To sit upon and further articulate, incubate ideas as T.S. Eliot once said. To allow them to mature and grow in complexity, giving them free reign before fully writing them out, or even beginning to write them at all.
But to leave them too long, in my drafts, is to allow them to stagnate and decompose, becoming dead bodies in a still pool.
Tibet is home to an astonishing array of creatures, many of which seem like copies of animals from other countries in the world, dropped into harsh and unforgiving landscapes.
A species of snake inhabits the areas around hot springs generated by the massive underground activity of the Chinese and Indian continental plates smashing together. Similar to Utah's garter snake, it seems surprising for the cold-blooded creature to inhabit Tibet, one of the coldest and and highest climates on earth, but its living there is made possible by warmth radiating from the hot springs.
The Plateau, or Black-lipped Pika, related to the rabbit and belonging to a genus found all over the world, inhabits Tibet's plains, moving vast amounts of earth tiny hole by tiny hole while hunted by the Tibetan brown bear and Tibetan sand fox. The Tibetan brown bear, also known as the Tibetan blue bear, horse bear, and Himalayan snow bear among other monikers, is related to the Americas grizzly, with a similar hump on its back. The Sand fox is lightly dun colored, has a wide face with eyes set far apart, and isn't particularly territorial. The bear and fox sometimes share a commensal relationship hunting pikas.
Another inhabitant of Tibet's plains is the Tibetan Antelope, or Chiru; a snub-nosed creature with long, slender legs. The males of the species sport long, tapered horns used in the seasonal battles for females. Males guard varying numbers of females, usually two to nine, and will fiercely defend their herd from other marauding male antelope.
The animals native to Tibet are at once familiar and surprising, as if various animals from the US were scattered across the steppe. However, this comparison may be rather unfair; as familiar as the Tibetan Brown bear, Pika, and Sand fox might seem, they evolved in Tibet, filling specific niches and developing physical characteristics and behaviors very unique and well suited to them and their surrounding environment.
(Sources: http://www.bioone.org/doi/full/10.1644/817.1
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tibetan_antelope and "Wild China: Tibet" (we watched the documentary, but you can find info about it online at http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0884762/))
It may no longer be the season of holidays, nor 2001, but this post by the coolest man I've ever met rings true even as the glove of winter slips from the slender hand of the year of our lord 2014.
Basically, little one, none of my words are adequate. Maybe they never will be. I am worn to apathy once again. This week has been a different sort of supernova and collapse.
A little bit dead-eyed behind my windows, and artificial pats on the back saying it'll be okay, I am okay, but really no. Still, I suppose it could be worse. But that does not mean my current feelings are rendered insignificant next to all the other pain in the world, relatable or not to my situation.
I am attempting to ground myself better, to stop dancing around everything and plant my feet and steady my gaze. Perhaps I will be successful in my efforts, perhaps not. The only thing I can count on is nothing will ever stay the same, not even for a minute at a time. I will always miss homeschool group, being in plays, having the friends I did back then. I will always miss scholar class. Perhaps I will find something similar to or better than everything swept away in the passage of time, but I won't count on it.
For all of my life I've felt like nothing was permanent, either beginnings or endings. Nothing would stay the same, and on the other hand, nothing was permanently lost. Things had a habit of returning to me; a necklace I'd made with my mom, lost, then found two years later in the pocket of my overalls. A hand-made tiara essential (I felt) to a minor princess character costume for a play, found two days before the performance. A black comb I bought at a fourth of July celebration, lost and found and lost again. (currently lost, but I hold to the stubborn belief that I will find it once more.)
I suppose it was my hope that the right words at the right time in the right shape could repair anything. I suppose that's been my experience growing up as I have with the family I am a part of. Naive homeschooler... How very much I am learning this year that the world is not what I want it to be. I guess that's good, or something. But not really, because it seems like the world wears tender souls down.
The clearest my voice will ever be is in writing, as much as I hold back from that when I feel my voice lacking. A slanting sort of truth and all that... Still, I am not the only one to ask the questions I have asked. As unique as we little snowflakes are, fragile too, we are all made of the same stuff. Perhaps this makes my words inadequate, or maybe this makes them inevitable.
I can relate to this quite a bit right now. Growing up in this world seems so difficult, and so often it feels like there is no community of support to all the little fledglings trying to take flight.
Sometimes, when it feels like everything's falling to pieces, it's just the world rearranging itself into a new pattern around you, and I really feel like it'll always get better somehow, even if it's just tiny things like noticing a sunbeam on a wall that strikes you as really beautiful, or an old friend suddenly showing up to just give you a hug.
Sometimes, when life and the future feels really overwhelming, it can help to choose just one thing to work towards and accomplish, something that you know you'll thank yourself for later.
This is a song I often listen to when I'm feeling really down or angry or just generally irritable and unsure of everything: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8k9rD7lx9c
I hope this helps, dearheart. You are loved. Bless us to bless each other. <3 p="">
Can't apply myself to writing today,
Though the pen scratches at my ribcage,
The birds are making an enormous racket--
And I would throw stones at them--
But I'm a content sort of restless.
Every once in a while I become sick of metaphor
Weightlessness,
But I'm trying to fly,
Alternately floating off and crashing to the ground.
Creativity, today, is an itch I can't scratch,
A rope thrown over a tree branch that won't catch.
Would anybody like to hold these things?
Take them from me and explore them
And give me your own things in return.
How much does the song in your heart vary?
Every once in a while mine becomes this elemental, Orchestralmovie score, and I have no idea what to do with it
Or how to sing it anymore.
That is the itch that begs to be scratched,
Scales hanging just so,
Ready to be shed at the slightest touch,
But it is an art.
The dance of the girl in supernova,
Brighter than she can stand,
A whirl of color and light;
Singing and drawing and playing the guitar--
And wondering what to do with it all,
Everything begging for another shoulder to alight on.
Did you know that the universe is underneath our feet?
This planet is round,
But it is no wonder we once thought it was flat,
And every once in a while we forget
that the universe isn't just above our heads;
We stand upon the stars.
One would think that a black and white, silent film would be hard to make and hard to watch in the modern world, this time of 3D films and surround-sound systems, but contrary to this thought, a silent film is still great fun and possibly far more poignant that anything else out there in this present age. A couple days ago I watched "The Artist"with my family, a film I've had my eye on for a very long time.
It was fantastic, everything I hoped it would be, though rather painful; one of those movies that leave you laughing with a wound over your heart. Hard to describe, but some films get right through all of your defenses, and tragic or not, they leave a mark right in the core of you.
Somehow, this black and white, mostly silent film managed to captivate all of my siblings, who have been quite outspoken against such movies for a long time. Still, they watched entranced and terribly interested, and discussed many of the things happening in the film as they happened. That's not really something one can do while watching a "talkie"; too often something is lost in the time you speak to another and hear their reply while the characters are conversing onscreen.
It was incredible how nuanced and full of resounding symbolism and imagery "The Artist" was, tools perfectly complimented by the back drop of monochrome colors and a soundscape empty save for orchestral and piano music. It's rather amusing, "The Artist" was in itself a work of art, perfectly sculpted and woven and tied up tight.
I think this is one of the days I've been waiting for to come to pass.
I've made a choice, and I've rediscovered something that once struck me as so beautiful, but I didn't investigate further, maybe because it just wasn't time. I took note, however, and that has enabled me to find it again.
Kesang Marstrand - The Spell I'm Under
I don't actually remember hearing this the first time, but I wrote Kesang Marstrand "The spell I'm under" (Incredible voice, that one...)
on a piece of paper taped to the side of my dresser. Today I glanced at it and thought it might be interesting to look the song up and listen to it again, and so began my plunge into a world I didn't know I already knew so well.
(The man in the video? The one with the baggy eyes? There is a lot of beauty in him, he just is.)
Kesang Marstrand - Colorless Farewell
Oh love, this video, this song, this may sound silly, but this is almost exactly what I would film and sing, maybe that's a little presumptive, but I feel this whole thing so deeply in my heart.
This is the music I've been looking for, the girl I thought I'd never find outside of myself.
Kesang Marstrand - Grow a Garden
This song makes me smile, this video looks so much like how I see the world, I understand it so much, I think, though that may be presumptive too, I don't care anymore, though, all that is beautiful in her I see in me, so I will try to stop being so critical of my own heart.
Everything is so profoundly beautiful lately, I thought I'd lost that, but it's been with me all along, I've just grown accustomed to everything being so beautiful, and my heart's already broken, so it doesn't break all the time every time anymore. Everything is beautiful, always.
Kesang Marstrand - Endless Skies
Different sound from a lot of her other songs. This one I don't really know how to say a lot of what it means to me. I guess I feel like hiding today, I feel like living in prayer and meditation and quiet today. Endless skies inside, you know. Reflection and introspection. Ohm.
It feels like she so freely writes the things I hold myself back from. Why?
I'm still so self-conscious of myself, of the things I like and want and discover and want to share.
You see this? What I'm doing right now? Maybe it looks uninhibited in a way, but also it's not. I choose to stop being so self-critical all the time, but I've chosen it before, and that voice is getting weaker, but it's still hanging around my neck, guarding my heart.
Today is supernova, though, a quieter sort of supernova, but supernova all the same, my heart burning pretty clear and bright. Can you see it?
My heart as the sun, dark spots here and there, but less than the light and shrinking as I see them and light them on fire again.
Kesang Marstrand - Bodega Rose
The second of her videos I watched today, right after The Spell I'm Under.
It is funny, this feeling like I know a person so well even though there's no way that's possible. Kinda naive and silly, but hey, interesante. Something to think about.
I wonder who she has loved? She sounds so earnest.
I may be supernova, but I am also eclipse and must remember to relax over and over again so the curtain may fall away.
Kesang Marstrand - Stand By Me
I think it's really cool that it looks like she just sat down and recorded this in her home one day, maybe with a phone or some sort of low-grade camera.
I guess I hold myself back in some things because I have this wish to share, but I don't think anybody wants to hear all that's in my head. Kinda the problem with my poetry lately, I write stuff and I don't like it and I figure it's not worth anything anyway. But it's still something close to my heart, things that mean a lot to me. How can one disregard and devalue the things one cares about? I guess I don't really take myself seriously, and I've noticed that in some strange, small way, I'm afraid that others will take me seriously.
I'm not sad today, I've acknowledged sadness in myself, and I've chosen to stop dwelling on that so very much, because it seems like I've become slightly bitter, and I don't want to be that. I'm still kinda snarky about myself, but hey, if I can write all of this on here, with a clear voice and steady eyes, I think I'll be ok.
Namaste
A while back I got a lovely comment from from Mary at Cogitational Counterpoints nominating me for the Liebster award, which is kinda fun and totally unexpected :) Thank you Mary, for reading and the nomination :) If you've been nominated or would like to nominate somebody, all you have to do is follow the below set of rules:
Link back to the blogger who nominated you.
Give 11 random facts about yourself.
Answer the 11 questions set by the person who nominated you.
Nominate 11 other bloggers who have a small following.
Create 11 questions for your nominees to answer.
Tell your nominees, on their own blog, that you have nominated them.
11 Random Facts About Me:
I dislike long sleeves, and nearly always roll or push them up.
I miss my dog terribly since he died last January.
Lately, I enjoy doing things that terrify me, I've been able to push past fear in the past couple of years, and I've found that I enjoy the things that are difficult for me all the more fiercely once I've somewhat mastered them. Take guitar tuning, for example, once a vast unknowable unknown, now one of my favorite things about practicing the guitar.
I love writing and receiving letters, though I'm not very good at actually writing and sending them in a timely manner.
The San Rafael Swell is my happy place.
I have no idea how to go about getting ready for Christmas this year, I haven't got a thing done and it's not much longer until December arrives.
The movie Inception was quite the spiritual and enlightening experience for me.
Right now I'm wearing my favorite blue sweater which will quite soon probably fall apart, as it is getting fairly threadbare in places.
I say I have no expectations, I think I have no expectations, but I'm quite open to the possibility that I might. I still maintain that relationship is organic and a thing of space rather than just bonds.
I love deep and thoughtful documentaries like Kumare, I Am, and The Nature Of Existence.
Life is terribly interesting to me, adventure, people, discovery. This outlook does tend to ebb and flow though, as all things do. I'm not sure balance is stillness so much as wave, pattern and resonance.
The 11 Questions That The Person Who Nominated Me Asked:
What is your favorite past time?
I don't really have any one favorite past time, I'm kinda scattered all over the place. I love hanging out with my friends and family, reading, writing, playing guitar. Hiking, whatever. I love doing everything, and it is all my favorite :)
2. Does art imitate life, or does life imitate art?
Both, yin and yang. Not opposite, but intertwined.
3. What's your ultimate goal in life?
Enlightenment and deep relationship.
4. What is the last thing you bought via online shopping?
Light Martin acoustic guitar strings. I'm awesome because I can break a string tuning down...
5. How did you get started using blogspot?
I got sick of how much I was on facebook in 2009, so I created this blog with the help of my dad to sort of experiment with for a week of abstinence from fb.
6. Do you have a favorite film, and if so, what is it?
Far too many favorites, and perhaps all because I have learned or can learn something from them.
7. What's your preferred fall outfit?
Jeans and a sweater over a t shirt, maybe a hat.
8. What's your biggest accomplishment to date?
I don't really believe in that. I just live.
9. Who inspires you the most?
Yo
10. The best show on television right now is:
Doctor Who :) (That's basically the only thing I watch right now that's ongoing and current, though.)
I don't think I shall nominate anyone else, if someone wants to nominate themselves from me, that'd be great, haha :) Just let me know and I'll come up with some questions :]
Finally finished this article today, my mom emailed it to me a month ago, and I did start it, I just never felt like I had the time to finish it, beh.
Anyway, it's pretty good, it mentions a lot of the same beliefs as me and my family, and it gave me a lot to think about, mainly on the subject of my garden and how I'm going to share vegetables with my community as I first intended.
I started the whole thing with the intention of selling vegetables at our community farmer's market, but it is in great disorganization, and the person who is currently in charge is, I have heard, running out of steam.
My mom and I have spoken with some friends about their possibly heading up a new farmer's market on some land they own out of town, but I don't know how well that will go; they're pretty busy as it is, and I haven't heard anything more from them about it.
I have a neighbor who is interested in buying vegetables from me, but I have no idea how much I want to charge or how I should arrange it. I went to her house with some swiss chard from both my and my mom's garden and some turnip greens (she said she'd try them out) this afternoon, but she wasn't home, so I took the bag of vegetables to our neighbors the next block over and gave it to them.
The thing is, I don't know if I want to charge money. I don't feel good about that, and my garden is kind of an experiment in how I fit into this world and nature, as well as me figuring out how I could possibly support myself. But I don't like money, and I'm earning a lot as it is, so maybe this will be a community experiment in kindness and selflessness, because I would rather give away my heart's work in kindness and friendship rather than for personal gain.
Hello Human Kindness.org, almost everything is in the name. Dignity Health understands that, in their own words, "Humanity has the power to help people heal. That's what we believe. And that is why humankindness is at the heart of everything we do at DIgnity Health. Humankindness is what helps us all live healthier, happier lives. So join us in creating and recognizing humanity in the world. Together, we can use human connection to inspire a stronger, healthier world." The front page features a variety of stories and photographs submitted by visitors from all over the world, stories full of hope, love, and humankindness.
You remember those two quotes I posted a while ago? They were both from this article, which you might be interested in. It's rather beautiful, I enjoyed reading it :)
I wish to create a place of complete understanding and balance within myself.
Or maybe I should say; I wish to be completely understanding and balanced as a whole.
I do not wish to be influenced by fear, but by truth and compassion, and by clarity of sight.
This world is terrifying. This make-believe society and human world-view are terrifying and destructive.
I do not wish to be a part of it, but I do not see a way out. I am not really a part of society right now, but I depend upon people who are, and this is not fair to them, nor is it going to change anything. How can I ask for change, hope for change, dearly, dearly want change if I do nothing to oppose the thing that disturbs me?
I've hoped all along to create world of beauty and kindness around my family and myself in safety and cooperation, but as I grow older, this hope seems more and more unrealistic, though I find that much of what human beings call "reality" is entirely made up by them anyway. Why should I accept and integrate into a world I do not agree on or even like?
I'm finding myself torn between this God I pray to and speak with, and a hopelessness in my heart that is a response to the hopelessness I see in this world and whispers "How could any god exist and allow all of this pain and hardship to be imposed upon people deemed weak by the arrogant, delusional "strong"?"
This adulthood, this "growing up" has created a strange duality within my being, a push and pull of high, heart-felt ideals and new, incredibly disillusioning glimpses of the world I live in.
I crave quiet from my constant thinking, and balance in the wild pendulum of my heart.
I keep thinking over and over; we must have a place in nature, in ecosystem and earth and the balance of life. And I keep thinking; Why have we lost it?
(An article I read this morning that contributed to things already on my mind and heart: activist post.com "Civil disobedience or death by design" . Not terrifying as some things are, for it is not actually an exclamation of "oh no we're all going to die", but a call to action and empowerment, and brings attention to the things that people in power are imposing upon this world.)
I am closed, but all the people I admire are open.
In my happiest, greatest dreams, I am open.
I am masked and cloaked and closely guarded.
I keep then all out, so why do I so badly want them in, why do I hope they'll let me in?
The things I want most to be, I keep in myself, away from others.
My heart is giving, my soul is tender, but I keep them draped in watchful distrust, not the blackest or heaviest of shrouds, but very interfering in the filtering of light from within and without.
I want to give, but to protect myself from potential harshness from others, I beat them to the punch and make myself feel bad first, even though they had no such intent themselves. I was not raised to be anything but my most authentic, honest self, I was never told that anything about me wasanything but beautiful or multifaceted, and none of my friends have really stuck around long enough or been the kind of person to tell me anything of the sort. And yet, here it all is; the shroud, cloak and mask, the stinging barbs of "What you are you should not be" and "Nobody should/could/will ever like or love you".
But it is all lies, the voice that said I need all of this, the need for all of this, this in and of itself.
The Art Of Asking: it's okay to ask, it's okay to be open.
By asking, you are at your most vulnerable, your most earnest and authentic; your most open.
It is great, overflowing, boundless joy, and people respond to that on a very deep level, I respond to that on a very deep level.
Something will probably always be there (though I'm not going to over look the possibility that it won't), the worm-tongue whispering to the light of my being, "Hide. That is the only way to safety. Stay closed." But that voice is wrong; we get from others what we give, and I want the world to be as bright as I sometimes feel always.
I made a Happy 2012 "jar" (it's actually a box) last Thursday, and since I'm feeling down right now, I figured I might as well share it with you today.
I put this box together immediately after reading the guest post on Lucia etcetera. The funny thing is, everything I used to decorate the box was, well, picked up from my floor. The box has been floating around my room for a while too, waiting for some sort of purpose to manifest itself. So I guess you could say the whole thing was upcycled :)
I've been recording the small events and occurrences that have made me happy at the end of each day, often times that's the best . I write them with my favorite pen on small, ripped scraps of scratch paper, it makes the little bits of happiness seem all the more spur-of-the-moment and raw, I think. Something I've spoken about with R a few times.
(I'm going to randomly select a few slips of paper from the box and write their contents underneath each photo.)
The baked beans mom made, so sweet, so savory, so short lived ~5/11/12
The light shining through the trees as I lay on the tramp while I babysat the Ws. The sun was setting. ~5/11/12
Daddy getting home after being at the Troubled Youth conference for two days. ~5/11/12
Flying down the street on T's bike after going to an interview thing. The sun shone bright yellow, it was late afternoon, and I was thoroughly exhilarated. ~5/14/12
The clouds at the end of the day as we were driving home from Spanish class. ~5/10/12
And a couple of hastily taken photo from today to show how full it is:
Sending J and K an email with a link and a photo of my happy 2012 box :) ~5/10/12
The cottonwood seeds blowing across town, like warm, spring snow. ~5/10/12
Anyway, I know I made this with the year already half over, but I encourage you to do the same anyway :)
I think it's important to remember the small things in life; and it's important to have some way to remind yourself that you have lots of things to be happy about.
I must confess that these past few days haven't been the best for me, not depressing, just a little melancholy and listless. I want to do something really big, really cool. And by big and cool, I probably don't mean anything you might be thinking of; by big and cool I guess I mean quirky and creative. I want to put smiles on a bunch of people's faces, even if I'm not there to see it. I want to shine a light on the unseen corners of my world so other people can cock their heads to one side while their eyes light up with the sunshine of discovery; I want to bring about a smile in their hearts as well as on their faces. I want them to look at the world, and go "Oh!" as something shifts in their minds.
I guess I rather want to do something like what Katie Sokoler from "Color Me Katie" does, but I don't seem to have the energy or the space or the resources to do it with; whether or not if I really do, I think I don't.
Perhaps I need to tell myself a different story, one where my life is exciting and easy and I have lots of friends, because, for all I know, all of those things could be true, and my current mindset could be false.
At least I finally got one of my wishes today; I've overcome the writer's block I didn't even know I had, I'm managing to write what I feel in an eloquent and descriptive way, in earnest and in honesty.
I keep saying to myself lately "I wish I could write like Raven", He's so kind and clear in his replies to strong-minded and narrow-sighted comments of every sort. I get too emotional, in type and in person, I feel, or rather, felt that I wasn't very good at expressing myself in an earnest and helpful way, in a way that would set my opinion free without rising up in contest to other people's opinions. I've finally unlocked that ability right here, in this post, though I'm still a long way from the intricacy of writing like Jane Austen, and of speaking with the easy eloquence of my dad.
In two weeks, the House will start deciding where and how much to cut in the 2012 budget.
We know that tough decisions need to be made, but now is not the time to cut poverty-fighting programs that we know work--programs that fight the root causes of chronic hunger, have helped put more than 6 million people on AIDS drugs since 2002 and have helped avert 5.4 million child deaths due to vaccines--all for less than 1% of the budget.
I just signed this petition asking the House to protect these programs. Will you sign it, too?
