Where the holidays are

From my last blog post I remember breath is the space where we collect ourselves. I also remember that life is a long chain of breaths. And I remember that when we breathe, we breathe the present, sometimes the future and the past simultaneously.

Since last week, I have resumed a job search, prepared myself for reading to a class to third and fourth graders, and thought more about submitting applications to different academic programs, among other things. I also thumbed through pictures I have taken in the last few months. I was surprised to find something I wasn't looking for: a picture of three tall trees that stood in the parking lot of Albany public library for many many years. I thought I took the picture, and when I looked for it a couple months ago, I didn't see it.

One day while I was walking, I noticed that there were men in bright orange vests cutting down these trees, and I looked up. Where the trees once stood, it is now gaps of sun and sky. I wasn't sure why they were cut down, and I didn't know the names of the trees. I just know they were at least sixteen years old. They were here before I came to Albany, the way I know it now.

When I came out of the first thursdays poetry readings, or second wednesdays drop in poetry workshops both held at Albany public library, it was always good to see them at night. They had a feeling of magic. And everything good.

Since that day a few months ago, I started documenting trees. Two weeks ago, I took pictures of every tree in the block next to mine. I am still doing this, bit by bit. Collecting the light between leaves, it helps me slow down and focus, and think about what I am looking at. And come back to noticing things better. It does something for the concentration. And patience.

Today and yesterday we are experiencing space between rain. And last week it was the coldest part of winter we have had so far in this part of northern california. At night, we would have temperatures of 20 and 30 degrees. Since it rained, it warmed the air a little.

Since this past weekend, for some reason, the bath tub has started to have dead ants scattered through it. I thought it was odd, since it kept happening after I rinsed it out. Even after I took baths. The dead ants returned. Then I looked closer and I saw a few live ants crawling through the tub, and around it. They were carrying the dead from the walls and putting them down in the bathtub, and also scattering them around the tub. Every day since this past weekend, I find roughly twenty to forty plus dead ants a day now. I look every few hours, and see an ant hoisting another dead one across the walls.

The amazing thing is that we get ants every october. They somehow know when fall begins. Sometimes there are trails, and a lot of times it is mostly some random ants all over, in every part of the house. For some reason, this is the only part of the place where they bring their dead, the bathtub. Odd, isn't it?When I thought about this, I figured, they must be paying attention. When I fill the tub, their pattern changes and they take the light bodies down other paths, other walls. When I get out and drain the tub, I see ants crawling in the bottom within fifteen minutes. How did they know? It seems like they wait. Now before filling the tub, when I rinse it, I bend down to pick up the live ones.

I watched some program last night on PBS with some guy whose name I can't exactly remember. Tian? He was talking about how he came from China to begin singing lessons in America in the eighties, and made his debut at The Met in the nineties, and he performed with Pavarotti. He was so excited to meet Pavarotti, he told him how he had a standing room ticket to see him before, and all this other stuff, when he followed him backstage after they performed together. He said Pavarotti closed the door in his face, after nodding while they walked together, saying Si, Si, and bravo, and not turning to look at him. Then at the end of the next performance, Pavarotti waved his hand at the audience to applaud him, and for the next several ones as well. Pavarotti was listening.

Christmas comes the Friday after next. This past week, I looked for Celestial Seasonings holiday tea, but didn't see it in the stores I went to. I saw tons of people in lines amid the holiday decorations of snow men, tinsel, and music piping through the speakers. There are now aisles of gift wrap, tags, and red and green foiled candies wherever I go. As the days on the calendar march towards christmas, I am mostly thinking of slowing down and thinking about what comes to us and what goes. And not hurrying. Because if I hurry, I might miss something.