Saturday, March 20, 2010

Week in Seven Words #7

buttery
A low-slung yellow moon. Daffodils in early evening light. The scent of hot buttered pretzels from the shop I walk past nearly every day.

haphazard
I had some sort of plan for the afternoon, but it gently derailed - I forget an address that I'm supposed to remember, confuse one building with another, sit in the cool shade beside two old men eating ice cream, spot a friend playing frisbee, listen to him then argue with another friend about love and sex and the meaning of it all (while the ice-cream eating men look on in amusement), hear an interesting talk signed by a deaf man (and spoken by an interpreter), and watch the sunset while sampling two flavors of lollipops.

impromptu
A last minute suggestion leads to a one-day trip. It's full of work, study, and difficult concepts to follow and grasp, but there's also that hour in the early afternoon spent taking a walk with someone I barely know (but get to know better), out in the sunny streets with the unpredictable architecture, and a small square (not green yet, but starting to show signs of green) where an outdoor band plays brassy music for an appreciative audience of passers-by.

nourishment
She goes out of her way to meet up with me; she brings me a homemade chicken sandwich and slices of orange. It's the first real meal I've had that day, and my headache starts to recede.

parallel
When he asks me if I'm paying attention to the conversation or just watching the birds battle it out over a scrap of food in the shrubs, I can honestly tell him that I'm doing both.

raisins
I find myself in possession of several boxes of raisins. And I do like raisins. They go on my oatmeal, in my yogurt, among chopped up fruits or salad greens, and embedded in my rice pudding.

unknot
On the other end of the phone he's scratching his head just like I'm scratching mine. And just by sitting and talking out the problem slowly and being befuddled together, we start to untangle some of it; we begin to pull apart the strands of this quandary.

3 comments:

Eberle said...

I am just delighted by these - and by how the reality you evoke of each week is profoundly different,so profoundly itself. Haphazard reminded me vividly of a certain kind of day that happens to me periodically - and one that would probably come around more often if I stopped exerting so much control over the hours of the day. Opening up to the possibilities of wandering is similar to opening up to the possibilities of words - there is an element of fear - some recurrent forgetting of how welcoming the unknown can be once you let it surround you?

I really couldn't say why, but this week's series seemed to me to vibrate with connections within it - it might be that I am learning the language of these more as I read. This made my day, and thanks. I know I'll be reflecting on this as I'm digging in the garden today.

Lucy said...

I always feel like I've stepped into a more highly coloured, differently vibrating universe with these, but one which might be just around the corner, if I could find a way...

HKatz said...

I really couldn't say why, but this week's series seemed to me to vibrate with connections within it
That's so perceptive. Some of the events are connected to others or embedded in others. I didn't intentionally make the connections stand out, so it's interesting to me that they nevertheless do so and can be perceived as connected.
And thank you for sharing your other reflections - they're wonderful. I love wandering, and yes, it needs to be surrendered to at first.

I always feel like I've stepped into a more highly coloured, differently vibrating universe with these
That's a high compliment from someone whose own blog is highly coloured and vibrant.
I first started these in large part because I wanted to be more observant and appreciative about everyday life, I also love words :)

Thank you both for taking the time to share your thoughts.