Ode The Basement Floor [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Ode to the basement floor.

Though little acknowledged and less appreciated, you carry without comment the brunt of the load. When water runs where it ought not run, you, master of the Tao, let it flow, knowing the drains in your design will surely win the day. Or not. No matter. What happens will happen and we will make stories with either result, never once mentioning your stalwart participation, unseen support in every storm.

The washer jumps, the dryer rolls, the boxes stack, the shelves stand guard, you accommodate and hold space for all.

Sometimes I stand on you, toes a-wriggling, lost in thought, or wrinkle-brow-perplexed, all the while missing the wise message of patience you proffer. “Stand long enough,” you suggest but do not say, “and everything will look different. Or the same.” Were I to ask – and you to answer – you might imply that my paint and carpet solutions are surface remedies merely. Perhaps I should consider lasting and deeper alternatives?

We rearrange. We are cleaning out. We see more of you than before! Yet increasingly exposed and in full reveal you do not attempt to hide your age as we might. As we do. Your pocks and chips and scratches galore the proud chronicle of your era.

“Tread on me” your flag must wave, as we step and stride and dance and tramp and plod and stomp, fulfilling your purpose with our every footfall. I wonder, as I carry a load to the stairs, do you mind or even note that I am lost in the cause of singing your praises?

[this post comes to you without the assistance of mind altering drugs of any kind. Just sayin’]

Create Something [on DR Thursday]

“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut

I’m on a Vonnegut bender. Lately, I’ve fallen into his quotes and I think I’m about to re-read everything he wrote. Standing on the threshold of synesthesia, he submitted his master’s thesis in anthropology on the shapes of stories. It was rejected by “the committee” as being too simplistic, but embraced by the world after he achieved success as a writer. The man was as witty as Quinn and a definite stander-on-the-margins of society, reflecting back both its beauty and brutality.

Trapped in the amber of the moment. Gorgeous. And, standing at the center of the moment, all the explanations necessarily fall away. There is no “why” because there is no separation, no other place to be or person to become. The committee would reject the notion outright since committees are dedicated to explanations and justifications. The elevation of one idea above another. The writer, the artist, serves a different master. “Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake.” Yes, another Vonnegut quote. Create something. Soul growth rather than reasoning.

At the center of the moment there is no why. There is no space for puzzling-it-out. There is simply this: a rousing and rowdy “why not!” Blue sky. Tall grasses dancing. Feel it. All of it. No single explanation can possibly contain it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GRASSES AND SKY

prayer of opposite © 2004 david robinson