so, in another blink, about a week has passed since my last posting. in that time, the entire covid-19 thing has gotten increasingly serious (or rather, the state response has). we are now in shelter-in-place mode, and all nonessential businesses have closed up. that includes lynn's store, and, for that matter, most stores, aside from perhaps those selling groceries, or things like hardware and auto supplies. as far as school is concerned, we were supposed to be "working," but aside from constructing a packet for each of my students, there hasn't been all that much to do. i've tried to keep myself busy by doing yardwork, but the weather really hasn't been cooperating. actually, for two weeks now, we've been having truly dismal weather: a lot of wind, and a lot of rain. i've managed to set up the aquaponics system better. now, we actually have three motors pumping out of three fish tanks, and four grow beds (one of the fish tanks serves two grow beds). i don't have anything to plant in the third grow bed yet (the one from my classroom), but i hope to plant the zucchinis i managed to sprout from seed.
i had an insight of sorts (but of course all of these "insights" that i get are probably pretty temporary). it happened while i was weeding the yard. i must tell you that weeding my yard is an eternal, interminable task (one might also call it a chore). in the face of that task, i usually adopt a very scattered approach. that is, instead of focusing and directing my efforts on specific tasks, i tend to wander around the yard, doing my kwai chang thing by solving little problems everywhere i go. some might say it's not particularly productive, and it doesn't "accomplish" anything, but i think that that's part of the game here. from my experience, there's a cost of guilt whenever i push too hard at something. i don't know if guilt is exactly the right word for it, but that's how it feels. it's as though i were constructing a fiction by setting up this goal that i'm trying to accomplish, and the more i work at it, the more it seems that the fictitious nature (the "lying") just gets to me. it fills me with recriminations (although these originate, probably, from myself).
anyway, back to the insight. i started hearing the voices of neil gaiman and margaret atwood, voices of experienced writers, who said, among other things, that finishing things was essential. and that's when, aside from my scattered efforts, i made a decision to "stick to it." yes, i wasn't targeting anything specific, but i had committed myself to the task of cleaning up the yard, and didn't just back off when i encountered obstacles. instead, i kept moving on to the next task and the next task, and i eventually wore things down, like water eroding something hard and solid... i also started working on the nanowrimo website, and began writing for 1 hour every night. and because i had decided to write some of my short stories as plays, i had an easier time of it. i no longer got hung up in describing the setting or articulating the inner thoughts and motivations of characters. i just focused on dialogue and action. things seemed to move a lot better, and i was actually able to finish (of course "finish" is subjective and relative) "the backwards carp." now, i'm attacking the "kappa noodle" story, and i hope to finish it sometime soon.
Friday, March 27, 2020
Saturday, March 21, 2020
3/21/2020
in a flash, almost two months have passed. i have been very busy, with a lot of robotics things and a lot of other extracurricular activities, all with disappointing endings (but then again, success in those ventures wouldn't have gone far, considering the extent of the corona-virus closures). i also had a lot of iep things to take care of. life, for a time, was all about surviving until the next day. i dropped all of my routines, and sort of drifted zombie-like through each successive day.
it was with great reluctance that i started my routines again. i think i drifted through the first week of spring break (actually, it is the only week of spring break; but the virus has made a mess of things, and extended our time off). i slept a lot. i played minecraft a lot. i think i was seeking something of the past, that feeling i once had when the three of us, aiden, willow, and i, would play minecraft in survival mode. we would create a house together, and venture forth into the wilderness together. i believe the kids remembered that time fondly; at least, it seemed so, and the fact that they were all willing to do it was a sign of that fondness.
after a time, it seemed pointless. we each were independent now, and could create our own houses, and survive without significant assistance. sure, we helped each other out. any supplies that we had, we shared with one another. but we no longer needed to be "together." even aiden, who, in the past, would venture out alone and get lost and get killed; well, he still followed a similar pattern, but unlike before, he could manage on his own, and this time, he would discover significant things for himself, like villages, or how to cultivate bees. it is both reassuring and sad at the same time to discover that your children no longer need you.
*****
some nights i would wake up and feel as though i were drowning. it is a real fear for me. not literal drowning, but this kind of existential drowning, where you lose your self in the shapes and forms of others. i don't really know how to describe it, but when i wake from those half-dreams, bleary-eyed, i feel terrified. i mumble to my wife about how i love her, and then stalk off to the sofa in the other room, where i talk to god or to my grandmother about my concerns.
in one of my acupoints classes (a recent one), i babbled about the wood element. i said something about how the nature of wood is to grow towards the light. i also mentioned the two forms of imbalance of wood. wood excess involved believing in one's individual perspective so much that it canceled out or negated the perspectives of others. wood deficiency, on the other hand, involved an inability to take or defend one's own perspective, always kowtowing to the perspectives of others.
in one of my early morning panic attacks, i recalled that i had said that, and that i had actually been talking about myself. only, it was not simply a matter of defending one's own perspective, but involved not being able to see through my own eyes. it meant not being able to identify what my own perspective was. i don't know what i feel about much of anything... and in that sense, i am like a plant, frustrated by the inability to see, much less grow towards, the light, and afraid of getting smothered by the others around me.
come to think of it, my obsession with my yardwork has involved saving a fruit tree from being smothered by vines. i have pulled the vines from their tangled mess on the foliage and branches of the fruit tree. i have weeded their prolific roots from the hard, detritus-filled ground. all of my efforts (largely in vain when i really think about it) were to liberate and clear space for this one tree...
when i think of gardening, and i think of life, there is a sense of despair within me. none of my efforts ever seem to get to "light", to this feeling of openness and accomplishment. i always move "gentle," because there are so many bears stalking around me. if i am too active or pushy in one direction, i will offend something within me, and there will be this resultant guilt that consumes me. i am therefore always being gentle, but never getting anywhere. but then again, is any accomplishment ever permanent?
it was with great reluctance that i started my routines again. i think i drifted through the first week of spring break (actually, it is the only week of spring break; but the virus has made a mess of things, and extended our time off). i slept a lot. i played minecraft a lot. i think i was seeking something of the past, that feeling i once had when the three of us, aiden, willow, and i, would play minecraft in survival mode. we would create a house together, and venture forth into the wilderness together. i believe the kids remembered that time fondly; at least, it seemed so, and the fact that they were all willing to do it was a sign of that fondness.
after a time, it seemed pointless. we each were independent now, and could create our own houses, and survive without significant assistance. sure, we helped each other out. any supplies that we had, we shared with one another. but we no longer needed to be "together." even aiden, who, in the past, would venture out alone and get lost and get killed; well, he still followed a similar pattern, but unlike before, he could manage on his own, and this time, he would discover significant things for himself, like villages, or how to cultivate bees. it is both reassuring and sad at the same time to discover that your children no longer need you.
*****
some nights i would wake up and feel as though i were drowning. it is a real fear for me. not literal drowning, but this kind of existential drowning, where you lose your self in the shapes and forms of others. i don't really know how to describe it, but when i wake from those half-dreams, bleary-eyed, i feel terrified. i mumble to my wife about how i love her, and then stalk off to the sofa in the other room, where i talk to god or to my grandmother about my concerns.
in one of my acupoints classes (a recent one), i babbled about the wood element. i said something about how the nature of wood is to grow towards the light. i also mentioned the two forms of imbalance of wood. wood excess involved believing in one's individual perspective so much that it canceled out or negated the perspectives of others. wood deficiency, on the other hand, involved an inability to take or defend one's own perspective, always kowtowing to the perspectives of others.
in one of my early morning panic attacks, i recalled that i had said that, and that i had actually been talking about myself. only, it was not simply a matter of defending one's own perspective, but involved not being able to see through my own eyes. it meant not being able to identify what my own perspective was. i don't know what i feel about much of anything... and in that sense, i am like a plant, frustrated by the inability to see, much less grow towards, the light, and afraid of getting smothered by the others around me.
come to think of it, my obsession with my yardwork has involved saving a fruit tree from being smothered by vines. i have pulled the vines from their tangled mess on the foliage and branches of the fruit tree. i have weeded their prolific roots from the hard, detritus-filled ground. all of my efforts (largely in vain when i really think about it) were to liberate and clear space for this one tree...
when i think of gardening, and i think of life, there is a sense of despair within me. none of my efforts ever seem to get to "light", to this feeling of openness and accomplishment. i always move "gentle," because there are so many bears stalking around me. if i am too active or pushy in one direction, i will offend something within me, and there will be this resultant guilt that consumes me. i am therefore always being gentle, but never getting anywhere. but then again, is any accomplishment ever permanent?
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