Shiva's Garden
"I'm not clumsy... I'm fulfilling my destiny!"
I've realized that my role in life is that of Shiva, the destroyer. For example, whenever my mother calls to have me "help her with a project" in her yard it inevitably involves killing, moving, tearing out, pruning, or up-rooting of some kind. The actual planting and nurturing we leave to her. I am the family's Dark Angel of groundskeeping.
As a child my family always compared me to a bull in a china shop. I can still hear my dad shouting, "Make your moves smooth, Ex-lax!" It wasn't that I lacked grace or agility, only the control or discipline to premeditate. It was agony to slow down, develop a plan of action, then execute. In retrospect, I can see why I was drawn to the Little House on the Prairie books, largely because I related to young Laura Ingall's impatience... how her father called her "flutterbuget" in a chiding, yet loving tone. In first grade I chose St. Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower, as my patron Saint because I was floored by how human she seemed. She wasn't portrayed as some remote figure, hovering above reproach, but as a flesh and blood woman. One who fought and teased with her sisters, was obstinate toward her parents, and was in all ways a very real creature-- subject to human frailty.
Who knew that my talent as an vehicle of destruction would be an advantage? Sometimes I feel like I should work in the demolition industry. I never feel more empowered than when I am chopping, shredding, dismantling or in some way disassembling things. Many people find satisfaction in "completing" a project; I feel my greatest success from removing obstacles for someone else to come through and beautify. I don't see beauty in the act of destruction, but in the potential that the ashes represent. Of course, metaphor queen that I am, that made me think of maggots (wouldn't you love to be a passenger on my train of thought?). I don't feel that I am as powerful as the Grim Reaper-- I'm not the one waving a Stygian arm over the planet, stirring tornados in trailer parks and sprinkling bubonic plague in Bombay slums. I'm more like the mealworms that come along and clear away the dross, so that change can occur.
Yeah-h-h-h-h... that's me. Agent of change... Larvae personified...
I've realized that my role in life is that of Shiva, the destroyer. For example, whenever my mother calls to have me "help her with a project" in her yard it inevitably involves killing, moving, tearing out, pruning, or up-rooting of some kind. The actual planting and nurturing we leave to her. I am the family's Dark Angel of groundskeeping.
As a child my family always compared me to a bull in a china shop. I can still hear my dad shouting, "Make your moves smooth, Ex-lax!" It wasn't that I lacked grace or agility, only the control or discipline to premeditate. It was agony to slow down, develop a plan of action, then execute. In retrospect, I can see why I was drawn to the Little House on the Prairie books, largely because I related to young Laura Ingall's impatience... how her father called her "flutterbuget" in a chiding, yet loving tone. In first grade I chose St. Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower, as my patron Saint because I was floored by how human she seemed. She wasn't portrayed as some remote figure, hovering above reproach, but as a flesh and blood woman. One who fought and teased with her sisters, was obstinate toward her parents, and was in all ways a very real creature-- subject to human frailty.
Who knew that my talent as an vehicle of destruction would be an advantage? Sometimes I feel like I should work in the demolition industry. I never feel more empowered than when I am chopping, shredding, dismantling or in some way disassembling things. Many people find satisfaction in "completing" a project; I feel my greatest success from removing obstacles for someone else to come through and beautify. I don't see beauty in the act of destruction, but in the potential that the ashes represent. Of course, metaphor queen that I am, that made me think of maggots (wouldn't you love to be a passenger on my train of thought?). I don't feel that I am as powerful as the Grim Reaper-- I'm not the one waving a Stygian arm over the planet, stirring tornados in trailer parks and sprinkling bubonic plague in Bombay slums. I'm more like the mealworms that come along and clear away the dross, so that change can occur.
Yeah-h-h-h-h... that's me. Agent of change... Larvae personified...
posted by Laura @ 2:58 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
I picked Saint Theresa for my confirmation. How ironic!
I have learned the truth you are an anarchist! :)
Of course there is beauty in destruction its the reason people are fascinated by volcanos, tornados, and fire. We know that there is tremendous loss, but there is also beauty.
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