writing continues to be a difficult task for me. it is one of those counterintuitive things i keep running into. my Go game, for instance… much of what i have been learning lately has simply been correcting wrong thinking. wrong thinking made my intuitive responses seem correct, even though they are bad, and actually the opposite of what i should be doing. intuition steers me wrong when i have the wrong thinking behind it. seems theres a strange loop here that implies intuiton isn’t always what it seems. with writing, i think i have avoided it because it can be an emotional activity. one channels one’s thoughts into a slow and steady stream of symbols intended to express some kind of “internal” experience. and yet… is that how i think? how can i possibly express the totality of my complex of thoughts and emotions… it will be too hard, too emotional to attempt this act of writing. but thats the counterintuitive part. writing is a creative act that lets you form your world, your perception, lets you converse with yourself in a very specific way. instead of straying from the task, ‘avoiding excess emotional strain’, i should dive into it, helping myself emotionally, lightening the emotional load, and clearing my senses from numbness. mcluhan has a lot to say about numbness and media, but i don’t think i will go into it here… i’m already tricking myself away from the subject at hand… soon i’ll try a piece on creating/destroying ourselves with media
today is a snow day! a wonderful happenstance of nature and bureaucracy. i have a chance to try and extract some joy and calm from the day. i feel like this weather is very reflective of the mood i’ve been in, due to the events of the past few weeks. life has been wonderful, and full of good things, and yet it has been a sad time due to the death of my cat Genevieve. i buried her 5 days ago, on a beautiful warm and sunny day. i spent her last morning just holding her on my chest. after the vet came and she was gone, i laid her body in her favorite warm spot, the sun was shining in, i burned some sage for her and made a grave marker. in the afternoon i took her out to the school i work at, the only special place i could think of to lay her to rest. i inadvertently picked up two children on my way to the prairie, and we collected shovels from the barn. the earth was frozen, despite the warm day, and it was hard work opening the ground. the children were very interested in death and how i was processing it. i was glad to have them there, to help me honor my friend. later another child wanted to visit her grave with me, and asked if this was the saddest day of my life. i was struck by the scale of that question, for at 5 years old, i’m sure it would be easy to gauge the saddest day of your existence.
two days later, the rain started coming. a quiet, sad sunday had me standing outside in the rain, recording the sound of it coming through a drain pipe. i felt i had discovered a wonderful piece of music, created by nature, my grief for Genevieve bringing the rain that created this strange drum section hidden at the corner of my house. listening back to the recordings, i discovered a piece recorded the night she started her decline. the end of it was a roomful of people chanting/singing her name as she walked worried through the crowd. after the initial rain stopped, the clouds just hung low to the earth, saturating everything in a clinging mist. it feels like the earth is soaking it all up, with her inside it… and today it is covered in a blanket of snow. maybe i should go pay a visit. i miss her.