Nature – Page 215 – For the Archives

Posted on January 11, 2011 by Jessica Dofflemyer

Sparks and Flickers

56.9 degrees in the dark of this Kilauea morning. That’s cold for Kauai.

I swear the honey in the squeeze bear is moving more slowly because of it.

With knee highs and an afghan, I reflect on yesterday’s post about my intent to be porous. To let myself be truly touched by life.

To be truthful, there was no long sustained wave of open-heartedness where I was washed in blissful love light. But there were flickers of sweetness in the day.

A co-worker called me “honey” when she told me I’d found her exactly what she needed.

The soulful surrender of a Piers Faccini‘s song over studio speakers:
Joy joy
I’m out of luck
Joy joy
I give up
(whole song here and more about yesterday’s radio show, Music as Medicine here)

Driving past a woman walking alone on a country road. Her face smiling, the wind blowing her blouse alongside the bananas.

Greeting eyes with a long-time, handsome friend.

Holding my son in my lap as he told me about his day.

Being handed a home-grown rose in full bloom. Inhaling the scent – and as always – being transported to Marionette road, where my great-grandmother’s roses lined the driveway and filled my seven year old head with floral love.

Sparks of light. Small calls to live and feel deeply. To let the moments permeate and pass.

6:59am. Gonna let breakfast preparations permeate my being now.

Here’s to sparks and flickers!

Posted on January 10, 2011 by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Porosity

I wake in the dark to the sound of the garbage truck out on the street and the word porous in my mind.

Mmmm…a word in the mind upon first waking may be significant.

Apple’s Dictionary application defines it:

porous |ˈpôrəs|
adjective
(of a rock or other material) having minute spaces or holes through which liquid or air may pass.
• figurative not retentive or secure : he ran through a porous defense to score easily.

DERIVATIVES
porosity |pəˈräsətē; pôrˈäs-| noun
porousness noun
ORIGIN late Middle English : from Old French poreux, based on Latin porus ‘pore.’

Porosity. Now there’s a word. Suggesting a permeability. An allowing of things to move and pass through. An openness.

This past December I was on a rock-themed tour of California. Seems stone was everywhere. Either in the shape of some massive monolith before me, the foundation of a tower I was climbing, or as a small token in my pocket. On more than one occasion I witnessed how these rocks had been shaped by time.

Much of what I saw would be considered to have little porosity. And yet, despite it’s solidity, the incessant motion of repetition and time forged new shapes out of hard rock and earth.

An example: Native grinding holes by the creekside in Central California. When my finger tips touched the bottom, the depth of the hole was up to my elbow.

DC_grinding hole — photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

Or the classic photo op found at Pfeiffer Beach in Big Sur where water has cut through to shed light.

BS_Pfeiffer_hole_water — photo by Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

It’s 7:10am and I have a lunch to pack, a breakfast to make, a radio program to prep for and taxes to complete. In summary, I gotta get on with the morning. I’m seeking a simple way to tie ancient grinding holes, porosity and life-in-general together in a metaphorical closing sentence here.

Basically, it seems the experience of life itself shapes us. Our beings will not remain unchanged. For today I’ll let my form be porous and see how it feels to let it all pass through.