Long May It Wave

Photo: Scar-Spangled BannerToday, the day Americans celebrate this nation’s incorporation as an independent country, there are and will be a lot of fireworks, eat-drink-and-be-merry parties, solemn salutations of admiration and thanks addressed to the people and acts that led to the establishment of America, and “patriotic” speeches of allegiance and fealty to whatever each speaker or audience relishes as the greatest rights and privileges of living in this place. We don’t all agree, not remotely, on which things are Rights and which are merely privileges, never mind which are to be relished. We don’t share a single, singular point of view defining patriotism or our national identity or strengths.

That, in fact, is what I see as one of our greatest strengths. We are a country that prides itself on individualism, if not individuality. And that, in turn, we define differently, each of us. As little as I know about the country I call home, my sense of it says that the name United States suits us well: a collection of wildly, wonderfully, weirdly differing entities—both states and persons—pulled together into one larger whole. It doesn’t homogenize or even blend us. We remain diverse and divergent. And that is the strength that our founders hoped, as I understand it, to cultivate.

We tend to fail, nationally speaking, more than we succeed at this delicate and complex effort. We mess it up pretty (no pun intended) royally both out in the wider world and within our own borders. Often. But there are frequent gleams of starry hope, as well. There are those among us who will stop and truly listen to each other, who will negotiate, counter-propose, parlay, parry, and persist, in the pursuit of better solutions. Those who choose to recognize differences without letting their own beliefs in the matter condemn their fellow citizens as second-class or unworthy.

It’s funny how often many of us Americans get mighty excited, thinking that somebody else is busy trying to impinge on our personal Freedoms (apparently we are historically hysterical when it comes to that) merely by valuing different aspects of the legal freedoms we all enjoy here or by wanting an equal share of the same ones; we’re past masters, too, at howling injustice over others’ intolerant narrow-mindedness, which of course translates directly as “any thinking, belief, or experience different from mine” and thus is equally self-definition, should we think through it carefully. We each obsess over how to make the rest of the nation see our individual points of view as the simple and clear logic they embody, and as the obvious morally and ethically correct way to think, live, and be, whether any of our own choices and decisions are in truth logical, moral, or ethical, let alone demonstrably so. But that difference, too, is part and parcel of the multifarious and colorful country we call home and of its hard-won foundational tenets.

So while I spend the Fourth of July, like any other day, in mindful and slightly irritable worry over all that could and perhaps should be better about my native country, not to mention about me as one of its inhabitants, I also cling to the hope and optimism that continue to reside here. People are still kind to each other, from holding open doors to donating large quantities of time and other resources to the health, education, safety, and well-being of others, and more importantly, some even do this without requiring that their beneficiaries support and adhere strictly to the donors’ worldview. That, to me, is a great assurance that this nation does still hold dear some of the essential characteristics on which it was founded, even if with a noticeable amount of ignorant hubris stomping on the extant good on this new shore. We remain flawed and selfish and foolish, each in our own ways, but for the most part, this is also a country full of people who, through hard work and goodwill and the desire to fulfill the promise of our forebears, native-born and otherwise, mean to keep becoming better.

May this better part of each of us become a great banner of Peace, Justice, and Hope. May the winds of the future send it curling around those who are in need of the wealth with which we, corporately, are gifted, and give them not only enough resources and courage to be lifted up but a share of that same peace, justice, and hope. And long, long may that banner wave.

Imperfections

Blood Grass

Short bursts of breeze in the long leaves,

the slightest of eddies as though

their pulse were pumping actual red cells

through the tall margins of the field—

Likelier that their real nature as flammable,

short-lived bursts of vigorous and

violent life, destined to flame

up, out, leap to cosmic oblivion, and die—

Are these our guides, or are

they mirrors of the flimsy, volatile existence

that we share? Only there, in

the margins of the field, do the flames

and shadows of our being have

a moment’s sway, for better or for worse,

of honesty out in the sun. Only there,

where the grass grows tall and yet

has not the strength or

depth of root to thrive, do we

see how little of the energy

with which we’d credited ourselves

really shines for longer than

a short, weedy season, bending

this way, bending that, and sparking

into sudden flares of incandescent

death

before returning to earth,

extinguished without

having distinguished ourselves, yet still

flying a bold red flag as if

we were something more.Digital illo: Japanese Blood Grass

So Much Good Reading, So Little Time

Photo montage: So Much Reading, So Little TimeOne of the keenest problems in a comfortable life, that. So much great stuff that I would love to read, and such a short life. So many beautiful pages of literary jewels and deliriously fun junk, paper and zine, novel and blog, that I would happily devour, if only there weren’t so much other Stuff to be done in the finite hours of the day.

In my case, of course, there is the additional complication of being an interminably slow reader. I will have to live to be 627 years old, at least, to read all that I’d like to read. Add to that the extra time (about half again as long) to comprehend what I read and I will have outlasted Methuselah and any number of other supernal beings. And the problem remains, on top of this literary one, that I will have a wide assortment of other highly irksome and undignified complications to overcome and survive in order to achieve such an advanced age. So I have to pick and choose what I am willing and able to devote my actual reading time to perusing, and accept my limitations with as good a grace as I can manage.

This summer, though many of you whose blogs I am fond of visiting for both reading and commenting might be surprised to hear it, I have been reducing rather than increasing my holiday reading. Since much of what I do read is online, and on an erratic schedule with less frequent long periods of sit-down-and-read time, let alone with reliable wi-fi access, I must think about what little I can squeeze in between other summer activities and parcel out my energies and devotion accordingly. I assure you that this is in no way a reflection on the quality and desirability of your work and its pull on my imagination, but it’s rather the reverse: that I want to return to it when I can give it more of its due and proper attention and appreciation. I will return to you, rest assured. Meanwhile, I hope you are lying back on a comfortable chaise in the summer shade, sipping a cool drink, and reading whatever stirs your soul while the season lasts.

Just Because…

Digital illo: Life PatternsJust because something is beyond my understanding doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Just because it defies convention doesn’t mean it Can’t Be Done.

Just because it surpasses my imagination doesn’t mean it’s unnatural and illogical.

Just because it seems superhuman doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

Just because I’m small and insignificant and mortal doesn’t mean I shouldn’t seek deeper understanding, challenge my boundaries, learn from nature, investigate logic and the natural order of things, and

lean hard against the edges of

impossibility…

Foodie Tuesday: Hot Weather? Cold Treats.

Photo: Black Raspberry Ice CreamI don’t think it necessary to explain to you. That title…you know just what I mean. It’s summer here. All over the whole danged country, it’s summer; it’s hot, or the local equivalent of Hot wherever we are, and we’re a bit uncomfortable with it, most of us.Photo: Chocolate Soft Serve

The solution is obvious. Cool it, my friends. Chilled food and drink save the day. Heck, they can save the whole week, when necessary. I love good cold eats and treats at any time, but especially so in hot weather.Photo: Gianduia Gelato

And there are so many worthy options that it would be impossible to exhaust the inventory before the too-warm season ended. But I’m willing to try. Ice cream, sorbet, frozen fruit. Icy cold smoothies, Thai iced tea, lemonade, and cold, clear ice water. Gelato. Ahhh. You have my permission. You’re welcome.Photo: Sea Salt Caramel Gelato

Unclassified Fauna

Digital illo: Previously Unclassified FaunaDiscoverer Discovered

Should a biologist be lost

in untracked wilderness, the cost

might be more palatable when

she found a beast that other men

and women hadn’t seen before:

she’d get the credit, and what’s more,

it would be named for her as well,

should she record her findings. Swell

as documenting her great find

in journals she would leave behind,

posterity could also learn

another feature that, in turn,

she mightn’t think the creature’s worst,

considering she’d met it first—

had any notes so ably writ

been found; they’d been consumed by it.

The pages must’ve tasted great,

were they all that the creature ate,

but after her, they were dessert.

Hope getting eaten didn’t hurt.

Just Another Oddball Day in Paradise

Digital illo: Got It Made in the ShadeIt was a day of superb weather. As expected. It’s only that it was the kind of weather expected at entirely different times of the year, or at least in entirely different parts of the world. At least, by me.

In that way, it was par for the course in the modern world’s weather, at least. One doesn’t really know what lies ahead further than a few minutes, though now it’s less for the reason that weather forecasting is such an inexact art (it’s far less so than it used to be, anyhow) and more that previous centuries’ patterns have apparently been twisting and turning and emerging in wholly new directions and shapes. Exciting stuff, to be sure. Not so easy to manage our lives within it, given the difficulty of knowing whether the rain that’s begun requires a light, windbreaker sort of slicker or the building of an ark.

Meanwhile, superb weather at the “wrong” date and place.

One could spend plenty of time and energy trying to figure out why, or what it might mean in the grand scheme of things, and surely, thousands of smarter people have done so. I am not the one to solve those puzzles. I went for a walk, enjoyed the superb weather, and when it grew too hot for my taste, found a few trees in whose shade I could continue to enjoy the weather without being quite so warm.

It’s a weird world, this, and not quite like the one I thought I’d known all these years. But it still has some mighty nice shade trees here and there, and if I’m not too silly to take advantage of those, I can still think of it as a great home planet. Works for me.

May You Live a Life that is Texturally Rich

Digital illo from photos: May You Live a Life that is Texturally RichMy fellow undergrads and I used to wink at each other in amusement over the repetition of this magical phrase, “texturally rich,” that occurred with such impressive frequency in the comments and instructions of our drawing and printmaking professor. Then I grew up (a little). And became an art teacher at the same undergraduate institution. And caught myself using that same well-polished phrase myself, with no doubt equal frequency, if not more. Because, as I learned, the influence of textural variety, depth, accuracy, placement, and inventiveness can be incredibly subtle and amazingly powerful at the same time. This, as it happens, was a hallmark of that professor’s ways of living and teaching as well.

The more I learn, the more I have come to value that aspect equally. Noticing, respecting, and imitating a wide range of life’s textures in my own not only is more fulfilling, exciting, interesting, and enriching than not for me, but I find that it helps me to better understand and admire others and their respective multitudes of characteristics and quirks. And, in turn, to attempt to incorporate those, literally and figuratively. If I see the world around me as one smooth, flat, undifferentiated expanse of sameness, I have no need to learn and grow, and no real opportunities to do so. If I take note of all of the colors and shapes, thoughts and beliefs and ideals, of those around me and the environs in which we spend our time, and make the careful effort to examine these with thoughtfulness and patience, who knows but what I might gain, along with the wrinkles of age that will improve my physical texture, some new wrinkles of wisdom on my brain and new folds of compassion to put others more deeply in my heart.

Not least of all, I am guaranteed to be safe from ennui and protected from inventing for myself an unnaturally uninteresting universe, if I manage to keep my eyes, heart, and mind open to the textural richness all around me.

Fragile Beauty

We mortal beings are such a breakable bunch. The only part of my being that I can imagine ever neared perfection is my imperfection. It galls me that I am so intolerant of what I view as intolerance in others, so upset by the seeming obviousness of opposing viewpoints’ being illogical and insupportable, and so easily brought to a boil by anyone else’s anger or violence. It disappoints me that I am so easily cowed into silence when I see what seems the most flagrant of wrongs being committed against the defenseless, and I’m horrified by my inability to articulate what I believe is my wonderfully reasonable understanding of the facts of a case so as to persuade a single person of their validity.

The sorrow and fear I feel about this only intensify when I remember my suspicion that most other people experience some of these same phenomena. My failings are not entirely limited to me. It’s no wonder the world is such a complicated place.

Yet wisdom, love, justice, hope, and peace do seem to prevail at times. I know that every person alive will never agree on when and how those moments occur. Deeply studied scientific experiments and conclusions don’t convince everybody. Political, philosophical, and religious arguments, discussions, and declarations don’t convince everybody. The deepest emotional commitment and conviction, expressed in gloriously poetic prose, cannot convince everybody. We will still be weak, messy mortals. We will still be intolerant, illogical, angry, stubborn, and inarticulate. We will fall into these traps and sinkholes at the most inconvenient times, and escape from them only temporarily.

Yet wisdom, love, justice, hope, and peace do seem to prevail at times. We are incredibly imperfect and fragile, yes, but we can be beautiful, too, when we rise above our self-centered view of perfection and seek wisdom, love, hope, peace, and justice that should belong and apply not to only our own selves and favored persons but to everyone. If I can’t stoop to lift up someone else from the depths, maybe it’s because I need to reach up from my own depths to raise him. Maybe wisdom, love, justice, hope, and peace can prevail. Maybe they can begin today.Photo: Fragile Beauty

And Now to Sleep…Again

Since I missed yesterday’s posting time altogether and admitted [what you already know full well, if you know me in the least] today to my craving for massive amounts of sleep, I am grateful that today was a quiet, calm, fairly uneventful one spent recuperating from the latest adventures. And, more than that, grateful that it’s just about bedtime again. I seldom feel any sadness that any day is drawing to a close, other than the sentimental sense that a current delightful activity or gathering of friends must needs be discontinued, even if temporarily, for me to head toward sleep. So I am quite contented just now. Mother Nature has turned out the lights. I shall, too.Photo: Sundown, Maine