\n What the Doctor Said<\/strong><\/p>\n He said it doesn\u2019t look good <\/p>\n Gravy<\/strong><\/p>\n No other word will do. For that\u2019s what it was. <\/p>\n Late Fragment<\/strong> you wanted from this life, even so?<\/p>\n I did.<\/p>\n And what did you want?<\/p>\n To call myself beloved, to feel myself<\/p>\n beloved on the earth.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Raymond Carver, (1938-1988)<\/strong><\/p>\n The poems Gravy and Late Fragment <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I fell in love with Raymond Carver’s poems and short stories during the 1980’s, just as people fall in love with each other. His words are woven into that decade of my life, a challenging time where I found sobriety … Continue reading ![\"IMG_1294\"](\"http:\/\/www.themovementofhealing.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/IMG_1294.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n
\nFear of falling asleep at night.
\nFear of not falling asleep.
\nFear of the past rising up.
\nFear of the present taking flight.
\nFear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
\nFear of electrical storms.
\nFear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
\nFear of dogs I’ve been told won’t bite.
\nFear of anxiety!
\nFear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
\nFear of running out of money.
\nFear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
\nFear of psychological profiles.
\nFear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
\nFear of my children’s handwriting on envelopes.
\nFear they’ll die before I do, and I’ll feel guilty.
\nFear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
\nFear of confusion.
\nFear this day will end on an unhappy note.
\nFear of waking up to find you gone.
\nFear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
\nFear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
\nFear of death.
\nFear of living too long.
\nFear of death.<\/p>\n
\ndown the hill. At the
\nbottom, hang another left.
\nKeep bearing left. The road
\nwill make a Y. Left again.
\nThere’s a creek on the left.
\nKeep going. Just before
\nthe road ends, there’ll be
\nanother road. Take it
\nand no other. Otherwise,
\nyour life will be ruined
\nforever. There’s a log house
\nwith a shake roof, on the left.
\nIt’s not that house. It’s
\nthe next house, just over
\na rise. The house
\nwhere trees are laden with
\nfruit. Where phlox, forsythia,
\nand marigold grow. It’s
\nthe house where the woman
\nstands in the doorway
\nwearing the sun in her hair. The one
\nwho’s been waiting
\nall this time.
\nThe woman who loves you.
\nThe one who can say,
\n“What’s kept you?”<\/p>\n
\nhe said it looks bad in fact real bad
\nhe said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before
\nI quit counting them
\nI said I\u2019m glad I wouldn\u2019t want to know
\nabout any more being there than that
\nhe said are you a religious man do you kneel down
\nin forest groves and let yourself ask for help
\nwhen you come to a waterfall
\nmist blowing against your face and arms
\ndo you stop and ask for understanding at those moments
\nI said not yet but I intend to start today
\nhe said I\u2019m real sorry he said
\nI wish I had some other kind of news to give you
\nI said Amen and he said something else
\nI didn\u2019t catch and not knowing what else to do
\nand not wanting him to have to repeat it
\nand me to have to fully digest it
\nI just looked at him
\nfor a minute and he looked back it was then
\nI jumped up and shook hands with this man who\u2019d just given me
\nsomething no one else on earth had ever given me
\nI may have even thanked him habit being so strong<\/p>\n
\nGravy.
\nGravy, these past ten years.
\nAlive, sober, working, loving, and
\nbeing loved by a good woman. Eleven years
\nago he was told he had six months to live
\nat the rate he was going. And he was going
\nnowhere but down. So he changed his ways
\nsomehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
\nAfter that it was all gravy, every minute
\nof it, up to and including when he was told about,
\nwell, some things that were breaking down and
\nbuilding up inside his head. \u201cDon\u2019t weep for me,\u201d
\nhe said to his friends. \u201cI\u2019m a lucky man.
\nI\u2019ve had ten years longer than I or anyone
\nexpected. Pure Gravy. And don\u2019t forget it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nAnd did you get what<\/p>\n
\nare engraved on Raymond Carver’s tombstone.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n