A Corner Still Standing But No More Fence
~ from a further distance you can see
that the Menard's Store and parking lot
has rendered the old fenceline obsolete
Wire Fence and Metal Post Swallowed Up by Tree!
A couple of years ago, a West Coast Acquaintance asked me, "Are people less obsessed with 'becoming SOMEONE' in the Middle West. I gather this a bit from Meghan Daum. It is 'off,' I think, in the land of so many venues for learning to 'let go' and 'just be' to be, like, seeking inclusion in e.g. 'the who's who of Zen.' It is not the way to simply enjoy and be creative. Any thoughts or senses? I guess you can only compare to Philly."
Hmmmmm. Does the fact that there is so little chance -- no matter where one lives -- of "becoming SOMEONE" offset the quest for such? I'd say that even out here in the Mid -- not Middle! -- west, we were pretty much raised on the youthful aspirations expressed by Luisa in The Fantasticks:
"This morning a bird woke me up.In the end, I told my West Coast Pal that Zen might speak to some, not all. Of course, to live a creative life, set apart somehow, I've always surrounded myself with people who crave that.
It was a lark, or a peacock,
Or something like that.
Some strange sort of bird that I'd never heard.
And I said 'hello.'
And it vanished: flew away.
The very minute that I said 'hello.'
It was quite mysterious
So do you know what I did?
I went to my mirror and brushed my hair two hundred times
And as I was brushing it, my hair turned gold!
No, honestly! Gold!
And then red.
And then some sort of a deep blue when the sun hit it.
I'm sixteen years old,
And every day something happens to me.
I don't know what to make of it.
When I get up in the morning and get dressed,
I can tell:
I like to touch my eyelids
Because they're never quite the same.
Oh! Oh! Oh!
I hug myself till my arms turn blue,
Then I close my eyes and cry and cry
Till the tears come down
And I can taste them. Ah!
I love to taste my tears!
I am special!
I am special!
Please, God, please --
Don't let me be normal!" [emphasis added]
Lyrics by Tom Jones
Music by Harvey Schmidt
See more @ You're Out Walking, Scarred But Standing,
Scars: Without a Hurt the Heart is Hollow
Photographed by my creative friend Diane Coiro
Click to see few more Indiana fence posts . . .