I run all my friends and relatives and enemies one by one in this, without entertaining any angers or gratitudes or anything, and I say, like, “Equally empty, equally to be loved, equally a coming Buddha.”
Hey, remember the 3+2 Things I wanted to accomplish for my 32nd year? Yeah, I do, too (vaguely). How about a halfway report?
The first two of the three quantitative goals were:
1. Take a fiction writing class
2. Write 3 short stories
Earlier this year I signed up for a class on plots (not the evil villain kind; the novelistic kind) but it was canceled due to lack of registrants. I still want to see what’s offered in the fall and try to make this happen.
I thought the third thing would be the easiest:
3. Read a new book a month
But it’s been seven months and as far as new fiction goes, I’ve read parts of Brideshead Revisited and 1984 and two Jeeves & Wooster short stories. I’m still hopeful that I can get some more reading time in by the pool this summer.
As for the “+2” qualitative goals
+1. Be happier in my work
Um, this is coming along, kinda sorta maybe. I have to remind myself of this hippie quote.
+2. Less judgment, more compassion
Finally, something I feel like I’ve actually been working on for the year. I won’t say I’ve “accomplished” this, as there are moments every day with people or traffic or any other trigger, but I’ve found that repeating this saying from The Dharma Bums really helps:
(I think it also helps I’ve been around someone pretty regularly for a few months–nothing like having someone to be nice to to show you the ways you’re not.)
So that’s where the goals for the year stand. As my inner hippie says, it’s all about the journey, right?
Friday Unrelated Information
1. I was really excited to hear about a new Oz movie in the works, since I’m pretty sure between the ages of 7 and 10 I read every word Baum wrote about it, but the trailer is a disappointment. If you have 14 books to pull from, why make up a plot?
2. I’m still not done with the long dress, but the two parts are sewn together now and I did get the zipper in last night. Baby steps…
Old Rock Stars
The Writer’s Almanac tells me that 50 years ago today, the Rolling Stones played their first gig. (I have no idea what this news has to do with writers. I think it has more to do with that site’s demographic.)
My parents were always in the Beatles camp and so I was, too, but when I saw Gimme Shelter in my 20s I suddenly got what all the excitement over Jagger was about. And any band who loves and promotes the blues is ok by me (even if they are awfully old to be rock stars).
Here’s an early performance of “Little Red Rooster”:
Is This Why Hippies Are Mellow?
This is the latest quote I’m trying to adopt during the Summer of Uncertainty, via Mystic Mamma (of course).
“…the search for security and certainty is actually an attachment to the known. And what’s the known? The known is our past. The known is nothing other than the prison of past conditioning. There’s no evolution in that.When you experience uncertainty, you are on the right path – so don’t give it up. You don’t need to have a complete and rigid idea of what you’ll be doing next week or next year, because if you have a very clear idea of what’s going to happen and you get rigidly attached to it, then you shut out the whole range of possibilities.”
Tuesday Project Roundup: Coming Together
"When you get to the top of a mountain, keep climbing."
Saturday’s hike was Gobbler’s Knob via Alexander Basin in Millcreek Canyon–also known as The Steepest Hike In Millcreek, or Remind Me Why I Wanted To Challenge Myself?, or Oh God Oh God Thirty Percent Grade On A Scree Field.
The Knob is at the top right of this picture, I believe. The infamous scree field is below it, and I recommend finding the trail that goes through the patch of trees in the center of the picture rather than trying to scramble up the bare rocks. You may have a Kerouac moment on the slope:
I looked back and like Lot’s wife that did it… Supposing I’d start to slip back for good, these screes might start sliding any time anyway […] Finally I came to a kind of ledge where I could sit at a level angle instead of having to cling not to slip, and I nudged my whole body inside the ledge just to hold me there tight, so the wind would not dislodge me, and I looked down and around and I had had it.
It’s hard to convey how steep this is, but here’s the view back down from the saddle. (I didn’t make the top of the Knob. My legs still had to get back down everything and I was proud enough about getting to this point.)
On the saddle facing the other way, still looking a little freaked out.
Looking into Big Cottonwood Canyon.
This view inspired me to start singing hits from The Sound of Music. My hiking companion was not amused.
A moose! On the loose! Seen on the way back down.
Friday Unrelated Information
1. Oh, that mid-week break was hard. I was really excited for two Fridays–until I realized that the week also contained two Mondays.
2. Have you heard about the news from CERN? Scientists have announced the discovery of a particle that is “consistent with” what they expect the Higgs-Boson particle to look like. Bad Astronomy has great background and a roundup of news.
Belated 4th Poem
I meant to post this poem from the Writer’s Almanac yesterday, but I ended up camping out in a backyard to test the sleeping bag I bought and you know how camping out in backyards can get away from you. (For the record, my sleeping bag is really warm.)
I hope we all had a good holiday and didn’t set any more fires. Here’s the poem:
At Gettysburg
by Linda Pastan
These fields can never be
simply themselves. Their green
seems such a tender green,
their contours so significant
to the tourists who stare
simply themselves. Their green
seems such a tender green,
their contours so significant
to the tourists who stare
towards the far range of mountains
as if they are listening
to the page of history tearing
or to what they know themselves of warfare
between brothers. In this scenery
cows and cannons stand side by side
and motionless, as if they had grown here.
The cannons on their simple wheels
resemble farm carts, children
climb them. Thus function disappears almost entirely
into form, and what is left under
the impartial blue of the sky is a landscape
where dandelions lie in the tall grass
like so many spent cartridges, turning
at last to the smoke
of puffballs; where the only red
visible comes at sunset;
where the earth has grown so lovely
it seems to forgive us even as we are learning
to forgive ourselves.
Tuesday Project Roundup: Making It Happen
I decided I did indeed dare to make a long dress for the summer. After I posted about my debate I was invited to another wedding and I thought, “Perfect! Two out of the three times I’ll ever wear this are covered!”
What fabric am I using? Um, maybe some Liberty of London (from a new source). The pattern is a Cynthia Rowley and I don’t have the best track record with her, but I mocked up the bodice before I cut into the good fabric, never fear.
I have 1.5 weeks until wedding #1 so I’m happy for a day off tomorrow. Time to get sewing!