Yesterday, I ran a familiar route. As I pushed up the hill on Bellevue Road, I noticed a crab apple tree with little red crab apples on the branches. I reflected that I had seen this tree in its full cycle: fall foliage, barren branches, full pinkish-white blooms. The tree, now fruited, waits full ripening.
I grew up with crab apple trees in our yard. My grandfather also planted a crab apple tree outside his bedroom window. He told me the blooms made him happy. Later, he complained about the over-ripe fruit on the lawn being messy.
I have a six or seven inch scar on my back from a crab apple tree tin can. I was around the age of five. My dad and mom planted some trees in our yard, and they also had a pile of flagstone rocks piled ready to piece together for a patio. My brother and I liked to climb the rocks and play explorer, and as I started to plant my imaginary flag, the flagstone flipped. As the flat rock tipped, I fell back on a discarded can ripped open when my mom and dad planted the crab tree it contained.
Those flat stones were the same ones our family packed home from trips to the Owyhees. The Owyhee Mountains, a backdrop to Canyon and Ada Counties in southern Idaho, bordering Oregon and Nevada, my grandfather, grandmother, mom and dad drove into the mountains on Sundays, and we all collected the flat puzzle like rocks covered with orange and green lichen.
My dad & mom made a patio with them, and my grandfather built his house with them. He fixed them around the front of the house. I remember how my grandfather, Lanus, mixed the mortar to a deep burgundy color. He felt the color best brought out the hues in the stone. He also created a fireplace inside. This fireplace of Owyhee County rocks served two rooms, the living room and the dining room. He made bench seats with the flat stones on both sides of this see-through fireplace. My brother and I would play a game of spy, as we scaled the rock wall like James Bond.
As I ran in the vapid, humid weather, I wondered how long it took for my grandfather to collect all of those rocks. I wondered if some environmental organization would now protest his rock hounding. I ran by another crab apple tree and I thought about the bias cut scar thick and wide across the right side of my back. I thought about how I never really think about the healed wound until I have sex with a new partner, and I have to explain away the reactions, the questions, the palpations and worry that some awful tragedy beset me.
There was no one to blame, accidents happen. I could not hold the crab apple tree accountable. Long ago befriending them, I used to eat the little sour apples to show my courage and bravado to my cousins and brother. Now, I just look at the trees with admiration of the total cycle, flower to fruit and everything in between.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Original Idea
Originally, my plan included the use of this blog to work out the ending of my memoir. Which way did I want to go, what story did I want to tell, was I brave enough to tell all, not sure of the lessons learned because I realized the ending had to be an organic process (god, I hate that term) and I was still at the point of no ending for my story.
Then I got to thinking, does this world need another memoir, another story about a life, how many more memoirs will be published, isn't it about time the memoir trended out of favor with publishers.
What about the book industry? Massive changes could be made in the next few years with the growing popularity of electronic reading. Where do I fit with all of this?
As for the running thing, where I live, it has been a time of heat advisory, and that is excuse enough not to run right now.
Accent on the Ascent implies their is a descent as well. Is this just another application of dualism? Is this just another way to look at one thing...which is just simply life?
Art as Life! What a concept! My friend DonJon Vonavich employs it daily. He, my friend, walks his talk. Snubbing his nose at dualism, all life is art for him.
My goal is to now become a film maker. I am starting on a new journey with old content. I will be making movies using poetry from my first book, NEVER OFFER A CHAIR TO A DANCING GIRL. Watch for movies about addiction, loves lost, wandering and mangos.
It is close to the end of July, and it is the fifth pass of the Uranus Saturn opposition that started in the Fall of 2008. For some, the word fall does include both meanings. What have you changed since then? What more is there to be done? I have my goals, but I don't seem to pay them much mind.
Prison of Culture binds the ages together and fits of rage carry on as protectors, how many more bombs must be dropped before we as a human race remember that we are all one.
Then I got to thinking, does this world need another memoir, another story about a life, how many more memoirs will be published, isn't it about time the memoir trended out of favor with publishers.
What about the book industry? Massive changes could be made in the next few years with the growing popularity of electronic reading. Where do I fit with all of this?
As for the running thing, where I live, it has been a time of heat advisory, and that is excuse enough not to run right now.
Accent on the Ascent implies their is a descent as well. Is this just another application of dualism? Is this just another way to look at one thing...which is just simply life?
Art as Life! What a concept! My friend DonJon Vonavich employs it daily. He, my friend, walks his talk. Snubbing his nose at dualism, all life is art for him.
My goal is to now become a film maker. I am starting on a new journey with old content. I will be making movies using poetry from my first book, NEVER OFFER A CHAIR TO A DANCING GIRL. Watch for movies about addiction, loves lost, wandering and mangos.
It is close to the end of July, and it is the fifth pass of the Uranus Saturn opposition that started in the Fall of 2008. For some, the word fall does include both meanings. What have you changed since then? What more is there to be done? I have my goals, but I don't seem to pay them much mind.
Prison of Culture binds the ages together and fits of rage carry on as protectors, how many more bombs must be dropped before we as a human race remember that we are all one.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Rain
Spring's arrival won't be for eight days, and the weather is finally warming up. The last two and a half months brought the south-east cold snow & ice, day after day. I continue to accent on the ascent, but this is what I have done my whole life. I can not think of a time when I didn't anticipate growth. This is what spring fever brings us, anticipation of growth. However, I am reminded that if I am anticipating, then I am not in the present moment.
I continue to run, though a daily practice has its challenges. Christmas Eve Day I tried to run, but I didn't make it to the highway. I had a stomach virus which lasted a couple of days and plenty of fatigue left my reserves depleted. There ended my long stretch of daily running.
On Boxing Day, my personal life shifted to include a significant other; I started dating. I found that personal choices and prioritizing what I do with my time became a focus. I questioned if I should go for a run and leave my new lover in bed asleep, only to wake up later with me gone. What kind of signal would that cast, what kind of assumption could be guessed at an empty bed when he opened his eyes. "My God!" I thought, "is this the start of codependency?"
I stayed with running over the last two-and-a-half months, even when the cold air knifed my lungs and brought asthma to my challenges. I remember when it happened, I started out in a fifteen degree temperature and by the time I hit the highway, my lungs felt as though they had been hit with an ice pick. That is when the heavy panting started. I needed to be judicious with my running. If I had a chance to come back home in the afternoon to run instead of early in the morning when the temps were colder, I did.
As I dealt with the cold, I also had to address my allergy to animal dander. Cats bring on my asthma, my new boyfriend has a great, very loving, demands to be petted cat. I could no longer host my denial, and I went to the doctor. He gave me steroids and a fresh prescription for an emergency inhaler.
Through the years, I have noted how inner-life reflects outer life...as my challenges with breathing continued, I noticed how I sucked air while I ran mirrored my car's oxygen intake. The check engine light came on the dashboard of my Pontiac Vibe, and the mechanic reported that the computer code read bad oxygen sensor. This improper working part affected the oxygen mixture. Wow, did that diagnosis sound familiar, who knew? A month after fixing the part, the check engine light came back on. Same diagnosis, it is a bad oxygen sensor. The mechanics never replace the part, but switched off the light. Two months later, the check engine light comes on and flips off at whim. Just like my asthma symptoms, wheezing at whim.
The long dark winter with the frigid cold brought lots of ice...and did I mention the snow? Yes, the coldest, snowiest winter in the last decade. I ran in the snow, while it was snowing, and I hopped over the snow drifted onto frozen ice. There were days this winter when I really wanted to go run for a two mile loop and could not get across the parking lot without slipping on my behind three times. I found myself, once again, being judicious with my decisions on when to run: If there is a chance of falling due to icy conditions, do not run!
Today, it is raining. I haven't run in six days. I came down with a head cold heavy-laden with symptoms. I did watch bad daytime television, ate lots of food and used up three boxes of tissues. I had two sessions with clients scheduled today, but one canceled due to having a 'bad head cold'. At least this afternoon, I will finally venture out and go back to work.
The time changes in a couple of days, but I have been practicing the change in my mind for the last week. When I wake up, I remind myself that in one week, it will be one hour earlier. I keep reminding myself all week so the one hour spring forward won't be such a jolt on my system. And now, in this moment, as I re-read my last three sentences, I am reminded of the word "anticipation" anticipating the time change is a future thought...Now, I sink into the present moment.
I continue to run, though a daily practice has its challenges. Christmas Eve Day I tried to run, but I didn't make it to the highway. I had a stomach virus which lasted a couple of days and plenty of fatigue left my reserves depleted. There ended my long stretch of daily running.
On Boxing Day, my personal life shifted to include a significant other; I started dating. I found that personal choices and prioritizing what I do with my time became a focus. I questioned if I should go for a run and leave my new lover in bed asleep, only to wake up later with me gone. What kind of signal would that cast, what kind of assumption could be guessed at an empty bed when he opened his eyes. "My God!" I thought, "is this the start of codependency?"
I stayed with running over the last two-and-a-half months, even when the cold air knifed my lungs and brought asthma to my challenges. I remember when it happened, I started out in a fifteen degree temperature and by the time I hit the highway, my lungs felt as though they had been hit with an ice pick. That is when the heavy panting started. I needed to be judicious with my running. If I had a chance to come back home in the afternoon to run instead of early in the morning when the temps were colder, I did.
As I dealt with the cold, I also had to address my allergy to animal dander. Cats bring on my asthma, my new boyfriend has a great, very loving, demands to be petted cat. I could no longer host my denial, and I went to the doctor. He gave me steroids and a fresh prescription for an emergency inhaler.
Through the years, I have noted how inner-life reflects outer life...as my challenges with breathing continued, I noticed how I sucked air while I ran mirrored my car's oxygen intake. The check engine light came on the dashboard of my Pontiac Vibe, and the mechanic reported that the computer code read bad oxygen sensor. This improper working part affected the oxygen mixture. Wow, did that diagnosis sound familiar, who knew? A month after fixing the part, the check engine light came back on. Same diagnosis, it is a bad oxygen sensor. The mechanics never replace the part, but switched off the light. Two months later, the check engine light comes on and flips off at whim. Just like my asthma symptoms, wheezing at whim.
The long dark winter with the frigid cold brought lots of ice...and did I mention the snow? Yes, the coldest, snowiest winter in the last decade. I ran in the snow, while it was snowing, and I hopped over the snow drifted onto frozen ice. There were days this winter when I really wanted to go run for a two mile loop and could not get across the parking lot without slipping on my behind three times. I found myself, once again, being judicious with my decisions on when to run: If there is a chance of falling due to icy conditions, do not run!
Today, it is raining. I haven't run in six days. I came down with a head cold heavy-laden with symptoms. I did watch bad daytime television, ate lots of food and used up three boxes of tissues. I had two sessions with clients scheduled today, but one canceled due to having a 'bad head cold'. At least this afternoon, I will finally venture out and go back to work.
The time changes in a couple of days, but I have been practicing the change in my mind for the last week. When I wake up, I remind myself that in one week, it will be one hour earlier. I keep reminding myself all week so the one hour spring forward won't be such a jolt on my system. And now, in this moment, as I re-read my last three sentences, I am reminded of the word "anticipation" anticipating the time change is a future thought...Now, I sink into the present moment.
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