Good News + Pictures I Didn't Post, Nettles, Snippets

This is a hodge-podge post of scattered thoughts.


First time I hit "publish", I forgot to include a piece of good news in the past week: I had a poem accepted for publication! I hadn't submitted anything for ages, but the last submission I made was to Cirque, and they're publishing one of my poems in the Summer Solstice volume! Time to start sending submissions out again...


I'm including three photographs of nettles for the benefit of our friend David, who bravely ate the steamed nettles on a bed of caramelized onions with balsamic vinegar that I served last night, although he was mortally afraid of ending up with botox-lips. He concluded they were delicious--"Now, where can I find some of those?" 
They're everywhere, but if you don't know what you're looking for, how would you know?

I didn't take a photo of the beautiful nettles on caramelized onions, but I hope you can picture it.
I also chose not to take a photo of the mama moose bedded down with two tiny calves right by the highway these last few days. Walking home from my writers' group on Monday, I gave them a wide berth, walking in the middle of the road so as not to come too close. Moments later, mama moose awkwardly lurched upright, put her head down, and moseyed across the highway, leaving two improbably small calves, their umbilici still dangling, milling confusedly on the other side. She stayed over there several minutes. The calves, sensibly, were disinclined to step in the road.
I was so relieved when mama crossed back and rejoined them.  
It just didn't seem right to take pictures. Sorry, guys.

Speaking of pictures, I feel such gratitude for connection. At a time when I'm not very connected even to my own body, and in a limbo of decision-making, it's a good reminder. I'm not a visual person, and I didn't even catch that the photos of the two breakfasts in my previous post, light and dark respectively, were highly symbolic, until my giftedly visual friend Terry pointed it out. Thus artists collaborate, thus our own best work is more than what we make it.

Another picture I didn't post--another picture I can't post: I wish I could record and share the sound of the songbirds these days! The piercing plaintiveness of the golden-crown sparrow threads through the melodiousness of the song sparrow, punctuated by the persistent chirrup of the robin, the kazoo note of the chickadee, the throaty croak of the raven. When I'm outside picking nettles, their threading melodies make me feel the webbedness of air, the multidimensionality of sound, gold threads spangling what we think of as empty space. A beneficence.


I'm not doing great this week, and am realistic enough to recognize the unlikelihood of acceptance of my plea to my naturopath to let me stay home and figure this out myself because the whole 'searching for options' is making me worse with the stress. On a happier note, things are coalescing, and clarity is gradually congealing over my possible destination. I won't be able to update my blog initially, for as much as a month. It'll be a different me on the other side, no doubt.


Thank you to everyone who's pushed their comfort zone and talked with me about this. I feel gratitude to have given so many women the opportunity to open up to me about their own like issues. More gratitude for those offering Phil support.

Finding a Rhythm at the Wobbly Point, Comfort Zone Communication

As the week gallops by, the days are lengthening, and we have a big full moon hanging up there, casting shadows even at night.

I'm already harkening ahead to the dizzy solstice days when there's almost never any darkness to hide behind, no excuse of darkness not to be busy and out there--and it's not even the equinox yet, although the clocks going forward so soon brings it closer (grumble). (On the other hand, Phil also points out that during those summer days, light riots in such luxurious abundance that it's easy to postpone projects because it'll still be light all the way to midnight.)

On a happier note, I've spent significant time the past two days writing poetry, reading poetry, and writing a critical essay. In this awkward, cuspy time of year, as snow lingers and light lengthens and shadows shift and everything feels a bit off, I cannot quantify how much better I'm feeling in myself as a result of this. The cow's being milked and oh, it feels good.

I'm going to keep this brief tonight, as there's still some work to do, but speaking of work, I wanted to share some thoughts about an odd kind of "comfort zone communication" I've been experiencing recently. I don't know whether to call this a "problem" or just a "phenomenon." What I'm noticing is that for many people, myself included, it's more comfortable to open up, be chatty and conversational, remotely, than it is to interact face to face with actual people, body language, and all the rest of it.

Last week, with all the haywire technology around my course's midterm, I spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone with the technological folks and with the distance education services co-ordinators. And some of the tech guys in particular, not otherwise noted for being socially outgoing, were positively chatty! While we tried to chase down the bugs in my course shell, their conversations ranged over a variety of topics, they were inquisitive about my course and the languages referred to therein, etc, etc. I'm grateful for this in a way, as it's the closest thing I get to collegiality much of the time, as a distance-education faculty. On the other hand, with my writing time so precious and so threatened, I worry about the ease with which I can end up, essentially, chit-chatting while we try to fix broken software. Then, I see myself chatting on facebook, or writing lengthy and socially appropriate emails, at times when I'm not together enough to talk "in real life" to anybody in a remotely civil or socially appropriate way.

How is it that we can adapt to conversation without any of the cues and immediacy that make it meaningful and relevant? Isn't it backwards that I find interacting with someone I can't see less stressful than I find interacting with someone naturally, with their sight, smell, sound, affect and their presence right there with me?

Interesting that I'm posing the question on my blog, another asynchronous and not-in-person communication medium. I just hope that hiding behind a screen isn't eroding my ability to communicate in person.

Any thoughts?