Sunday, March 23, 2008

In the dream last night I was in an airport with J. We were catching an international flight, and as we wove through the concrete and open air check-in area of the airport, I had trouble pulling my suitcase and juggling my bags. When we got to the gate, I realized I didn't have my passport and J said not to worry about it and that she would get me in. The way in was red carpeted and sort of curved like walking into a large silver snail shell. Just as I was about to enter the silver tunnel, my bag spilled and all of these objects -- tiny things that I'd collected over the years -- scattered onto the floor. I tried to gather them up, but I knew the gates were closing. I kept wondering if I should continue to collect everything or leave some of it behind so I could get on the plane. I didn't have time to sort the objects or to make decisions about what I would keep and what I might throw away, so I kept picking things up and trying to get it all in the bag. J came out of the plane, which was like a large living room with curved couches and red carpet, and said c'mon we are leaving. And so I stood up and to enter and then the silver door closed and through a window I could see J in front of another closed silver door. We were both on the outside. J banged on the door to let us in but nobody heard her. I felt bad; not only had I missed the plane, but I'd caused J to miss it too.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Equinox

sun paths






















map of military spending

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Thursday, March 13, 2008

escape

Last night I dreamed that K and I were walking through a garden. It was lovely. When I went outside today, the sun was beaming and there was a sheer cool wind. I noticed the tops of the trees blowing as I drove down the highway. The ocean was etched with whitecaps. At the bird center, all was quiet when I arrived. The dogs were still inside. In the little weathered wood shed, which is sort of like a little bird hospital, there were two grebes. They make a noise that reminds me of the "beep-beep" the roadrunner makes. Also, there was a dead cormorant. Later, J told me that a couple from the university brought it in. They reported that boys -- not little boys, but college students -- were throwing rocks at it.

There are times when I am acutely aware of the potential for violence that young men possess. I live on the edge of Isla Vista, and on Friday nights when I ride my bike back from the beach and through the dusky neighborhood, I can't help but imagine the insides of the houses where all the windows are lined with bottles -- trophies of alcohol consumption. The smell of beer is thick, and in the yards, young boys without shorts catcall the ponytailed joggers and cyclists. I imagine these are the same boys who, at the end of the year, throw their sofas and trash in the ocean. These boys make me feel worried about sexual assault.

The cormorant was green and brown and iridescent. I touched the feathers before I went to the pond. I usually tend to the aviaries first, and today I seeded and watered all four stalls before beginning to wash the area down. I had the hose in my hand when I noticed, on the flagstone bordering the aviaries, four white doves. The door had been blown open by the wind. The aviary holds about twenty birds, so I was relieved that I only had to recover four. Two were easily herded back in, but I had to chase the other two. When I finally caught the last one, she cooed and cooed. I could feel the vibration in her chest -- the coos and the flicker of her heart -- in my hand. It was as though the sudden expanse of the outdoors had frightened her. I stroked her feathers and put her back inside.

Later, after almost all the chores were done, I noticed that the gray and white bunnies had wandered out of their enclosure. Their gate had blown open also. I dropped the fish I was carrying and hurried; an escaped rabbit is difficult to catch. I reached them quickly enough to herd them back into the pen. When I closed the gate, they sniffed it and pawed at the ground beneath it. Last year, one of J's bunnies escaped and became a "wild" bunny, but he still lived in the yard. J still fed him and occasionally we would catch sight of him in the bushes. But then a hawk tried to lift him out of the field adjacent to J's. The hawk dropped the bunny, and when the bunny fell he injured his spine. For two weeks, his neck was twisted and he barely moved. I thought he would have to euthanized. But he recovered. Now he lives in a hutch again, but he hops and nibbles and is safe from hawks.

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Last night I dreamed that a new friend gave me a beautiful sweater. It was very colorful and very fuzzy and very warm. I think the point of this dream is to be aware of comfort -- to be aware that even in the midst of loss, there is the miracle that someone will try and will be able to offer comfort.
is this real?