There were two primary concerns that became the inertia I had to overcome in order to start a blog. One was the fear that I would not have enough substantial things to say to keep a reading audience (a fear I never had as a teenager when I kept blogs, as that period of life is one of belief in the great original value of even your recycled thoughts), and the dilemma of not knowing what to call the blog. It’s silly I know, but it was really impossible to think of a name that didn’t sound overdone. Well, finally I wanted to start one enough that I just looked outside at the raining sky and decided to describe the conditions under which I would begin.
But a more real fear regarding the world of cyber of writing was that I would start to see my whole life from a narrators perspective – describing every experience in my head as I participate. This is a problem I had in the past when I used to journal daily. I could not just look at the ocean and love it; I had to write about the ocean in my head. I could not watch my husband climb over the rocks bare-chested without thinking of how best to frame that into a sentence. It satisfied me to come up with words to match each scenario and yet it drove me crazy to not have the freedom to simply be, to be empty minded and innocent in my touching of the world. I have over-glorified description and lost the potentially more lasting impression of something that is undescribed, barely even thought about, only felt vaguely in the moment. But those vague perceptions as we encounter life are of a substance perhaps more real than the qualifiers and adjectives we pull out to summarize the experience. All that said, I did find it lovely today to talk about the beach in my mind as Phil and I walked the shore for several hours. When my inner narrator is most active, I find myself crafting sentences in my head even when I am taking a shower in the early morning. It’s quite an addiction.
We got a good workout - all that walking - and Phil had brought a bag sure he was going to catch a crab. I was never too fond of the idea but it gave us a purpose and we in our culture are a little unsettled with aimlessness so I engaged in the search. We looked under rocks, in small pools, and behind driftwood. We scanned the ground while the whole ocean stretched out beside us. Oh, humans and our unending need to have a mission. We never found one alive (of which I was very glad) and we laughed at our own foolish adventure. It was cold and windy but we still waded in the water.
There were many crab extremities and shells scattered on the beach, as well as those of clams and oysters. There were feathers and several dead birds. I was struck by the brutality of nature and even more by the thought that the shells and feathers we so eagerly collected as children were the byproduct of death or at least of change that was probably painful. We are so used to the signs of other species’ suffering and think of their deaths as natural and even necessary to keep things in rhythm. Yet we fight so hard to keep ourselves alive and shutter when nature exercise brutality on our species. And we should shutter at that, I think. And maybe we should shutter at more things. But how can we enjoy things when we are constantly realizing the paradox of how destructive our beautiful earth can be? When I really see the washed up sea debris for what it is I can’t help but feel unsettled. And I thought of the mudslide victims and how nature can be so powerful an enemy.
On another note, have any of you seen the documentary that recently came out Foodinc.? I thought I was quite aware of the corruption in food production and distribution, but this was more revealing. Phil’s Birthday was a couple weeks after we watched the film and I literally felt nauseous preparing the bacon I had selected as part of his breakfast. I don’t think I can bring meat into my home again. We didn’t have much meat in South Bend, but I am feeling more strongly about it. It is no longer all a health thing for me, it is starting to feel like an ethical thing. I may try again to go more totally vegetarian and yet I still feel for certain that I don’t want to burden friends or family and will keep it quiet and eat meat that is served to me in homes. My thoughts about this matter have been developing over years and I think I need to take a firmer line. I just don’t feel right about eating something that has been killed anymore. This may be hard to keep and I am sure I will need all the support and help I can get.
Well I got to talk to my Roe Roe today which was lovely and I wish her well as she prepares for Thailand.
Well, that’s enough rambling. My next step will have to be to beautify this blog as I just chose any template to get started. =)
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Well I’m a bit lonely here in Portland and I guess that loneliness is what is driving me to expose myself on a blog.
It was grey as soon as the sun rose this morning and I was chilly on my commute home from work. In the afternoon it started to drizzle and by evening Phil and I were walking through empty streets under our umbrella towards the waterfront. Hours earlier I had watched people move through the streets, the rain saturated colors and the heads turned down. There was something romantic about it. Everything seemed to be in rhythm with the weather. And yet when I went down for a walk I felt normal, uncomfortable, out of sink. I did not feel I was part of the same picture that had so aesthetically satisfied me from my third floor window. It struck me as strange that I could feel this way while at the same time someone else may be watching from their window, seeing me as part of that ideal. Well, enough about the weather.
I’m feeling intolerably domestic lately. The up-keep of a small one-room apartment seems to demand so much I can’t even imagine wanting a house. My things are a comfort and a frustration, a source of guilt and regret and yet an attempt to beautify. I’m already having difficulty accepting the purchase of our couch and table. I wonder what I can do to reduce the clutter I am adding to the world. Phil and I had a conversation about the whole warped concept of ‘giving back.’ Gestures are often seen as giving back before we take in to account all that was taken to make that ‘giving’ possible. After analysis, what we use and what we take often outweighs that which we so pride ourselves in returning. It is like giving a gift that you previously received or even stole from another. It gives the gift less value or none at all. Before you think of yourself as altruistic, think of all the privilege that allowed you to make the choices you do today.
Tomorrow we plan to go the coast. I love the Northwestern coast with its rocky shorelines and dark waters. It is nothing like the sunny lake coasts I frequented in Indiana and Michigan. We plan to go even if it is cold and raining because the Oregon coast is just as beautiful in grey as on a blue day.
I started reading a novel by Yasunari Kawabata, Thousand Cranes. I read Beauty and Sadness several years back. The novel is so sensual it is startling. I remember Beauty and Sadness being that way also. Can something be beautiful and revolting at once? Vividness is delicious in writing while making us shutter. His writing has a way of making my gut feel all twisted up. Do any of you know what I mean?
Well, now a night nurse who has a tendency to stay up in to morning hours even when I am off work, I better be off to bed. All that time I thought I was a morning person and now I relish the darkness, the city lights, the quiet that comes when the streets begin to empty.
It was grey as soon as the sun rose this morning and I was chilly on my commute home from work. In the afternoon it started to drizzle and by evening Phil and I were walking through empty streets under our umbrella towards the waterfront. Hours earlier I had watched people move through the streets, the rain saturated colors and the heads turned down. There was something romantic about it. Everything seemed to be in rhythm with the weather. And yet when I went down for a walk I felt normal, uncomfortable, out of sink. I did not feel I was part of the same picture that had so aesthetically satisfied me from my third floor window. It struck me as strange that I could feel this way while at the same time someone else may be watching from their window, seeing me as part of that ideal. Well, enough about the weather.
I’m feeling intolerably domestic lately. The up-keep of a small one-room apartment seems to demand so much I can’t even imagine wanting a house. My things are a comfort and a frustration, a source of guilt and regret and yet an attempt to beautify. I’m already having difficulty accepting the purchase of our couch and table. I wonder what I can do to reduce the clutter I am adding to the world. Phil and I had a conversation about the whole warped concept of ‘giving back.’ Gestures are often seen as giving back before we take in to account all that was taken to make that ‘giving’ possible. After analysis, what we use and what we take often outweighs that which we so pride ourselves in returning. It is like giving a gift that you previously received or even stole from another. It gives the gift less value or none at all. Before you think of yourself as altruistic, think of all the privilege that allowed you to make the choices you do today.
Tomorrow we plan to go the coast. I love the Northwestern coast with its rocky shorelines and dark waters. It is nothing like the sunny lake coasts I frequented in Indiana and Michigan. We plan to go even if it is cold and raining because the Oregon coast is just as beautiful in grey as on a blue day.
I started reading a novel by Yasunari Kawabata, Thousand Cranes. I read Beauty and Sadness several years back. The novel is so sensual it is startling. I remember Beauty and Sadness being that way also. Can something be beautiful and revolting at once? Vividness is delicious in writing while making us shutter. His writing has a way of making my gut feel all twisted up. Do any of you know what I mean?
Well, now a night nurse who has a tendency to stay up in to morning hours even when I am off work, I better be off to bed. All that time I thought I was a morning person and now I relish the darkness, the city lights, the quiet that comes when the streets begin to empty.
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