September 25, 2012 § 3 Comments
I spent the entire day in the rational world. Some people I know are very ill, and I am thinking about returning to work full-time and being hit by a million responsibilities this implies, and there was a class to prepare and teach, and all these things to worry about, and … the day went by. And not a single thought not related to just getting by.
How sad. All those mindfulness readings from the summer… how quickly forgotten!
So here is a prose poem. Not joyful or anything, mind you. Just removed from the world of getting things done, worrying and planning and forgetting to look at the sky and the trees and the grass and a sweet face of a baby.
I have donated most of my body to an oak tree. Its roots tear at my flesh but this pain I like — I wake up alive in the morning and ask for branches to grow through my bones. Squirrels live in the root of my nose and deposit acorns behind my eyes for the next uncertain winter. I have lent what remains to microorganisms, English ivy, tree-of-heaven, and thistles, and even kudzu is making its way West, having been spotted in Oregon in 2000 (nobody knew where it came from, but it felt right at home). I am the battleground for the grand experiment: will kudzu take over the Earth or will the sacred tree of Serbian people prevail? Next year I may bloom, be eradicated along with Scotch broom, or be harboring heirloom seeds. I am all soft nature now, a full pillow for dreamless sleeping, but I used to be branded and once had railroad tracks across my body; I bent them with my teeth and wrapped them around myself, like this: click-clack-cluck – I bound myself.
I am a bit obsessed with invasive plant species, especially kudzu. Thistles are a noxious weed in Washington, which means they are supposed to be destroyed wherever they grow. The idea of plants like Scotch broom and wild blackberries taking over the landscape and eradicating native plants really disturbs me. But I hopeful that oaks, salal, and chocolate lilies will prevail.