Thursday, January 6, 2011
Nothing But Everything
I dreamed last night or this morning that my entire purpose with the blog had become the way I see things. In my dream, I was looking through my camera's view finder and framing a picture and that, that was the purpose of it all.
Started with words, became visual.
Well, I don't know about that. I still don't even know how to operate the camera properly.
I think that writing and photography are two of those things that everyone looks at and says, "Shit. I could do that."
We all see (mostly) and we all use language every day.
And in my heart I do not take these things seriously that I do with words and pictures. Not one bit.
I woke up this morning after that dream and since it had rained all day yesterday the dogs had not been open to the suggestion that they go out last night to pee and poop and so what greeted me was...well, filthy.
I looked at a river of pee, flowing down my hallway and I said, "Well. It's going to be that sort of day."
And then I looked outside and this is what it looked like:
Light pouring in over winter's bones and moss and dripping left-over rain drops and glory everywhere and the downed branch with the resurrection fern like some dinosaur femur, green covered and alive again, somehow, rebirth even as the branch itself rots into dirt, slowly and with great dignity.
This, this is what is happening in my back yard while my soul feels like a hardened, small nugget of failure and bitterness, enclosed in this old body, enclosed in this old house and I am not paying attention and as I wrote to Ms. Bastard-Beloved already this morning- am I just peddling along here, waiting to die?
And I record with pictures that anyone could take and with words that anyone could write and meanwhile, the real raw reality of it all is that my floors desperately need mopping, my lines desperately need learning, my husband poured and took with him all of the smoothie and the blackbirds are still with me, right over my shoulder, eating like demons, and a cardinal is fussing somewhere and the dogs don't give a shit (!) that they are fouling my nest.
Well. The loquats are blooming like I've never seen.
They are full and heavy and are waiting for the bees to come and make love to them and the train whistles and comes charging by and this is life and this is my small part of it and there is no one to blame for filthy floors but me, no one to record this life but me, no one to write these specific words, to take these specific pictures and already the light has changed, the sun gone behind a cloud that was not there twenty minutes ago and here I am.
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Some mornings I still wake up with the shit-fear, and then I remember! No more dogs!ReplyDelete
It's better without the dogs, I have to say.
I don't think you should start waiting to die til you're in your 70s. That's my feeling.ReplyDelete
70's. That sounds okay.ReplyDelete
Now, come sit here by me.
(pat pat pat)
I love your words and pictures and only you can give them to me.
Those wonderful hormones have me in a grip these last few days. I dreamt last night that my nephew fell down the stairs and passed away. I won't shake that for weeks.ReplyDelete
I have already had the chickadees flitting about my hand while I made my little piles of hope on the garden bench and a few rocks.
But mostly I've had my day thrown all upside down with life stuff, changing my plans , and adding to my list.
I want to walk off into a forest, stay curled in bed, and clean out my daughters rooms all at the same time.
Mostly I will end up flitting about and hoping for a better tomorrow.
and you are very much a photographer and writer.
you make art that feeds my soul.
"Light pouring in over winter's bones"ReplyDelete
Not just anybody. Only you. You wrote these beautiful words, this morning. And I woke up and found them, waiting here for me, like a gift.
If only I could write like you I would feel great... Not everyone can write like you can. Your gift is words... and knowing how to arrange them in sentences that speak to many hearts, mine included.ReplyDelete
Dying may be a long way off. Who knows? I just keep doing the deal every day, one foot in front of the other. And I have to say that at the moment I am okay with all of it. I am going to a meeting shortly which is like therapy, only better. It centers me in the day.ReplyDelete
hey you, good morning.ReplyDelete
thanks for seeing just the way you do, and sharing it,
that is the point, i'm sure.
Your words are certainly NOT words that "anyone could write." They are uniquely yours, because you are unique and beautiful. It's just a shitty day, babe. It will pass. Thank God.ReplyDelete
You are a wordsmith and a maker and teller of beauty.ReplyDelete
Last night I had a dream about you. You were at my house fixing pancakes and my husband came in from work and I was all "This is Mrs Moon!" and he looked at me like I was crazy and I repeated myself and added "From the blogs I read!" And he just went about his business like it wasn't a HUGE deal you were in our house! Grrrr Men!ReplyDelete
Jo- I can only dream.ReplyDelete
And seventies, eh? At my age, that sounds way too close.
Ms. Trouble- I will gladly sit by you.
deb- Well, souls are important. Thank-you. And I know exactly what you mean with all you want to do. And do you find yourself paralyzed? I do. But today I am cleaning floors at least. And throwing away a few things. It helps.
Leslie- So sweet, those words.
Photocat- You are feeding me.
Syd- I am trying to use bleach and white vinegar and Fabuloso to center my day. It is helping.
Bethany- I love sharing my day with you.
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- And YOU know.
I love you, too.
Lisa- You make me feel so damn good. I hope you know that.
Rebecca- I think your husband is on to something.
Your post is so rich. I've so much I want to say to you. First, sorry about the pets. That's the deal, all cute and lovey at first, but eventually, incontinent and fouling the nest. As a pessimist, that's the first thing I thought about when husband surprised! me with Tucker. I thought shit, here we go again, just a few short years after the last one. And you have three? You should be depressed just about that because it sucks. No easy answers because they are our furry children.ReplyDelete
The bones of winter, dinosaurs femurs made of ferns, and of course, the hardening of the soul, the aging of the body wreaking havoc on the mind.... I hear you.
All I can think to say is thank goodness there are some good days to balance the bad ones. And I think perception is such a bitch that it's not fair to have it some days.
Well, I don't know what a loquat is, but I'm mesmerized. The light keeps shifting around me too, but it seems every day I encounter something new, something amazing, something true. If you are merely pedaling along, you're sure accomplishing a great deal on your journey, with your presence, your thoughts, your words and your pictures. Hope you have a pee free day. Hugs.
Mel- I am having a Fabuloso Day! Haha! Cleaning floors and not much else and yet, it is taking me all day. I have many floors.ReplyDelete
Yes. The light changes and some days our souls are so open to any spark of it and some days it could be a roaring fire and I would simply close my eyes and be cold anyway.
And I have four dogs. FOUR! And only one nearing the age of "is it time yet to send her to Jesus?"
Oh dear lord, how did I lose count? Four dogs is a lot of dogs. One is a lot, in my case. At least yours don't keep knocking you down stairs or tackling you full speed. Well, I'm glad your day is Fabuloso! On New Year's Day when I was in one hell of a snit on so many levels, I cleaned the pantry top to bottom - had those dang little beetles in some wheat bran - but my point is on any given day, cleaning the pantry could have made me so depressed, but sometimes, cleaning is the best therapy for a shitty day, or year. Fresh start, bug free. Enjoy your clean floors. Hugs.ReplyDelete
PEARL is MINE, NOT JESUS'S! Jesus can't have her doddering ass.ReplyDelete
Maybe it really IS the weather, because I have had the thought too that really, this is all there is while I WAIT to die? Christ on a crutch, what is the POINT? :) You write about it much more beautifully than I, though, and I am grateful for that. And I adore you.ReplyDelete
And thank Christ you are here. Or whoever.ReplyDelete
Mel- It helped, that cleaning. It did. At least I don't feel completely overwhelmed with filth.ReplyDelete
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- Please come pick her up then.
Kori- Oh, honey. You're so precious.
Stephanie- You're precious too.
L7- Ooh. How I do love getting a "woof!" from you.
Your pictures are lovely, and you, Ms. Moon, are a necessity to us. So don't think that anymore. You have all the time to wait to die when you're 102. Until then, you have so much more to create.ReplyDelete
Angie M- Well, that would be nice. One never knows.ReplyDelete