enjoy it

The hermit crab who outgrows his old shell ought not try to return to it, assuming that it will remain there for him unchanged.

The shiny skin of the apple, covered in wax and pesticides, does not allow you to see the rot emanating from the core until you take several bites.

And so it is. I shed no tears for it. I raise my chin and look north.

Soon, soon…

Today I left the city, drove into the woods, and sat down on a rock by a frozen river. The only sound I could hear was the subtle hiss of pressure escaping from my head.

Too often we lament what we do not have in our lives, but fail to realize the joy of what we can hold on to. As such, I was less impressed with the silent hawks who danced overhead, set against the grey. I instead celebrated the pale sage winter moss…growing underneath the frozen granite boulder.

The lesson is obvious.

Αθάνατος Συγκομιδή

“I live in the perpetual verdure of the globe.
I die in the annual decay of nature.”
-Thoreau, March 8th, 1842

Brown nursery blankets turn back.
Exposed. Yellowed skeleton teeth sing.
So powerful, so vital.

The tactile thrill in the feel of it,
Handfuls sift through fingers.
Falling at the dirty bosom.

Of Chicomecoatl, or Nidaba
Or Demeter, or You.
The name matters not.

Walking alone through a ripe field.
Austere dignity.
Deep imposing solemnity.

Both Mother and Maiden,
Both expired and ecstatic,
Differences indistinguishable.

...unabashedly. With eyes wide shut, I can again see the sea and answer the call. Alleluia, Alleluia—I have come undone.

“And a body’s got to tremble
if a body’s gonna bend…”
-Daisy May Erlewine-Gone.

Something shook me up a bit today, and I realized just how obtuse I can really be. I also learned, however, that everything has a purpose, a reason, and a time that it was destined to come into being, even if it isn’t convenient for me.

Last week I gave the lectures of my young academic teaching career to my history students. We were discussing the “History of the Soul,” as if such a concept could be so easily contained within the constraints of a fifty minute lecture period.

Yet, I pulled it off with a little unexpected planning and help from something larger than just me.

There is an old and rather neglected courtyard outside of the windows of the very classroom I teach in. In April, a group I belong to cleaned it up and planted some flowers. (Mostly pansies, daylilies, and the like.) For my part, I recommended Dahlias, as they bloom in mid-summer, and are hearty until September here in Michigan, usually. Everybody agreed and I planted the dahlia bulbs.

May, June, July, August, September, and October went by. The spring, summer, and three good weeks of fall we had came and went. There were lots of green leaves, but at no point were there any dahlias in the courtyard.

Then, came the middle of November, and something happened that was just spectacular. I was writing lesson plans for the coming week, and it started to snow. It was really cold. We had a few hard freezes. Yet, the very day that it began to snow, this massive white dahlia decided that it was time to bloom.

I must admit that I hadn’t paid much attention to the courtyard, as everything was dead or dying, so I thought. Then, just as I was preparing for this lecture about the soul, within which I taught about the Aristotelian notion that every living thing had an essence or pneuma within it that was the basis of it’s soul, (be it person, animal, or vegetable,) the dahlia kept blooming, and blooming loudly. The bloom was so big, I couldn’t quite hold it in both of my hands. My students, who weren’t always buying the notion that in history the soul was regarded as something very corporeal and real were instantly taken aback when I quickly pulled up the blinds to reveal this massive flower growing in the courtyard, in spite of itself. “I DEFY YOU TO TELL ME,” I bellowed in my most passionate history teacher voice “THAT THERE ISN’T SOMETHING ELSE OUT THERE THAT IS LARGER THAN JUST US!”

The kids bought it. I almost felt bad about using the poor beautiful dahlia as a prop, but something in me knew that it probably didn’t mind, being the exhibitionist that it was.

Then today things changed. It was an odd day for a lot of reasons, but not a bad one.

While walking to my office from the library, I walked by the courtyard, expecting to see the gleaming white dahlia amidst the backdrop of the grey and cold Michigan November.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I saw a dirty white blossom, laying face down in the topsoil. Somebody had cut the head off cleanly, and just left it there beneath the sunless sky.

I was oddly sad. I didn’t know quite how I felt, really. I picked up the blossom, took it into my office, shook most of the loose dirt off of it, and put it in a mason jar that used to hold coffee beans. I looked at it for awhile, then realized that it wasn’t doing anything for me in the office, except reminding me how sad I was that it wasn’t somewhere that everybody could enjoy it. I took it across the street to my favorite coffeehouse, and gave it to my friends. They were happy and appreciated it, and it’s a busy coffeehouse, so hopefully some more people will appreciate it too, if only for just a moment.

I’ve had a lot on my mind these days about, well…everything. Work, relationships, people…everything. I’ve decided I learned something from the big white dahlia, and that it spoke to me for a reason.

It told me the following things:

Some things are worth waiting for, and happen when and where you least expect them. These things are to be embraced fully, if only for a fleeting moment.

Some things aren’t worth waiting for if you plan them out just perfectly. The soul of the dahlia didn’t want to come out when it was “planned.” It wanted to happen when it wanted to happen.

Serendipity happens, for better or for worse. If we take advantage of it and appreciate beauty where we find it, we’ll be stronger, better beings.

Maybe the dahlia was telling me simply that it’s time to pay attention, and start practicing what I preach…

Maybe.

Sittin’ in a railway station
Got a ticket for my destination…

In t-minus four hours I will escape Michigan for the better part of four days and actually have time to breathe, relax, and hopefully actually enjoy myself back near home in Chicago. The Cubs are in the playoffs, the research looks promising at the library, the Ph.D. people actually want to talk with me about the future, and I’m bringing my little cooler within which will be a couple dozen nice cannoli’s and perhaps some mortadella from Silvies on Taylor St. Yeah, can’t wait. I need to start doing this like…monthly, but only if I can do it without worrying about school/work/etc. (Which I’ll be doing this weekend.)

Go me.