Cool breezes make me romantic. They curl around my arms like ribbons. They make me sleepy. They make me still. Passing from all parts, the wind that touched my thighs might have touched the hands of a boy in Oceania, and I can feel his wandering fingers. Sighing into the wind, it sighs back at me.
Lightly it tugs strands of my hair up and away from my face. How it plays around my face! And is the wind alone? Or are winds many? And do they stay connected by a common string, and is it strong when they flail about, furrowing and twisting in millions of different directions? And this soft breeze now... is its tail pulled by a tornado?
Soft, cool breeze. How you rush and flutter in rivets, in torrents, in storms. You are but a push of air in empty pockets of weather. But you enter in through my open window - and I opened it for you, welcoming, as I pulled back the shade - carrying with you the touch of hundreds of hands. You brush against my nose, my knees, my wrists, and I let you.
I let you in. You make me feel.
March 18, 2012
March 8, 2012
The Essential Goodness of Mankind: On New Orleans
In the midst of all my daily schtick, I had the happy treat of visiting New Orleans for the International English Honors Society Conference. How taken I was with that glorious place!
The narrow streets wind, each curve bringing vibrantly colored buildings, each with balconies lavishly decorated with leftover Mardi Gras beads. The silvery purples, vibrant greens, burning golds blending together to create a color that can only be known as New Orleans Fire. Each open door invites you in with a mingling of jazz, blues, rock n' roll. Wafting scents of sweet pralines tickle all the right taste buds. The seafood? Unreal. The po'boys? A standard. The beignets?! FORGET IT, you'll never taste anything like 'em. But it's the people, with their fantastic southern drawl and unabashed friendliness, that make New Orleans glow. Their pride and reverence for their city is truly addictive. Much like the streets, it winds, and suddenly it's in you and it's yours.
It's not a perfect city. And it's seen its share of pain and devastation. But my gosh, if I could admire it for nothing more than the strength of it's healing, that would be enough to make me love it forever. But it's also just so gosh-darn alive! The kind of alive that catches in the pit of your stomach as you chug down a trolley line to who knows what, the kind that races through you when you're standing on a tree stump at the edge of a swampy pond and the man a couple benches away starts playing a harmonica in the most beautifully unexpected way, the kind that manifests itself in the peaceful hum of a jazz tune playing as you peruse the bookshelves of a second-hand bookshop while the sun streams through the cracked second-story window. The kind of alive that makes you realize - suddenly and with great urgency - that you yourself are alive.
Two months left until a graduate. An estimated six months until I leave for Peace Corps. Lots to look forward to, but even more to enjoy in the present - and isn't that just a marvelous thing?!
Happy Living, all!
The narrow streets wind, each curve bringing vibrantly colored buildings, each with balconies lavishly decorated with leftover Mardi Gras beads. The silvery purples, vibrant greens, burning golds blending together to create a color that can only be known as New Orleans Fire. Each open door invites you in with a mingling of jazz, blues, rock n' roll. Wafting scents of sweet pralines tickle all the right taste buds. The seafood? Unreal. The po'boys? A standard. The beignets?! FORGET IT, you'll never taste anything like 'em. But it's the people, with their fantastic southern drawl and unabashed friendliness, that make New Orleans glow. Their pride and reverence for their city is truly addictive. Much like the streets, it winds, and suddenly it's in you and it's yours.
It's not a perfect city. And it's seen its share of pain and devastation. But my gosh, if I could admire it for nothing more than the strength of it's healing, that would be enough to make me love it forever. But it's also just so gosh-darn alive! The kind of alive that catches in the pit of your stomach as you chug down a trolley line to who knows what, the kind that races through you when you're standing on a tree stump at the edge of a swampy pond and the man a couple benches away starts playing a harmonica in the most beautifully unexpected way, the kind that manifests itself in the peaceful hum of a jazz tune playing as you peruse the bookshelves of a second-hand bookshop while the sun streams through the cracked second-story window. The kind of alive that makes you realize - suddenly and with great urgency - that you yourself are alive.
Two months left until a graduate. An estimated six months until I leave for Peace Corps. Lots to look forward to, but even more to enjoy in the present - and isn't that just a marvelous thing?!
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| On a marker near this spot: "This place of beauty and serenity is dedicated to my family and to the principle of the essential goodness of mankind." - Roger Houston Ogden |
Happy Living, all!
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