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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


04.15.12


A spent ten days on a meditation retreat in Co Clare. Phoneless and cigarette-free, she ate two small vegetarian meals a day in silence, avoided eye contact, and meditated for hours at a time, between walks and meals. "You start to feel every spark along your spine and remember things." Apparently a girl fainted; others wept. She came back today, fiending for meat and cheese; tomorrow she will start meditation sessions with this Polish girl, "little, she was so little, she looked like a child!", who threw up after every meal until the seventh day. A says I need to stop shouting "fuck" because she might be meditating. Fair enough.

//

Time for me to renew the garden. Over the past few weeks, between reading and writing, the conference and trips, I have rearranged the pots on the balcony, cleared the dead and dying plants, remixed the compost in the wormery and checked to see if the worms were alive (Yes!), and bought seeds, mostly herbs, as my vegetables are delivered from a farm about ten miles outside of the city. I'll need to find my gloves, scissors, a big spoon for digging. A large tray to catch debris. I could have done everything within ten minutes, rather than a month. Kneel in front of my pots and press my hands into the soil, gloveless, now. But to desire something, to anticipate its place in your life, is easier than starting that relationship. Especially after disappointment. Last year aphids, stowaways on store-bought strawberry pots (lesson learned-start everything, EVERYTHING, from seed), infested the lettuce and tomato vines, stunting their growth. It was heartbreaking to watch my plants sicken and deteriorate, so I am now on a slow journey to commitment.




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