Jumping In

Here in the cabin. On the lake. We jumped in. All of us. Well, almost all of us.

Me: If you don’t suffer it’s not good.

Carol: Tame the wild elephant. I am the wild elephant.

Lav: Soften the edges.

Enil: I am not Jesus.

I went first. Shock! I lost my shoe. I found my shoe. I realize losing shoes in the water is a recurring theme in my life. Water is a recurring theme in my life. Fear, freedom, fascination, life. Water is life.

I love the river in the summer when it is low and the huge slabs of stone are exposed. I like to lay on them and pretend I am a turtle sunbathing. A turtle who knows what a cloud is. A turtle who knows what a cloud is but does not know what it means to have a broken heart.

I like the smell of river mud. It smells dirty and clean all at the same time. If I can keep myself from remembering humanity’s generous contribution – bottles, glass, styrofoam, plastic and rubber, bits of glass, and even shoes (seems I’m not the only one who loses shoes) – then I can breathe that river mud in while my shell glows hot with the warmth of the sun and I can be happy.

I am happy. I am a happy turtle. But I am also an elephant. I am a turtlephant. And my tribe is here with me. And we jumped. We lost one but we gained another. I like this new elephant. She is the wild elephant. I am the turtlephant.

What does it mean?

Sometimes nothing at all.

Sometimes a turtlephant is just a turtlephant and that is ok.

The Forever Winter

It should be springtime.

New life, fresh colors, the smell of blossoms, the warm breeze…

Life! Joy! New beginnings!!

And yet…

And yet…

And yet the sun is still hiding and the sky is still stubbornly somber. The trees stand humiliated in their nakedness, in their bareness.

The still dead, brown, withered leaves that were cast off an eternity ago still litter the ground. No matter though, because there is no green grass to be found, the vibrancy is still buried.

The lake is an etherized grey and does not glisten. You can’t glisten when you’ve been abandoned. And abandonment comes in many ways, don’t you know.

Poor lake.

The forever winter.

I think I must be in my forever winter sometimes. I should be blooming and blossoming  in this second half of my life, reclaiming love.

Love?

Love!

Rebirth. The rebirth of life’s possibilities and all of the gloriously beautiful things spring embodies.

But sometimes, like right now, as the spring rain falls cold and I am alone, I think I must be in my forever winter.

Only one thing is true.

Nothing last forever.