Too Crowding, Too Confusing

Carpe Diem

Age saw two quiet children 
Go loving by at twilight, 
He knew not whether homeward, 
Or outward from the village, 
Or (chimes were ringing) churchward, 
He waited, (they were strangers) 
Till they were out of hearing 
To bid them both be happy. 
'Be happy, happy, happy, 
And seize the day of pleasure.' 
The age-long theme is Age's. 
'Twas Age imposed on poems 
Their gather-roses burden 
To warn against the danger 
That overtaken lovers 
From being overflooded 
With happiness should have it. 
And yet not know they have it. 
But bid life seize the present? 
It lives less in the present 
Than in the future always, 
And less in both together 
Than in the past. The present 
Is too much for the senses, 
Too crowding, too confusing- 
Too present to imagine. 
 - Robert Frost

Today the children have a day off of school. The day has warmed up to a balmy 40 degrees and we have collected our mail for the first time this frigid week. I swam this morning, attended William's conference, took the children out to brunch and commenced a house-cleaning project - we are having a group of water polo players and parents at the house tomorrow. This afternoon the children will help me practice my videographer and graphic designer skills as I analyze their swim strokes on SwimLabs' cool software, and then we may finally sit down for a movie. I have a spare ten minutes now so I'm writing here as Daniel shouts at me from the family room to help him clean up Monopoly money.  Amidst the work, home, study, school and activity avalanche of this week I have fallen far behind in my writing.

But I did speak with my Regis advisor this week and I registered for the next two courses in my MA program. I'm so excited: they are both creative nonfiction courses and I hear great things about the teacher. I'm hoping to collate some of my most-visited and most-resonant blog entries in a book for friends and family, and this class could be a perfect venue to fulfill that hope. In the meantime, please enjoy this wonderful poem by Robert Frost which I think of most days - especially  the lines "The present/ is too much for the senses,/Too crowding, too confusing-/Too present to imagine.