hands to work
November 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
i am waiting, like always. (to be single is to never wait, i think. [i cannot complain at all.])
i watched a documentary on shakers and have found the vocabulary for the restlessness. but i have always hated hard work, and so what’s left? a chair is more than a chair–it opens the divine on earth.
this, right here in my own spinny black nylony plastic chair. not far is the last bit of nature in the world: an indoor plant i bought in 2005 from ikea. i do not know the species, and it almost died until i gave it to my mother and she put it in the light. i had a green theme in my dorm room, my unshakeable fear that the color in the world was fading.
i want to be the kind who sees god in every detail. and also not shunned by society.
today we talked about the open boat and to build a fire, so of course there’s all the you should stop texting while driving because you are not in control of anything at all, and the universe doesn’t care about you with the subtext of and neither does god. is god the same as nature? i want to ask them, but they are texting.
18 year olds, you are not special. i found an index card on the ground at school, with sloppy but sincere notes on adolescent psychology. to be young is to think you are invincible. i do not remember that, but i do remember losing scope easily–this was big, this was small–and being consistently wrong in my sureness.
18 year olds, you are not special. you are as random and hopelessly spontaneous as the deformed yellow leaves on my nameless sun-starved plant. there is more care and perfection in a quality pine chair.