my front yard in july

 

anti matter

Last summer my goals were simple: I wanted to read through a series of Russian poets and finish the book AGAIN. But this summer they focus around two houses, children home from school, a new relationship and really too much emotional growth for one almost forty year old woman.

God why doesn’t age ever sound sexy?

I realized this morning that REALLY the only goal I had was to take Teo to Orchestra Hall to hear music; he is an eleven year old from Ecuador who discusses music with me like it is baseball. He plays the violin; he stands at the stone arch bridge and plays the violin for money. We debate who is better, Mozart or Beethoven—we decide on neither.

It should be noted here: I know nothing about music. It was my great downfall in high school that while others were discussing bands, I was in fact reading those Russian poets. Then you add, my parents idea of culture was to take me to a Crystal Gale concert (she had wonderful hair) well, I’m doomed.

Truth: music leads to other conversations with Teo and I hold out for those. Another truth: children and old people are the only human beings really worth talking to, b/c they tell you exactly what they think, and you can actually have an intelligent conversation without having to dig for it.

For example, on the forth of July while watching fireworks Teo and I discussed anti matter, how it was his favorite thing, and how it was impossible to gain reliable information b/c it was constantly changing. I asked him if he thought anti matter was needed in the universe b/c of this fact, if we controlled anti matter, would then the whole chaos theory of existing be thrown out of whack?

We discussed human beings need to control, instead of coming along side and what really needed to be invented was something that did not “control” anti matter’s energy but merely followed it, like a wave.

When living with unpredictability one must give up the need to know. Note: I have been unable to accomplish this!!!!!! Another side note: science and inter personal relationships---not that different.

Teo has never been inside a concert hall, I believe it is the one thing in the universe I can change in July.

from my tree

 

I am not yet moved into the new old house, this is what happens when you add two new bathrooms and a kitchen, this is what happens when your contractor flushes paper towels down the toilet and causes the sewage system to explode.

I’m not very exciting. I’m saving you people pain. I am however alive—not writing but alive. Last week was the first week of programming and I had an art budget for 45 kids and 53 showed up. It was a hell of more stilts and paint but worth it.

I use to be a missionary, a wife, a teacher…now I am an art director, a lover, a writer. I have lost nothing. I am still all those other things. When I was talking with Liz the other day, she said this is what it means to get old, sometimes you hold less in your hand but it is always open b/c you understand you actually hold nothing. It is the still under the stream, watching the river move.

This is my hand. Here is my life.

I am the mummy Barbie teacher

here

Giant Cat

Right now something is purring in my house like a giant cat—I believe it is the fan upstairs. I believe it is the fan vibrating against the hardwood floor. Yet I want to say it is a cat, something giant curled up against the wall, holding us close. When you jump there is so little to fear. A few years ago I use to fear open windows, sleeping alone in this house with the girls. Listen to me sleep, I would say on the phone to California, listen and be someone who hears me.

I don’t know if I need that as much anymore. I use to claim I had a hunger to be read; somehow it scares me now that in this journey to be whole I may have lost that. I don’t care if you read me. I don’t need you to listen. In fact, listening in some cases tends to incur judgment and the demons in my head do a damn fine job already, thank you very much.

Truth: I sat by the lake last night and read a poem that made my heart hurt. I wanted to write. I wanted to write so much, I would have traded it for a cup of air; a day of my life but there is not time right now. There are two girls and two houses and a non profit art program and so much change it feels impossible to measure.

And another truth: I don’t need you to listen. I hunger not for you to understand but for the simple action of moving my hand across the page. Because for the first time in my life there is something inside me deeper than being understood and maybe it began as this tiny seed, of saying all my worst fears out loud, maybe it began by not caring a little more each day or by becoming the one person no one ever expected me to be.

Maybe it began here in this place with the giant cat.

my fossil on the side of a mountain somewhere

 

She is the most amazing twelve year old on the whole planet and I had the best time camping. 

 

There are so many things we want to make beautiful, so many things we justify b/c we had no other way to go. Yesterday we went the wrong way; two other chaperones and myself; two other moms who left the campsite of 28 kids, who went looking for the fork in the road where the park ranger said we’d find fossils. Stay on the road and we didn’t, we tucked under the no trespassing sign, under the barb wire and the quarry was like something out of Tolkien so we kept going and b/c honestly, every mother gets tired of holding the line, there are days when we need to remember ourselves. Our young selves; our selves who can sneak and hide and meet after dark. I am a leader at this. I am a leader of sometimes teaching people how to do “the wrong thing” Because my friend, it sometimes tastes so good in the mouth, it is exactly what is needed.

I went camping with 28 kids this weekend. I slept in a puddle, I went thirteen miles underground in a cave. I hid in a bathroom and scared boys. I laughed more than I have in a year. I had a twelve year old put his arm around me and say, you are a horrible example and I like you soooooo much.

Turtle fornication makes me happy. It makes sense to me to swim around in a big blue world looking for love. It makes sense to have a shell to hide in on a bad day.

Saturn is still on my ass. All notes here will be laced with slight bitterness.

I enjoyed the children very much tonight until I tried to put them to bed, then they became horrid beasts.

My sink right now at the new/old house is on the front lawn. It is right next to the butterfly bush I planted for Dr. Peter. I wish there were butter sink flies.
A sink on front lawn does not bother the contractor, he seems happy to smoke in my house and throw sinks out the window. Tonight I saw him light a cigarette with a blow torch---I am taking up smoking for this reason alone.

Tonight I want to be Mina Loy, with long black gloves and an air of confidence. I want to have all my books written and not be at the mercy of printer who does not want to work for me. I want black gloves and a cigarette lit by a blow torch.
Or I want to be here, watching the turtles find their way. 

I planted heliotrope in the front yard b/c it smells beautiful and mixed with my moon flowers one can sit on the porch and believe the whole world is contained within one night.

I use to plant hard to grow plants b/c I was proving myself to myself when I was younger, now I am older and I want nothing but color. And smell; flowers as big as dinner plates and night flowers with blooms like moons.

Do you understand there are a hundred different ways to die in a garden?

I am quoting myself. If you want to read the poem, it is my pretend book which is in my pretend room, held by my pretend house. Jack did not build it. If Jack built it everything would be done by now, I would be moved and the boxes would be gone. You would say what a wonderful house Jack, what a wonderful life. 

 

Yesterday was a hard day; all day long it has felt like someone has drained my blood. Friday was full crying parents, sad kids and me, trying to be professional, trying not to be one of THOSE teachers who cries on her children’s heads while saying goodbye.

Tonight I am quiet. I am reading cummings and being quiet. I am hearing Walter Benton in my head—there is no music, there should be music. As a departing gift my students painted to Loudon’s beautiful sounds, it was amazing. She is amazing. Thank you my dear for such a gift.

I hope Sunday is a good day.

god I love this man

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
e.e. cummings

So Long.....