10 February 2010

Pasts and Pelvises

I'm still new to this whole blogging thing.  I feel like there must be a code of blogdom out there that I haven't had access to yet or something.  Do I just write about myself and my days and my thoughts?  Do I write these things for myself?  Or do I write for an audience?  If so, who?  I get nervous sometimes, because my words seem to orbit around my self.
What I mean is, I don't want to treat this like a narcissistic diary.
But, I also want to share what is on my mind.  So, beware, I'm still finding the balance.
I've been thinking a lot about my past lately, and how it's become somewhat disconnected from my present state.  My endless folders of photos have become foreign relics from time past, and I have been transfixed flipping through them.  Thinking to myself, "Oh yeah, I did that," and "Oh, I did that?"
In the perusing, I stumbled upon this photo from Scenic Point Trail in Glacier National Park, where I spent three wild summers discovering part of who I am.  I was brought back to the moment instantly.  This long-dead, wind-stripped and sun-bleached tree instantly took hold of me.  Standing under, looking up, I recognized it.  
The first boy I thought I loved had taken almost the same exact picture of the same exact tree two summers before.  When I took this one, he was out of my life, with a bitter, unresolved end.  The idea of paths - crossing, tangling, overlapping, backtracking - struck me.  Here I was, where he had been, and where was he now?  And where were we going?
I also recognized it as a reincarnation of my favorite paintings by Georgia O'Keeffe.  During a trip to Minneapolis the year before, I had seen an exhibit of her pelvis paintings.  I couldn't get over her depiction of a milky white pelvis against a drowning blue sky.  The starkness, the depth, the vulnerability, the strength.  Something shattered inside me when I saw them.  And I felt the same fragments rattle and shake within me when I looked up at this tree.
Our pasts are so rich, and our lives are so cyclical.
I can't get over the way time churns.


  1. I believe you've struck a perfect balance. Continue...

  2. Don't worry about it! I like your blog! I wouldn't worry about it being good or not, you're not forcing anyone to read it, use it for you! I basically use mine to show my parents pictures and that's fine by me : )

    That is, of course, unless you're trying to some day make money with it...but even then I think it's good!

  3. I am very new to blogging and I know how you feel..but I don't look at it as a narcissistic thing. People many years ago kept diaries and these are just diaries that we care to share and then we will realize that so many people will identify with our thoughts and photos and ramblings. When I happened onto your blog I saw your picture first and then this post and I said to myself..ooohh I will like this one and I should bookmark this immediately. I will visit you often. Thank you.

  4. happy to have found you & your space.
    love the last sentence here, so perfectly phrased.

  5. So glad to see the great comments on this post and to know that there are people still out there who appreciate good literature of which you write. Just flows from your pen.


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