Papa Sycamore

I posted about my love for sycamore trees January 28.

“I think now that the sycamore is my glimpse of God, of mystery. It is pale and
unearthly at times, its almost white branches hard to see against winter's snow.
As for Zaccheus, the tree provides me a view of the divine.”

I recently discovered a “new to me” sycamore on campus, near where I park. But Papa Sycamore is OLD. I wonder how old?

There are so many mysteries in this old being. I have only begun to see them.

Some branches resemble the fingers of King Kong's cupped hand (we just watched the new DVD with Peter) that held Ann Derrow gently, lovingly.

The bottom sides of the branches look as though they have been dripping for decades, and some have formed beautiful profiles of fairy beings looking out.

This tremendous hole looks like a mouth about to blow out something profound, and it has probably been home to many creatures.

Balance

March and April are the busiest months of the year for me. I advise 1,000 English majors (mostly by myself) and during these months they enroll for courses next year. A general panic sets in, no matter how much I prepare them, and my load piles high: 100-300 emails a week, appointments and walk-ins with at least 40 students weekly asking what they should take next year.

This would be about the time someone like me (responsible, devoted, organized) would work harder and longer, and as a result, start burning out. For the last four years, that’s just what has happened. By the end of April, I’m frustrated and crying, wondering why I stay in this job (that I usually LOVE).

This year I’m trying to work smarter and strike a balance in my day. When I begin to feel the stress mounting, my whole being try to check out and that I just want to scream, I know it’s time to stop, quiet myself, and find a way to fill up.

Yesterday, for the first time ever in this job, when I got to that point in my day, I walked across the street to Starbucks, ordered a macchiato, and read the New York Times. It felt meditative. I savored the coffee, chocolate and caramel in the drink. I focused on the labor protests in France. I was out of my mind (the part that was wrapped up in work) for 45 minutes, and it refreshed me.

Sometimes just closing my eyes for 5 minutes, going "inside", emptying all the stuff out of my head, is enough to relax and recharge.

I’m reposting Lar Braun’s sculpture “acrobat” because it illustrates balance. This time it’s been photoshopped with the “fresco” filter.

I wonder what other people do when they're out of balance?

Winter aconite

I took this photo today in MSU's horticulture gardens, but these little alpine flowers came up through the snow in February. In the 1990s I wrote a haiku about winter aconite.

Faith

Faith is aconite

rising in February

warm in the snow bed.

Adirondack "happy" chair

I call this "happy chair."

Don built it (that means he bought the boards, cut each piece using two different saws, routed the back piece, and assembled it), painted it white, and I designed and drew the sunflower. 4th graders in his classroom sanded the pieces before Don assembled the chair, and then painted the sunflower after I drew it, then I detailed it. It was a true team effort.

I'm reminded of when I was a girl in the "Happy Workers Club" along with my brother John, and neighbors Jimmie and Janet. I don't remember what projects we did together, except serving our parents lunch once in the clubroom in Jimmie's basement. Maybe we raked leaves for elderly neighbors. Back then I didn't know how important it is to love what you do and do what you love. But we had the right idea in that club. What is "work"? If you are filled with love, light, truth and beauty whatever you're doing, does it ever feel like work?

The chair will be sold in a silent auction at Family Fun Nite tomorrow at Don's school as a fund raiser, along with lots of other goodies. Don will also be MC, since our local newscaster had to cancel.

Any predictions of how much it will go for? I'll update this post after it sells.

Click here for a history of the Adirondack chair.

UPDATE: Happy Chair sold for $210! The mom who bought it has a sunflower collection. Yay!