Green and yellow Summer

What I would give for a little bit of Summertime.

Me and the moon, she said.

I'm sitting on my porch. It's 3:45 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, and I just got off work. It's warm, but the humidity left with last night's rainclouds, so there is only a pleasant breeze and crisp rays of sunshine through the full green leaves that cover Washington Street. Someone down the road is playing "Do You Love Me?" on the radio and the song is so appropriate for a lazy summer Sunday.

Last evening Spencer and I watched the end of Frost Nixon. The movie failed to stimulate my thinking, and I spent most of my time silently criticizing Frank Langella's acting. Good idea for a story, but I think the best Nixon/Watergate movie will always be All The President's Men.

When the movie ended we video chatted with Jersey, Rick and Nick Vandermolen and we all decided we'd go bowling. Nevermind that it was almost midnight. It was Nick's last night in town and none of us had done much of anything all day. So we went. Upon leaving the house, I stopped dead in my tracks to stare at the half moon. It was glowing like a night light in the darkest of all bedroom corners. Its rays were like a shower of spiritual renewal for my neglected body, its limbs flimsy and burdened by empty activity, its skin sticky with sweat from a day's work at a stingy breakfast joint. I stepped out into the glow of the moonlight and I could feel - physically feel - my soul lighting up, juicing up, charging again after days of running on low batteries. I stood there, my arms stretched out at my sides, and I sighed. Behind me, thunder clouds lingered, invisible in the darkness except when illuminated by lightening.

I wish more things made me feel so alive as a clear night sky. I feel small and huge, insignificant and diminished, giant and invicible all at the same time. I heard someone say once that through meditation, they achieved a state of consciousness that made them feel as though the world is in harmony, that we are all one living being, and the only thing that matters is this moment. That's what the night sky does to me. It brings me back to home base. It gives me stable ground to stand on and observe from. It clarifies everything for me. And the moon, with her milky rays, reaches down and soaks up all heaviness in me and absorbs it into her silk skin. She leaves me like a fresh pearl. She leaves me like a newborn baby.

Roots and bobcats.

We went Bobcatting tonight. Bobcatting is tradition. We've been doing it since my freshman year, at least. It's when we drive to Brown County to watch the sunset, run around in the woods and have a blast. Sometimes we get yelled at by passerbys. Tonight, the chosen phrase was, "White power!" They yelled it twice. That's all it took to remind me that Bloomington is still part of southern Indiana, and if you leave the city, you're in unfamiliar waters. Dangerous waters.

Today I also started my volunteer work at the community garden. I spent two hours turning soil, raking and planting grass. It was nice to be somewhere new, doing new things, meeting new people. The weather was fantastic for digging in the dirt.
My plants here at home are surviving quite nicely. I'm growing basil, tomatoes, aloe, sage, chamomile and a number of other things. I love watching them poke their little green heads out of the dark, damp dirt. All I can do is encourage them to keep growing (and I do so, audibly). People must think I'm a little nuts, with all the time I spend on my back porch, peering into the pots, obsessing over temperature and sunlight. It started pouring a few days ago while I was at work and all I could think about was how my plants were surely drowning. Silly.

Also, I cut a few pieces of spearmint out of the giant batch that grows in Spencer's yard. I brought them home and put them in water and a few weeks later, they've begun to grow roots. They're reaching out, adapting, making it work. Soon I'll plant them and they will have survived.

If you wait long enough, you'll grow roots anywhere.

Salsa and such.

It's 7:03 a.m. and I have to leave for work in 10 minutes. But, I wanted to write about my Friday, as it was fantastic for several reasons. First, it was almost 80 degrees and sunny, which brightens anyone's mood. Second, I had the day off and I got to sleep in. Around 10 a.m. I met a Tajik man for coffee at Starbucks. I had to interview him for a class I'm taking. He talked all about Tajikistan, the issues it faces, the people there, the troubles in Afghanistan and the surrounding countries. If he said anything that stuck, it was, "When you hear of the trouble in the middle east, always remember that it's not religion, it's politics." He is disgusted by the way people are using Islam as an excuse to do harm. He became visible angry when the topic came up. The two hour conversation was enlightening, and it encouraged me to travel.

Last night we stumbled upon a Turkish dance party where I learned to salsa and we mingled with new people and new music. It was fantastic. Blaine was in town for one last hoorah before he ships out to Iraq. And we spent most of the day frisbee gofling.

Really, I don't know how it could have been a better day.

Now I'm off to the Deli and I will no doubt be paying for yesterday with homework today. But, that's alright. Sometimes all you need is a day off.