Lessons by Pat Schneider

Lessons

by Pat Schneider

I have learned

that life goes on,

or doesn't.

That days are measured out

in tiny increments

as a woman in a kitchen

measures teaspoons

of cinnamon, vanilla,

or half a cup of sugar

into a bowl.

I have learned


that moments are as precious as nutmeg,


and it has occurred to me


that busy interruptions


are like tiny grain moths,


or mice.


They nibble, pee, and poop,


or make their little worms and webs


until you have to throw out the good stuff


with the bad.

It took two deaths

and coming close myself

for me to learn

that there is not an infinite supply

of good things in the pantry.

A little over a year ago, I posted another Pat Schneider poem, "The Patience of Ordinary Things." Each time I read another of her poems, I am more entranced by her ability to take the everyday things that surround us and give us advice on how to live. Her poems exist in the real world, which is not always beautiful, but always has something in it for which to be grateful.

Today's poem is another example--it is even right there in the title. And if you think the first 3 lines are obvious, I would counter that they may be, but we often don't get it. Schneider could have written, "You are either alive or you are dead, and if you dead, you can't appreciate life's good things, so do it now," but--like all great poems--we would not have the wonderful pantry metaphor that follows. (And literature often is a better teacher than hearing advice straight and with blunt force.)

"That days are measured out . . . as a woman in a kitchen measures teaspoons" is a simple, home-y image, but it is one we all see immediately. As readers, we relate to this right away, and we also get all of the sensory elements it evokes: colors, scents, the little spice dust that arises when we stir things together.

The second stanza repeats the first stanza's first line. Again, intellectually, we all know moments are precious, but we do not always live life that way. I certainly never thought of moments as nutmeg, which is a nice surprise here.

Those interruptions to our enjoyment of life also become metaphors--moths and mice. Between the two of them, they go beyond annoyance. They don't destroy much on their own, but by existing, they ruin the good stuff.

We come out of the metaphor momentarily in stanza three to discover what made the speaker learn all of this: two deaths and a close call for herself. The deaths of loved ones and having a scare ourselves is often a way to get it through our heads that life is not forever.

For the poem's overall lesson, we return to the kitchen metaphor:

. . . there is not an infinite supply

of good things in the pantry.

This is another of those poems that should be taped to your bathroom mirror or refrigerator door--someplace where you will see it everyday. It is a great reminder to cherish the good in our lives, which, again, is something we know but often forget to do.

This poem is from Pat Schneider's 2005 book Another River: New and Selected Poems from Amherst and Artists Press. She wrote a number of poetry books, as well as prose, and I encourage you to check out more of her work.