What To Do When the World is Too Much To Us

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Susan Dromey Heeter


William Wordsworth wrote a beautiful poem called, The World is Too Much With Us

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;

The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,

For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not.—Great God! I’d rather be

A pagan suckled in a creed outworn;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

I’m sure there are reams of paper written about Bill’s work, his lines, but all I know, all I muse joyfully -and perhaps a bit sorrowfully about today is that, whew, the world is way too much with us. That sordid boon!  And, yes, I’m feeling very out of tune so I will go on that pleasant sea and have glimpses that are way less forlorn, perhaps Proteaus rising from the sea, that would be incredible. I’d like to see him change shapes, like to watch him wriggle from speaking of the future.  “But, Prot!  Will I EVER lose that twenty pounds?” “What are the winning lottery numbers?””Will the Celtics win?”

And when the world is too much with me, I return to the basics. I hike in the woods with my ever buddy Bennie. I knit.  I read autobiographies.  Currently I am reading “Q” about Quincy Jones. It is fabulous. The world was way too much with him, he dined on rats and then went on to earn over 25 Emmys.  His life gets me out of mine, allows me to bask in perseverance and joy and the power of persistence and music.  

Next Saturday Knitters and Crocheters will form an in-person crafting circle on the lawn of the Dover Public Library.  It begins at 10 and will continue until noon.  The world will not be too much with me as I grab some fabulous yarn and remember that two sticks can provide me some much needed less forlornness and will remind me how wonderful it is to not have to scroll or use a password.

So, dear Musers, as this world does feel so out of tune, I muse joyfully you’ll find your zen: in poetry, in the woods, in an autobiography, in a beautiful ball of yarn transformed into a January hat.  The world is too much with us, Joyful Musers, but let’s knit and read and hike to the pleasant lea with Bennie.

Susan Dromey Heeter is a writer from Dover who recently let her hair go au natural white. Writing has been her passion since her English majoring days at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst.  Dromey Heeter has lived in The Netherlands, Alaska and currently basks in all things New England, including the frigid winters. An avid swimmer, Dromey Heeter’s great passion is to bring back body surfing as most children have no idea how to ride waves without ridiculous boogie boards.

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