November 11, 2007 § Leave a comment

I’m sitting in my mom’s kitchen; Sarah and Michael and I are out for Sunday lunch.  Mom’s preheating the oven for some cinnamon-sugar shortbread she’s about to bake to have with tea.  We just got back from a walk around the circle out here and it felt so fallish.  One of Mom’s neighbors keeps a couple of horses on a few acres and along the fence, mustang grapevines were loaded with waxy black grapes.  I picked a few and split the skin with my teeth then chewed the slippery flesh and acidic seeds together.  Yum!

I feel quiet in my spirit, like after a long cry.  I’m nodding and smiling at the right moments these days (Sarah commenting on an “acorn squash and honey pie” in the Martha Stewart cookbook she’s looking through), but I just don’t feel like sharing the whole me…I spend so much energy just trying to sort through it all myself, that to communicate it and try to make someone else understand feels too heavy.  Sometimes, someone else says something and the deep part of me reverberates.  That happened last night with an almost-stranger and I felt lighter and chattery.  But I feel like the wilderness of my thoughts and feelings–what am I going to do with my life? how am I supposed to respond to these people, that situation, those emotions? how do I find more of God?–isn’t meant to be explored with a busful of curious tourists.  I have to backpack it, with just enough provisions.


a fist.

November 9, 2007 § Leave a comment


Seriously, this is important.

Read the article above. When I think about this situation, and the wealthy agribusiness investors who are getting paid by the government while smaller farms shrivel up and die, words kind of well up inside me and never make it out in an intelligable way. Ineffable–that is how I feel about the state of subsidized farming. And about the way it makes waves [toxic waves] all the way to Sierra Leone, Uruguay, and Mongolia. Toni Morrison, who I generally don’t quote, did express my feeling, though: it’s like a fist in my chest just waiting to release its forefinger like a skinning knife. Hey, she said it, not me.

The worst part is, this is one issue. A very big issue, but I’m sure you could tell me about the issue that makes you aware of a fist in your chest. Orphans, domestic violence, AIDS, illiteracy, economic development, loneliness, heartbreak, depression… It goes on and on. I just don’t understand how so many who have vast resources (i.e., most of America) can just watch it all go by. How do they watch it all go by? Why can’t I?


November 9, 2007 § Leave a comment

i am a blogger.

[the word blogger reminds me of a reading rainbow episode about galapagos tortoises for some reason.]

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