TheBanyanTree: The Nuts and Bolts of the Mechanics

[Maria Gibson]

They are laying everywhere around the house; bits and scraps of paper 
with really odd things written on them.  I think there's one still in 
the van that started out as a Popeye's Chicken box.  We went to see my 
Grandmother at Thanksgiving and while there my cat died and on the way 
home we stopped for chicken.  Riding in the car, I kept thinking of 
everything that had happened, how parts of it seemed almost like an 
expert camera shot orchestrated by the red-headed director, used to be 
Opie.  So I wrote a title and a sentence and I knew, if I ever wrote it, 
what the whole thing would entail.  Then I was embarrased when I had to 
throw myself on the mercy of the car cleaner.  He had tossed the box 
while at a gas station but was so very kind enough, was he, to retrieve 
it for me. 

I don't need much to remind me of where I want to go with an idea.   
Generally the name comes early and quick, some snappy witty title that 
shouldn't be repeated in the text but  should embody the essence of my 
thoughts.  In fact, I take great pride in my title choices.  Like 
chuckling at an inside joke, sometimes known only to me, it is often 
obscure but as I am about to give away a lot of  my heart and soul...it 
is the piece I keep for myself.  I am happiest when I am fettered out 
and someone pays particular attention to what I accomplished.  I don't 
mind sharing what I thought was only mine because I know it took a keen 
eye to see it.  Right at that moment, someone has seen me the way I see 
me and that is rare.

What I find a little uncomfortable is anyone finding my scraps and 
asking what it means which is akin to asking the potter to describe the 
vase as he looks at the mound of mud.  These notes to self, so short and 
yet so rich as to remind me of whole stories and plots and doings and 
undoings, look like rubbish to the naked eye.  It feels naked to try and 
explain it which could explain the brisk manner with which I treat the 
one who posed a question.  Don't ask, I won't tell.

I have a few in mind even as we speak.  A recent shopping trip, how I 
love to go biking and how I have transformed an aspect of my personality 
by changing purses.  These three gems are all on my mind, each swirling 
and mixing to what I hope will be something interesting to read.  I have 
been known to get lazy and do a hodge podge of all of it in one telling 
but I have never been happy with those efforts, generally.  Then again, 
it may never get written, much as the story of sitting at my Aunt's 
table enjoying a wonderful meal with my family while having the presence 
of mind to pay close attention to everything about it that I loved.   
That is the risk, after all, of perhaps deciding to just let life slip 
past in a mindless and less painful manner than to pick it apart to see 
how it is sewn together.  Mindless but lost and in the losing not 
knowing what was sacrificed.  It's a shame to not know which way I'll go.

We shall see.

Maria