Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

27 May 2009

"persistent quantum entanglement."

earthworms fecundating madly in the scented garden. the first roses bloom. the day begins early and earlier, ends later and late. everything is lush and extraordinary, the heat and rain absorbed by the life in rooted things and the succulence overwhelms any memory of winter. the woman showed me pictures of her granddaughter in the snow. look at the snow, i exclaimed. like winter was a planet far from the solar system i breathe in this morning after another white-noise night of rain.

whether i want to or not im going to have to weed after work if the weather complies. the bleeding heart is so gigantic i had no idea there was some enormous other growing beneath it, like a pumpkin or a burdock. and the abraham lincoln plant in the front garden, all stalk and lean rumpled leaves. friend or foe of rudbeckia and peonies? looks like roadside dock, her carpetbag of a million intrepid children. the royal we cultivates a wait and see attitude, keeping wary tab from the corner of an eye.

the bumblebees sound like hummingbirds. the jays sound like rainforest monkeys. the mourning doves sound like unrequited lovers. i go to bed thinking about the quality of my garden soil. i wake up wondering what has grown in the night. the little tomato and pepper seedlings hold their own, like runty princes in wide warm beds. time for thinning, hoeing, turning the compost. but at least i havent had to water.

the boss and i discuss bearded iris, alpaca manure, and how theres always room for another flowerbed, somewhere. she planted her lilies choreographically, yellow to orange to rust. these are not flowers, she says, these are my mother, my grandmother. her eyes shine with oceanwater. you dont think i know, she says, but i know.

22 May 2009

"You're a woman, you understand about eggs."

i love that my neighborhood is quiet. i love blue sky tibetan incense and green rooibos with vanilla organic soymilk and honey from a blue blade eyed old man. i love finally becoming an adult. i love dogs. i love that my hoya blooms a lot and my mothers took eighteen years to. but i love that first dewey bloom more than my many. i love that #4 propped the back of his library book up because he knew id really dig the buck rogers illustration on the back.

"So out above the beautiful flowering forests of titan we rode."
"No, i cant remember it -- but everything you tell me about that wonderful planet, Earth, appeals to me so -- it must be in my blood, mr. rogers."
"Couldnt you call me 'buck?'"

i love michael franti. i love that i can let things go. i love being a hopeful person again. i love the clear night sky. i love language. i love storytellers. i love the movement and clamor of gyptian music. i love discovery. i love my big garden. i love the first cup of coffee. i love children. i love caribou. i love dreaming. i love the smell of books. i love really fresh strawberries. i love dusk. i love The Mystery.

"this is only the beginning. greater things wait ahead. the future lies before us, spreadeagled like a coronary upon the dunghill of destiny."



everyone was generously happy for me. i am exceedingly grateful.

(the oak trees are in full pollen)

i am gainfully employed at a place where i feel i am part of a community and making a difference.


i welcome myself to the long weekend.
"...there weren't another other way to be..."

the entire timbre of my life has changed. i am industrious and productive from rise to set. i find time throughout the day to sit quietly and breathe, to take time out in the gardens, strolling like an old man with my hands behind my back, or in the early morning in the buffalo robe and a mug of coffee.

"where does it go? good lord only knows..."

at the concert last night the man said something to me about getting naked and watching ferris buellers day off. i said something about watching my life speed into the rearview. the sixth grade band played smoke on the water.

"...seems like it was just the other day..."

not finding the time to photograph. at the skate party they did indeed play billie jean (thriller in its entirety, in fact) and jive talkin.' i skated around and around and the toddler belonging to the place ran on naked tiptoes and there was a great deal of extravagant falling from nine year olds on wheels. all i needed to complete my own grade school skate fantasy would be a toorah loorah shout out from dexys midnight runners. in my dream the old man with a hfcs hangover read kafka between naps. my sisters house was infested with ants. its a long weekend and woe to the weeds and the witchgrass.

12 May 2009

"How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you’re having."

my from-seed tomato plants are TANKING. last year they were lame but proved prolific and lovely in the end. this years batch is perhaps beyond even my pollyanna overlook. so ill knuckle under and get some off the hillstreet phantom and some off the mennonites and tuck my short-bus sad buddies in between to either put out or compost. i dream of a functioning greenhouse, even the plastic quonset hut stylee would rock. hell, its what most of the mennonites use.

there are rumblings that i may indeed be voted onto the employment island but i just keep breathing and wearing my "to be of use is a blessing" bracelet. the weekend will be a small but productive affair. cleaning, dusting, organizing, brad pitt movies and hopefully some more inspirational-bracelet-making time. were all here together for the weekend which is insanely rare. #4 and i have a date tomorrow at the "rollerdrome" for a birthday celebration. im hoping they play incredibly dreadful seventies and eighties numbers (im thinking along the lines of "billie jean" if you ask me m.j. made def rollerskate music) but you can hope in one hand and...

hot and then heavy clouds. the kittens are showing their colors, the one huge lumbering bully, the one that actually runs to me when i come into the room (coincidentally the one we def. intend to keep), the little black meowling who id also like to have stick around and the tuxedo cat that plays perfectly the role of middle child. mama is attentive still, still looking for her extra wet rations, surreptitiously sneaking treats.

#3 attacked by the neighbors pair of maltese. i still remember being chased down by my neighbors toy poodle, cinnamon, and being terrified to tears. i was eight or nine. in the book i read today (a handbook for children and their dogs) it said, "dont forget that no matter how big or how small, your dog is a domesticated wolf."

11 May 2009

the valley goes green. i look up into a canopy of leaves pegging up laundry. up with the sun, watering the new pine trees they gave out at work, cooing at seedlings, turning the compost before dressing and driving away. good to get up and complete morning chores in early light, having someplace to go, to work, to be of use. the world seems insanely miraculous now.

i put a seed in the ground and food grows up. fragrant flowers emerge from winter dead branches. the world is not punishing. there is warm sunlight and gentle breezes. bare feet in evening grass. long days, the very verge of night spent weeding just a little more, just one more toss of the frisbee to the dog, just standing there listening to your kids shout and laugh.

the variety of life is dazzling. what an immeasurably precious gift.

my pavlovian experiment is still in its nascent stages. ive applied a great deal of thought to all of this, and every day i learn something new about myself and the world and its perspective. getting enough distance to see the pattern. acknowledging myself as part of the pattern, neither greater nor less than any other.

my horoscope: (rising sign) "More than ever before, you have the power to
want what you actually have . . . to enjoy the fruits of your labors . . . to
take your attention off the struggle so that you may fully love the
experiences your struggle has earned you."
(sun sign) "Let the holy water wash you free of guilt,
remorse, and any habit of mind that tricks you into being mean or
careless toward yourself."

06 May 2009

i am getting older. more myself every day. and my life may change for the better soon, i may become one of the blessedly employed. according to my pagan heart, summer is here, the garden is a third in, the third that can stand a nip of frost in the lowland. my tomato seedlings poke up through their pressed-pot beds. i started pumpkin, cucumber, zinnia for now and hollyhock for next year. everyday out there is something new, something lovely and green. i bring in a grand bouquet of lilac. i am an old woman with her head in a bush, breathing deeply.

i see my reflection and i see the face of my mother, the broad bones and sad eyes, but the defiant chin of my fathers people, the high forehead, the thin lip. i think -- handsome, resilient, defiant. i am growing into my skin. the skin of my hands is going crepey, my withering decolletage. the roads of blood begin to show, where ive been all along.

employed at a place where i can use my heart and mind, my soul and hand. the other day i received a freshly plucked tulip, and an enameled heart pin i promised to wear every day. i work with children, food and books. i am useful. and with the work of my life i may be able to feed my children, treat them to movies and pizza, new jeans and fresh socks, a trip to the glass factory or the gorge. a life for all of us. a margin of air.

it rained and rained, great silver sheets of water on the ground. and then the clouds cleared off into shining cumulus landscapes separated by oceans of sky. i saw a woman raise her face to the sun, its been so long, a week of stratus, of cool. we are grateful for our portion of light.

05 May 2009

the cards say hired in september. its been cool and grey, good transplanting weather, good getting the seeds in weather. but not so good lets get germinating weather and the presage is for rain. collards, crucifers, root crops, peas. i bet on dill, cosmos, borage surviving late spring travails in upstate ny. holding back on the customary spring perennial binge until whats there already comes together to show. midsummer will bring a price-reduced flower-grouting of the beds back and front. watching with bright curiosity at the evolution of things i couldnt identify but didnt eradicate wholesale...its not grass or dandelions, lets wait and see.

after the sudden and brutal thinning of the herd i reclaim authority and the effect is remarkable. a vital part of coming into my own. these dogs my life spirit out before me. and i can stand in the cart like a Freyja with her cats and they will go whither she wishes. i am altogether finding my place in the pack, in the world, in my own life. spring this year is a wake-up call for us all.

the lilacs appear of a sudden, their deeply beloved old-woman smell clings in the cavities behind the bones of my head. i go out in the early morning to commune, dogs in the dew, making note of what is growing and what is gone. i go to bed each night looking forward to the morning. to lying in bed in the new world listening to all the birds. i look forward to my life, look down the path with curiosity and wonder. and forgiving myself for taking so long to get here.
"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well."

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)