Contemplation and Canoes

Pushing my paddle against the ridge, I lean forward until my vessel leaves the land. My craft is floating, steered toward the stillness of the early morn. As I cut right, the sun wakes, and with its rays rise hazy clouds. The white mist trickling in captures colors, leaving streaks of orange and yellows across my view.

A breeze blows by. The wind catches against my skin as it passes, tugging at my clothing and hair until it’s free. Then it races on, to dodge through mazes of leaves and branches.

Morning is brightening now, the sun lifting higher and spreading further into the shadows. Specks of starlight twinkle ahead, trapped by the day and resting lightly on the silent plane of silver. I break the glass with my motion, scattering shards as my paddle propels me onward. Even gliding smoothly, I can’t help but rustle the image of this mirror. The folds ripple out and startle the tiny stars, which shiver and sparkle in the wake. A slap rings out across the way, as something tries to break free from beneath the glass. In a moment, everything is quiet again. The mirror evens itself out and all is pristine once more.

I pause when I see land before me, the shore of a floating island visible in the distance. Like a disk bulging on both sides, the ground of this island rises roundly to meet the line of trees reaching for the sky. At a similar angle, the dirt sinks toward the trunks which support the upside-down branches below. What is above is perfectly mimicked in what lies underneath, so that this earth-bound Laputa finds its balance in its matching sides.

The glass around the island ripples; the ground must be pressing forward. I note the mirror sits perfectly centered, cutting horizontally across this ship of land. The island hangs beneath the glass as much as it rises above; half the trees set in the air while the rest are trapped in the deep, in the darkness around. This piece of earth stretches in all directions, seeking out all at once the secrets of both the heights and depths. As it travels onward, what can be hidden from its net? The mirror is unmasked for these trees and rocks, for Laputa digs deep beneath the reflected image. The island travels through both light and dark.  I, on the other hand, merely drift along the surface, slipping by unnoticed.

Parchment Deserts

  (A bit of paint chip poetry)                                        

        Parchment deserts

               Unroll beneath the candle-sun.
        Their sand-dune ridges raised;
                Their shallow grooves stretch in inky shadows.
        Across the grainy page,
                People and pens trace uneven lines,
        Footprints, printed black in their wake.
                               Parchment deserts
                          Colored creme; yellowing, aged, and wrinkled.
                                    The wasteland never traveled,
                          Unraveled scrolls still whisper,
                                     Stories, found in the folds of
                                                        Parchment deserts;
                                                                     The stories never read.

A Tribute to My Brothers

Chivalry is dead (or so people claim). Society complains that young men need to step up and learn to lead already, that they need to act as gentleman. Apparently, guys just don't know how to be men anymore.

While maybe this is true for most of the world, I am happy to report that the friends I have met at college are extremely kind and thoughtful. They are perfectly chivalrous knights.

 I, however, am a terrible damsel in distress. I'm too busy taming the dragons myself to ever consider accepting the knight's aid. In my independence, all help is completely unnecessary, as I totally have everything under control, all of the time. *coughs and waits for lightning* Any offers of kindness are brushed off with a smile and a "No, I've got it," while other thoughtful gestures are completely lost to my obliviousness. Yes, chivalry is dead, but only in my lack of ability to acknowledge it.

Now, to be fair, I don't intentionally avoid chivalry. The fact is, I have simply built up a mindset in which I always want to take care of other people. Others caring for me in return doesn't fit that image, so it always takes a while for me to register kind acts. Especially from my guy friends. I feel a little guilty, because they always try to be nice, and I always squash their attempts to be gentleman before even realizing what they are doing.

So here is a thank you, to all the wonderful brothers I have been blessed with since coming to college; a thank-you for all the attempted chivalry which I totally ignore. On a regular basis. And which you continue to offer anyway. (True patience right there.)

Thank you to the men who hold doors open for me so consistently, though I never think to expect it.

Thank you to the men who challenge me and clear the plates from the table first, to remind me that others like to help too.

Thank you to the men who can actually reach to put streamers in the ceiling, rescuing me from having to balance on stools.

Thank you to the men who help me carry dogs and tables and other random, heavy objects which I'm too proud to admit I'm not strong enough to lift.

Thank you to men who give me rides, and then quietly return the gas money I try to give you (sneaky hobbitses).

Thank you to the men who offer to put gas in my car, even though I decline.

Thank you to the men who help me fix my vehicle, because I'm clueless and you care about safety.

Thank you to the men who act as role models for my little brother, in ways I couldn't as a sister.

Thank you to the men who surprise me with your thank you's and your compliments.

Thank you to the men who offer me a hand to help me up, even though I never notice until I'm already standing.

Thank you to the men who are always willing to come to my aid, during those times I actually realize I need help.

Thank you to the men who look after me, without ever implying that I couldn't do it myself; the men who are there when I need them, even when I'm not willing to ask.

Thank you for being the wonderful friends I used to think I didn't need.

(As for everyone else, let me just ask out of curiosity, do you ever have trouble accepting help from others? And do you find it harder to accept help from people of the opposite gender? Leave a comment below. :) )