I catalog what I cannot capture: the sun, its ragged stumble into rockface, the precise elevation of this plateau or the next, the sea, of course, against which everything is measured.
My tools are insufficient, inexact.
For instance: there is no way to measure the peak against the distance from the tip of one ring finger to the other, no matter my arms’ position: outstretched, limp, akimbo.
For instance: there is no way to weigh the earth pushed out of earth against the gravity of my body, its bones, its sacs, its meat and animating light.
I submit: I do not constitute the mountain. This, in spite of the pallet of old quilts and newly fallen maple leaves I’ve made at its immeasurable base.
I submit: I do not constitute the field, although I have harrowed its length, its width with my narrow feet, my slow step.
Never mind I hear what scurries or scatters, what burrows or bounds.
Never mind I raise my hand to hover the bent grass, the echinacea’s bald crown— all of which withers or writhes, all of which is new or nearly the same before my foot’s next fall.
I submit: As with the mountain, the field.
As with the field, you, ineluctable as a season, sun ragging the rockface.
Your arm, nearly as long as mine, your palm, wider, your mouth a beginning, your eyes, of course, against which everything else is measured.
You harrow and the summit writhes; your broad foot falls, and the field, akimbo, gives up its gravity, lets loose its bodies its bones, thrums an animating light.-
Y'all have to understand: I'm alone--A.L.O.N.E. No one else is gonna save or protect me.
Being A.L.O.N.E. can be terrifying while at the same time liberating. I often wonder though if I'm strong enough to manage all of that freedom. On one hand, being an introvert way more content with my own company without having a lot of social connections is empowering. Then again, it's not easy being so independent to even ask for help when desperately needed.
As a widowed "elder orphan," the realization that I am no longer a priority in most people's lives is definitely a rude awakening. Austin's Big Freeze of 2023 could have easily thrown me into a major depression. The old me would have been cryin' copious tears about how my life has turned to shit; how life is so unfair, how I can't handle "it" anymore- blah, blah, blah.... blah.
But ya know what? Considering all the stress I've been under lately,
I've handled "it"--maybe not perfectly but without a self-indulgent pity party. I guess approaching age 67 my wrinkled skin has also thickened. I really have to wonder if others so typically critical would have been able to handle "it" as well if they were as absolutely and almost utterly A.L.O.N.E.
Hey, don't be too impressed though. I'm not the sharpest tack in the box. I tend to be a "people pleaser" against my better judgment. I will admit to not knowing everything or anything for that matter. I will readily admit to not being "right" all if any of the time. You all have NO idea how much I've struggled with self-confidence over a lifetime. Yet I've somehow managed to find fulfillment much more than less. Hard work, perseverance, calculated risk-taking, as well as a lot of luck both good and bad have served me well overall. Still some lessons-learned have been painfully difficult, requiring a transformative shape-shifting in order to survive and thrive, reborn every single day.
Lest curiosity kill the crab, due diligence is my ally. A seeker of knowledge if not absolute truth, I'm a problem solver for the most part--not a "shit stirrer." A creature of compromise, I look for solutions not ways of creating more problems. So there's the difference.
Sheltered in a warm, cozy outer shell, protecting a soft, vulnerable core, I very well might be a "bad-ass." I am a Cancer, one of the four cardinal signs of the zodiac after all. That in and of itself is something of which to be proud.😁
"Faster than the speeding light, she's flying Trying to remember where it all began She's got herself a little piece of Heaven Waiting for the time when Earth shall be as one,"
