Haikus: Epiphany

I know this summer I haven't posted as much as usual.  Due to my job and thesis research, I didn't have as much time for personal writing as I wanted to.  I did find myself jotting down phrases on the go and eventually got the idea to work on a collection of haikus.  I had a lot of fun with this project and it was really fascinating how once I embraced the form, it seems like I started thinking 5-7-5.  I'm not sure if this project is over, but it's time I share these snippets from the past few months.

So, without further adieu, summer 2015 according to Haikus: Epiphany.

* * * * *

Cascadia:

Disillusioned ones

walk on. But the face of God

is a mountainside. 

Staying up the hours the carpool lane is open:

Embrace the night owl 

living within yourself and 

stop harboring guilt.

Post Alley:

I don't remember

the song playing, but I now 

have my alibi 

Flat Rate Boxes:

Can't account for the 

words, tears, everything, but...

"You want your stuff back?" 

Park West:

See the pale half-moon, 

fire-red sun share the sky

and feel my pulse calm. 

Breakfast conversations:

"Girls go to work, too?"

As mothers and execs, but

yes, darling girl, yes.

12805:
Strangers footprints mark
once most-familiar floors,
when home is not home.

Soho, 1.30am:

"What the hell is that?"

Your wedding ring... Brokenness 

I can't help you bear. 

Anticipation:

Oxford isn't a place, 

but an ancient creature made

of heart-beating stones. 

Original Starbucks:

Spain. England. Belgium. 

"No, that wasn't the last one." 

Stroking away fears...

Welcome:

Fresh-faced pixies, once

I was like you, before I 

felt always behind. 

Cœur de la vallée:

Wood smoke.  Unbroke.  Our

star-gazing conversations

ease anxiety. 

Highway 101:

Ever think about

Seattle and recall that

corridor we shared? 

An Erasure from Compline, Book of Common Prayer:

Glory to Father, Son 

Holy Spirit, as it was, 

is, will be. Amen.

Westview:

That moment when they

cry, "I can't believe..." and it's

like vindication. 

No 105 - day 1

This place doesn’t smell like home.  Well, not yet at least.  I have candles going, a room diffuser, and am in search of the spray mix of water and the “purification” essential oil.  But the clothes smell strange from travelling.  I’m slowly but surely washing all the dishes from their “cardboard & newsprint” essence.  But this will take some getting used to.

///

Keys.  Routes.  Pre-set stations.  So many strange new things.

///

I won’t be pumping gas or paying sales tax for two years.  Oregon is our border state, and yet it’s so different.  Obviously it’s infamously hipster, but it’s more than that.  There’s just a different way, rhythm, pace of life. 

  

///

Apartment living is different.  My unit is only 450 sq. feet – which has caused me to become creative.  But more than the size is the uber close proximity to everyone and everything else.  My bedroom window is on level with a sidewalk, so that passerby’s conversations are just a few feet from me.  And just outside my front window, I get an uncomfortably intimate view of the neighbors’ comings and goings.  This will probably be slightly less awkward in the fall when the windows will be closed… but it’s still quite an adjustment from the privacy of the homes and condo I’ve lived in before.

Metamorphosis Pt. 6

Black smudges of sharpie & newsprint

Cover my busy fingers. 

And when the 11-on-the-dot sprinklers activate, 

I find another familiar I will depart. 

Giggling half-naked children in the yard, 

a dozen in-jokes with family, and 

the easy laughter of friends' shared absurdity 

all echo in the day's remembrances. 

The new costs so much. 

The New York Times accosts me with humanity's desperation. 

I use its news to keep things from cracking. 

And all the while smudges, sprinklers, 

a series of beats, and messages from a boy. 

Stars & void. Transfiguration. 

new home, new tables, new color...

I'm excited to share a little project I've been working on for the past week.

In preparing to move, I've been picking up furniture pieces here and there, 

but I still needed end tables for these lamps.

[The lamps are mine, the current tables are my flatmates.]

I scored a great deal on craigslist for this pair.

I loved that they were simple and modern with clean lines.

But because my other woods are much darker, I decided to paint these.

I decided on Valspar's Deep Sea Diving spray paint to get a really rich blue.

I started with Valspar's primer...and got to play chicken with Seattle's fickle weather.

Seriously, it would be totally sunny on my patio and being drenched 

in a downpour at the same time - what?

But despite having to move the tables under cover a few times,

I got 2 coats of primer on before moving on to the color.

It ended up taking 3 cans to do 2 coats of the blue.

The color really deepened as they dried and turned out quite close to a TARDIS blue :)

The knobs were very basic, so I decided to change them out for these fun Owls from World Market.

[Should I name them Hedwig and Pigwidgeon?]

Hoot hoot!  The owls like their new home :)

And I like my new tables.

After buying 1 can of primer, 3 cans of color, 1 can of sealer, and the knobs--

the total for this little makeover was about $25. 

I'm just very excited to have these colorful accents when I move into my new place.

One month.

One month from today, I'm packing up my worldly goods and heading down I-5 to begin a new season.

It's beginning to feel very real.

It's so good and so exciting!  I absolutely cannot wait for a new pace of life, a new way of being.  There will be things I've missed - like books and discussions and OED access.  For the first time, I will be living alone.  And, since I'll be an Oregonian, there will be no sales tax and no pumping gas for 2 whole years.  I'm trading the corporate for a classroom and a bus commute for a 5 minute bicycle ride.  It's not going to be like undergrad and it's not going to be like working full time.  It's going to be wonderfully new!

At the same time, I'm leaving dear friends--the kind I feel comfortable around whether we're dressing up and going out or just popping up for a spontaneous movie night.  Instead of that relational ease, I'll be starting over from scratch to forge a new community.  Not to mention that I'll be moving even further away from a certain fellow.  But it's all enough to make me a little teary-eyed when I stop to think about it.

It's daunting and exciting and crazy and marvelous--all at the same time.  I'm so close, with so much yet to do.  But when I get into my car and leave the town I have always called home, I know it's just a turning page, just a new incredible chapter.  And I can't wait to discover what's written there.

To know the words in the books

This is a poem inspired by my 3-year-old nephew, Ross.  He's just beginning to learn his letters after announcing to his mom, "I don't know the words in the books like you and dad."  That line really moved me, so I wrote the following.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Synapses form in the child's brain -
connections of how and why and when
and where things work.
The codex marvels his months-old mind -
flipping pages, imbibing color, revealing
knowledge and narrative.
Growing older, learning the words,
hearing the stories now, and imploring,
"Read it again."
Older still, he realizes when "grown ups"
open the book, they see more than
shapes and symbols.
The child knows, implicitly - even if
inarticulately - that to some the book
offers impartation.
Seeking the gift, he whispers, "Mom,
I don't know the words in the books
like you and dad ."
So, he discovers another level of learning
Sensory of the mind, not of the fingers
or nose or tongue.
He begins the distinctly human process
of extracting meaning from symbols
and sounds from shapes.
The pain and frustration and delight of
learning become milestones on his quest
to possess this gift.
This precious boy, just setting out on
the road of language and learning
makes me marvel.
For like the little boy, I am seeking
to "know the words in the books,"
to extract the meaning.
He reminds me of the gift, of my
gratitude and of my hope to share
this impartation.

Hello!  So, many have asked about the move... and I'm happy to say that overall it went really well!  It was way less stressful than expected.  Thanks to my dad and our little cross-over suv, all of my stuff was in our place by 10:30 and once my mom got off work, she had things mostly put away by 2:00.  Our great room / living area is quite functional and looks even better than I had expected.

I thought I'd share a few of my favorite details:

1 / We have a working record player.  It was Bek's grandmother's and it came with quite the collection, plus, for some odd reason, we each had a record or two.  We've been there less than 48 hours and have used it at least 5 times [pictured here with the My Fair Lady album].  I'm hoping to get some great use out of that and can't wait to scour thriftshops and record stores to add to our collection.  (I'm really hoping to score a copy of "Buffalo Gal" ;)
2 / Goodbye double-stacked!  I brought - no joke - a dozen boxes of books over to my new place.  Some were small (like amazon package size), but that was only so I could actually lift them.  I'm going to have 2 small bookshelves in my room also - pending this weekend's IKEA trip - but decided to utilize the living room shelves for my "literary" books - classic novels, poetry, and plays.  They're currently sorted by date and author, with special groupings by publisher.  While unloading, I confirmed that I had three copies of The Merchant of Venice - not including the Complete Works.  I know: nerdometer readings high.  But I can explain: I bought a cute paperback in high school, a Norton for school (which I used for 2 different classes), and then in England, I couldn't help picking up a copy published in 1899.  Ok... I'm going on far too long about the bookshelves.
3 / My china finally has a cupboard!  So, a few years back, my [paternal] grandmother gave me her china.  It is gorgeous!  Very classic design with silver rims.  Honestly, if I had my choice of any china set, this would probably be it.  Unfortunately, it's been stowed away in our garage, used only for 2 or 3 special occasions.  But finally, the china has been emancipated.  My mother was gracious enough to give me this buffet (which was originally was her mother's).  I love both how it looks and it's generational importance.  [So come over and let's have dinner on the china!]
4 / Might be hard to tell, but I got new sheets and duvet cover.  I've wanted a white duvet cover for quite a while and finally was able to make it happen.  While at it, I decided to get patterned sheets to off-set the white.  They're grey with little white chevrons.
5 / Another dream of mine,  I've wanted to incorporate one of my favorite color combos (grey, white, and yellow) and with my own bathroom (also a first), I can finally make that happen.  Looking forward to expanding that theme, but towels from Target will do for now.

One final shot: one of my favorite corners of our place.  Seriously, come over.  We'll set the china, throw on a record, and have a grand time!

Every time I've left home for an extended trip or somewhere far away,  I break down just before leaving.  Whether packing up the vans for tour or at the counter for British Airlines, I've had some pretty teary moments.  I can't explain all the reasons why.  Probably some fears mixed in there.  But I just get overwhelmed with the sense that no matter how good the adventure, I'd rather just stay at home.  Even before my summer in England, right before entering the security lines, I wanted to go home.  I wanted to forget about the whole scheme. 

It's the Baggins and the Took parts of me fighting.  And right before blast off, everything Baggins starts shouting "Stay at home and stay comfortable!"

Eventually the Took side wins out... but I'm having a very Baggins morning so far.

It's so strange preparing to move.

I should preface this by saying I have never moved before.  Ever.  I've lived in the same house my whole life.  And, though as I child I kind of resented that,  I'm really grateful for it now.

I'm a terribly sentimental person, and there is just something about being familiar with a place.  Knowing each of it's corners and creaks.  Being able to feel you're way in the dark.  But to be at home means more than being familiar with a place.  It's the difference between knowing about something and knowing it's meaning.  Home means all the trite things about comfort and security.  Those things are all true, but there is something deeper still.  Home means something you can taste but not name.

Despite being sure that you're taking the right step, it's strange to think of leaving that.

To come "home" only as a guest.

To forever try to re-create that flavor.

August means...

... Moving into my own place and starting a new season.

... Celebrating 1 year at my job.

... Finally getting to Shakespeare in the Park this Summer.

... Family Camp [aka - 5 days of Christmas!]

... Last "hurrah's" before friends and family head back to school.

... Multiple film clubs.

... Taking advantage of summer nights by the lake :)

... Celebrating family birthdays.

... An excursion to Boston to see Kristina - complete with a trip to Fenway and a day at Cape Cod!



August means splendid things.  Have a fantastic August!




[via]

Fireworks - White

Pretty much since the album came out,  Mumford & Son's "I Will Wait" has been the theme song of my season.  Parts of the late fall and winter were extremely difficult - like being caught in a tight space - and my anthem became "I will wait..." [I think I gave that away here and here and even here].  The words spoke hope to me, that someday I would "know my ground."

Well, part of that process has been the desire and the need to discover and create my own place.  I can't quite explain the feeling.  Not just a sense of "it would be great if _______ [I had my own room, more bookshelves, etc.],"  but an urge that this year I must discover who Christ is through me - and that it would require a wider space to cultivate and become.

There's been a process.  There's been a search.  Waiting has become a disposition in the last 8 months - quite a difference between a temporary hold and a distant call. I had been in that tight space, knowing there was a wide open one waiting for me, like I had been waiting for it.

Then, just before Memorial Day Weekend, word came that just that place may exsist.  In between the chorus and the bridge at Mumford Live that weekend, my good friend Cami leaned forward and said, "I think this is the closing of a chapter..."  It was true (for both of us). 


[I will wait...]

 And thus began the summer of becoming. The summer of fireworks [I do apologize for the cryptic posts... but I couldn't talk about this yet].


Now, after hearing and waiting and becoming - it's here and it's real.

This weekend, my best friend and I are moving to a lovely little space near the lake.  She's been in a similar process, and, honestly, this place is more than we could have hoped for.  It's a new beginning.  A white canvas, if you will.


[This isn't a firework (duh), it's just a sparkler... but it's white - and I took the picture :]

 

I can't wait to share more with you (yes, there will be pictures).  But I'm grateful I could finally tell you about this particularyly bold and shimmering firework.