#472: The Moon

light landscape sky sunset

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Recently, as in blog post #457, I wrote about the moon tapestry that Alex and I used to have together, which now hangs above my bed in Northford, where Jace now sits and stares at it occasionally. He likes to see it from time to time, and he sometimes goes up and touches it. Jace is the type of cat to explore and explore and never really give up his tenacious nature until he absolutely has whatever it is he’s after. He pushes forward in spite of the danger and even in spite of me yelling at him not to do whatever it is he’s about to do. He’s a tenacious little dude, like I mentioned.

But this blog post wasn’t meant to be about Jace, even though he has a habit of taking over whatever it is I’m talking about and making it about him. He’s wonderful in that sense. But initially I wanted to discuss the tapestry as well as its connection to a theme song I was reminded of recently, the theme of the moon level in the Duck Tales video game. I don’t have the same nostalgia as other people when it comes to that game because I never played it as a kid, but I can feel the same energy that they feel upon hearing that song. You should listen to it if you never have. Whether it’s the version from the remastered game or the original, you should check it out just to listen to the great music. It’s a reminder of the melodies that computers are capable of generating, the short but sweet melodies you remember hearing from ancient SNES games and titles. There’s something magical about them that’s unparalleled by other music. It’s nostalgic of an era in the past, even though you may not have experienced much of it yourself.

#373: The Nature

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Living in nature is great, isn’t it? I mean, when you abandon all responsibilities and push yourself into the outside world, like you’re a renegade college student born to run. Like you’re Henry David Thoreau, except your mom isn’t doing your laundry for you, and you have to pay your taxes still. Nature is where we all came from, in nature is where we ultimately belong. Nature is where life started, and no technology exists in nature except for whatever you can create and work with your own two hands. It’s marvelous to imagine.

Recently, at work, students in the 6th and 7th grades left to go to Nature’s Classroom, a four-day field trip adventure where they interact with the outside world in ways they likely haven’t before. They go on nature walks, hikes, and museum visits, and it’s all inclusive. Students pay to be there, but they get room and board, as well as breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I believe the food is all you can eat, too, which is perfect for these kids’ stomachs. They are hungry kids and they don’t like the lunches normally served at school, so this should suffice them for awhile.

The best part is that school is mostly quiet these days, and no one has to worry about kids showing up and roughing around the school. The eighth grade is around, but they handle themselves and they’re generally well-behaved and self-regulatory. They know when to stop, usually, when things get out of hand. The other grades usually work differently and at different paces. Not having them around the school at all makes these days fly by like they’re nothing, which I highly appreciate considering I don’t have much to do. I appreciate the change of pace and scenery this week, leading into Animecon.

#25: The Wide Ocean

white and black moon with black skies and body of water photography during night time

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Black skies, night breeze, liquid moon. Darkness under, over, around you.

A fear re-experienced on a ferry, a cruise, a trip to the beach. No matter how harmless the location, it finds its way back. When your feet disappear in the murky sea, when the waves open up and swallow you under, when the motions beneath you grow louder, when your arms flail, helpless to keep oxygen in your lungs.

I am afraid of the ocean, I think because I have recognized how helpless I am while floating on the water. While I haven’t swam in a year or more, there’s a certain dread that falls over me when in the ocean. I remember going to Lighthouse Park and looking out to the water, but feeling disappointed in how inscrutable the world beneath the waves looked. Imagine childhood wonder and optimism, but twisted and made negative by the feeling of seaweed on your feet during your first trip to the beach. And then picture a cruise ship, sailing off with family and friends, where a majority of the time is spent in the cabin puking your sickness away. They say many of our more instinctual feelings and tendencies can be traced back to our childhood; for example, when I was young, one of my aunt’s meatballs got stuck in my throat, and I still to this day dislike meatballs because of it. I would bet that my aversion to the sea is also due to some childhood experience like the ones I mentioned.

Recently, I helped my sister by proofreading and offering suggestions on her high school English paper on Wide Sargasso Sea, a novel by Jean Rhys. The story’s setting, in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, places the plot in a stasis where it cannot move without feeling related to its setting. The setting thus dominates the conversation of the story, its themes and characters, their motivations and inspirations. I feel, in a way, that certain settings can dominate our lives; just as much as they dominate stories, they may also control storytellers.

Beneath the sky

When I was young and ignorant

The Earth was flat.

Trees hadn’t made any sounds,

Even after collapsing then

Inside a lonesome wood.

When I was sick I saw no signs;

But of course the black and gold letter

Below the telescope stood out.

It said not to look at the sun

Through my demonic lens,

Or your eyes would burn

Into charred cinders.

Beneath the sky I knew nothing

About insight, and intrigue, and instinct.

Always one step closer, farther

From the truth up there.

I looked once more in the lens,

Toward space’s greatest inferno.

In a moment the Earth grew round,

Stretched its ends to their seams,

Stitched the Pacific and Atlantic together,

Blew the boundaries apart,

and Bled entire nations into one.

When I removed myself from the stars

The vision faded before me,

Exploring through the woods

Brought me no prior solace;

All the trees had fallen, silently.

I felt the ground shift underneath me.

Restoring itself to my youthful simplicity,

Once my face grew wrinkles.

When I was older the telescope

Disappeared with my vision and my innocence

And the summer sun.

Flower in the shade

Today is the day when you fall back in
And the atmosphere calls us home;
Your dreams are so grand and homely
But release your head from the stars
You’re lost in the gravity of
Black-holes, the guilty life-suckers,
The dark moons that command the sea.
 
So run now from their push and call,
And seek a skyward destiny;
The world is full of song and dance
A lifeless home to circumstance
And we can cut down all the trees
In a swing of the axe, but you’d
Still be a flower in the shade.

Aurora

Into the natural world
I dive headfirst
Brain charged and sure
But one must abandon
Their head in the ground;
In the blistering sunsets
Our hearts take-over
The streaming lights
Touch the soul
The auburn muses sing
For the purity of the mind,
While it’s lifted
From the Earth
To the domain of the 
Aurora

Mixed Emotions

Ahh ha-ha!
Bright today
Dim tomorrow
Sink away
Rise later
Seein the sun at Night
Ain’t so hard 
If you know where to look
Adjust your telescope
Take a peak
Sagarmatha summits
Lurk in plain sight
When you see em
Skies part
Life starts.
 

Reachers

Why’s the terrain so cruel?

A misstep leads to pain

A bad decision, solidarity

An immoral dilemma

An unethical quandary

Earth’s cruelty strikes hot

Against thick criminal skin

Punishing punishers,

Violent vagabonds

and Ferocious fiends

Vengeance is sightless,

Like storms, quakes,

Hurricanes by the shore.

This land wasn’t made – It was torn by the seams –

Not for you and me, but the powers-that-be

And so the indignant, with strife and skin

Become the Reachers, our deadliest sin.

 

Bury the light

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Sunlight is overrated

Bury it, bury it deep below

Into a small cardboard box

Of childhood memories

Not a kid anymore, not now

It’s time for change

Stubborn satisfaction flew away

Bury the light, bury the light

The spot behind the swing-set

Is nice and dry, aching for you

To feed it the rain, the sun

And your enlightened

Dreams of yesteryear in a box.

Worldly

world

The world is made of matter

Matter made of atoms

And atoms are made of themselves

 

The world is home to life

Which demands self-satisfaction

Leaving traces of the alive and dead.

 

The world is home to chaos

Chaos full of fear and hatred

And riotous greed with dedication

 

The world is home to peace

Peace as an absolutely goal

The releasing of pain and pleasure

 

The world is home to order

Order reaching nowhere and everywhere

The authoritarians thrive.

 

The world is home to the world

And without a home no one really lives

And without life, there’s no world.

 

So I guess everything depends

Upon each other’s jobs, responsibilities

In order to create the complicated ecosystem

We call Earth

But know as home.