thanksgiving treatise

in which i ramble about traditions & am occasionally inspired by {unrelated} flashes of genius.

ever feel like you're using both hands, both feet, your forehead and your nose trying to keep all the walls of your world from falling in? i know what that feels like. so i say, bring on the holidays. get your family together and get yourself some turkey, moon cake, black-eyed peas or yorkshire pudding. let's all enjoy some traditional made-up hope and happiness this weekend, and may it last into the winter.

i find that sometimes hope does need a little makeup. we may need to make happiness a tradition we allow ourselves to indulge in. i am not going to lie to you: when it's not being all wonderful, this beautiful world is crap. i can't pretend i don't know what goes on outside of my nice life. and yet. grace comes along and just sucker punches me with beauty. you know what i mean? i will explain with super clarity:

i once wrote a poem about giraffes {yeah, i did} that describes them as "ruminating creatures." of course that's just being nice. giraffes have giant, thoughtful eyes and that makes it nice to think of them as thoughtful instead of what they really are: beasts driven by instinct to chew on leaves. my point is obvious, right? perspective. perspective is power, baby.

i think often of the beliefs i choose and the comfort and misery they can variably bring. some of my beliefs have more or less been chosen for me, and i spend a lot of time learning which to cast off, and which to cling to. i think an awful lot about the lovely myths we perpetuate, and the ugly ones. how our children bear our burdens, no matter how much we wish to spare them, and so another generation is trained in our ways.

my guileless husband reminds me {a little too often?} of what a shame it is to disparage that which brings joy to someone, whether or not i like it. because really, is there just too much joy in this world? do we need to go around canceling it? DO WE HAVE TO CANCEL CHRISTMAS? {yeah, i like santa. in fact, bless him and the person who inspired the tradition. he must have been a saint.}

do i sound like i'm dissolving into relativism? i'm totally not. i have a serious, strict code of ethics that some people may find strange, but which usually makes sense to me. it's really complicated and has a lot of color coding and math that would probably confuse you. but don't worry about it because, you know what? at our best and worst we are gods already: we live in a world of our own making. we may choose to look forward and see redemption or doom.

i choose to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

a motto and a book review

i once read a book and, in a way that very rarely happens, i remember it from time to time. it was called, "how can i help." my dad bought me this book very soon after my mom died. it did help.

author: lowell bennion, a great humanitarian and a great man.
what i remember: learn to love simple things, like simple food and simple pleasures. live life in "day-tight compartments," making of them all you can.

in that spirit, i have developed a new motto for moi meme (that's myself). you'll agree that it is less ambitious than lowell's recommendation, but i think there's hope in even this:

"maybe today."

what is your motto?

a good reason to make a pie at 9 pm

as if i needed a reason for night pie.

today is my mama's birfday and i am certain she liked chocolate pie. not as much as a reese's peanut butter cup or an orange-soda-with-apple-pie combo, but enough. if i remember right, her recipe was for a chocolate silk pie. the one i'm trying tonight uses bittersweet chocolate and creme fraiche, so...a little different. still, with those ingredients, i don't see how it could be anything but a splendid celebration.

maybe after i will eat some potato chips and lie on the couch.
stupid trader joes (i mean that affectionately) still isn't stocking their frozen pie crust (apparently it's seasonal) so i am going to have to MAKE MY OWN. bleh. fortunately natalie had the foresight to supply me with crust-making essentials (such as the cutest little rolling pin cozy you have ever seen), and hence made this project possible. so natalie, part of the pie honor goes to you.

in honor of the birthday girl, here's a poem i started 3 years ago and just found in my scraps folder. it started as an exercise, modeled after a poem by gerald stern that was in the New Yorker (3 years ago), so you can blame the run-on structure on him. this is not one of those poems that you can expect to understand literally. sorry--i like those better too. also i can't seem to get the font all the same size.

anyway, i think it's time to let this one air out.

Ailanthus*

(after Gerald Stern)

She was bright light against the blue

deeper-by-the-hour sky and lit I guessed from

the inside like the silk of a certain spinning moth and we

spoke less than we shuddered together

stuck as we were in time between valleys, in the shelter

of trees turned shadow by the contrast of dust carrying light

and she explained or I understood these tiny torches to be death

chariots, mote-small and everywhere, and what she

wanted most of all, if it came to a reckoning,

was cover under the leaves of the tree of heaven

and to be less than dead or rather more, inside

that canopy of bright fruit with her old bruised and corruptible skin

for it was harm she missed now and the juices of

decay even more than pleasure but it was

only memory for she was far from this familiar to me

now and I forgot to say that

she had died and she wore a blue sequined cap

that I remembered her in, my favorite of them all,

with no wig against the white curved neck

and I forgot to say that I was her daughter

the way I sometimes forgot in life to call her Mom,

though she was always mythic, even then

and now a bright soft light crouched around her

as if to guard or contain that body, as if

sensible to perfection; and reverence

is what we talked about and bad words and mean

jokes we’d thought were funny and still did

for that matter, though she was tired, and although

she wore the cap she said it was only a last-minute

useless stab at cheer, nothing like she could have done

with the blood still in her when one whisper in church

could choke me with laugh-tears, but now she quoted Hetet

interviewed on the subject of trees (who found Ailanthus

fit for gods and dogs, a fine catalyst of copious stools, the bark

of which by chewing could overcome tapeworm,

dysentery, and sundry bowel complaints) at which point

I begged her to stop so I could breathe.

*also known as "the tree of heaven"

and now i really must sign off or there will be nothing but metaphorical pie making tonight.

more things to like

it has been hinted at by certain people that i may be overly negative about certain things at certain times. in retaliation, i offer a list of things i like. i invite you to like them too, but please don't feel any obligation.

:: actors who do one character (over and over again) really well: thomas hayden church, vince vaughn, john cusack, joan cusack, michael cera, juliette binoche. et cetera.

:: the word, "satchel"

:: noam chomsky

:: actual autumn, as opposed to the pasadena poor man's fall. which i'm not complaining about. it's just as lovely as spring, summer and winter. which is why no one can tell the difference.*

:: nursing my babies (this one's just for me. get your own babies. and if you think this may be TMI, remember that no one is forcing you to read further, and consider this your final warning). a blast of endorphins hits you immediately. no drug--that i have ever taken--works this fast. ladies, did you know about this? i confused it for a long time with a caffeine rush, but then i'd remember i hadn't had any caffeine lately--and i knew something else {magical} was making me want to both laugh and punch someone out, but in a good-natured, "let's do yoga sometime when this is all over," sort of way. if you haven't had this experience, don't feel bad at all. the first few weeks are not cool. imagine two of your sensitive "areas" wrassling with the business end of a cheese grater. imagine a sudden and emotional need for water. imagine deformity. but it does turn out to be worth it...so much.

* don't confuse this with a complaint because i could do sooooo much better. i love pasadena. pasadena is the paris of suburban los angeles.

i need to go now. i am considering starting a workout of some kind at some point. i have to train my legs to accept speed.

tempest

i've been getting in touch with my inner wolverine. she feels hostile whenever she wants to for very good reasons - or - for no reason. she takes no prisoners & i am pretty sure she has the mange.the casualties are mounting & i fear for hubs. he doesn't complain, but i'm not sure how much longer he can stay up in that tree. eventually he'll need to eat & heaven knows i'm not cooking anything.*

wish i could say what causes this stormy state of being, but it defies explanation. defiance is sort of the point.

i can provide a list of complaints, but none of them is really the answer:

:: she's feeling weary (do you know what i mean?)

:: she relapses into an older, worser self & she feels remorse

:: she fails to do everything the way she prefers it to be done

:: she has a hernia. this is actually pretty funny** but also totally true

:: she needs a few days of blue

so, what do you think? how blue is too blue?

and what do you do in stormy [inner] weather?

*did you know a female adolescent wolverine can strip a man's forearm to the bone in less than 30 seconds, and then eat that bone? (probably)

**in a sad way

the weather is here, wish you were beautiful

it's june gloom glorious here.

and i dig it. i want to eat it with a spoon. oh, want something else tasty? read THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!


I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Annemarie S. Kidder

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

it's your song playing*

walking with my girls in the cool of the evening, i think about how many days we have left until summer takes over the night. and i think about raccoons a little bit, and my neighbors, and how cool it would be to have an entire bolt of the fabric Al's dress is made of (so i can make matching clothes for the whole family and realize my sudden dream of becoming *the actual* baroness maria augusta von trapp).

and tonight i was thinking about other evening walks in other cities. especially new york. i loved the after dinner hour in manhattan, when all the apartment lights are on and the street smells just a little less of doggie tinkle. i'd come home from work and get off the subway a few stops early so i could get a hot dog (but really 2 hot dogs) at gray's papaya. and peek in people's windows.

i still do this because, hello, what's more interesting than watching other people live their lives?

i'm more discreet than The Toddler, aka The Beans, who feels free to gallop up the front walk, smell all the flowers and press her nose against the glass. (also she likes to collect gravel and i don't really.) but i'm just as curious.

and i needed a little diversion tonight--maybe hoping for a little wisdom from someone else in one of those glowing windows. i'm feeling a little downcast about the ca supreme ct decision today to uphold the ban on gay marriage. i still don't understand and i felt heartsick when i passed my neighbor who's raising a beautiful adopted daughter with her partner. her family is legitimate to me. i'd be plain lying if i pretended otherwise. i also felt encouraged by friends of faith who are delving into this dialogue. i got to thinking about all our separate lives, all our stories. how many causes, how many needs, how many hurts that could be mended, if only.

what would someone see through my window if they peeked in at night?** they'd know i like to eat chocolate pudding with a measuring spoon (1 tsp.). and putter around in an apron. they'd probably see me smell the back of my baby's head a lot (it smells exactly like fresh laundry, even when i haven't bathed her and the rest of her smells like my armpit).

who knows what other secrets aren't really secrets? would it be apparent to any observer, for instance, that i'm very interested in upholstery? i am, but i don't own a staple gun. so i guess i'm not that serious about it. also i am a person who is crazy about hostess products but who (almost) never buys them. a person who does not feel guilt about God, but who does feel guilt about plastic.

and here's some more: i'm a believer. in all of it: God, love, vanilla zingers. i am a person who feels strongly in the value of questions. who has never fully gotten over television. who has spent more than an hour admiring some new smocked dresses i made for The Beans and feeling like a little bit of a genius about it.

tell me something about yourself that i don't already know, won't you? thanks and good night. and good luck.

---------------------

*the title of tonight's post is brought to you by the song, "old coyote," by the weepies, whom i love, though we've never met, though i did see them live once at the tractor tavern in seattle. the volume on my computer is b-u-s-t-e-d so i can't preview a good youtube version of this song, but please do look it up if you feel like enjoying yourself immensely. old coyote. check it.

**which they totally couldn't because i close all my blinds as soon as it gets dark because i don't like crazy people staring at me.