50 Things: #s 11-15

Here we go again. It's been a hideously long week, one of those during which it was interminably hard to focus on the good stuff. This is such a deliberate action: writing down everything I have to be glad & thankful for, instead of just 'intending' to do so...

11. Refusing to take someone or something for granted. I think we're all guilty of it sometimes: steamrolling our way through a relationship or experience, then ending up on the other side realising we didn't live it to the fullest, simply because we assumed it would "always be there". Or that, whatever it was, it would continue to operate on maximum output without receiving anything in return, a photosynthesis of the interactive world, where one entity is capable of "making its own food", so to speak. But it feels incredible to lift someone else's spirits by reminding them of how important they are to you, how their presence in your life is a boon & a privilege; it feels liberating & symbiotic to return energy & nutrition to something else you love: nature, a community you're a part of, the communal conscious of a cause or goal. Remembering every day that what surrounds you is NOT a given, & treating it accordingly, is so, so important...& so appreciated by what's giving of itself to you.

12. Reading a book. Also, smelling it. I'm a weird kid. I smell things. Flowers. Apples. Sometimes people. Reading a book, for me, is based fundamentally in tactility: the sensation of pages between your fingers, the curious ways in which paper takes on its own life, yellowing, fading or feathering at the edges. I do not care for new books. They smell like sitting on a freshly-disinfected & papered doctor's exam table feels: crinkly, awkward & cold. Old books are rad. When I buy (yes, buy), inherit, or find a new-old book, I am first entranced by the sensation of legacy that goes with each one-I always snoop around & try to find old notes, inscriptions, dedications: to think-I'm going to be reading something gifted to someone by a loved one. Because that's what reading is, now, isn't it? A gift. Back in the day, this kind of readily-available dissemination of information, the wild import of recorded history & human cultural exchange, was unthinkable. Now, I can read whatever I want (well, OK...that's another debate about the transparency of the world's media & censorship, etc...), whenever I want, however I want. It's interpretable, accessible & at my fingertips. Say what you will, but I would rather huck 3 volumes of Collected Works-authors interchangable, take your pick-than stare at the screen of a Kindle, or whatever you call it. Books are sacred objects, in far more senses than one.

13. Road tripping. I know, I know. That's such an antithetical thing to say. I'm a bad hippie, & I know it. But I love road trips. It doesn't even have to be by car. I also adore public transport while in another country, or just traveling in general. There's something timeless about packing a car with gear, snacks, mix CDs & curiousity & setting off to see exactly how far you can get before you HAVE to stop. Something ambitious & exhilirating, although simultaneously frightening, about wondering if you got on the right train & are ACTUALLY headed to Lille, France, or Lodz, Poland, or wherever. Yes, yes, yes. Fossil fuels. Twisty, turny, morally-reprehensible associations with big oil, etc. Pollution. Good hippies don't drive, they thumb it. I'm aware. But once a year, or once every 6 months or so, I get the urge to throw a bunch of stuff in a pack, strap in & just go...as much for the sake of the getting there as to see where I can go.

14. Foraging. It's how I was raised: to seek out the stuff in the woods that's tasty, medicinal, & there for the taking, & take it. Not just a subsistence living skill, it's a lifestyle. It satisfies the survivalist & medicine warrior, the woodsman & the apothecary, all at once; to work for one's food & concoct one's own remedies takes us back to digging our soles into wet ground, to a place & time when, because they were so necessary, these things became an art. Now, I forage dwarf huckleberry, salmonberry, & miner's lettuce. Wild ginger. Mint. Granted, I'm not making miracle cures with these things-I'm simply using what I've read & know about plant lore & traditional use, or experimenting with what happens when berries are cooked down with sugar. It's a constant reminder of my connection to not just "food", but ecosystems, seasonal patterns & flora. That, & I really don't mind not having to pay for jam, tea, & salad greens. It's $10 I can spend on, oh, old books instead...

15. The first cup of coffee. It's 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday right now. Silly mortals. This one needs no explanation.