Why I Garden

She has roses she doesn't want
because they require too much care
and tending
But I
Enjoy the shaping of things,
the caring for the living,
seeing it bloom.

To tend a garden is to tend a soul
To know the rising and the falling of the day
Noticing how flowers turn to face the sun
The way leaves wilt or curl before the rain
So it can reach the roots
and nourish.

Sometimes the gardener must be cruel to be kind
A plant after pruning
looks dead
Bare wood, cut back to almost nothing
as Winter comes

But look again in the Spring
and you will see the great gift
the greening of the world.

Beltane

Today is one of those days that I'm longing for home. I miss my people, especially on holidays like this one. I keep wishing for excuses to have a ritual / party, but there isn't anyone here I know, other than a couple former students, who would be interested, and inviting former students over just seems weird. So it's a lonely Beltane. It's probably too wet to have a fire tonight anyway, but that's ok. I'm going to plant something in my garden when I go home - roots to roots - maybe that will help me feel a little more connected to what really matters.

Remembering Columbine

I had a memory this week that might be important. I was in the car, driving home, when a Cruxshadows song came on my iPod. I don't remember the exact lyrics, but embedded in the track were pieces of news broadcasts from just after the shooting at Columbine High School. It got me thinking about the impact that event had on me - on my sense of self, my a sense of safety, and my sense of how I needed to relate to the world at large. It gave me some context for the love-hate relationship I have with my interest in all things gothic.
I remember, just after news of Columbine hit, the administrators at my school became much more concerned with doing random bag searches, which made plenty of sense to me, but they also became very interested in enforcing conformity to a rather conservative set of behavior norms including disallowing black eyeliner, asking Pagan and Wiccan students to remove their pentagram necklaces, and, of course, banning the wearing of trench coats. I remember feeling indignant that my friends and I were being judged - wrongly, I might add - because we happened to dress like and share some interests with the shooters at Columbine.
This created a lot of internal conflict for me. Be true to myself and risk the wrath of the authorities and my standing as a good student as I pushed back against the fear and stereotyping that was occurring, they possibly getting myself in trouble that could jeopardize the future I envisioned for myself, or conform outwardly and follow the rules until I could reach a point in my life where I didn't have to follow them any more?
I choose the second path, and though I am glad for what that decision has allowed me to achieve academically and in my career, I am also aware that I truncated my own self-exploration at a point in time where pushing the river might have been the better decision in term of psychological development.
It was hard though, to live inside a culture that summarily rejected me out of fear and misunderstanding. I think I lost something important there, and I don't know how to get it back.

Elephants

When I was a little girl, my Bubby had a set of wooden elephants that I loved to play with every time I went to her house. I remember sitting in front of the fireplace, stacking and re-stacking them, balancing them one on top of the other in endlessly changing configurations. They were one of my favorite toys, mostly because they were so simply made, and yet so versatile.

Now, those elephants are on top of my dresser at home. Last year when I was visiting my Bubby, she gave them to me. I tried stacking them, but opening and closing my dresser drawers tends to knock them over, so now they're just standing there. I smile every time I see them.

I don't know what it is about the elephants that I like so much. In real life, they are hairy and wrinkly, and ugly, even if they are smart. Next week in class, I'm going to be teaching Orwell's "Shooting and Elephant", and as a pre-reading activity I'm having my students look at several images of elephants. One of them is an abstract piece, which you can see here: http://tomseb1.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/elephant1.jpg

I am in love with this image. There is such beauty and power in it, and the colors are wonderful. I'd love to have this as an extremely large piece of wall art.

I Did, In Fact, Finish

I did, in fact, finish my 30-day photo project back in September, but I never posted the last set of images. Here they are.

Gift

Just Baked

Graded Papers

Sunlight Makes Lens Rainbows

National You-Are-Loved Chalk Message Project

Camera Phone Photo

Storms From The North

Afternoon Rainbow

Hush

This memory
tastes of salt tears and honey
and smells like twilight
in the fall.

This memory
resides in the shadow’s
stark contrast to the white
of her thigh.

This memory -
a keening wail
and the tearing of skin
in mourning anguish.

I have lost the sound of her voice.

I have lost the taste of her kiss.

I have

silence

and memories.

Week 3 of the 30-day Photo Project

Rustic Art


First Hot Cocoa of the Season


Books To Read


Formerly Known As


Morning Fog


Something's Dying


Bedtime