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New Words
A short story…
A Very Long Embrace
There is a place high in the Alps where the frogs live more than twice as long as those at sea level. I suppose it’s because of all the time spent under ice. That is why my mom moved us up here; preservation. Our whole conversation on the subject consisted of her lowering her super-model brow towards the floor and focusing her eyes up at me with a stern look, “You’ll thank me one day.” That was the last time any actual words passed between us. Now, simply the look suffices.
I read that the frogs in the Alps often prepare for the short mating season in a month-long embrace, so as not to miss the opportunity to reproduce when the ice melts. I have yet to find a word to properly describe this very long embrace. Although I spend most of my time doing research, flipping through my dictionaries, searching for the right words. My hope is to make up for the lack of language by piecing one together, choosing the perfect, most specific words from other languages to describe what I need.
Now I walk to town for supplies. It’s quiet. The cold air is frozen in place and I crunch through it like hard snow. My arms are folded over each other with my hands tucked into my armpits, hugging myself; basically my permanent position during the colder months. But inside my wool coat it is warm. I almost expect small animals to climb up inside and make their homes. I have yet to see an animal or a human out today. It is that strange time of year where the sunset begins only moments after rising, and so for the short day everything is blue. I arrive at the store and it appears to be closed. I suppose I will come back again tomorrow. “Toska” is a word in Russian for longing, deep sadness, a certain kind of nostalgia one could only know after a long history of preserving in the freezer. My hands tucked tightly in my armpits, I turn and start towards home in a very long embrace.
Current Location: Southwestern Vermont
Struggling to get my ya-yas out in post-farming, pre-snow, global warming winter Vermont:
Waiting for Snow
I will dry out.
Cracked skin will flake off and disappear,
And I will continue to worship every piece of sky that falls.
I will do nothing but watch out the window and wait;
I will dry up,
And my flakes will cover the ground like snow.
Going Home
“I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.”
My friend and coworker Roberto related an idea to me that really stuck in my head, “We all seem to have an impulse to return home before we die.”
Living at the salmon hotspot of Port Orford, OR I did a lot of reading, sketching, and thinking about salmon (I even painted one on my surfboard shown in the picture above). They too fit into Roberto’s idea about returning home, and because of their long journey through freshwater, throughout the ocean, and back again they have a huge effect on so many different ecosystems (keystone species!) This is also why there are countless factors that have an effect on the livlihood of the salmon, including over-fishing, polluted rivers, hatcheries, fish farming, landslides, and the list goes on. I’m currently working on a comic book that helps tell the salmon’s story, so stay tuned for that.
Like many other animals, salmon have a trust in their natural instict for their journey. I don’t know if they really know exactly where they are headed, if they know how far they will travel only to return home again. People often ask me why I chose to go to Oregon, and now why to Chile. All I can say is that I go the places I do based on a feeling, and I just trust it. Maybe someday that feeling will lead me home again like Roberto says, to the place where it all began.
For now, my next stop is officially Palena, Chile, where I will be spending my next year.
*If you would like to read about salmon, I’ve added some book recommendations to the list of a few of my favorites that I came accross in my research. (Really, even if you have no affinity for fish it is really interesting reading material.)
“Well we know where we’re going, but we don’t know where we’ve been…” -Talking Heads
I still dream about the Oregon Coast
