Monday Morning Musing: FaceTime

I've been told that I have no poker face. Apparently, no matter how hard I try, my emotional responses, what I am feeling about a particular event or person, plays out across my face. I've been working on this even as I wonder about whether the absence of a poker face is the presence of vulnerability. Of honesty. Of some willingness to share my joy or pain or doubt or frustration or curiosity with those around me. It's hard to say, for sure, but if you're looking for a partner at the poker table, I'm probably not that person.

I found a wonderful poem for this day in one of my favorite books, J. Ruth Gendler's Notes on the Need for Beauty. Penned by fourth grader Alexandra Dunn, it's her thoughts about her own face.

My face is like a museum where people go to look

at everything there.

They look at expressions and moods.

There's even a little restaurant on the first floor:

My mouth.

People take the nose elevator up to my eyes,

bouncing on my hair.

They practice Tarzan swinging by their ropes,

screaming in my ears.

At night

when I'm awake,

it's closing time.

Everything disappears into my head

until tomorrow.