This is a young cedar tree in front of Sunnahae Mountain.
[daily log: walking, 4km]
The children argued and spun through the corridors. Outside the sun shone.
I went to work today.
It was the first time since I quit working at Karma last July that I’ve gone to work, or gone into a classroom.
The kindergarten teacher at Craig Elementary was sick. And it seemed like the normal person who does substitute teaching was also sick. She came and gave a bit of orientation, the first hour or so, and then left. And there was a teacher’s aide, who was essentially promoted to be the main teacher, and more or less knew what was going on. And I was the temporary teacher’s aide, along with some other helpers.
Spending 6 hours with kindergarteners is quite a bit of work. And I didn’t really know my way around the school – so it was orientation by fire. Typical in Korea, perhaps less typical in the US, but this is a small town, a small district… so I had actually somewhat assumed this is how it would go.
It was fun. I hope I made a good impression. Actually I feel confident I did fine with the kids – but they’re not the constituency I need to impress, rather, the other teachers. We shall see. I did manage at least to have learned the kids’ names by the end of the day. I felt positive about that. And I solved a three way power struggle between three girls who were fighting over a doll. I think the other teacher was somewhat surprised at my success, there – she had shrugged and said it seemed to be an unsolvable situation and was just intent on keeping them separate.
omphaloskeptic autobiographical communication
dots on the water ducks floating in formation and diving for snacks
A part of every day just writing: The sky is gray and raindrops hang; How is a life like this exciting? Oh wait, a bird unseen just sang. Unfinished tasks remain regretted; So forests' moods persist, abetted. And still a thought will come along: No fish will come; no time is wrong. Despairing then, perhaps I wondered... Preparing rows of trees or words On paper or on wings of birds- Exactly ten times, by a hundred- Momentous thoughts and aimless streams Suspend what's real. Behold the dreams.
I took a walk straight up the hillside (rather than along the road one way or the other). One walks much less distance – I prefer to call it “tromping” rather than walking. But it’s exhausting – pushing through undergrowth, climbing over giant fallen logs, squanching through muskeg and streams. Here’s a tree I saw.
[daily log: walking, 2km]
What I’m listening to right now.
ISA: Magic and song and the sound of a drum From the sea to the sky to the land Feel the sun on my skin I'm at one with the wind Elements in the palm of my hand (x2) Xiuhtezcatl: I feel this change, where has the magic gone I feel it less and less with each breath I draw No longer taste it in the water, or hear it in the wind It's fading like the music as the record stops spinning It's no longer in your eyes, hoping it's only in disguise Replaced by hunger for everything I despise Tipping the scales, we losing balance, we moving mountains Drillin the shale we're choosing profit we soak the canvas Taste the poison whenever the wind blows Wage war people suffering while we kill the planet I lost my innocence sooner than most Watching our world die something I couldn't control And I couldn't have known, that I'd never turn back Now what I carry is something that no one could understand My generation's losing sight of the magic I feel Plagued by insecurities, slit wrists, bottles of pills Forgot the beauty of life, tell yourselves you'd rather die Then use every time you fell as a step towards the sky I took all of my tears, I took all of my pain Turned it into poetry and lyrics that gave me my name With Every battle I fight And every song that I write Every time my ego collides with the passion inside Every star on the canvas every word every line Is in hope to restore magic I can no longer find ISA: Magic and song and the sound of a drum From the sea to the sky to the land Feel the sun on my skin I'm at one with the wind Elements in the palm of my hand (x2) TRU: It's all in the trees All in the wind Reaching the seas Washing my sins away Change within I feel I know myself But now these days are strange and nights are cold And people afraid to move forward Deliver the truth in your word When you grab the moment Grab the mic, they all gon' listen, homie Seeing the vision Slowly with consistence things prevail A Shovel and pail, I'm digging a well If you couldn't tell, I'm talking for real I know you feel, that's never a fail Only the pen You just need the peace It's all in-your G Just focus your Chi If we can just focus then we can control it Don't come from the lotus than I won't condone it Magic is secret, and mine's on the lowest My keys are sacred so I cannot show ‘em I'm growin' I'm glowin' I'm all the way (all the way) Up in the atmosphere far away (far away) Land that I walk on a part of me Master had once ripped my ancestor's hearts away So I love properly Magic in the motherland, I been havin' fun with then Elevating with my friends: Legacy I just hope that all these pages make it through the phases All these changes coming got me going crazy (crazy) Got to hold on to my magic that's what made me (x2) Can't you see that this is magic in the making Got to hold on to my magic that's what made me ISA: Magic and song and the sound of a drum From the sea to the sky to the land Feel the sun on my skin I'm at one with the wind Elements in the palm of my hand (x2) Xiuhtezcatl: This is your legacy, written in blood and dead magic You want it all, but you know that you can't have it All that you have was stolen from someone else From a future generation that's inheriting hell This is your legacy, written in tears and lost magic In pursuit of knowledge we've lost understanding You see great cities I see empires falling Our hearts encased in glass caskets of concrete We build machines that explore what the stars mean But nothing digital will ever match a heartbeat We take it back Repair a broken legacy Return this magic determine our own destiny
That maze of highways wound around points, demarcating geographies and perpetuating myths with a singular goal which is foreordained: to indicate where our deeds become words.
Here’s a surprising trivia fact I learned today:
My uncle Arthur still has a pilot’s license. Apparently this was considered somewhat disturbing by his GP in Juneau whom he saw this morning. Arthur’s justification is that a pilot’s license is meaningless if a doctor doesn’t sign off on the annual physical exam. Which is a valid point – no doctor would do that, given his incident from last summer. But it does seem odd. The State of Alaska never moved to suspend his driving privileges, either. So it’s just that the bureaucracy isn’t paying attention, I suppose. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Bits of time slip past unused and unusable: snow on the still beach
some snow on branches give the birds their new topic spring comes, stuttering
birds announce intentions in coded ways that might just reveal eligibility for springtime relationships with other birds known and unknown who might be lurking in nearby trees.