Growing Versions

For several years, since I have had kids, the concept of house plants in my care has been so overwhelming I flat out refused to have them in the house.  A non-talking being needing care and tending on top of my staggering caring load was inconceivable. The few times that a straggler got through the front door, I was burdened by guilt as they slowly failed to thrive and die a parched, neglected death.  As the roots dried out, I treated it , if at all, like another piece of clutter.  Before I thought of watering it, I'd wonder, should I dust it? Lately, I have started caring for plants again. My childcare duties have been alleviated , the kids can now dress themselves, have a solid concept of time and can feed themselves.  There is now a little wedge in the pie chart for plants. My good friend brought me three charming characters a few weeks ago. I have learned somethings from taking care of them.  They are alive. they are alive like me. And like ...

Looking at things close up sometimes makes things unrecognizable. My tendency is to zoom in when I take pictures, and afterwards, I sometimes have trouble believing that what I am seeing is the same thing I took a picture of. I guess I do that in my life too. I tend to thrive in one on one relationships and focus how to make what is right in front of me work, but lately, I have begun to realize that I need to zoom out so I can properly see things. Zooming in with the lens is soothing, and I guess it makes things more manageable in life too, but an aerial view has its role. I don't know how to operate a drone but I can find some people who can. I can learn.

I made jam. I smoked a cigarette (just one). I stared at the stars for a long time. I mean, really stared. I sat and simply looked up. I read Archie comics and spent most days in my bathing suit. I floated and dove and picked peas right out of the pod and strawberries out of the field. I ate picnics at every meal. I cleaned with bleach. I re-decided what music I like. I told my son he was clever because he had spotted a creature in the woods. He responded, "I used my vision." I used my vision. I shut my eyes. I turned off every tap. I let my vision lead the way.  

I just have to remember to breathe.

The other day I had a migraine.  I have had them before.  However, before Friday, I did not realize that I had.  I have been incapacitated for a day or two here and there by, yes, a headache, but also a range of other symptoms, that all this time, have been preventing me from seeing them for what they were, migraines.  As I slowly climbed out of the hole of weakness and a certain flatness that the migraine had dug for me, I finally started to connect dots that have likely been sitting there for years. The next day as I stood in the hot shower,  and let the steaming water run down over my body, the realization that this is what had just happened and had happened many times before, made me feel slightly stupid. Relieved, but stupid. Everyday I allow myself to be inundated by information. On a daily basis, I read pr-ified versions of other people's lives and reviews and memes and essays and news stories and progress reports and information letters and school...