My long dormant yoga mat came in handy dark and early this morning on the frosty grass. No, I wasn't doing downward dog in the dark. Not that ambitious. The purple foam rectangle made a perfect Leonid meteor shower viewing station.
My penchant for wishing notwithstanding--I also like birthday candles, spilled salt, and fountains--I love meteor showers, and in a quest to inhabit my soul, as opposed to my tenacious head and body, abandoning flannel and down for quiet sparkling dark seemed the perfect way to start a day.
To lie in the still chill and contemplate the incomprehensible space and matter in all directions felt both expansive and grounding. As I live in a giant field on top of an esker, my horizon is big and I could almost feel the earth's crust under me bulging into the sky. An owl hooted in the in the same time signature as the meteors flying across the sky, keeping a sweet ostinato.
The struggle to keep my stubborn intellect out of my quest continues. At every turn I want to know more about physics, as if that would give me useful language, images, and, of course, control. Honestly, I'm so attached to being, or at least appearing, smart, it makes me stupid. Since I only know about physics what Omni Magazine taught me in the 1970s and 80s, plus a ton of reading on string theory and dimensions I did for a dance project in college, I'm pretty sure I have barely the vaguest notion of the science.
Regardless, I am grateful to have seen the meteors this morning as they left their trails across the sky. Twice I thought I could hear the hiss of their fiery demise.
A long time high school English teacher, now mostly writing, I wish I could say I love my new vocation.
I don't. Though I have loved a steady news reporting gig, I've apparently outlived that work and haven't quite made the leap to monetizing by page views.
It's as if I hit my stride as a horse and carriage driver about the time Ford popularized the Model-T. My particular skill with a buggy whip seems a little redundant, at least in Maine where excellent writers are thick on the ground.
For now, I produce feature copy for a highbrow glossy real estate shopper called OpenFences, and am picking away at My Mother's Recipe Box, a project/paper meant to get me to the last stage of a ridiculously protracted master's degree in American and New England Studies.
However, I do love to travel. I've been to four of the six continents, every state in the Union but Alaska, and five Canadian provinces. With some luck, maybe I'll find a way to wrangle some writing assignments out of my devotion to the road.
On this blog, sometimes I write about high quality education, food, safe homes and workplaces, and reliable health care for all. Other times I don't.