dispersion

it seems,
that when a signifier is no longer present,
that which was signified disperses,
like dandelion seeds or fireflies or mist
and alights a little on everything else around

My grandma's favorite color is green

I come from a long line of strong women
My grandmother began college and moved to a farm to raise 6 children.
My mother and an aunt went to Veterinary School
I have been a math major, a nuclear reactor operator, and made it to China
Enterprise and entrepreneurship run in my family, and I expect similarly of myself

My grandma's favorite color is green - like growing things
I remember:
When I was young -
Saving her perfect strawberry jam by eating it so slowly that it began to mold,
Grasping the upper bar of my crib in protest of being made to retire there in the blue-gray twilight,
Being unable to escape either breadcrusts or unfinished milk
Her approval of my cursive handwriting, and eventually, of my gift-wrapping
The way she colored perfectly within the lines
The colored egg she brought me from a research trip to Ukraine
The greatness of her smile when I visited her in the hospital

When I was young,
I hid from the way she made me eat my breadcrusts, at an age when grandparents were judged by their willingness to provide icecream.
She was the strict one, the no-eating-cookie-dough, brush-your-hair-100-times-a-day, stand-up-straight-don't-slouch, eat-all-your-crusts, drink-all-your-milk, you-don't-know-what-you're-missing, one.

Raising 6 children herself, she had more than enough to spare on a family half that size. Old milk went back in the fridge to come out again when your tummy had made room for dessert. She made nearly every kind of potato at Thanksgiving and whipped out the smoothest mashed potatoes short of instant mix.

She always said she had a dull personality, so she had to wear bright colors, but if you've seen her, and seen the way her enjoyment of life and her pride in her family beams out of her smile, then you might also find her claim a little hard to believe :)

In my high school and college days, I enjoyed the friendship and conversation of a grandma that no longer had to be strict with me. She took interest in my pursuits and encouraged and supported me such that there are many things that I literally would not have been able to do without her. Solid as the stone from which her house is built, and just as midwestern, she raised a family able to go off into the world, and grandchildren who benefit from a firm family foundation.

She is a strong one.
She's lived a long, and sometimes difficult life
Her family is successful, and she enjoys bragging privileges.

I have forgotten how old she is, since every year she tells us that she is going on 27.
Soon, I will turn 26.

When her health came into question for the second time,
She chose probable death over extended medical treatment.

I can only hope that
I, too, will be this kind of strong.

I love you, grandma, from thousands of miles away.
Thank you for who you have been in my life.

relief... is not the right word

I am having a very hard time thinking of the right word to describe the feeling of being told that the letter that might be the last message you will ever be able to send to someone, has made it across the time and distance, and has been received and read.

it is grateful
it is grieving
it is almost debilitating
it is finished
a part of me can let out the breath it's been holding and rest in peace
and the rest of me celebrates mournfully

I told my brother the good news I'd heard - that his email had been received and read.
"That's good to hear," he said - his shoulders relaxed, bringing his forehead down to his hand as the first tears came, and mine followed.

Life

... is blindingly glorious

Spring is here, and once again the world is still spinning, and all right.

I remember two springs ago, noticing that after seeing the world light up again, I felt at peace to let it go on without me, seeing that it was growing and greening again - the life was not forgotten in the cold earth. I keep trying to push the rest of the world on with the warmth of my breath, and let it leave me behind to fade gray and smile to watch it go.

I feel that for a long time, it has been hard for me to tell the difference between living and dying - between breathing, growing, exploring, creating some chaos,... and trying to put things in order so I can die responsibly.

My grandmother is showing me living and dying.
My brother and I are trying to show her how well the world is turning - its ok to go.
My brother's slideshow reminds me of life as well.
The pictures are not well-composed, the subjects are often unprepared for the photos, and many are blurry.
But, the life in them! I remember it! A lesson, for me.



Spring is here

I think it's about time I came back to life.

Living is chaotic :)
I will have time for cooling later

belief makes things true

(thanks to Gavin DeGraw for the song title)

I think, that necessarily, people are not to be trusted;
they are to be believed in.

Fractured (I glimpsed a reflection in the gathered shards)

and I realized that it was me
I was broken
I was shattered
I was scattered long ago

and the visions I see in shards around me is not a lost God, but my soul (it is both)
I am not the only searcher, wading through the mirrors casting slanted golden light. I am not the only traveler, the only gatherer, stooping for pieces smaller than myself - we all of us are pieces

I am also a sharp-edged splinter, cast down with my brothers, my sisters, and in the confusion, I have thought they were someone else. I am a piece in the puzzle collecting.

The God I saw dispersed in shining lights,
As he was dispersed,
so the self I am familiar with appeared
and wondered

I call to the stars and they call back because we spoke with the same voice. They hear their answer in my echo.

In this moment, it is I who knows this.
But, soon it will pass and reflect from a different piece of fractured glass.

a crack around cracks around cracks
and so the light gets in
and we are dazzled

Pitzeem and the Mare

I brought a copy of "The Night Abraham Called to the Stars" by Robert Bly with me.
The other night, realizing I was parched for poetry, I turned to it and asked for water. I'd glanced across this poem before, but now have eyes to see:

Pitzeem and the Mare

Let's tell the other story about Pitzeem and his horse.
When the One He Loved moved to the mountains,
He bought a mare and a saddle and started out.

He rode all day with fire coming out of his ears,
And all night. When the reins fell, the mare knew it right
Away. She turned and headed straight for the barn.

No one had told Pitzeem, but his horse had left
a new foal back in the stable. She thought of nothing
All day but his sweet face with its long nose.

Pitzeem! Pitzeem! How much time you've lost!
He put the mountain between the mare's ears again.
He slapped his own face; he was a good lover.

And every night he fell asleep once more. Friends,
Our desire to reach our true wife is great,
But the mare's love for her child is also great. Please

Understand this. The journey was a three-day trip,
But it took Pitzeem thirty years. You and I have been
Riding for years, but we're still only a day from home.


( and another poem, just the last 2 stanzas:)

The Country Roads

...
In my early poems I praised so many lost things.
The way the crickets' cries in October carried
Them into the night sky felt right to me.

Every way of knowing is blessed by bootleggers.
Because the government does not allow delight
To be sold, you have to find it on the country roads.

平江路上找到我心 Peace River Road

Sometimes,
I arrive at moments like node in which I feel that I am in just the right place for the life that I am in at just the right time. They are brief, but deeply reassuring.





As I strolled Peace River Road that night, I felt like a variety of obstacles were shifting and passing around me in such a way that for a few sweet moments, they were all absent at once, giving me a rare straight shot of perception and appreciation. Like all the clouds parting to expose a mountaintop for a few brief seconds, like realizing Mt. Hood through the trees, like flying on my bike around the curve just as the sun emerged on fresh rain and set the world a-dazzle, a clear sweet breath of something like freedom.















It wasn't hard to feel that I was not just at 平江路, but that it was I who lay comfortably beside the river, the bridges my arms stretched out across the water.

A single star peeked out at me from the beloved sky behind ancient rooftops



平江路 was just perfect. I almost felt that, when I'd been trying to get to China for so long, I had actually been trying to come to just this place at just this time. I thank the hand of God.



And I feel grateful to everyone who helped and encouraged me to get here. My Grandmas, Aunt Karen, parents, friends, colleagues, advisers, and also the support of my boyfriend. All the life that brought me here.





And that's how the changes go, isn't it?
They just go, sometimes, like tectonic plates. *Shoop* different.

Spring

The days lengthen and the air warms
I feel my life rise up out of the waking earth

beautiful life

I remember writing on this very blog how my life was going to be awesome, because I was going to be so aware and try so hard. I've been feeling lately that I've just been doing a lot of doing. I need to find the hole in the cracks to fall through and be somewhere real and valuable. But, that description is misleading because I still think that where I am now is a good place for me to be at this point in my life. So, maybe I'm just being dissatisfied or thinking too much about what I don't have. However, I sometimes reflect on the things that keep me busy vs. the things that feel like being where the life is.

But then again, I guess there's always life to be near and in. Need to tap into that every day. (I've been considering whether up and doing Teach For China would be a welcome and growthful change in my life, or whether it is really more of the same (in the way I'm approaching it).

In the meantime, this is somewhat encouraging, and reminds me of other ways I used to write on here ... Introduction

Dedication

Mission Statement

Critical Points

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