Dear universe,
Our conversations lately have cooped up somewhere in the cerebellum. It's true. I haven't written you in over a year, and what we discuss often gets benched. I had not realized that this was that big a problem until now. Adjusting to teaching a full load of classes sent me into a daze. Once the semester ended, I found myself exhausted. Though I was happy to see the semester end, I also started to feel pangs of intense sorrow. I figured it was exhaustion; I just needed some sleep. So, I tried my best to ignore it. We can't always know what's wrong right away.
This morning, there was a baptism at church. As the priest talked about the joy of bringing new life to the world and giving this child a new beginning, I was washed over with sadness. It was strange, and unsettling. Mercifully, it went away as quickly as it came.
Later today, a little girl approached me in a craft store. She interrupted my search for gold paint to explore a nearby product display. From the corner of my eye she looked familiar to me, little dark curls and a mischievous smirk. Then, I realized that she was the child of a friend of mine, who I had not seen in a long while. They share that same smirk. I talked to her mother, who announced that she was expecting a second child. This was happy news and while I am genuinely happy for her, another pang of sadness hit me suddenly. I did my best to hide it.
It was strange for me to be so upset by something like that. I avoided thinking about it. I spent the late afternoon painting a bathroom wall. As I sponged the gold paint into a scallop stencil pattern, I found myself relaxing into the task. I didn't have to think; I just had to paint. I noticed that the sponge often left a circle in the middle of each golden scallop, making them appear to have one eye. "Cyclop scallops, heh," I thought. I played with the sound of those words: cyclop scallop, scalloped cyclop, etc. Then came the big a-ha: This was what I missed- producing creative work. The feeling of bringing something new to the table was something I really missed.
As I washed paint from my hands earlier tonight, I noticed a gold fleck on my forehead. I thought about removing it, but decided to leave it alone. I had been baptized, and it was time to start again.
Salvation in scallops,
My
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Legs
Dear universe,
Last night, I had the strangest dream. In it, I am on a gurney alone in a hospital room. I look down at my body and I see that my left knee has stitches on it. Below that knee is someone else's leg attached in place of my own. Somehow I know that it belongs to an old man, all wrinkly, spotted and hairy. It even has a loafer on. It also makes my left leg longer than my right. As I makeshift hobble out of the room, the hospital suddenly is turned into a large antiques warehouse. I am told that if I want my leg, I must look for it. The search goes on for a long while- I find numerous legs: doll legs, frog legs, chair legs, mannequin legs, wooden pegs and even claw feet that belong to an old tub before I suddenly spot it across the room placed atop a large chest- my leg, a short copper toned extension of moi. The dream ends as I slowly make my way towards it through a maze of musky antique pieces.
There has to be a meaning behind this. I wonder if this dream means I am off balance. My life isn't necessarily all marshmallows and daisies, but whose life is? Perhaps it is time to reassess and reflect.
Finding my legs,
My
Last night, I had the strangest dream. In it, I am on a gurney alone in a hospital room. I look down at my body and I see that my left knee has stitches on it. Below that knee is someone else's leg attached in place of my own. Somehow I know that it belongs to an old man, all wrinkly, spotted and hairy. It even has a loafer on. It also makes my left leg longer than my right. As I makeshift hobble out of the room, the hospital suddenly is turned into a large antiques warehouse. I am told that if I want my leg, I must look for it. The search goes on for a long while- I find numerous legs: doll legs, frog legs, chair legs, mannequin legs, wooden pegs and even claw feet that belong to an old tub before I suddenly spot it across the room placed atop a large chest- my leg, a short copper toned extension of moi. The dream ends as I slowly make my way towards it through a maze of musky antique pieces.
There has to be a meaning behind this. I wonder if this dream means I am off balance. My life isn't necessarily all marshmallows and daisies, but whose life is? Perhaps it is time to reassess and reflect.
Finding my legs,
My
Sunday, September 19, 2010
I See, I See
Dear universe,
There are too many people who say they know so many things, as opposed to too many things. Our lives are becoming increasingly inundated with arrogance as our knowledge of technology and society grows. Things become increasingly polished until eroded into obsolescence. On the flip side, there are those who shun that sort of cerebral knowledge in favor of becoming a spiritual know-it-all. Since when did we become visionary geniuses ambling our inflated selves toward enlightenment? While knowledge yields benefits, it also comes at prices we don't consider too often. In all this creation of knowledge, we sacrifice ways of truly knowing lessons and skills we learn from exploration, tact and humility. We forget we learn to see.
Visual charades,
My
There are too many people who say they know so many things, as opposed to too many things. Our lives are becoming increasingly inundated with arrogance as our knowledge of technology and society grows. Things become increasingly polished until eroded into obsolescence. On the flip side, there are those who shun that sort of cerebral knowledge in favor of becoming a spiritual know-it-all. Since when did we become visionary geniuses ambling our inflated selves toward enlightenment? While knowledge yields benefits, it also comes at prices we don't consider too often. In all this creation of knowledge, we sacrifice ways of truly knowing lessons and skills we learn from exploration, tact and humility. We forget we learn to see.
Visual charades,
My
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