tree for me

I say “You there, bumpy, you may be the tree for me

may I lie at your roots and bask, to get off task?”

 

I drop down and a weight lifts, my mind can drift

sun warms me and my eyelids fall closed, my limbs repose

it’s a sunny summer evening and I’m free to be,

so I let go nagging thoughts, let the world wash around me.

 

there’s wind and laughing chatter and beyond the urban sea

the eb and flow of engines, that muddle of realities

it’s chaos and it’s peaceful

it is war and it is order

 

or war and chaos and peace and order, chaos, peace, order, war

order and chaos, peace and war

I’m not gonna split em up, I’ve tried before

it gave me hours of inaction and my head got sore

 

reality’s not simple, it never will be,

we’d better get on and accept that, take responsibility

to do what we can with what’s around us, ‘cos perfection is illusory

and meanwhile I gotta take time, yeah take a bit o time

to remember all I can really know is me.

bumpy tree

 

this is a song. wrote it in a park at the end of a day, sometime in early summer 2013. I wrote it quickly in the first draft, and musiced it over a few days – I was in a highly active stage, one where I was feeling quite effective, and so I was recognising my need for downtime and giving it to myself: this song is good for me to help revisit that need when I’ve been neglecting it. I’ve sung it to friends, but not performed it yet. I am intensely self conscious of my songs – they have always been a product of starting with an emotion that I can’t quite pin down, and poking and prodding phrases of chords, melodies and words until there’s something that feels coherent.

Indignant 17yrold[me] Confronting Unjust Suspension

In which getting on for 10 yrs ago I wrote an angry email. Just found it. Made me laugh. And also reflect on how little I brushed up personally with disciplinary procedures at school – I probably wouldn’t have had such a righteous approach otherwise. Can’t remember the outcome now, but I think it was the first confronting (white-man-in-a-suit) man in authority to call their bullshit in solidarity with a bunch of their victims. The punishment had made me particularly angry because it was purely retributive – with no reparation (eg developing a code of use for the cafe with the workers there, or painting the pillar) or even preventative action (because it had been so totally out of the blue and unpredictable). The principal in question was highly acclaimed as successful – but this was one incident that displayed his ego, and inclination to throw power around without listening to others or attending to its effects.

29 September 200* 14:18:22
Message
From:        [The Principal at my college]
Subject:    Re: suspensions re. cafe
To:        [my full name]

B*****
You have an appointment to see me at 12 o’clock on Monday. I warn you now that you will need to adopt a very different tone to that be used in phrases like “There were a total of 27 names on the height chart on the wall(also impermanent) and these people are not being punished, possibly because there is a limit to the depletion of college attendance that you wish to inflict.”.
P****

[my full name] on 29 September 200* at 11:21 +0000 wrote:
I am writing because I am very concerned over the suspension of 7 students for a week in response to the incident of sticking stickers on a pillar in the cafe. This seems to be an over reaction to impermanent and inoffensive damage. I do understand why you are upset, because you have interpreted this as vandalism that shows a lack of respect and value for college property. We understand that you observed the damage immediately after inspecting a theft, and that you were therefore already rightfully angry. However, although it was thoughtless, no harm was intended.
The punishment of suspension seems disproportionate to the offence and it disadvantages all concerned. The 7 students will lose a week of tuition- among the concerned are dedicated students on whom this will have a considerable effect. It seems contrary to the recent college crackdown on termtime holidays that 35 student college days are being compulsorily wasted.
It is also unjust that others involved are totally unpunished. There were a total of 27 names on the height chart on the wall(also impermanent) and these people are not being punished, possibly because there is a limit to the depletion of college attendance that you wish to inflict. There were also others involved with the stickers, as they were perceived as harmless fun.
I am apologising for frivulous attitudes relating to this incident- we at first found it hard to take the reaction of crime scene tape around the area seriously- we have now realised our mistake in our attitudes and are taking the whole incident seriously. I am certain that we have all received a shock and have seen that this behaviour is not going to be tolerated and in future will avoid such activities.

I know that I am expressing views shared by a great number of students and possbibly also of others, and I would like to discuss this further.

Yours sincerely,
[my full name]

I fear.

I fear I will grow up to prop up the crumbling staircases in the castle of capitalism and I fear that I will beat my knuckles to blood and bone against the castle’s walls.
I fear that the fuel that flames in us now will burn out, and its ash will leave us smothered before our fire catches on to sturdier logs.
I fear that over the staffroom tea machine I would recognise no trace of the sparks that are in me now, and I fear that I will burn alone as I watch the blazes in those around me be smothered.
I fear I will straighten out and live orderly between the lines, and I fear my scrawled life will never become intelligible.
I fear that I will grow small in fear of the storm and I fear that I will grow weedy and weak and be flattened as the gusts grow stronger.
I fear that I will find myself rolling without brakes to an unknown destination and I fear that I will wander in the woods so long that when I find a path I will have no strength to follow it.
I fear that I will bury down into my microclimate, and I fear I will grow no roots as the topsoil all around me washes away.
I fear to hope that we will be the fungi, the mycorrhizal network which helps the tree grow strong in the cracks, that our scars will make our knuckles stronger, that when our flames die down we will rekindle them, that our ash shall be fertile, that we shall flourish before we rot, and then we shall shoot up again, and that together we shall make our paths to the destinations we will create, and our roots shall mesh together a habitat where we and all who join us can flourish.
I fear that I will lose hope, and I hope I will not lose my fear.

********

edited and pulled together from rediscovered jottings from a year ago that emerged from a workshop at The Spark, a week of workshops for social change which will be running again next week. in these precarious times, sitting with fear, and accepting it as a flipside of hope is something I neglect too long, and then rediscover, and feel refreshed.