Frogs Don’t Drink All Their Pond’s Water

“…there are different ways of looking out and trying to understand the world around us. There’s a very clear scientific window. And it does enable us to understand an awful lot about what’s out there. There’s another window, it’s the window through which the wise men, the holy men, the masters, of the different and great religions look as they try to understand the meaning of the world. My own preference is the window of the mystic.”
-Jane Goodall

An orgy of dandelions copulating in the halo crowned meadow invites you and your dog to reconnoiter the grounds. The fertile weeds are celebrating their exodus from Autumn with debauchery. Mesmerized you slowly make your way through the scandalous activity traveling down a skinny dirt path. Flamboyant blades of grass dance around the mature flower heads shaped like the Reunion Tower in Dallas, Texas. The cotton domes succumb to the slightest caress of the wind and disperse their milky white seed. Embarrassed by their premature expulsions the limp red stems seek to escape their shame by burring themselves in the emerald lawn. You force your eyes away from the foliage gone wild and focus on the entrance to a shrub-tangled labyrinth.

Indigenous wetland vegetation tightly knit together with blackberry vines swallows you whole as you continue to navigate the trail. Parts of the pathway are blotched by mud. The ground’s spongy suction threatens to steal your shoes with each step. However, your canine companion maneuvers effortlessly and leaves you behind. Thorns claw at your exposed skin while fallen branches try to trip you. The harsh plant-life clearly tells you that your presence is tolerated, at best. Finally you fight your way out and discover that the maze is protecting a sanctuary.

You catch a brief glimpse of Bassett Pond before a strong breeze carrying a cloud of pollen obstructs your vision. Instantly your fists reach up to rub your eyes. After regaining clarity you witness the placid surface display a watercolor mural of its surrounding landscape. You gawk at the reflection as it paints an ever-changing interpretation of the events taking place above. After soaking in the surreal vision the trail to leads you around the water’s perimeter.

A small clearing provides a perfect view of the entire pond. Seven trees have staked their claim of the prime real estate. You sit and recline on a birch trunk whose leaves shelter you with shade. The earth beneath your fingertips gently vibrates from dog paws beating the ground. He rushes past you turning up loose debris in his wake. It seems as if the inherently wild savagery of mother nature possesses him, forcing him to take full advantage of his freedom.

Hypnotized by his surroundings and overcome with excitement your dog plunges himself into the murky waters. Cool liquid washes over him along with desperation to escape the icy embrace. You find yourself wondering if he has just preformed an impromptu baptismal ceremony to exorcize himself from a beastly spirit. His domestic demeanor returns as he pulls himself back on to land. The dripping animal scouts out a spot in the sun to dry off.
The dog’s rhythmic panting acts as a metronome keeping the pace of nature’s music. Sparrows personally serenade you with lyrics sung in high-pitched melodies. Crows punctuate measures with staccato screeches. The distant murmur of industrial humming makes up the bass line. Four ducks beat their wings against a zephyr providing percussion. Their synchronized descent disturbs the calm surface causing the water to rhythmically ripple and dance to the organic orchestra.

As dusk approaches, the wetland becomes a hub of activity. Unseen creatures rustle in the bushes. Winged insects whirr past your ears into the flora. Ants clamber over exposed roots. Red-breasted robins peg the soil with their beaks in search of dinner. Tadpoles metamorphose in the warm shallows. Gusts of air breathe life in to the rustling foliage.

You feel privileged to be encompassed by nature, isolated from the urban hustle only a mile away. Unfortunately discarded beer bottles, cigarette butts, and assorted litter sprinkle the ground mirroring humans’ war with the environment. You scan the horizon and notice a small abandoned rowboat drifting sluggishly through the water. The flooded craft is starting to be pulled down to the mysterious pond floor. The parts that protrude above the surface are covered in moss. It looks as though nature is winning the battle against the synthetic alien object.

As the sunsets you reluctantly prepare to work your way back to civilization. You fasten a leash to your dog’s collar and retread your steps. Barking bullfrogs bid you goodnight. You exit the wetlands just before a blanket of black covers the sky.

The Body Bag Incident

Teenagers lie all the time, especially to their parents. Generally they fib about completed homework, recreational destinations, or drug and alcohol use. Such typical dishonesty should console parents by revealing they are raising a “normal” young adult. However, the parent that catches their child attempting to conceal a human body should be alarmed.

I was intoxicated with anticipation after receiving an invitation to hang with my crush after school. Participating in criminal activity was the last scenario to cross my mind as I fantasized about our rendezvous. Oblivious to the fluorescent lights that illuminated the retro-colored decoration scheme I fluttered in unison with the shoddy student updates, and spirit themed flyers moved by the current generated from students rushing out of classrooms. Drunk with young love I stumbled through the cramped rectangular hallways of my high school.

As I approached Brian’s faded Crayola blue 1987 Volvo 740 he told me that our plans might be difficult to accomplish. He had just received his driver's license and according to a recent Washington State law it was illegal for him to drive minors around. He disregarded this rule, but his mother didn't. I opened the passenger door and the aroma of Nag Champa incense monopolized my olfactory. Sweeping piles of trash off of the seat I reluctantly suggested he just drop me off at my house. Brian denied the idea of postponing our date and escorted me to his home.

He explained to me that if his mom were home he would have to sneak me into his house to avoid being caught in a criminal act. Brian sounded quite confident when he told me he was sure his mother wouldn't be home though, and even if she was he had a plan to get me into his house undetected. For some reason I felt that everything would go smoothly even though I was unaware of his backup plan.

"Time for plan 'B'," he nonchalantly said to me as he drove past his house. Brian parked the car a few blocks away in front of a cluster of evergreen trees and out of his mother's range of sight. He casually asked me if I was claustrophobic as he pulled an industrial sized duffle bag out of his trunk. I finally realized what plan "B" was. I stared at him in disbelief, but his facial expression clearly communicated he was serious. My judgment was skewed by young love and irrationally devotion but, if that was the only way to get into his house I was whole-heartedly committed to fit into the bag.

Surprisingly I managed to compress my body into a tight ball small enough to squeeze into the bag. The only problem about concealing me was that I just so happen to be very claustrophobic. Brian said that I wouldn't be in the bag longer than three minutes. I knew I could tough it out for that amount of time. I stayed hidden in the bag on backseat for the trip back to his house. I was almost completely enclosed in the duffle bag except the zipper being cracked open just enough for me to suck in some fresh air.

I felt like I was suffocating when Brian zipped up the bag all the way. Clouds of odor from a used sport jersey colonized the small amount of unoccupied space. That's when I felt my heart begin to race. I was already panicky from being confined to such a small space, but the thought of being discovered added a whole new level to my anxiety. My breathing became irregular and I started to discretely shake and sweat. Reminding myself I'd be free of my confinement shortly was the only thing that calmed me down.

Brian cautioned me to be as still and quiet as I could while he struggled to pick up the bag made from heavy durable cloth. I suddenly became very self-conscious of my weight, and I asked him if he thought he could actually carry me. He claimed he was sure of his abilities, but the unstable bobbing of the bag gave him away. He warned me we were about to enter his house to be silent.

I couldn't clearly hear what exactly was said after the door shut behind us but I gathered enough information to understand what was going on. Patty offered to help him carry the bag upstairs. He quickly declined her proposal, and tried to assure her of his capability. His mother wasn't as easily convinced of his strength as I was. She asked him once again if he needed help, and again he avidly opposed any assistance.

I prayed that Patty wouldn’t interfere any further, but once she saw Brian dragging the bag upstairs she rushed over and picked up the other end of the bag. My heart nearly pounded out of my chest. "You shouldn't drag this on the ground! You'll tear a hole in it!" She scolded. It reminded me of something my mom would say. Suddenly I felt her hand studying the bag. She asked about its contents with obvious skepticism in her tone of voice. Brian merely repeated the same answer he had given her before.

As we all got to the top of the stairs Brian protested to any more help and demanded his mother to let him be. Patty must have found all of his fierce disputing rather suspicious. Brian started to carry me down the hallway haphazardly, but his exhaustion forced him to drag me again. "It didn't feel like there was a musical equipment in there!" Patty finally voiced her doubt.

Thump-thump! Thump-thump! I could both hear and feel his mom's footsteps rapidly approach me. My heart rate increased at the same rapid pace. "Mom! What are y—?" She unzipped on end of the duffle bag before he could finish his sentence. My legs poured out of the bag as if they were water rushing out of a punctured container.

"Who is this? Who is in this bag?!" She demanded to know. I didn't respond. I just held as still as I could hoping that I would suddenly become invisible. Patty nudged my foot, and told me to come out of the bag. I finally came to terms with the reality that I wouldn't disappear. I wriggled my way out of the bag and stood up. I emerged to find myself standing in the hallway outside his room. Powder blue walls cooled the boiling atmosphere. Brian broke the awkward silence, "Mom this is Lisa. Lisa this is my mom."

I was mortified. My ears felt like they were hot enough to be melting my earwax. I could tell my cheeks were beet red, and a nervous grin was cemented on my face. The task of maintaining any direct eye contact with her was impossible. Ashamed, I fixed my gaze on a framed cross-stitch picture of a poem surrounded by embroidered teddy bears.

Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn around,

Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, touch the ground;
Teddy bear, Teddy bear, climb the stairs,
Teddy bear, Teddy bear, say your prayers.

the zephyr revelation

I never wanted to take the drugs in the first place. The man said he was there to train me, give me the tools to be a productive member of society. I reluctantly allowed the pills to all but be shoved down my throat for fear of corporeal punishment. Even at my young stage of development I understood I was becoming a programmed robot. A tool synthetically pieced together to be used for the profit of the elite phallic pillars of the global community. My soul cringes at the idea. And the sweet medication colonized my brain.

As I walk the road of evolution to fit into society's mold I begin to slouch ever further. A message delivered by the wind violently rapes my visual cortex. And releases its seed with a forceful eruption into my deepest thoughts. My minds eye detects a being. Primitively hunched, knuckle walking through deserted wastelands. Silence drowns out the frenzied pant-hoots of desperation. The isolated being lacks the grace of its chimpanzee cousin. It has lost the ability to harmonize with the songs of the universe. Replaced rejoicing in nature's chorus with a raised voice locked in a fruitless struggle to supersede the melodic splendor.

Man's arrogance metamorphosed him and corrupted his ego with hellish hot air. Deluded demons with the burning urge to play gods rob the planet. Bite the very hand from which it feeds. Rapidly sucking every last drop of dew into the gluttonous bellies until the moisture of beauty has evaporated. The vision continues to unveil cannibalistic feasts of terror, while the demons insatiable appetites only nourish their own demise.

Oh the great wrath of nature! Mother has recognized her illness. Cancer spreads through the body from the pubis it originated penetrating every cell of the modern era. Troops have been deployed. White blood cells miniscule and vastly outnumbered march into battle. Armed with knowledge, fueled by the omnipotent energy of the source, and protected by the natural laws that all adhere. Rebellion against the residing evil! Chemical reactions ensue yet not one particle is lost. Atoms, light, heat, radiate dancing through the war zone. Transforming, transferring, transcending, and materializing into ever changing polymorphic forms. The hands of karma dispatching its army to enforce Sir Isaac Newton's Third Law will return homeostasis.

Justice and peace for all. Eternally bound together union of chaos, beasts, innocence, and beauty. A revolution is underway. The time is now. For the ending conclusion will be the same unaltered by humble services and insignificant efforts by entities ruled by exceedingly great forces. Vehicles for privy enterprises. Surrender to your position relinquish the illusion of control and openly embrace orders from the commanding officer. Align oneself to receive the frequencies from beyond. Do not fold under the false pretense of human authority.

It truly is the end of an era. The age of information breaths mutiny at the past. Through out history revelations of scientific, religious, and economic significance have been sprinkled haphazardly among an arbitrary few. The indiscriminate manner in which this knowledge was dispersed has led modern civilization to artificially be molded by the blemished self-interest of leaders generation after generation. 'Tis human nature to serve oneself. It seems now that the basic instinct that has aided man's survival on this planet may be its Achilles' heel. The tragedy of commons is among us.

So set forth. Raise sails to catch the breeze. Allow the boat to be guided by the wind that delivered the prophesy.

Cheers to the First Amendment

picture this:

i'm at the library cramming information into my brain to help me pass my philosophy class and i look up for a second and notice that there is an older middle class caucasian male casually looking at porn...

i think to myself, "no that can't be...i must have been staring at my paper for too long and my eyes are unfocused and my brain is delusional from sleep deprivation...there is no way that someone would openly and comfortably enjoy the carnal pleasures of an asian woman via the inter-web in the center of a public library full of people..." so i rub my eyes stretch in my chair and try to inconspicuously glance in his direction to disprove my original assumption...oddly enough my initial suspicions were confirmed and i burst into a noisy fit of giggles...

after i was able to gain my composure i nudged the person sitting next to me with my elbow and suggested that he go over to the "gentleman" and massage his shoulders...again i burst in to a giggle fit finding myself quite amusing. unfortunately the guy just looked extremely awkward did a sideways glance (obviously scanning the room for an open table to sit at). upon finding one he gathered up his things at once and promptly fled as far away from me as he could have possibly gotten without actually leaving the premises...

so i got curious (no not about asian women) about if this man was participating in some unruly behavior. i got up from the table and consulted one of the library's staff about the legality of viewing pornographic material on their computers. after an awkward gaze and a deafening silence he replied that i would not be breaking any laws by using king county's equipment to watch "pornographic material" , just so long as i was over the age of 18...

Bag Lady

For three days I had to collect all the garbage I created in a plastic bag. Just to quell any silly inquiries about doing bum research, let me clarify that this was an assignment for my Environmental Ethics class. It was designed to provoke thought about environmental sustainability in light of the garbage humans produce.

Upon hearing the directions of the assignment, I was concerned about the bag of garbage being an eyesore. I certainly didn’t want to tote around an atrocious accessory. However, it was no feat to keep it inconspicuous. To my surprise, I did not produced much waste at all. I guess it has been drilled into me that our culture is so wasteful that I expected to follow suit. The bag itself eclipsed the bulk of my rubbish.

In order to distinguish garbage from compostable or recyclable material, I referred the Waste Management Northwest guideline. I keep a magnetic chart posted on my refrigerator. I have committed most of the list to memory, although I occasionally consult it when deciding what to do with questionable items. I suppose I could have avoided throwing some objects away. My gum could have been public art by adding it to a gum shrine. I could have used the bagel bag as a mutt mitt, doubling its utility. However thrifty that may have been, I did not want to lug around excrement. So even though there we alternative options, I chose to classify what I did as garbage in the name of hygiene and keeping with local regulations.

Carrying around my trash did not affect the amount waste I disposing, rather I noticed that I was more cautious in the way I went about it. For instance, my efforts to compost increased. Normally, I throw away orange/banana skins and apple cores if I plan to be at school for a few hours. Since undertaking this project, I kept a baggie in which to store my compostable material until I could properly dispose of it.

The most out of character behavior for me to exhibit was including the paper towels I used in public restrooms as an item to compost. I found myself discreetly palming the soiled paper instead of simply throwing it away in the closest receptacle. Curious witnesses cast sideways glances in my direction, no doubt questioning my sanity. I suppose the suspicious stares made me slightly self-conscious, though it did not discouraged me much from continuing this quirk for the duration of the project.

This exercise put into perspective that the seemingly insignificant lifestyle changes I have made actually make a difference. Often times, I find myself wondering, “ What does it matter if I compost or recycle”. I have adopted these habits because I was educated on their impact, but I continue them largely out of guilt. It has been a year since I began sorting my disposables and the tedious task has started to wear on me. Each time I make the gesture, it doesn’t feel like I am truly helping the environment. However upon reflection, the collective results of my behavior modification have a higher positive effect than I previously thought. Being hyper-aware of my waste contribution rejuvenated my patience for sorting and my enthusiasm to minimize my output.