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Polynomial
You remember those, right? Am I giving any of my geekiness away when I say that solving quadratic equations was sort of a highlight for me, mathwise? I found a certain exquisite perfection in creating balance. Each side of the equation balances the other. Yummy. To refresh, in case Algebra II was (cough) a few years ago for you: a polynomial is an expression of finite length constructed of variables and constants. [What, you don’t trust my truthiness in math? Go on, Google it.] It has not escaped me that I am involved in the creation of a polynomial. I already told you that 1 + 1 = 3, remember?…
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Humility
Humility. It is from the Latin humilitas, which may be translated as “humble,” but also as “low,” “from the earth,” or “humid,” since it derives in turn from humus (earth). Wikipedia says it is a virtue, since it is connected with notions of transcendent unity with the universe or the divine, and of egolessness. I sang yesterday for a woman who lay dying. I sang with three other women who all sing their heartsongs, and as I sang I looked out at the sparkling blue-gray bay beyond, hearing our voices lift to carry the breath of one whose breaths can be counted now, so slowly. As I sang I thought of humility. Lift…
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Magic, The Gathering
I have been looking for a way back instead of a way forward. I look through the destiny book of awesome and its secrets stay locked within, remaining tightly shut within black walls and creamy pages, mocking me. Remember this? they hiss, When things were magical and all was possibility unfolding in front of you like a golden carpet? I look at the magic and want it so much, the beautiful song. I try to grasp it tightly to hold it to me, but it slides through my fingers. Ahead. That is where I should be looking. But how do we know anything except what is behind us? I replay the…
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Spring
Everywhere I look I see new growth. Buds ripening. Cherry blossoms bursting into soft pinkness. Vivid colors superimposed over the blue-grays of sky and water. New green shoots pushing up from seemingly lifeless brown twigs. Surely there is a metaphor here. I am cold. I miss the warmth. I long to feel it permeate my limbs, my skin, my heart. I’ve used a cliff metaphor perhaps too frequently in the past for it to fully fit now, but I do feel that I have at least dipped a toe into the waters of change. Change happens slowly sometimes, stealthily, without us noticing, like a cat climbing into your lap: one…
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Medicine
It takes more than one hand to list the animals that have been showing up for me lately, filling the air with their song and presenting me with wisdom, perspective, challenge. [Note: I count on my fingers beginning with the thumb. How many people do that? I would wager not many. Not many Americans anyway.] One. Hawk. The messenger. Visionary power and guardianship. Paying attention to what might otherwise be overlooked. Two. Eagle. Bald eagle, off to the west of I-5 somewhere around Stanwood. Ability to see highest truth or viewpoint. Spiritual energy. Connection from earth to sky, symbolizing balance. Three. Ants. LOTS of ants. Many more than I am…
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Connecting
The last several days have been sort of epic. Not necessarily good-epic. More like intense-epic. The root of change epic. Changing direction, switching lanes epic. Only … it’s not yet clear where things might go. I am drawn to nestling myself in a tree-lined hilly neighborhood of four million overlooking blue-gray waters (and on magical days, the snow-tipped Cascade range beyond), where I can push my heart outward in concentric rings to connect with other hearts and draw inward again. I am drawn to sparking my cells with the essence of carrots, celery, and apple, connecting with the Earth by drinking her lifeblood. I am drawn to jumping feet first…
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Hawk redux
Driving northward today toward my What Comes Next, I saw my friend Hawk. He sat calmly in I-5’s manicured median grass north of Seattle, surveying his dominion with sharp brown eyes. He saw me but did not look. We nodded briefly at one another while I sped past at 70 miles per hour, his feather-blur held sharp by stilled recognition. My thoughts, immersed in the grounded action of how my next few days will be spent, flew on speckled feathers to Black Friday last when Hawk spoke words of promise to me and brought me aloft with him into worlds dreamed of but yet unreached. My car flew silently on redbrown…
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Doorway
“The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you Don’t go back to sleep! You must ask for what you really want. Don’t go back to sleep! People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch, The door is round and open Don’t go back to sleep!” — Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi I stand at the threshold of a doorway. It calls to me, this door into my future. If I stop looking I can see the starry brightness of the path just on the other side, the path that leads into the unfoldment of my destiny. If I cover my ears I can hear the…
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Suck
I’ve been struggling with this concept for days now. Years, actually, but I truly thought I had been-there-done-that enough already to move through/past/beyond it, but no. I suck. And yet I cannot yet embrace it. Embrace the suckage. I smile slightly, inwardly, as I write that. A wry smile. Rueful. It’s irony, after all, and I dig the ironic bizarreness that life is. Except when it’s about me, of course. Me? I have to be Perfect. No suckage for me. I could say “Thanks, Dad” for that one. A big part of my imprinting is in this concept. Let me see if I can explain it to you; it’s a…
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Destiny
Girlfriend. I never thought past the age of 17 that I would think of wearing this label as having won something amazing and awesome, but there you go. That’s how life works. Sometimes you come back to where you have been (only it’s way way better now). I am totally loving being a little bit high school. And yes, I have a boyfriend and he rocks. We own one item jointly. Well, it’s technically mine — a small black hardcover Moleskine notebook, previously written-on pages ripped out to create an open space of possibility, written in with my burgundy and gold Mont Blanc rollerball pen — but we are creating…