50 Objects

Fall                                                                         Harvest Moon

Right now, I’m not going to order them, just trying to think of objects that might show who I’ve been, what I’m becoming.  This is the first pass.  May need more, more specificity. Some of these may come off and others added.  But, it’s a start.

When I do this fully, like the British Museum did, I’ll provide label copy for each object.

Daisy:  a green Velveteen Rabbited toy of Dagwood and Blondie’s dog.  With eyes resewed and body stitched.

The Red Celica

The doorknob above the third shelf of our first apartment on Lincon Street in Alexandria

The coal augur in the same apartment building

The cave friends and I dug in the backyard of 311 Monroe Street

A stack of comic books

A plastic lunch tray from elementary school

A mat at Miss May’s kindergarten

Mortar boards with tassels moved

A draft card

The Greenwich Hotel in NYC

Angkor Wat

St. Winifred’s Holy Well

Castle Conwy

A dismantled alarm clock

Sodium in water

A beer bottle

A pack of Pall Malls

A deck of cards

A book, let’s say a specific book, The Glass Bead Game

Goya’s Dr. Arrieta

The Henry Moore sculpture honoring Enrique Fermi at the University of Chicago

A bible, the RSV

A contract for deed

3122 153rd ave. NW

A table at D’amico’s Cucina

An auditorium in Toronto

A study carrel in the corner on the third floor at United Theological Seminary

A wicker basket

A blue uniform

A pair of skis

An iron lung

A 1950 Chevy Panel Truck

A Dayton-Hudson Corporation Foundation board room late at night

A bassinet in an office

Stamps from the Vatican Post Office

A jar of Artemis Honey

A bill for an act: M.E.E.D.

An apartment building on the West Bank

A dog collar

A loaded trailer

A cemetery

A cut off pony tail

A desk

A computer

Make-up

An All-Saint’s day processional in Colombia, outside Bogota

(Lynch’s Theatrical Makeup)

 

 

Aha

Fall                                                             Harvest Moon

Enlightenment.   Chop wood, carry water.  I got it.  Today.  Suddenly.  While the air was cool, the sky clear.

(Isra Box)

Here’s how. Gertie knocked the back door off its track a couple of nights ago.  Not bad for a 45 pound dog.  But.  Had to get it back on.  I’m not a handy guy.  Never have been and never aspired to be.  That means I greet these kinds of tasks with a dread reinforced by all those damned nights I had to help my dad bail out the basement of our house, bucket by bucket.  He refused to buy a sump pump.  Not to mention the days mowing our yard with the old, clunky push mower.  He wouldn’t buy a power mower.  But, hey.  That’s then.

The perverse privilege of screwing ourselves up with things that happened long, long ago is part of what makes us human, I know.  And I wouldn’t want to make myself less human.

Then.  I had the strip of rubber coated aluminum off.  It holds the door in place.  I remembered that I usually get frustrated, want to move onto something I prefer to do.  Remembered, too, that that feeling was not necessary.  That I could stay with the door until I finished.  There was no hurry.  No next thing.  There was only this thing.

That was it.  Satori. Not exactly be here now, although that is a result.  But, not the cause.  The aha was nothing.  It fitted me into the task and nothing else.  I finished the door in an unhurried manner, but efficiently.  Also.  It worked.  Hey.

When chopping wood, chop wood.  When carrying water, carry water.  When fixing the door, fix the door.  When revising the novel, revise the novel.  When being with your love, be with your love.