It was one of those quiet week-end mornings. I was cooking. I had not yet switched on any music. Just cooking.
I glanced out of the bay window in my kitchen for a moment, and couldn’t help smiling. The buddha statue in the backyard is always a serene sight for those wishing for a quiet moment. It is doubly so in spring and early summer. The little statue is surrounded by sweet smelling star jasmine, making it look like a spot where miniature buddhas take a deep breath.
That particular morning – there were two doves feeding each other. Probably fruit from the trees nearby. It was the most heart warming sight.
Do we notice the quiet moments only in contrast to something else?
Usually, when I notice moments like this, it is in contrast to the busy things going on in my life just then. I’ve always wondered whether I appreciate moments like these because of the contrast. But this time, it was different. I had a slow morning. I got up in a leisurely manner with neither alarm nor sunrise giving me the slightest nudge. I was feeling well rested, and savored my coffee as I pottered around the kitchen prepping for the cooking.
The birds were having an equally relaxed loving morning by the looks of it. It did not even occur to me to get my phone and take a picture till they had started to flit away from each other.
I remembered a passage from one of Miss Read’s books, Village Diary by Miss Read , in which she noticed the starlings as she was going about her domestic tasks.
As I ironed, I amused myself by watching a starling at the edge of the garden bed. He was busy detaching the petals from an anemone…
This short scene, I thought as I pressed handkerchiefs, is typical of the richness that surrounds the country dweller and which contributes to his well-being. As he works, he sees about him other ways of life being pursued at their tempo – not only animal life, but that of crops and trees, of flowers and insects – all set within the greater cycle of the four seasons. It has a therapeutic value, this awareness of myriad forms and the varied pace of other lives.
I glanced at the Buddha statue nestling amidst the star jasmines, and found his sweet contented smile still in place, like he remembered the doves playing around him that morning.
I sat with a set of children’s books in my arms. I looked down fondly at the pile next to me – I did love this particular selection. For nestling in there were the kind of careers that I had not imagined since being a child myself – A balloonist, giraffologist, naturalist.
I picked up the book on Dr Annie and read about how she decided on a lifetime studying giraffes. What remarkable creatures? No wonder it fascinated a young girl all those decades ago when zoos did not have them. World travel and exotic creatures felt almost impossible. She tried studying zoology just so she could learn more about giraffes. But nobody had studied them in any detail.
As I looked at the pictures in the book, Dr Annie came to life again. In her gentle understanding of these creatures in a time when they only graced black-and-white illustrations of some books.
Butterflies open up Etymology
I thought of Maria Sibylla Merian and her love for butterflies in the 18th century. She raised caterpillars and painstakingly drew and described metamorphosis. I am not sure if it was a revolutionary discovery, but it certainly seems to have opened up the world of etymology to the western world.
Sylvia Earle – the oceanographer who spent more than 7000 hours underwater, in a lifelong journey to understand the astounding diversity of life in the marine world.
The fact that these women kept at their areas of passion is inspiring – I wonder what their personalities were like. Beyond the obvious curiosity, intelligence, perseverance etc. What were the forces that shaped them?
Life’s Calling, Yearning or Liking
I remember reading in Stephen Cope’s book, The Great Work Of Your Life – A Guide for the Journey to your True Calling, about Jane Goodall’s mother encouragement when she couldn’t find her daughter one day. She searched for her for 4 hours only to find that the young child had simply been curious to find out about how an egg came to this world. Jane had spent the afternoon in the chicken coop waiting for the hens to lay eggs. Instead of chastising her for it, her mother saw a passion in the young child and nurtured it instead.
I was a little wary of the book when I picked it up. Purpose, and finding your life’s purpose etc were things that had given me enough existential grief over the years. When people told me we each were born with a purpose, I felt a little lost. Like everyone was born with a map( “Here you go – keep it safe and look it up when ever you want!”), just before arriving, and I had missed picking it up – dreaming I suppose.
I feel no great calling to study deer as much as I love gazing at them. I never felt the urgent yearning to study Compiler Design though I thoroughly enjoyed the subject. I did not seem to have that intense humanitarian strain either that came to Mother Teresa in life. In fact, apart from musing and writing about life in general, I am not sure I had any inner force driving my inner purpose etc. All I knew was that I could spend hours in nature and in my own imagination. I liked company, but was also quite capable of amusing myself.
Where did that lead?
I remembered reading Mark Twain’s words:
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
I don’t remember the former, and I am waiting for the latter. I am well aware that I am in the second innings of my life, so I am not sure the realization that Mark Twain had, is coming for me.
What appealed to me more was a concept I read in passing somewhere: Build your purpose.
So while I find it wonderful that for some people their purpose seems apparent to them, and their motivations align beautifully with their life’s journeys, I think that for many of us, the meandering journey is life. The purpose is built along the way. If we can find things to be passionate about, that is great, but it isn’t a given.
This wasn’t the first time I mused on professions and its link as a means of economic prosperity. If the two weren’t linked. If money was not the primary driver, what kinds of jobs would people choose?
What Would You Do?
I remembered the Elephant Keeper I had met and befriended on a day trip in Ireland. She & I were the only ones who had come without companions on that sight-seeing trip, so we took to talking to each other. It was the most fascinating day-in-the-life I had heard from someone in person. She lived on a farm, worked with elephants, and sent me pictures and videos of the gentle giants in her care. Her love for them evident in each of them.
What would each of you have chosen if livelihoods, and societies weren’t involved in the decision-making? The wackier the jobs the more I’d like to hear them. So, please let me know.
I sat with a set of children’s books in my arms. I looked down fondly at the one in my hands. The first one was about a giraffologist – the title pulling my attention almost immediately. What a delightful sounding profession?
The book is based on Dr Annie Innis Dagg who was the world’s first giraffologist. The world’s first primatologist, Dr Jane Goodall, is of course well-known. But Dr Annie, who went to Africa to study her favorite animals, giraffes, just 4 years later is practically unheard of. That is the weird nature of public attention.
Dr Annie’s life and work was made into a documentary in Canada honoring her work towards preserving these tall creatures.
The daughter’s drawing of a giraffe:
Bill Bryson’s book, The Body – A Guide for Occupants
I was thinking of giraffes and their beautiful necks one day after reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body – A Guide for Occupants. One section of the book dealt with how prone we are to choke. One particularly sad anecdote about a person who had a gold coin lodged in his throat was especially excruciating. If nothing else, I am glad we now live in a time and age when surgical techniques have come so far from the ones outlined in the book. (The coin only fell out when he was hoisted by his foot and swung like a pendulum. )
Beautiful Necks Everywhere!
Our evolution into bipedalism means that necks took on a truly unique structure to support the head, and provide a forward looking face for navigation. I stopped and chuckled at that. I was on a walk, and just like that, I started noticing necks everywhere. The crane, the gray heron, the hummingbird, the dog, squirrel and the cat.
I got home to look up the giraffe’s neck again.
Did you know that both giraffes and humans have the exact same number of bones in our necks : 7
Yet, the giraffe’s neck supports its long neck, and its heart supports pumping blood all the way up there. All those jokes about tall folks( How’s-the-weather-up-there?) suddenly feels biologically profound.
In any case, the understanding of our biology, our evolution, and our unique places in the planet is shaped by so many factors –How many giraffes with weird ears and longer tails evolved before the long necked ones that we know and love?
I craned my neck to look at a white egret crook its neck and plunge into the waters with precision and force for its breakfast, and gently massaged my own neck. ‘Up to my neck with worries’ took on a new meaning too, and I hoped giraffes and herons never had to use that phrase, when worried.
Just like that, my blog has become a proper functioning adult.
21 years of selectively writing about what matters to an ordinary person. Somehow, reflecting on the writing makes it seem like our lives were more adventurous, humorous, and fun-filled.
Now, isn’t that a lovely gift?
I was reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body, and in it, he says something incredible about memories – that we can predominantly choose what we want to remember. That often our most colorful memories aren’t the original ones at all – but rather deepened by the feeling and retelling of it. We’ve seen it in the stories we love to tell each other all the time. Every time we laugh about our own foibles, it makes the memory a more endearing one, doesn’t it?
Where am I going with all this?
Curating the blog’s theme
I realize that I am probably tending to what gets on my blog. I tend to actively gravitate towards what I want to cherish in life – beautiful moments, humorous moments, peaceful moments, intellectual moments: in short, moments of awe, curiosity, love, levity, and transformation. The negative rooted out like weeds (which is not to say that I don’t have them. I do, of course. Just in measured quantities on the blog.)
Anyway.
There are no awards given for 21 years of writing 1-2 blog posts a week, every week for 1092 weeks. 5-9 posts a month for 252 months. The award is the writing, and the wholly generous readers who stop by to wave, hopefully feel a moment of peace, get a laugh or two, and encourage me endlessly.
So, go ahead – this is a party!
Get drunk – I mean on the posts in the blog. I don’t actually offer alcohol. Please head on over and randomly click on any month, read a few, and let me know what you think, or you know, just have fun.
“I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored.”
Is there more to life? Our lives? Most lives? I don’t know. But I know that ‘this one precious life’, as Mary Oliver puts it demands our attention. What you value, and what you remember over the moments of your life, becomes you, doesn’t it?
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. – Mary Oliver
P.S: WordPress tells me I have a significant achievement: World Domination – for receiving visitors from over 150 countries – with the sweet caption: The United Nations has nothing on you.
For years, this was the standard response I got. It takes grit and determination to get past that answer every day for years. My school’s motto was Never Give In for a reason. I plunge on. “So when is Dr Seuss week? Should we buy a Dr Seuss hat?” (We still have the hat somewhere I think.) “It’s read-across-America week right? What should we read for our read-a-thon?”
You see? The thing is, I cannot imagine their school to be a place where nothing happens. It can’t be when they are making diasporas of dinosaur habitats, writing book reports of The Magic Tree House, learning about exotic animals – supposedly in preparation for their field trip to the zoo, and making art so their little fingers look like they dipped their hands into a rainbow.
Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.
Then, something wonderful happened.
Literature Lives
I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms. Sometimes, as a volunteer teaching experimental science, other times as a connoisseur introducing fine books of literature.
“Oh! You’re a Booklegger lady now? Cool Amma! I used to love when they came to school.” said the son one day when I told him that I had signed up to become a Booklegger volunteer at the local library.
“You knew about this program?” I said, stunned.
“Yeah, of course! It was always fun when the Booklegger people came.” He said.
“All those years I asked you, how was your day? And you never said a thing!” I said, somewhat stung at this omission. The children knew I would have loved to hear about volunteers from the library coming to introduce new books to them. Especially when I had to beg them to read books other than Captain Underpants and Dog Man all the time. He shrugged, and said “Eh!”, good-naturedly and moved on.
You see? The book even starts off with the exact sequence I wrote about earlier. How was your day? Fine! What did you do? Nothing.
The book captures the spirit behind the word ‘Nothing’ the way the son says it so perfectly, it is like the author has been around watching the son imaginate.
Imaginating Nothing
He loves to imaginate. A verb he coined himself and a word that has become a household word in the nourish-n-cherish home. It means actively imagining scenarios and living them. I know he fights off pirates and takes on armies when he leaps off the bed to the carpeted floor. The fake swords may not survive an actual duel on the battlefield, but the cushions in the house don’t stand a chance!
So many times, the only thing that has stopped me from running out of the house fearing an earthquake, is the fact that earthquakes are felt from the earth, not from the bedroom upstairs. When his friends are over to play, the Richter scale shivers and stutters.
Please head on over to the book to see what Nothing means when your child says they did ‘Nothing’ all day. I assure you it is more exciting than anything any of us do.
If only the Good days on which we do Nothing are half as exciting!
The past few days have been days of unimaginable beauty in the Bay Area. They have been rainy days. Rainy days in the Bay Area are a different kind of beautiful. For it rains, it pours, it drizzles, it teases, it dances, and it drums and sometimes just goes away. Occasionally, if you are really lucky, you can see a rainbow or two.
One evening, the son & I wrapped up and went on a walk. It was a windy day, and temperatures tend to dip a bit more than usual on windy days around the time of a sunset. The clouds were so thick and ready for some rains, that we knew we would not be gazing at the sunset exactly. Still, that time of the day seems to beckon one, doesn’t it? Something about it makes it feel sacrosanct.
Feeling Bubbly?
We chatted about this and that. Mostly of the experiment I had done with the children at the school I had volunteered in. Our experiment with air and whether they have force, culminating in blowing bubbles were a thumping success if the joy, laughter and smiles were anything to go by. We blew small, medium, big and humongous bubbles into the air. It is an amazing feeling when volunteers, teachers & the children have a great time. I told the son as much, and he grinned with what I knew was not just indulgence but genuine happiness for us.
Shining With Divinity?
On the way back, a beautiful trick of the light meant that the world behind us glowed golden through the clouds, while ahead of us, it glowed silver through the clouds. The pair of us stopped our chattering, and smiled together. Both of us stuck trying to find the right word for the light. Maybe even wondering how to catch this moment in a literal bubble. For it was so beautiful.
“Divine light, huh?”
“Yeah! I don’t think I know exactly what that light is, but this comes closest no?” the son agreed.
Light is such a beautiful phenomenon. We spend our lives trying to hold it, we have endless literary devices around it (Light at the end of the tunnel, lightness of being, making light of a situation) – But always, it is in a positive light (huh!)
Rainy days bring out the beautiful potentialities for experiencing light. It can evoke melancholy, gratitude, divinity, surrender, and most importantly awe.
Rainbows
When the raindrops manage to create total internal refraction, there is nothing but joy, wonder and an overwhelming sense of loving this beautiful Earth with its thin blanket of an atmosphere that allows us to experience rainbows.
The Smithsonian National Air & Space museum in Washington D C had us wrapped in its wings. The son was thrilled. We’d started off at the original model of Wright brothers’ air glider, and then steadily moved on from one exhibit to another. When finally, we stood in the moon (‘Destination Moon’) exhibit, I glanced over at the son to see that familiar look of awe in his face – it had been flitting in and out at almost every section in the museum.
I peered into the Apollo 11 Mission Control capsule on display and wondered yet again, how is it that astronauts deal with the immensely crushing feeling of cramped space in a space capsule. It seems alright, manageable even for a short day or two. But nothing these astronauts undertake seems to be in days – they all seem to stretch on and on. Weeks, months, years – when everything you want to get to, is measured in light years, how can we hope for short travels? Peering into the capsule again, it seems like it could give the most robust of us, claustrophobia.
Then again, I peeked out into the simulated views from the spacecraft. Light years of nothingness with little sparkling diamonds interspersing the views for miles and miles. Charming and beautiful as it looks. After a few days, weeks, months, years, it is enough to give the most optimistic of us agoraphobia.
How must their psyche work with this constant tidal forces of agoraphobia and claustrophobia pushing and pulling all the time?
The Orbital Sunrise – By John Green
I was reminded of the essay, The Orbital Sunrise by John Green in the book,The Anthropocene Reviewed. It really is a wonderful collection of essays by a nimble, curious mind on a wide range of topics.
He writes of astronaut Scott Kelly’s 342 days spent in space where he experienced approximately 11,000 sunrises. The International Space Station orbits the Earth every 90 minutes. Even in the famous book by Antoine Saint de Exupery, The Little Prince, the imaginary soul occupant of the planet he came from, only enjoyed 44 sunrises a day. Take that, Little Prince!
In the same essay he goes onto tell us a little about the misfortunes and luck that enabled us to view the first works of art from space. Alexie Leonov’s space mission aboard the Voskhov 2 holds the record for the first space walk in 1965. The mission itself went woefully wrong, and in a desperate attempt to calm himself, he drew some simple images as they overwhelmed him in space. They can be viewed here.
“Sunrise” sketched by Alexei Leonov on the Voskhod 2 mission, Mar. 18, 1965, the first work of art made in space, Museum of the Yuri Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Center, Moscow Oblast, Russia, exhibited, with the original pencils used by Leonov, at the Science Museum, London, 2015-16 (theguardian.com)
The sunrise looks like a child’s drawing – a rainbow of colors sandwiched between layers of space’s black, and that right there, for me is the beauty of the piece. Even in that moment of awe, a person with an art pedigree, tapped into his childlike sense of wonder and drew something that miraculously survived a desperate landing that nearly destroyed the space capsule and the astronauts in it.
What would you miss on Earth?
“What would you miss most on this Earth, if you were to leave Earth and live elsewhere?” The son asked me, bringing me back to the Earth, as I mused on this and that. I saw him peering up at the question flashing in front of him as he gazed up at the question on the screen in the Air & Space museum. “My family & friends first, followed by nature itself, I think. But I suppose there will be a different sense of nature on whichever planet we go to.” I said.
“Over the Black Sea,” painting by Alexei Leonov, date and present location unknown (thestatussymbol.com)
He nodded. “Yes – looks like the majority feel that way too.”, he said pointing to the survey results on the screen.
“What about you?” I asked him.
He took his time answering. Then he said, “I think I would like to take you all with me. Then, I will miss Earth’s nature.” I smiled at this response. I distinctly remember the feeling of wanting to take my family & friends if I went very far away, so I wouldn’t miss them. Life did not always work out like our childish wishes, does it?
I knew too that there would be no orbital sunrises in my lifetime for me witness. “I am past the age of astronaut training to go to space and all that. “, I laughed, “But if you do get to see it, remember me for a moment, and I will have the satisfaction of seeing it too.”
He smiled indulgently. “No you won’t! But okay – I’ll think of you.”
With that, we meandered through the exhibit, each wrapped in our own fantasies and thought capsules. How beautiful and marvelous an experience to go to a museum far away and glimpse at a spacecraft that first enabled humankind to fly, and then took mankind to space?
I pondered on the question a lot more. I realized agoraphobia and claustrophobia of space travel aside, there is so much more to life on this Earth that I would miss:
Art, music, dance, literature, math, science, history, geography, philosophy Friendship, the exalting and exasperating aspects of the human spirit Oceans, rivers, lakes, streams Creatures large and small – manta rays, lions, giraffes, geese, ducks, woodpeckers, wrens, deer Forests, trees, flowers, vegetables, fruits, canyons, volcanoes
Most of all: Laughter, Love and all that makes up Life itself.
What about you? What would you miss most about Earth?
Dr Seuss’s Horse Museum – Illustrated By Andrew Joyner
This book was published posthumously and was completed by Andrew Joyner. It was based on the loose sketches and plan he already had for the book.
This cover image released by Random House Children’s Books shows “Dr. Seuss’s Horse Museum,” a new book by the late children’s author, coming Sept. 3. (Random House Children’s Books via AP)
It is a gallop through Art History. For someone who is fascinated by art, and doesn’t necessarily have the knowledge to go with it, the book was particularly insightful. It isn’t Dr Seuss in its style – there are no hilarious horses challenging butterflies to a flying contest, or trying to grow a tree through their nose, while flowers sprout out of its ears. It is more a book by Andrew Joyner based on the preliminary notes made by Dr Seuss.
The book has references to many real pictures of horses by artists over the ages – impressionist, cubist, Japanese, Chinese, realism, surrealism etc.
This got me thinking about a post that has been rattling about in my head for a while now with no clear structure. I have written various versions of it – each more insufferable than the previous one, but I hope I can try to wrest some form of understanding using the horses structure that Andrew Joyner curated from Dr Seuss’s horse notes.
Art History & Cultural Significances
Art History has always been hand-in-hand with the cultural significances of the time. For instance, Renaissance artists were drawn towards accuracy in anatomy which coincided with an uptick in scientific thinking.
Surrealism rose after the horrors of the World Wars I & II – people needed to believe in something fantastical after the horrifying realities of the world around them. Example: Lord of the Rings was written post world war by J R R Tolkien who was himself devastated by the effects of the First World War in which he fought.
In the spirit of trying to see the evolution of art in the digital age, I tried to see how the horse would evolve:
Horse picture – Industrial Photography Era:
Black & white using reels – Dr Oliver Sacks had written about this in his book, Everything in its place. Picture animated based on the pictures taken by Edward Muybridge.
English: Animated sequence of a race horse galloping. Photos taken by Eadweard Muybridge (died 1904), first published in 1887 at Philadelphia (Animal Locomotion).
Muybridge used 24 cameras along a track where the shutter would be tripped by the horses themselves as they galloped past to capture the movements of the horse as they raced.
This era coincided with the Industrial Revolution – the efficiencies that changed the fundamental way in which things were done.
Horse picture using iPhone – Digital Media Era
Horse videos, Horse shorts, Horse animations
This era coincided with the Internet and the Social Media era. I am not sure they can be combined this way – I feel the internet gave rise to social media in such a forceful manner, that they probably deserve separate art eras. I marked them as digital era for the purposes of this post.
AI horse : Neo -Surrealism era
As the next stage in this evolution is AI generated images and videos.
Could this be the neo-surrealism era? The need for our fantasies mingled with the need for speed of creation.
What do you think?
I am not sure if each of these stages in art have a name yet. But I am sure future art historians will come up with names for each era and how it denotes an era in technology or world history.
The husband said “Who?” In that befuddled manner he gets when it comes to reading. The son said, “Oh no! How did that happen?” He understood.
One of the many brilliant things about raising children in a country and culture other than the one you were raised in is this. You get to read new books, be baffled about why something was iconic, and discover the joys of it all anew (like Star Wars for us).
Dr Seuss, Thomas the Train, Curious George, Dora the Explorer, and so many fantastic characters enabled me to become a wide-eyed child reading along with them over the past two decades, and I am immensely grateful to that.
Somewhere along the way, the children told me that Read Across America week was the week it was Dr Seuss’s birthday. Oh! How I loved that? What a legacy to leave? To have a Read-Across-America week dedicated to the week of your birthday.
So, in my somewhat scatter-brained fashion, I had planned to read and write about several of his books in the lead up to the week. But I had forgotten in the chariots of time, and let’s face it, in the gloriousness of spring. I can see Theodore Geisel (Dr Seuss is his nickname) shaking his head in amusement at this, and probably pencilling it down a for a future hilarious Dr Seuss book somewhere.
The books I did read were just as charming and insightful as usual.
Yertle The Turtle & Other Stories – By Dr Seuss
The story is about Yertle the Turtle who is the king of turtles in his pond. He is liked enough to be left alone, and do turtlish things and go about the days of his life with peace and contentment. But does he do that?
No!
One day, he gets it into this head that what he wants is to extend his rule. So, he calls on the turtles nearby, and has them scramble on each other, and he scrambles right on top of them all. From that vantage point, he claims he is the king of all he can see.
In typical Dr Seuss form, Yertle is never happy, and goes on piling turtles on top of each other…till. Well – you’ll just have to read and find out, wouldn’t you?
This story is such an apt one to read in the current geopolitical climate. All our great leaders busy scrambling on turtle’s backs, and launching missiles. Sigh.
Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are – By Dr Seuss
This book is priceless. I read it every now and then especially when I am really feeling low, and somewhat antsy about the state of the world. It is good to remind yourself that you didn’t get stuck in the traffic jam of Zayt Highway 8 in Ga-Zayt, or that you weren’t one of the builders of Bunglebung bridge.
But mostly, it is a simple tale that will have you wondering just a little bit about all the little ways in which you are lucky, even if it doesn’t seem like it. The next morning, the sound of bird-song as you make your way to your car sounds sweeter.
Horse Museum – By Dr Seuss
This book has been on my list of books to write about for a long time. I think I shall attempt a separate piece for this book for it is fascinating in a way that is different from all his other books in a specific way.
The book shows you all the different ways in which horses can be drawn in the Horse Museum. Of course, the horses are hilarious and his narrative sparkles.
This cover image released by Random House Children’s Books shows “Dr. Seuss’s Horse Museum,” a new book by the late children’s author, coming Sept. 3. (Random House Children’s Books via AP)
But more than any of this, he lists all the famous paintings of horses that inspired his tale. A journey through cubism, realism etc. From Picasso to Jackson Pollock.
So, even if I didn’t quite to get to write about Dr Seuss’s books in time for Read-Across-America week, I still got to read and relish them.
I don’t think he’d mind if we read them now, next week, or next month, do you? So, please feel free to pick them up, and share your own books you’d like to read for Read-Across-America month.
The week-end was fabulous in terms of weather in the Bay Area. The rain-washed Earth was beginning its early spring blooms. The trails were scented heavily with sage, eucalyptus, and the occasional squashed lemon or orange. The clouds made for a perfect backdrop – lighting wise. Cloudy skies do give the best pictures even if the blue skies lift one’s spirits up better. Feeling in the mood for a bit of rumination or deep thought? Cloudy skies are there for that. Or maybe it is the other way around- the melancholic strain inspired by the cloudy skies. Either way.
The son and I started off on a bike ride when the skies were cloudy, threatening rain. We pedaled, each lost in our own thoughts, when some fat droplets reminded us of the rainy day forecasts. The son, always the mature one, when it comes to things like this, insisted we turn back, and so we did. Though, I did try my whining first: “Let’s try for some more time – maybe it is just a drizzle, and we shall be ready for it to break into mild blue skies afterwards. “
The skies doubled down, and so we started back away from the lakes, and the bay, towards our home.
But the rains were taunting us. They came, and then didn’t. Then came again and didn’t again.
By the time we made it home, the clouds had said their good-byes and didn’t shed a single raindrop for another 2 hours.
Oh well.
The Next Day
The next day, I set off on my own. This time, the cumulonimbus clouds had given way to cumulus clouds, and the day felt bright, clean and inviting.
I biked on. By the river. To the bay. Through the bay, and finally emerging on some hills.
It was beautiful. I had the trail to myself. Probably because most folks had attempted and wrestled with the ‘will-it won’t-it’ the previous day, and decided to stay indoors. I felt my spirits rise, like the ebbing of the bay waters. I sang – my pitch nowhereas shrill and clear as the blackbirds, and nowhere as cacophonous as the ubiquitous geese, but enough to make me happy.
I am a sap when it comes to nature. Every one knows it. Everyone indulges me with it when I get going. But even I felt all nature had a purpose that day: a purpose to make those outside to feel grateful, to feel fulfilled. The mustard flowers threw their stalks back and danced with that intent. The blackbirds sang with a kind of devotion that saints wish for. The deer grazed looking at you as if daring you to find fault with a day like this.
What would Mary Oliver have done?
Mary Oliver would’ve written a book by the time she came back. That’s the sort of day it was.
“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.” — Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
What was to be done with such a sense of purpose? I yielded and gave myself up to this – pedaling, humming, looking every which way. One time, I wobbled looking at the hawk overhead and straying off the trail. I swear the hawk smirked. I heard it’s laugh or cry.
Another time, the heart gave a few lurches and sputtered and stuttered, as I spotted a dead snake on the trail. “Would you have preferred a live one?” whispered Mary Oliver, and I genuinely had no answer to that. I shoved my hammering heart back to its spot behind the ribs and pedaled on. Eyes resolutely keened away from the dead snake.
When finally I reached home, sighing with the contentment, I knew the aching muscles were a small price to pay.
That seemed like a marvelous way to say goodbye to the rainy week-end. How was your week-end?
