Measuring my life 17 syllables at a time

Every day, as I go through the routines, feel the feelings, see the sights, walk the walk and talk the talk, I find myself creating sound bite descriptions of the experience.  A new friend asked me if all my Facebook posts are haiku, and I said, well, some are pictures.  But, yes.  I decided long ago that my life was not worth posting, but maybe I could turn the banality into an exercise in creativity.  And, I have such a need to let people know I'm alive and kicking. I get such validation from the little comments and "likes."  Ah yes, I think, even my boring life means something to someone.  They care enough to say, yeah, I read that.  I know you're alive, and that knowledge makes me happy.

And, when I gather together a few weeks' worth of pix and haiku, I realize, yes, I did do something besides eat, sleep, wash dishes, and schlep books.

Many of my posts talk about the beauties of New Mexico.  Before I moved here, I knew I loved the high desert, with the big skies, amazing clouds, and fascinating rock formations.  But I didn't realize that this dusty old city, full of strip malls and chain link fences, would also be beautiful.  It's true that some neighborhoods are depressing, with the garbage and cars and dogs lurking behind fences, scattered on yards of orange-brown dirt.  But most feature southwest architecture and xeriscaping, cats and dogs, and friendly people.

The Sandias daily draw my eyes to the east. I walk around the neighborhood and watch the sun rising behind them, etching them against the lightening sky and staining the clouds pink and yellow. Driving home from work, I watch them change colour from magenta to blue-green-grey-brown. In the winter, I look for snowfall.  In the summer monsoons, I look for grey clouds and rainbows. Recently, I have found a hiking buddy, so I am walking into them, getting up close and personal. But they are always part of my day, whether I'm exploring them with my feet or my eyes.

To the west, I see the varying colors of the Bosque.  Right now, it's becoming greener and greener.  Earlier in the year, it was a hazy greyish white:  the cottonwoods without clothes.  In the fall it was lacy and golden.  But it's always a strip of wildness in the middle of the city.  A brown house-covered grassland rises beyond it, with an abrupt line where the houses end and the mesa begins, the dark rocks of extinct volcanoes punctuating the horizon, the sky above filled with clouds, or empty blue, the sunsets glowing with the pinks and goldens of a desert sky.

So here are the haiku that chronicle my environment....

Driving in to work....
View to the west: stripes!
Blue on top, then brown, then green.
Spring in the Bosque.

Driving home from rehearsal.....

The moon casts its glow.

I share it virtually

And feel so alone.

Going for my bi-weekly walk with J and E.....

In the time it takes

To find my camera phone

The clouds change colour.

Taking a picture of a cat on a stoop......

Oblivious (or

Indifferent) to humans,

Watching the sunrise.

My now-weekly hike with G....

Today's hike: boulders!

And juniper and cactus.

And just enough wind.

Doing laundry at a friend's house, sunset time, I take a picture of a delicate lacy tree shadow:

Pic from a freezing
Cold evening. Even walls
Are beautiful here.

Then there are the mishaps, frustrations, and joys of the day....

On my way to a meeting, in front of an intersection full of people.....
Stepping back, I fall,
Winded and supine. What will
The third mishap be?

Driving in to work......
Misuse of car roof:
I pick up coffee mug shards.
Will they cause flat tires?

Listening to Allclassical.org in my office....
Dancing inside and
Smiling outside, regardless.
The Royal Fireworks.

Starting my day.....
No fresh coffee left,
So I used yesterday's dregs.
Shopping avoidance.

Adrenalin rush....
Black coffee bean in the sink,
Looks like a cockroach.


I got up early
For a doctor appointment.
Now he's running late. :(

I juggle morning
Ablutions, housework, email:
Burnt toast smells so good.

Waiting for the next bulletin from E (yes, all is well)....
Does it help at all
To worry about others?
Healing thoughts to Don.

The job is a continuing struggle.  My coworkers are passive aggressive when they are not downright hostile, and my manager wants me to assert myself.  Not an unreasonable expectation, and I'm actually bewildered as to why it's so difficult to just say:  sorry that's the way it is.  Do it and stop kvetching.  But there are good days, and I tend to chronicle those

I spent 2 hours learning about this year's summer reading program, culminating in a 15 minute session learning how to make duct tape sheets.  Our teacher is the duct tape queen.  She was wearing a pocketed apron with ties, multi-colored and multi-patterned, very flexible and sturdy.  But all I could think was, does it breathe?
What I learned this week:
Cardinal rule of duct tape...
Do not rescue it.

(I doubt I'll ever
Have the patience to create
Things out of duct tape.)

In lieu of reference work (there is very little of that), I have started doing the other fun part of the job:  outreach and story times.  My co-workers are unimpressed and make sure to let me know it, but the kids and the teachers give me full props.


Sharing pop up books
With attentive third graders:
Focusing on joy.

I love my job, but
I'd really like to trade in
My coworkers. Now.

En route to work but
Contemplating an escape.
Adventure beckons!


Then, there is orchestra and music in general:  I am beginning to take advantage of the myriad concerts and opportunities, and I'm loving it.  Sometimes I go along, and sometimes I bring a friend.  Always, it's a joy.

Our conductor is endlessly amusing:  he loves the music and tries to convey it, but he also gets that we're amateurs, and he does so with grace.  
Humane conducting:
"Strings, adapt....they need to breathe."
Sounds reasonable.

My stand partner wrote
"Terror!" at the beginning
Of the last movement.

I ushered at a fabulous concert by Vasen and met some of the local folkies, one of whom works at the co-op which I did not know was so near to my house:

Got the sheet music.
Now I just need to find me
Some Swedish fiddlers.

Three years ago I attended the VdGSA West Coast Conclave (and I hope to pull together time and money to do it again this year.)  One of the classes was about singing and playing at the same time.  Being a beginner, I needed a break from the intense concentration of learning where to put the bow, how to translate a new clef to a new string arrangement.  So, I just sang.  The instructor was a fun and talented man from NYC, a member of the group Parthenia.  I've been receiving their news-mails ever since, and was delighted to discover that they would be in ABQ, performing Renaissance songs and dances, along with the poetry of John Donne and W Shakespeare.  I could not find a companion to join me, but it was so not necessary.  The church was a beautiful echoing Episcopalian edifice, with a center patio space, stone walls, marble floors, glowing glass.  I felt at peace, and once the music started I was transported.


I arrive early,
And go into the cloister
To walk the labyrinth.

I listen to hushed
Conversations, swallowed by
The echoing hall.

Renaissance poems,
Songs, and dances make a most
Excellent mixture.

Driving home, I watch
The music made visible:
Clouds above mountains

Finally, there are the intangible moods.  I have become more serene lately.  I am depending more on myself for my happiness, and, while I miss my friends and grieve over loss, I am content to plot my own course without reference to other people.  Connections are still important to me:  I am human.  But the despair seems to be going away.  At any rate, I now seem able to save up the tears for my weekly therapy session.  Which is now imminent.

Visiting a new friend, sitting on his deck looking at the mountains....


To walk or to lounge?
Inertia is powerful.
I watch the hawk soar.

The occasional moodiness and insomnia:  I try mediation but it doesn't always work.......
Rhythmic ocean waves
Cannot drown insistent thoughts.
Cursed insomnia.

Weary, flat, and stale...
No! I am not Prince Hamlet!
But I am quite tired.

Chaos in the world (Boston Marathon)......
What are my fellow
Commuters thinking about?
A town in lockdown..

Psychic disconnect:
Appalling things happen, but
I wake up happy.

And so it goes.  One haiku at a time, I'm chronicling my life.



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