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November 3, 2020: Hurricane Update

I can’t imagine not being able to think metaphorically, but this is true of many people. Used to be that it was thought that the world was in dire shape because so few knew what irony was. This at least was a common concern in English classes. Now, the loss of an understanding of metaphor, this could have far ranging consequences that right now are unfathomable. If you can’t envision it slant (as Emily Dickenson would say) you can’t envision it at all.

I clung to yesterday’s hurricane metaphor like it was a life raft. And so today I did not go down with the ship although I had a few moments in which I nearly lost my grip.

I went to vote at the polls. This around here is always revelatory and not in a good way. We live on the buckle of the Bible Belt. We are surrounded by croutons – the comparison being that like the stale bread squares, they are just a societal garnish. They irritate me – I don’t like being in their presence. But I held my own as the mouth breathers voted, and took solace in the fact that my vote, and most likely Pete’s vote, cancelled their votes.

A page of the draft of the "Books I Carried"

This state is chalk full of uneducated citizenry whose voting choices come down to two things. They believe in the sanctity of unborn babies and the right to arm bears, err, bare arms. Speaking of this, their tattoos are also pretty hideous.

I made it to and from the car without letting my opinions be known because I believe that my vote counts, no matter what the outcome.

I definitely was not in the eye of the hurricane when at the polls. Rather, I was touching the inner edge of the storm.

I returned to dead center this afternoon. I worked on my bicycling essay for some time. Yes, this is an instance in which my ambition does exceed my abilities as a writer. This has to be good because I am attempting to impress a mentor who for some reason ceased to communicate with me right after graduation, some 30 years ago. My other two mentors died some time ago, leaving me with no mentor at all. I have since been in a literary vacuum. The only reason I’ve kept at it is because, as my sister so aptly noted, “writing is you.”

I abandoned center for a bit in talking with our friend Gene, who today came to get compost. I railed about the fact that the director of the recycling center is being so short-sighted about the book project. But then, I returned to center when Gene and I started talking about the importance of books in people’s lives.

I maintained center after this; it’s easy to do when working with the animals. Shadow mounted up on Tinni on the picnic table and rode him all the way to the stump mounting block at the trail head. She, Tinni, Ryder and I had a wonderful walk, reviewing the devastation; that is, the treefall that occurred during yesterday’s windstorm. Shadow mounted up again (with some help) at the mounting block tree stump and rode Tinni back to the picnic table dismount station.

Animals are generally centered; it is we who in being uncentered throw them off.

This may be a good thing to keep in mind in the days ahead.

Next: 305. 11/4/20: The Joy of Joy

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