from bird dreams, riding hope
The last time we talked on the
cell I told Mrs. Teale that it just dawned on me that, ‘Although I don’t know
how to conjugate it, joy is a verb. If I were in French or Spanish class the
teacher would have me list all the ways that joy can be expressed
grammatically. Here’s one example, ‘I am going to the wetland to joy.’
She
responded with ,”To joy means to love. Love is a liquid that pours into you.
Sometimes you see or hear the source and you put your being right under the joy
faucet so that you can fill up.”
I said, ‘Like chocolate fountains. But birds,
the wetlands, the waves on the beach. I drink them in all the time. When I was
Smiley I probably wasn’t aware that I was steeped in joy.’
“And
summer.”
‘I know.
I was lucky.’ Then we both paused.
‘Actually,
I was so lucky. So blessed. And now, you’ve got me, I’m here trying to
conjugate joy still woman!. OMG!’
Joy is a corridor too. A long-held, ancestral
trail, time honored.
So, I was
lousy at grammar. If you’re reading this, that truth might be evident. But I have
always been fascinated by verbs and grammar folks love to conjugate verbs. I
know that sounds racy. With the time I have, and where I am, a long time
outside of the nest, if I need to conjugate joy for all my various selves, I
can get to the wetlands, and after that, I’m not so sure. I can stay put, like
I often do and see joy rise as a heron lifts off the mud, or watch for the
surface sprinkles of the bait fish. How do I conjugate the joy I feel? One site
on the web notes that we conjugate the verb for each person. We have six
different persons in English. Who
knew?
If I’m
down, or downed, I can get all woozy bluesy or country corn trying to muster
something, to whip some energy up from the deep blues I got myself into. I’ll
tell myself to find my way back to Smiley. So, a few things about that. I know
something Smiley didn’t. She was in love with the beach and summer; watching
the guys play basketball, in that otherwise abandoned playground, in the hot
sun, riding her bike around Ocean Grove and up and down the streets gazing at all
the summer homes in Bradley Beach. When she got a little older, she found
Jacques Cousteau. She was in love with him. She wanted to be on the Calypso as
part of his crew. For Odysseus, who I
call the O man, Calypso was his captor. He wanted to go home, and it took the
gods intervening to convince Calypso to release him. For Cousteau, the Calypso
was his ship. His home was on the water.
I
sometimes think that for me, for all of us, who often pay it no never mind, we
all have our homes on the water. I mean, this is the watery planet. My smiles
come in waves. Sets. Riding joy, riding the waves. I tell myself it’s the same
good feeling the dragon’s get riding the dreams of birds.
Every way
that I can conjugate joy, is a good way. Oh, all right. A few guidelines. I
know we know these parameters but they bear repeating. Be kind. Don’t interfere
with any animal migrations. Respect their paths. Respect the elders who deserve
respect. Don’t do anything by rote. Be easy on the earth. Love all water, it is
our life and home. Every drop has a memory of blue whales. Find what you love.
Conjugate joy.
thanks for your
support
bird dreams,
riding hope
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