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Going to Ground
Bygone morning’s coffee grounds
ground further down,
down
to
ground
by hyper worms, all caffeinated.
Leaves of autumn, brittle, perforated,
are integrated
as eisenia fetida binge and purge,
binge and purge,
and binge and purge,
in their castings new lives emerge
from rotten tomatoes, banana peels, cherry pits,
straw covered in the chickens’ shits,
avocado skins, watermelon rinds
strawberry stems and murky brines.
Other bits thrown in the mix:
pistachio shells and broken sticks,
ash from last winter’s fire,
lint from the laundry’s dryer.
In the midst of this debris,
a rotting jack-o-lantern held an errant seed.
A pumpkin vine sprouts from his wrecked grin
as his ghoulish, rotting face caves in.
When human footsteps fall that way,
sunning lizards go skittering into the fray
to join scutigera coleptrata and armadillidiidae
who work the lower strata in some mysterious way.
Above it all Our Lady of Compost stands poised and posed
overseeing all that is composed and decomposed.
Within her purview is order and disorder and
life and not-life at this strange borderland.
Knowing well her own disintegration will nourish
the next generation to flourish.
~~*~~
Today’s musings were inspired by my own heap of compost and also very much by Walt Whitman’s “This Compost”, a meditation on Earth’s resilience and ability to turn the nastiest diseased corruption into an astounding flourish of beauty.
Once upon a long time ago (a couple hundred million years ago according to evolutionary biologists), there were no flowers. And darkness was upon the face of the deep (according to other authors of ancient history).
Then suddenly flowers came into being.
Thank goodness.
“Flowers changed everything.”
–Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire
Indeed.
Fast forwarding to the present: I found these beauties suffocating in a cheap cellophane cocoon and stuffed in the discount bin at the grocery store. They cleaned up quite nicely.
I crossed paths with a black cat last week at the corner of healthy and happy. We talked at length about life. I made him promises. When he was satisfied with negotiations, he jumped in the car and we drove home together. I call him Mystère. He calls me Meowrow. He and Nickel have made it clear that they are not friends and never will be.
Yip, blissfully unaware of the turf war occurring outside
But that story is not why I’m here; it’s just an aside.
I’m here because I’ve been inspired by this quote from Amy Poehler:
“It’s very hard to have ideas. It’s very hard to put yourself out there, it’s very hard to be vulnerable, but those people who do that are the dreamers, the thinkers, and the creators. They are the magic people of the world.”
–Amy Poehler, Smart Girls: Ask Amy
I’m here because it’s October — what better time is there for magic?
I’m here because I have an official declaration to make:
I hereby declare October as “Make it” month. The idea is to create something (anything!) new everyday for the next 31 days. My intention is to post daily. I hope you’ll join me in dreaming, creating, inspiring, and sharing.
Today, my creation is the goal itself. You gotta start somewhere!
I look forward to what dreams may come.
I didn’t intentionally set out to read a bunch of books on magic last year, but that’s what happened. We can blame Erin Morgenstern because it all started with her Night Circus, which was magically delicious and one of the best books I read all year.
Two ancient magicians pit their young pupils against each other in a strange and beautiful competition that takes place in a very special circus. The ‘competition’ wasn’t the fighting contest sort. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure what the point of the competition was. It had something to do with the creation and development of the circus. Regardless, I was more enthralled by the characters and the scenery than the dumb competition. The performers were delightfully circus-y, of course, and the reveurs (i.e., the devoted followers of the circus) were also an entertaining set. The circus’s scenery was so vividly rendered it almost felt like a painting. Good stuff.
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At Morgenstern’s recommendation, I discovered V. E. Schwab and she kept me entertained for a good two months with her work. First came Vicious.
College students Victor and Eli are researching and provoking near-death experiences amongst themselves, which leads to them developing supernatural powers…and a rivalry. The comic-book style characters with special abilities reminded me a little of the T.V. show Heroes. It wasn’t my usual reading fare, but it was smart, well-written and suspenseful enough that I wanted to read more by the author.
~~*~~
I liked Schwab’s writing style well enough to plunge right into her Shades of Magic series. It was awesome. The trilogy centers around court magician, Kell, of Red London. Kell is one of the last of the Antari, who are powerful spell casters able to travel between the parallel Londons: Red London, White London, and Grey London. There’s also a Black London — the source of all magic existing in the other Londons, but the magic consumed that version of London and it was sealed off. Back to Kell – he has one entirely blacked out eye – as Antari do – and he’s a smuggler, which gets him into big trouble. His smuggling eventually becomes a threat to all of the Londons, but you can’t be mad at him for that because he’s so dreamy! I might have fallen in love with him a little.
In the first book of the series, A Darker Shade of Magic, Kell meets Delilah Bard, otherwise known as Lila. She is a bad-ass thief and to-be pirate lass from Grey London. She is quite possibly one of my favorite characters ever. She has her own names for the various Londons: Dull London, Creepy London, Kell London, and Dead London. The interactions between Kell and Lila are worth the cover price. They are adorable together. It’s hard to know who’s the hero and who is the side kick – they complement each other so well.
~~*~~
The next book in the series, A Gathering of Shadows, features all sorts of magicians who come together in Red London for a magical fighting sort of competition. Kell and Lila do all sorts of bad things. I’m not one for reading fight scenes, but they are well written, so I was all into them. There’s also Alucard, who is a awesome pirate, or ship captain, depending on how you want to think about it. He becomes Lila’s teacher and their interactions are a riot.
~~*~~
The third book in the series, A Conjuring of Light, is about Black London. Prince Rhy Maresh, Kell’s brother of sorts, plays a larger role in this story. There are all sorts of twists and turns, subplots, drama and intrigue. And magic. Lots of magic.
Here are a couple of my favorite quotes about Delilah Bard:
“Lila smiled at that, one of those smiles that made Kell profoundly nervous. The kind of smile usually followed by a weapon.”
“There were moments when Lila wondered how the hell she’d gotten here. Which steps–and missteps–she’d taken. A year ago she’d been a thief in another London. A month ago she’d been a pirate sailing on the open seas. A week ago she’d been a magician in the Essen Tasch. And now she was this.”
~~*~~
I always wanted to run away and join the circus, so I had high hopes for The Book of Speculation after a quick scan of a few pages revealed all the right words: an old, mysterious book, a curse, circus performers, magic, tarot, and mermaids.
The title was intriguing too, so it surprised me how much I struggled to get through this one. I abandoned it twice to read other books, but I kept coming back to it thinking it had to get better. Basically, the plot revolves around a librarian, Simon, who tries to figure out why all the women in his family die tragically before the same thing happens to his sister. The biggest problem for me was that all the best characters who carried the story were dead and in the past while the characters in the present were too boring to hold my attention for extended periods.
~~*~~
A couple years ago I went on a witch kick with Paula Brackston and read all her witchy work. Last year she released, The Return of the Witch, as a sequel to The Witches Daughter. The nefarious warlock Gideon somehow has managed to escape his imprisonment in the Summerlands. Elizabeth returns to protect her student Teagan, who has developed strong magic in her own right as a result of having traveled the world to study with the masters. A handsome Timestepper, Erasmus, is enlisted to help find Gideon who has traveled back to the 17th century to wreak his havoc. The flashbacks to Teagan’s training were a highlight for me, but it was Erasmus who steals the show in this one.
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No one has really “read” the The Voynich Manuscript in a very long time as it’s a one-of-a-kind medieval codex of mysterious origin written in an indecipherable script. However, I am including this one here because I think there is something magical about a book no one can read. To quote Erin Morgenstern, “…magic is secret and secrets are magic, after all.”
I did read the commentary and history of the manuscript as detailed by Skinner, Prinke, and Zandbergen and I have pored over the drawings of plants, herbs, and their roots. I have pondered its depictions of women erupting from concentric sheathes, each displaying their unique stars while encircling a centralized goat that is always, always eating. These particular drawings are categorized by the “experts” as astronomical, astrological and cosmological. Then there are the nude women bathing communally in green and blue lagoons, interconnected through a strange system of tubing. The author had quite a lot to write about this, apparently, but the pictures tell their own story as these bathing tubes evolve into individual systems that seem more like a method of transportation and communication. Rainbows erupt between them. Mermaids. I see mermaids and rainbows (f82v-f83r). We go back to the sky then, and return back to the earth. So cool. I have to wonder if it was indeed authored by a man, as all the experts referenced in this collection of commentary seem to think. I have other ideas.
Last week I heard myself say possibly the weirdest thing I’ve ever said at work:
“Ooh, that’s right! Today is the day the ponies have to go to outer space.”
But that’s exactly the sort of thing you have to say when zombies, aliens, and monsters invade Pony Land and the battle lasts several days. Fortunately, the ponies are a forward-thinking species that have resources and contingency plans to deal with such problems. While the Pony Queen fended off the monsters, the little ponies said their magic words to make the door to the rocket ship open and allow them safe passage.
The ponies blasted off and flew through outer space and arrived safely in their haven on the moon. Meanwhile, Fred the taxi driver loaded up the defeated monsters into the back of his dump truck and hauled them off to their monster hideout.
The ponies are doing well colonizing the moon. The monsters, aliens, and zombies are on the road to recovery.
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A job title doesn’t even come close to answering the question: “What do you do?”.
Two weeks away from home seems like a really long time, especially in August when almost everyday marks a celebration of a loved one’s birthday or anniversary. Then there’s the garden where the roses and clematis are just starting to re-bloom. The cucumbers are ripening on the vine and becoming ready for pickling. In August there are lush, ripe vegetables calling out everyday to be picked and eaten. It’s so hard to step away from the beautiful sight of what you spend so much time nurturing and from what nourishes you.
On the other hand, two weeks is not nearly enough time away when you look up from the roses and sense the frenzy of fall chaos rapidly spinning towards you. Is there a way to put the brakes on the flow time?
Yes. Yes, there is. I have found the answer to the problem of time and I’m here now to share that wisdom with the world.
Here’s how to make time slow down to a crawl: schedule yourself a 12-hour bus ride. Make it an overnight ride leaving at 8:30 p.m. and arriving at the destination at 8:30 a.m.
So that’s the answer. You’re welcome. I’ll now give the play-by-play of the experience in case you need to live it vicariously. I can’t imagine why you would, but hey, it’s your life.
I had no idea how lucky I was the first 4 hours off the trip with all my leg room in the spacious aisle seat and with my silent, sleeping neighbors. Time nearly came to a complete standstill when I found myself on the layover at our first bus stop. To my left a small child bawled in his unsympathetic mother’s lap and to my right an adult woman bawled into her cell phone. Sandwiched in between this much human tragedy I began to question my own life decisions, as one does, at 1:08 a.m. in a Nashville bus station. The stereo sounds of misery abruptly ended a few moments later when a grown man wearing a Burger King crown walked by and belched; it was a sight and sound unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. The burp itself had a sustained reverb that went on for way longer than anything like that ever should and the deep bass notes echoed against the station’s cavern-like walls, floor, and ceiling. It was so startling that everyone put their suffering on hold to take a moment of stunned silence. To some degree, the King’s burp was a relief felt by all.
The next leg of the trip I had a window seat and my new found friend, Tall Tom the Talker, had the aisle. When he wasn’t talking or asking questions, he was asleep and taking up all of his seat and 2/3 of mine. At least he smelled nice. Before this bus ride I had actually bragged to someone about my ability to sleep anywhere. Those words alternately haunted and entertained me as I sat squashed up against the bus wall shivering from the cold. I wiled away the hours staring at the candy wrappers and trash that bygone passengers had crammed into the metal grate below the tinted windows.
At 5:40 a.m. I found myself in Knoxville, where there was less crying and more mullets. One man’s mullet defied the “business in the front, party in the back” rule. His mullet’s party crashed rebelliously through the front door of his business. It featured two braided pigtails styled to cascade forward over his shoulders and down his chest nearly to his waist. He completed his ensemble with a red t-shirt, cut-off blue jean shorts, rainbow socks, and red tennis shoes.
The time warp continued as I stood in line waiting to board the third bus past the time we were supposed to be departing. On the last leg of the magic bus ride I watched the sun rise over the mountains of North Carolina. Twelve hours is all that elapsed on that bus ride and there was a time change somewhere along the way so the trip was only 11 hours, technically. But I was awake and present in those 12 hours (yes, 12) and I’m here to tell you eternity was in the felt experience.
hydrangea magic
If you believe in magic, come along with me
We’ll dance until morning till there’s just you and me.
And maybe, if the music is right,
I’ll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we’ll go dancing, baby, then you’ll see
How the magic’s in the music and the music’s in me.
–The Lovin’ Spoonful
butterfly song
The musical harmonies throughout Nature are going on all the time. Everything that moves, sings as it moves; and ‘all things are moving, Nothing is absolutely inert, consequently everything sings, and the stars in their majestic cyclical motions, and the planets in their orbits, sing the Song of the Spheres; but our senses are not attuned to take it in. . . .
sunflower singing
They sing, all these entities, from the music in their own spirit-souls; they can do naught else but sing. They are harmony in their inmost being, and this harmony wells up as from a fountain and comes out and expresses itself in song.
— G. de Purucker
the lettuce tree orchestra
My Little Spacebook 