Aesop's Flowers

This morning, while doing my usual round of weeding and deadheading  (a task that makes me think of scenes from bloody British history or the French Revolution), the fable of the tortoise and the hare came to mind also. As a teacher and a parent, I have found myself referring to it to keep students and myself on track, and to remind my listeners, all aware that I might be sounding merely platitudinous, that the long term efforts will eventually bring success.  But the truth is always more complex; and this morning’s gardening forced me to face the fable's characters again. A crape myrtle tree has been in the garden for several years and each year it has grown a little and finally at the end of August, when all the other flowers are looking tired, it generally puts out a couple of stingy blooms; however, this year, it is for the first time covered and weighed down with magnificent plumes of flowers.  Clearly it has been following the tortoise plan and has been ignoring my exhortations (and curses) of the past years. On the other hand, I sit in amazement before the hibiscus bush, covered in plate sized eye-popping flowers; a mere two months ago, there were only tiny shoots as evidence of its life. I have to admire these blossoms today as tomorrow they will be limp and dull and supplanted by other eager blooms. These are the hares of the garden, fast and furious but soon wilted and lifeless. In truth, the garden and life has room for both. The slow and steady brings security and routine; but now and again we need our reckless day in the limelight, the time when things go right and we can radiate with success and enjoy our moment to bloom on center stage; and if others notice--that just adds to the pleasure!   

Confessions of a reluctant blogger

Confessions of a reluctant blogger

I am ready to start my blog – well, sort of; I’ve been meaning to start many times, but never made the commitment to hit the “publish” button that shares my writings with a larger audience. Why not?  I’ve often pondered but dismissed the question with the easy response – too busy..., nothing of importance to say. Recently, someone again asked me the question, and I couldn’t quite provide a substantial answer, so I promised I would think about it. 

A visit to the dentist’s chair provided the perfect opportunity. Lying still under a piercing light and anxious to distract myself from the tiny instruments and sounds of torture, I focused on the question. Was I following Baudelaire’s philosophy: “… giving the public details about oneself is a bourgeois temptation that I have always resisted.” Nothing held with quite that conviction; I love to write; I have notebooks filled with essays and reflections over the past 35 years about living in the States; my letter writing and notebook entries chronicle--for willing readers--the import I assign to fairly mundane events in my life. Writing for me is important to encapsulate and make sense of experiences.

So – why not blog? Are my thoughts coherent and logical? Yes – mostly! Have the recipients of my writings appreciated them? Yes.  So….  The dentist adjusted his light and, urged on by his sharp probe, I dug deeper for an answer. When I want to write and the thoughts flow – where do I go? My brain hummed along to the whirring and polishing of the dentist’s equipment, and the confession – almost too simple – came into focus. I just love paper. I love the texture of quality notepaper; I love to crack open a new notebook and write words on a blank page with a pencil that permits me to erase and rewrite, to shape and perfect. A new notebook speaks of new beginnings – of a chance to start over. In moments of indulgence, friends buy shoes or bags; me – I head for my favorite shop that indulges my need for a new journal, writing paper or even a new pencil or colored pens.

The light shifts again and the dentist hands me a mirror; as I inspect my smile, I realize that for me it’s a question of loyalty and identity:  I belong to and love the age of paper and I write primarily for me. My notebooks map my experiences and journey in life:  they reflect who I am.  And if I switch the medium and expand the audience, can I be true to my identity?  Will the topics lend themselves to free expression or will they be reworked and lose their sincerity? Can I share my thoughts between blog and paper? But there was no more time for my mental question and answer session as the very productive dental appointment was over.   But maybe it’s just time to write and find out!