This feather was my first blog post. I gave it away recently, and somehow felt
like it flew to the right home at the right time. I don't give things like this away very often because it
represents two firsts. First blog post
and first art after a long break from creative things. I like to keep firsts like this because it
reminds me of my mental and emotional state at a different time in my life.
I really don't need things to remind me of the past, but
sometimes a thing, or smell, or taste can bring that past up quicker and closer
than just mentally trying to regrasp it.
I can imagine the sound of Grandma in the kitchen stirring cookie batter
with a stainless steel spoon in a heavy glass bowl, and the metallic tink can
remind me of the warm sunlight streaming through the white bordered windows in
the turquoise room and the smell of vanilla...
When I was laid off, I had a lot of time to relive those
kinds of moments. I liked to write
about them, and it seemed like people liked to read them to remind them of
their own memories. Since I've been
working all the time lately, now I enjoy hearing about other people's happy
childhood memories because it's a short-cut to my happy feelings.
Different pictures flit through my mind of crayfish hiding
under algae-covered rocks, Mom's Chanel #5, Dad carving in the garage, my
sisters laughing in the yard, red Kool-aid... the pictures come and go in my
mind without any real pattern or story, just the bits of color in the pattern of
my life.
Today, I told friends about being pushed into a 3rd grade
math class when I was still in 1st grade.
I cried when I told the principal "I'm not emotionally mature
enough for 3rd grade!" and surprised myself today when my eyes filled with
tears again. Maybe I'll never be
emotionally mature enough for 3rd grade?
In the grand scheme of things, this was a little moment --
but it was a first moment too. The
beginnings of feelings of being out of step with the world around me. I think everybody has them in one way or
another, and we don't always get to go back to first grade and learn to adjust
as I had the chance to do, with friendly, happy kids accepting me back into
their flock.
I don't know how to understand "beginning". The world is infinite, and infinity is
beyond me. I don't know where the
beginning of space or time or God is. The
acorn is the beginning of a tree, but it's a bit of the tree that dropped it,
so maybe the beginning of the tree isn't the acorn or the whole line of acorns
and trees before it, but something that is so far beyond my sense of reality
that it all blurs into... okay, this is probably why I get told to quit
thinking so much?
