Word Gatherer: Life in a Time of Saturn Rising

TODAY,
I AM THE REALIZATION that I am the pact between the sun and the writer
– one comes out and the other goes back outside.  TODAY, I AM THE REALIZATION that I am the edge of a year of labor in the pages. TODAY, I AM THE REALIZATION of being above the thorny bumps of mountain rock and underneath the spread of hawk in flight.

I
AM BEING the horizon between wakeful day and watchful night. I AM BEING
proud of the 47 items stored in backpack, car and cottage from the
Clinton Essex Library system. I AM BEING the breath exhaled I am
focusing on while the pen moves to fill the space.

I
AM RELEASING loathing of my body. I AM RELEASING disappointment in
myself for not banging out a certain quota of words each day. I AM
RELEASING my fear of being irresponsible. I AM RELEASING the desire to
stay under the covers and read Harry Potter all day. I AM RELEASING the
idea that I will be able to accomplish everything I thought I could in
my month here while prioritizing deep rest. I AM RELEASING the visit of
daddy long legs.

I
AM CREATING a fresh palate to start a new life. I AM CREATING a new
stockpile of ideas for writing. I AM CREATING a sense of what it is
like to not multi-task.

WHAT
I LOVE ABOUT MY LIFE is that I look back at the trail I just walked and
it takes on new beauty. I LOVE taking stock of what I appreciate. I
LOVE Mars and Jen for helping me to do it. I LOVE the friendly meat
market guy who gave me food for free so I could try it. I LOVE that I
drove up and am the only car here. I LOVE that I am a sunbaby. I LOVE
the idea of Beat the Clock Lobster Bake. I LOVE discovering feminist
science fiction. I LOVE reading young adult books by Asian Americans. I
LOVE interlibrary loan. I LOVE that people are beginning to leave here
but it’s not my time yet. I LOVE the cascade of light spilling through
the green leaves. I LOVE entering the forest after being in the hills.
I LOVE the sidewalk tomato sales. I LOVE the gas station for boats
floating on the lake. I LOVE sweet corn. I LOVE dessert and drunken
stories. I LOVE impromptu porch parties. I LOVE two degrees of
separation. I LOVE getting to watch stupid movies for no reason or
purpose. I LOVE falling in love with books again and not being able to
put down the page. I LOVE generous people I have only met twice. I LOVE
re-visiting areas you thought you knew and finding more. I LOVE people
in the trades whose knowledge comes from making a living. I LOVE
hearing about how people discover each other. I LOVE the deep blue of
the lake. I LOVE the feeling that the sun is a friend. I LOVE the
stillness at the top of the world. I LOVE that the water comes from a
pump. I LOVE that I found clothespins for the clothesline. I LOVE that
I choose not to drive everywhere. I LOVE the red table in the kitchen.
I LOVE sitting on the porchbench and eating breakfast. I LOVE that my
refrigerator is filled. I LOVE that there are rocking chairs in my
cottage.

I
CELEBRATE AND NURTURE my existence as someone committing to her craft.
I CELEBRATE AND NURTURE the part of me that craves beauty. I CELEBRATE
AND NURTURE the part of me that climbed the mountain.

TODAY, I AM THE REALIZATION that I am steel, untiring in the face of
challenge, particularly my own. TODAY, I AM THE REALIZATION of the lull
between fury and exhilaration. TODAY, I AM THE REALIZATION that rest is
a wonderful gift which does not come along easy.

I
AM BEING the eyes of the observer of the winding lake, a curve between
green breathing flanks. I AM BEING mindful of the mountain where I am
guest. I AM BEING the solitude which all beings crave and relax into if
offered.

I AM RELEASING mice dung on kitchen counters. I AM
RELEASING suspicions cast on the neighbor trees in the crawling
darkness. I AM RELEASING the annoyance and worry about encounters with
the rich white summering people. I AM RELEASING brown many-legged worms
in the bathroom. I AM RELEASING the hulks and spirits of dead flies
caught in every room’s sticky death papers. I AM RELEASING
self-criticism about the amount I am producing. I AM RELEASING
impending doom about packing everything I need to drive cross-country
with my dad and forging a new life where none existed before.

I
AM CREATING an alarmless sleep, trusting the rising sun to nudge me
into the day. I AM CREATING the aroma of stew from the harvest of
farmers’ markets and my creative spirit borrowed from my mother.

WHAT
I LOVE about my life is that every day, I watch the moods of Lake
Champlain at all times of the day and record them in haibun. I LOVE the
little library which boasts of its little beautiful waterfall rising
behind the little couch next to the librarian’s desk. I LOVE that
everyone knows where Rattlesnake Mountain is though there’s no sign. I
LOVE that nobody locks their doors. I LOVE strangers who greet you on a
morning stroll. I LOVE the new bike for writers and flying down the
hill. I LOVE that I’m scared of going uphill but I do it anyway. I LOVE
the non-working Essex gas station restored to its old-school sheen. I
LOVE the friendly meat market man who didn’t take my suspicions to
heart. I LOVE libraries without dues, but a conscience jar. I LOVE
Merrick’s Bread & Coffee and their hippie granola. I LOVE getting
lost and wandering all morning in the fields watching the sky. I LOVE
watching movies at night to distract myself from the weird wood sounds
at night. I LOVE collaborative writing with Tamiko & James. I LOVE
daily check-ins with Aimee. I LOVE talking Harry Potter with Sham. I
LOVE missing Harry Potter books in the library. I LOVE that Alice &
Charles sued the Crater Club for race discrimination & we live
three doors away. I LOVE the promise of a boat ride. I LOVE late
afternoon porch visits. I LOVE perching on the dock bench. I LOVE
visiting the bay & disregarding the No Trespassing sign. I LOVE
that anybody can take out books from the library & they don’t ask
for ID. I LOVE that I have a holding library in my cottage of books
from many sources. I LOVE 50-word short stories. I LOVE carrots pulled
from the ground which still bear their leafy manes. I LOVE Vermont
Public Radio. I LOVE the Essex Ferry. I LOVE the story of the man who
lived in his car for 7 years here with only a propane tank to keep him
company. I LOVE the storytelling festival. I LOVE reading Adirondack
writers. I LOVE that Charles’ mom’s house used to be a stop on the
Underground Railroad. I LOVE that I took all the Asian American books
out of the library. I LOVE hanging everything to dry on the
clothesline. I LOVE living on the edge of a field in a cottage.

I
CELEBRATE AND NURTURE my existence as diviner of myth, spinner of the
talltale. I CELEBRATE AND NURTURE the small fire passed on from my
mother who gave me the gift of music when I couldn’t and didn’t
appreciate it. I CELEBRATE AND NURTURE the word.

Today, I got a Myspace message from a union organizer I met a year ago
who struggled with what I had struggled with when I was deciding
whether or not to take a break from community work.  At that time, I
remember many of our group encouraging her to persevere, but I made
sure to tell her that she needed to do what she needed to survive and
be healthy and sane, the same things I think friends at the time were
telling me throughout the months I agonized over what to do.  I
remember feeling a whole range of emotions — relief, guilt, stress,
emptiness, sadness, anger, joy, excitement, fear — but also knowing
once I made that decision that I had made the right one.

What
a different place I am in now receiving that message of thanks.
Yesterday, I drove through Vermont & saw the Green Mountains
looming above me for the majority of the day, reminding me of the first
writing residency I went on in the beginning of the year and the
beginning of Xiaomei’s book and now having completed the first stage (I
hope) of that process at Poetry Boot Camp two weeks ago.

A week
ago, I visited Minnesota for the first time, discovering a lovely green
city and the largest (& also green) university I’ve ever been to in
my life.  I felt lucky to get to see old friends and that nobody I knew
was affected by the bridge collapse, though it felt weirdly dislocating
to be a stranger in a city where a disaster affected everybody I knew
in ways when I had only glimmers of understanding.  But still lucky –
and lucky to be so soon working on a new project, 50-word stories about
a new idea I developed on nature walks in Squaw Valley.

Last
weekend, the APA spoken word & poetry summit in NYC.  Much love to
Hanalei for her central organizing role & her heart which I felt
throughout the weekend.  It definitely felt different than others in
the past — I felt I was less present as a participant (both due to
exhaustion & delirium from all the travel & lack of rest &
sleep) & glad not to be an organizer, but I am glad that I got to
see old friends, renew old ties, meet new folks & hear people’s
work.  In one of the last circles, J. said something I felt so wise,
that things arise always when we’re in this space with each other,
because this space is so important, we all want it desperately to be
our space, and that we’re learning as a community (hopefully) to deal
with it in all our varying levels of political understandings.  This
time, it was about an offensive video posted to the summit blog on the
website by the summit webmaster (disclosure: I haven’t seen the video
but have only heard it described in broad strokes), which launched
discussions about how queer/trans-inclusive the summit really is.  Two
summits ago, it was a poem which traumatized a lot of the participants
because of the content of sexual abuse; simultaneously for me, I was
having a fallout with a male friend over gender brought up during a
summit workshop.

Now I am by myself in a little cottage facing a
open green field next to Lake Champlain right across the ferry in
Vermont.  When I first arrived, looking at the visitor’s book, I noted
that the person who had just left this past Sunday was a friend I know
from New York City.  Last night, my first night in the woods, I dealt
with my fear of the noises of night-time critters.  Today, I woke up in
the coolness of the Adirondacks, feeling how right it is that the last
leg of this year’s writer’s life is me on my own, resting and
reflecting and listening again.