₩ a n d e r :: ℒust

Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
- Isabelle Eberardt

: खुश बसंत पंचमी :

Om Sarva Chaithanya Roopam

Thaam Aadyaam Vidyaam Cha

Dheemahi Buddhim Yo Nah

Pracodayat

Underwater Mind

-Alex Kirkbride


For the human mind, the crossing from air down into water has powerful effects. Unable to smell, losing accustomed gravity and losing our air hearing, it is surprisingly difficult to carry memory across the the border... Underwater, writes Cousteau, "one forgets the sun. One forgets a lot." All the pretty, dry concerns are left to the squabbling gulls. The air world is hard to recall on the instant of merging in the saltwater world we knew before. It is enigmatic that memory can meet amnesia here, how completely and instantly we forget the world of air, our corrugated corner of earth and our dry lives, but seem to remember, opaquely, as if memory coursed through our salty veins, that this ocean was once our home.

-Wild An Elemental Journey

It's also easy to forget to be living presently wherever one is, completely and fully in the moment and yet simultaneoulsy clean the bathroom, wash the dishes, and take the garbage out... ho-hum.

My mind feels submerged... the rain subsided, but flash floods are to be welcoming us once again tomorrow.

Ranting is another thing...

"... the impulse to kill him becomes so strong sometimes, when I think of the way he's stolen my life and trampled all over it and then thinks it's sufficient if he reads a few highbrow books, that I don't know how to get over it. I clench my fists together to keep from rushing at his greasy yellow head, or throwing something into that noisy mouth, forever boasting and screaming. If I could kill him and that child... I'd gladly do time for it. But what would the kids do? Go to an asylum? No one could stand it."

-Christina Stead The Man Who Loved Children

Grass Is Not Green

So my mind continuously is wrapped up on the grass-- that damn brown grass. No matter how much seed, wonderful rich organic composted soil, and wishful wishing I do; and even when the rainfall from last night and today soaked the bumpy land-- zip.



I just see brownish-white, ugly patches that look as though I've been neglectful and absent and I have not.



My eyes take scrutiny to the neighbors on either side of our home and my frustration grows even deeper, unlike the grass seed. Their lawns seemed to have survived the long, snow plunged winter, and lawn-care vans crazily scribble on their adverts that our lawn is plighted by "snow mold" and other such furthering irritating diagnosis's that only add to my immediate sense of urgency.



Patches of deep rich brownish-black soil exposed from hungry squirrels who frolic up and down the trees playing with each other and chipmunk holes... why does our lawn seem overly magnified and a banquet for the spring frenzy? While I too rejoice in the renewal of the season and keep my solo bird feeder stocked to entice aviary beings, even wolves and foxes have found an ease to scavenging in the backyard in the urban demographic.



I have no qualms with our extended living entities-- I welcome them. But the grass just burns something so obsessive into me. And once you get started you have to keep going with the maintenance and upkeep.



Upon purchasing this home I could have cared less about the grass and have begun the slow process of planting prairie grass and naturalizing with other more native plants. Seems more money will be required to make the landscape more sustainable and less time consuming, allowing the natural cycles to take-- even getting a vegetable bed in is going to take more work since the veil of green carpet has now turned. The builder was so cunning and The grass was already freshly rolled out, bright green, lush and healthy. We were none the wiser and so very in love with the place that the grass was furthest from our minds