stones and dandelions

at the little park by my apartment there are checkerboards in the tables. my daughter and i sat and played a game there yesterday. she gathered stones and put them on her side of the board, and when she was collecting sticks for me, i said,

no wait, i want to be dandelions.

being a lover of all things floral, it was a perfect fit. my girl is a rockhound, so that too was a perfect fit.

when the pianist arrived, he informed us that we had too few rows of checkers and the gameboard was askew.

rules,

i said.

who makes these rules?

my girl chimed in,

there is a game of checkers called scant checkers (i think that was the word she used, she has excellent diction). it takes only two rows of checkers.

the pianist informed us you "must" jump when you can in checkers. it's a rule. which elicited another balk from me. i can't stand rules sometimes. what if you don't notice you can jump (which happens to me on occassion), and which i bank on from my opponent. what then? we're breaking the rules. madness.

the issue of kinging came up, and did you know there is such a thing as leaping kings where you can jump a whole row at a time? i did not. i guess the rules can be helpful, eh? but i have always thought checkers a last ditch children's game. the kind of game no one really plays seriously. but i guess i was wrong there as well. when kinging a dandelion, we turned it's little lionface down to make it look like a little girl in a green ballgown and yellow petticoat. very sweet. the dancer in me rejoiced at this. to king a rock, we took dandelion greens and made little magic carpets.

my girl lost interest and i had laundry hogging up the community washer, so we headed home and i threw the load in the dryer before we set off on our daily pilgrimage to the library.

i realized this choice of stones and dandelions was fortuitous.

she is solid, substantial. shall not be moved kind of grounded.

i am all over the place, ubiquitous some might say. given to casting my seed upon the wind. flighty in a good sense. how can you not walk by a dandelion fully plumed with seed and not pick it up and participate in the most perfectly delightful casting of seed ever designed?

sometimes when i look at my girl, i am incredibly grateful that she is much of what i am not. she has stability though her environment radically and unexpectely changes. she has firm contact with the Ground of her being.

i can't say i had that so much when i was young. we were kept in the same schools, which is more of a blessing than i understood, but i realized just the other day, that my seven year stint in texas was the longest i've ever lived anywhere in my entire life.

the story of my life is my unrootedness as my dear friend has been telling me. uprooting me again has been so vastly discombobulating (great word), i often find myself struggling just to find my footing. but some rhythm is returning and soon, i'll be as good as new.

though going to new york city for an evening poetry gig is still a bit daunting to me. i have to find some poets here whom i can tag along with or drag along with me. there is this great place called poet's house. lots of workshops and whatnots. i can learn so much here, if i can just brave leaving the relative comfort of this small village.

but as all dandelions are inclined to do, i will fly upon the breezes sooner or later.