Ghosts of the Great Wall

 after Everything's Shiny - My Walk Along The Wall


Shoulder to shoulder
the men are bent 

bricking the inches

down the narrow ridge
that cleaves the earth
from azure heaven,
blind to the sky 

and the arrow-headed

peaks marching away
by giant zigzags into
the future of the Wall

over which they are
bent bricking – into
which they are inching.  

I'm in Love With...Wayne Rooney?

Its not something I do often, but today I watched the soccer game between Manchester United and Arsenal. Outside, Tropical Storm Irene was winding down, and I was in a relaxed free-floating state that somehow allowed this game to draw me in. What really got my attention first though, was not the game, but a word.

Manchester United was already two goals up when the announcer remarked that "the organization of the Arsenal back line has been shambolic". Shambolic? I got the meaning - in shambles, but I'd never heard the word before.
It was juicy, it was derisive, it was rambunctious - and he practically spat it out. I had a British co-worker who often used the word ' bollocks' (nonsense, rubbish) - that connotation came careening at me too, as did shame, bullshit, along with, yes, shambles.

The announcer would use the word at least two more times during the course of the game as Man U broadened its already commanding lead to 8-2. Arsenal truly was in shambles and Manchester United was a beautiful picture of precision, unison and heart. The young Danny Wellbeck, who I've seen perform extremely well in the last few games, delivered two goals before he pulled up with a hamstring injury. Nani -who came out a little selfishly at the start, recovered to produce a nice chip into the goal at close range right over the keeper's head. Ashley Young deposited two flawless goals high into the corners, and Jay Sung Park wowed himself and South Koreans everywhere by sinking one in as well. And then, there was Wayne Rooney.

I think hardcore soccer fans would have a much better analysis of this than I ever could, but I swear something has happened to Wayne Rooney. Obviously, he has matured from a talented hot-headed kid into the current captain of the Man U team. But looking at his face and demeanor, I think something much more fundamental has changed in this man. In the yoga tradition that I follow, it is believed that when one's energy changes, so does one's physicality, especially one's face and 'eye-light'. As I sat watching him play, I was more and more drawn in by him. When he scored ( two free kicks and one penalty) he was like a child. No bravado, no chest thumping as before, just unbridled shining joy. Not shambolic, more like Shambhala. I do believe I fell in love.

Love Song Before The Storm

We are bracing ourselves for Hurricane Irene.
Hurricanes are very unusual this far north - but hey, an earthquake on Wednesday, a hurricane on Saturday - this is New Yawk, we can handle it! The only hurricane I ever experienced was Alma in 1974 back in Trinidad when I was only 10 years old. Trinidad lies at the southernmost edge of the hurricane belt, almost outside it - so we don't often get large storms. I was excited and a little scared...but more excited. She lasted only a few hours, but I remember the fierce beauty of Alma, her ebullience, her magnificent gray brightness,and the peculiar sound of the air - a kind of emptiness and spaciousness that was less like a sound and more like a feeling. 

When the winds stopped and the eye of the storm was directly over us, we came outside into the steely light. The sky and the whole world was glowing - and again, spacious is the only word that fits. Its as though the storm had cleared away everything - not physically but in some otherworldly way. We saw bits of paper flying high in the sky and marveled at what big pieces of paper they were, and where did they come from, Dad? Of course it was not paper, but sheets of zinc roofing that were caught up in the air. Alma took two lives in Trinidad that day ( plus 49 souls were lost in a plane crash in Venezuela). Alma also took out a large tree in the park that lay behind our house - which subsequently became a giant see-saw for the neighborhood children. This is the first of several trees I can recall 'losing' - none of which belonged to me, but all of which were properly mine.

This evening, after putting the chairs and umbrella into the basement, I came back up to the patio to take pictures of the moon-flower vine in spectacular bloom - 10 flowers at once. It may not survive the storm, and I'm not sure I can move it, entwined as it is on the patio railing. So the best I can do is sing a little love song to this beautiful flower which blooms in the evening - a taut pale green five-pointed star spreading its soft white petals open almost as wide as my hand, a soft jasmine-like scent coming from its heart. The point is, I have done it. I have made my own magic and I have enjoyed it immensely.

Come on Irene.     

                                                                                                                         

In The Neighborhood

Seashell Villa, Tobago

I spent most of July away from New York. Two trips to Trinidad, one sailing to Tobago and a zip down to Arkansas. Six flights, two ferry rides.
I went back to Trinidad for my thirtieth high school reunion (the number is marginally less jolting if I spell it out) and met up with about 50 of my previous classmates. To put this in perspective, the actual Holy Name Convent Class of 1981 comprised 120 girls, give or take.
The first couple of days were spent with my cousin and our three children in Tobago at Seashell Villa. We returned to Trinidad in a squall, which gave the entry into Port of Spain a special kind of charm. As it cleared, the mountains were shrouded in low hanging clouds, the sky was grey and the island - deeply green.

The reunion events were spread out over four days - comprising a beach 'lime' or hangout, an evening at a nightclub, a church service and a brunch. Quite a few teachers showed up to the church service including our long-retired school principal Sister Bernadette, who is now in her nineties, and the vice principal Sister Helen. We sang the school song, our graduation song (composed by one of our classmates) as well as some of the songs we used to sing (or lip sync) regularly at morning assembly. The service was held at 6pm - the school chapel suffused with the soft light of sunset, the sky streaked pink and orange.  For me, it was a beautiful, restful hour - and having my son with me made it especially meaningful. It is true that these girls, (now women) even the ones I hardly spoke to - gave me a gift: being part of the landscape of my life.

 in Tobago

 A few people remarked that I was 'much quieter than they remembered'. I found that really interesting as one of my agendas for the trip was to be more sociable and a little more outgoing.
I'd say I was pretty quiet at school, not a part of any one group, a drifter in terms of my connections with others, but very capable of clowning around if the mood took me.

At Fort George, Port of Spain

I took up yoga shortly after our last reunion about 10 years ago, and maybe that accounts for part of the change, but I have always been an observer, and seem to have become even more so. The next reunion ( a cruise) is tentatively scheduled for 2014, when we will all be fifty, or in the neighborhood.

Holy Name Convent, Class of '81, in 2011

Center back row - yours truly.

The Goodbye

 The goodbye you will never hear

like the hello you never heard

and all the words between me

and the echo I hoped was you

are in a room - the door to which 

has been closed but is still closing;

in my mind the closing is slowed:

the slow is the hello of who, the echo

the echo of empty - the room closed,

the hope of you and all the words.

                           - Lorraine Robain

 Photo:mine, moon flower

A Thousand Words

     

 
Pictures mine: Canon EOS 50D                                        

Coming Around

Moon flower

 When I last wrote about fences, I was bemoaning the fact that 'shared things' aren't always able to be truly shared... that they cannot be all things to all people at all times. I suppose nothing can.

I was frustrated about my neighbor's low tolerance for my beloved potato vine - which is a vigorous climber, twirler and overall hanger-on to anything offering the slightest invitation to its tendrils.

I am vigilant now about the potato vine, keeping the fence clear of it. Besides, it's a little difficult to truly enjoy something when that enjoyment contributes to another person's discomfort. I tried transplanting it, but it did not catch on in the new location. I did however, germinate some moon flower seeds. Moon flower is another climbing vine which yields huge white trumpet flowers six inches across - and these I have planted at another location away from any fence, training it instead onto the railing of the stairs which lead from my back patio down to the backyard. This whole exercise was very satisfying.

Cucumber

I tried my hand at cucumbers this summer- which was a rousing success. Interestingly enough, I used the same problematic fence to train the cucumber vine with nary a peep from my neighbor on the left. I also added basil to the mix, (ridiculously easy to grow) and thyme (which I found to be bit shy). Next year I plan to expand the vegetable garden, adding lettuce; and I also want to grow more herbs - as much for their fantastic aroma as for seasoning and garnishing. I do owe my neighbor on the right a shout-out for pushing me to grow more food rather than just ornamental plants. In the garden, almost everything is a hot mess right now: the hydrangeas are burnt to a crisp, hosta leaves are fried, and the ferns are curling. Mindful of the use of water, I've put the tomatoes, cucumbers and basil at the top of the thirst triage. I have also been giving preference to the moon flower (another heavy drinker) just because I wanted to see it perform - which it did.

                                                                                  
Adding to my joy this summer was the resurrection of a spider orchid which I rescued from my office.
When I took it home, I didn't have much hope for it, but after a few weeks in a shady spot it has three new shoots and I am hoping for a flower bract before the summer is out.

Spider orchid

Basil