The Elements

Fire: (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius):  The world continues to go to hell in a bucket, and yet we row.  We are in the middle of the stormy ocean in a small leaky boat, and all we've got is the choice between being consumed with dread, or rowing.  Let's row, shall we Aries?  

I think the hardest thing about right now is that I don't know for sure what rowing looks like.  Should I call someone?  Write a postcard? March in the streets?  Make a video of me explaining the state of the world to my dog?  

Water (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces):  I've become so highly distractible that my to do lists now need to be broken down into minute detail. "Clean left ear with q-tip".  Etc.  I keep having to refer back, oh, where was I? Oh, left ear.  Finish that up. Because the internet, Taurus.  It has everything you can think of.  What's that plant?  Does facial serum actually do anything for you?  Has Nancy Pelosi moved toward impeachment yet?  Weather tomorrow?  What products are they putting CBD in these days?  What's the zoning on that property I'm curious about?  Is there any news on the KT boundary research?  And did I dream that thing about scientists severing a cat's ear and using it as a telephone while the cat was alive?  (No, that was true!)

And the days go on this way.   I pruned a pretty shrub just a tiny bit, and the twigs sparked so much joy that it only seemed right that I should pop down to the live edge place and look through their scrap pile and get a piece of wood to put it on. I could make it into a little tree!  (Is that rowing? Um...).  So I get a scrap of wood and sand it and polish it with oil.  And then I think, what's a little tree without paper mache fishes hanging from the branches?  And after several days of this, I end up with a twig stuck to a block of wood with what look like goldfish crackers on it. They type of art project that your preschooler might bring home.  And I watch it for a while but realize that the fish seem so, well, like a fish out of water.  The might be happier in a bowl, so you make a little bowl out of twigs and homemade paper.  I have no illusions that I'm doing anything worthwhile, but I've gotten attached to the little fishies and they have joined the clutter that is my life.  

Air (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius):  I found an old notebook, the kind that sat on the counter for a while and you'd write notes to your kids on, and I'm sort of a notebook hoarder.  It was during the time when I was a single mom, and drove every day through the horrible traffic to get to my job where people would yell at me about taking their property, and then racing home to drive kids around and make dinner and do laundry and get ready to do it all again.  (Cue the violins).  Anyway, I spent a lot of time in my car, thinking, and one little bit of joy I managed is that I cooked up an imaginary wife who did stuff for me.  She would pick up ingredients at the store and tidy the house while I was at work, and she'd plan summer vacations for us, the kind where we'd be prepared with a plan and everything we need, including food in a pretty basket, and she kept everything in order and got back to people promptly with the permission slips.  She made the appointments and dusted the house on a schedule.  It was all rather lovely except for that it was only in my head, which I suppose is mental illness but that surprises none of you.  I just found these notes and I'm not sure if I ever straightened it with my kids, so for the record, there was no wife.

Earth (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn):  I have been going to the Sultan Dropbox a lot lately, which is the official name for the dump where you toss worn out stuff that doesn't spark joy into a pit in the earth, never to be seen again.  There's another dump that's called the Houghton Transfer Station, but I don't go there.  Houghton is busy and fast, and you drive into a giant building that's so big you kind of forget there's an outside.  Everyone seems to be a pro and can back up their truck smoothly right up to the edge of the pit, and the planet is thick with the noise of backing up vehicles beep beep beep until you don't care if you back up a little bit too far because you want to jump into the pit yourself.  

But the Sultan Dropbox is outside, next to the river and a pretty little cemetery where there are a story graves with sad tales, and a bunch of really old stones with faint willow branches etched into them.  There's a nice older woman who greets you when you arrive at the dropbox and assesses your load.  She asks a few questions and it's always $20, and you have all the time and space in the world to back up towards the pit, and it's easy because you can still see the sky and there are usually only one or two other trucks there, and they put orange cones like, 5 feet away from the pit so you can hardly get close enough.  The other people always seem thoughtful, maybe even a little ceremonial about tossing their stuff away, like they wonder if they're doing the right thing.  I find myself watching them, men wearing gloves with shiny pickups, tossing the bones of former lives away.  Last week, a man was throwing a bunch of glass bricks into the hole.  "Oh, those are cool," I blurted out, before I realized that there's probably some protocol, some rule about keeping your eyes on your own pile of garbage.  But he said yeah, kind of wistfully, and kept tossing them.  Another man was throwing away this big thing, I don't know what it was but I kind of wanted it.  I think if you were having a big party and needed a big thing, this would be it.  Maybe you'd put beverages in it, or I dunno, it was on wheels, and it was shiny, and had a lid.  Seemed useful.  But I said nothing, because I think that's probably a rule.