bananana-boat - Tumblr blog

[bananana-boat]

Giants

You see, the existence of giants has been quite the debated topic for what seems to be the history of all time (source- that's what I imagine at least). Where I live, in the Appalachian region, there's talk of the mountainous beasts that live in the woods that no ones ever been able to get a good enough look at and live to tell the tale. Big Foot, Sasquatch, the W word (which I won't even give the credence of typing bc im not trying to mess w that). Other kinds of folktale describe larger than life humans, seen at a glimpse walking between the trees on trail cams, or as a live testimony from your uncle who's known to be heavy handed with the PBRs.

Mainly, disbelief understandably arises from the fact that there seems to be no substantial evidence of the existence of these beings. Maybe you can find an old story in a newspaper about an abnormally large footprint found just on the outskirts of town, the origins of which were probably just some middle school kids with little better to do. But I recently made some connections as I was driving back from my parents house in northern Kentucky, just a couple months back.

The moon was full and high the night before, illuminating a thick layer of fog that settled between the hills outside my bedroom window. Something woke me in the middle of the night, probably the screech of some cats out in the barn or something. As I sat very still in my bed and listened, I became aware of a whole other kind of life that thrives in the darkness out in the country. Come late morning, I had hit the road, and I couldn't help but notice the huge amount of roadkill I was passing. Like, much more than normal. Deer, possums, raccoons, all speckled just on the side of the road, before the metal barrier, on the white line.

I got thinking to myself, as one naturally does on a drive, what could be the cause of this? In an effort to indulge my artsy side, I've been attempting to creatively question the things I observe around me that I assume to be true. The answer I immediately jump to, of course, is night drivers. You can't see well at night, and sometimes animals just decide to jump into the road right when you happen to be driving past. Or, what if its something else?

Have you ever looked up at the moon, like, really looked up at it? Sometimes I'll stick my head out the car window when my friends are driving and stare at the moon like its a staring contest. Who'll blink first! (its always me). There's just something so captivating about it. I embrace my inner moth and just stare, stare until my eyes are wet from the wind and I have to retreat back into the car. I find myself drawn towards it, like I could be content here forever, never looking away. What if the giants are the same way? Think about it- science teaches us that there are some animals that sleep during the day and are active during the night-nocturnal animals (sorry to get remedial there). I think the thing that's always terrified me about the ocean is that we have No idea what's down there, and perhaps something similar can be said about the mountains.

...

Deep in the mountains, where the peaks reach great heights and the valleys dip low, where the trees are packed so dense you wouldn't know the time of day if you were plucked from your living room and found yourself stuck there- that's where the giants live. They're not active very often, if they were, I'm sure more people would have seen them by now. But just about every month, during the full moon, the local giant wakes. An instinctual yearning shakes them from their deep sleep, as if something with great power pulled them from the ground.

The moon.

When she shines to her fullest, not even the dense canopy can stop her light from peaking right into the eyes of the giant, causing them to slowly but decisively untangle themselves from the roots and the rocks and the moss.

Perhaps, in the olden days when things weren't developed, the giants would have followed a more natural path. Maybe they walked alongside a stream or a river, knocking down trees as they went, picking huckle berries for a snack, deepening the riverbed with every step. Nowadays, however, human development has got them all confused, and when they get to wondering, they seem to always find themselves on the highway.

Deep in the middle of the night, when no cars are on the road, the giants are known to stroll. They follow the white line, heading in the direction of the moon. And, you see, just like me when I'm looking out the car window, they have no choice but to stare deep into her eye, transfixed by the light. Of course, that's why they don't see the animals on the road before them. Their giant gate (pun intended) and huge feet are no match for the well-meaning but small-minded deer, which explains why all the roadkill seems to be gathered right there on the white line. They wander until the moon kisses the horizon, when they become quite sleepy and find another valley to lay themselves down in to sleep for another month.

If you live in the country, or if you're from out of town and just visiting, you'll be sure to know when there's giants around. With each deer or possum there on the white line, taking part in our deepest known form of rest, the giants must have been passing through just the night before, in pursuit of the moon.

[bananana-boat]

Eye floaties

I'm certain we've all experienced it at some point, wondered what it was we you're seeing just at the edge of you vision. I experienced it again just the other day, and it really got me thinking.

I was taking a break between classes, the late-summer is quite temperate here in the Appalachian mountains, and I found a little bench next to some trees that was just perfect for lying on. I was inspired by a poem I'd recently read, I can't recall which one exactly, but I believe it was a piece by Mary Oliver talking about the movement of the trees that one can only notice when lying under them. I humored my artistic side and I looked up into the canopy above me, a couple pines behind me, an oak and a poplar at my feet, trying to see what the leaves could tell me. They all seemed to dance in their own special ways with the wind. When I started looking closer, that's when I caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of my eye- the eye floaties.

You see, I have a theory about these little things. When I was curious in my childhood (which I often was), I had asked the grown ups around me, What are those little things? Answers would range anywhere from "eye floaties" (of course), to "bacteria", "sun spots", etc. I'm sure science has some sort of justified explanation to this phenomenon, but none of these answers have ever really sat well with me. And it wasn't until recently that I realized, hey, I'm a grown up.

And I have a better answer.

Those little spots you see floating in your vision sometimes can be described as Hidden Creatures. You might be skeptical at first, but soon I think you'll understand where I'm coming from. Have you ever felt a pair of eyes watching you? You find yourself walking down the street, the road is silent for once and nobody's on the sidewalk with you, but you just can't shake the feeling that there's something behind you? You can turn your back and look, but you won't see anyone.

Perhaps you're in the waiting room at the doctors office- there's that lady behind the counter paying you no attention, an old man on the other side of the room drifting off to sleep every ten seconds, but for some reason it just feels like there's someone else near you.

Or maybe even It's happened to you in a crowded place. You just stepped into the packed afternoon bus, happy to finally be in the air conditioning, when you begin to feel a dreadful feeling- like something just climbed up your spine and onto your scalp. With not a single bug in sight, you wonder if you're becoming delirious.

You, my friend, might have been in the company of a Hidden Creature. There are many different kinds of Hidden Creatures, but they are all, as you might assume from the name, hard to see. Some like to hide in the shadows, behind a piece of furniture, or under a parked car, just where the light can't reach them. Some exist right in your blind spot, waiting for you to turn just enough so they can carry about their business.

The ones I'm discussing today live in the air, and they have a very special way of hiding themselves. In fact, they hide in the most genius spot possible to hide- in plain sight. Whether it be some kind of magic that keeps them hidden or a loophole in the worlds physics is beyond me, after all I'm just someone rambling on the internet about a nap I took on a bench. I think it might be one of those mind tricks, like how you can see your nose sitting there between your eyes if you think about it, but otherwise it's just invisible.

You might be thinking to yourself, "there's no evidence of this" "no such things as Hidden Creatures" "you're just making stuff up". And that all might be true! But, next time you find yourself in a position where something peculiar happened and you just can't explain it, maybe you'll remember this post and think twice about the life that exists just beyond what you think you know.

[bananana-boat]

Dewy and the Tao

In recent readings I’ve found a connection I’d like to remember here.

While reading my way through the Tao Te Ching, a surprisingly enlightening and frustrating experience that I should cover in depth in some other post, I just finished verse 21 when I was reminded of something. The verse goes as follows, translation by Ralph Alan Dale-

The Great Integrity (Tao) is a paradox.

It is inherent in the universe,

yet its form is so illusive.

It is the Vital Essence of every entity,

yet nothing announces its essential character.

The Great Integrity was apparent

before time, space and matter appeared to separate.

How can we re-mind and re-infuse ourselves

with this very touchstone of all essentialities and connections?

By re-fusing time, space and matter

with the spiritualization of our materiality,

and with the materialization of our spirituality.

Then, when our dualities and numeralities

become blurred and forgotten,

the Great Integrity will re-emerge in forms

of such incredible depths and dimensions of enlightenment,

precisely because our temporary fragmentary consciousness

created a multi-millennial amnesia.

The last stanza is what I want to focus on here. In class the other day, my professor assigned a reading by Steven Simpson titled "Dewy, Democracy, and Experiential Education," a short writing in which Simpson introduces John Dewey, the late American philosopher, psychologist, and educational reformer. One paragraph in particular addresses Dewey's views on individualism, which I'll summarize here.

John Dewey lived during the turn of the 20th century, when the kickoff of industrialization resulted in many folks leaving their quaint, independent lives in the country to pursue factory jobs in big(ger) cities. By and large, these jobs were boring, repetitive, soul-sucking tasks, and the only benefit of the situation was the consistent paycheck. Simpson writes, "Dewey saw this transition in the American lifestyle as a threat to democracy. The combined impacts of urbanization, industrialization, corporatization, and government focused economic development were chipping away at the democratic ideal." He then goes on to say that this describes what Dewey coined as the lost individual, "the confused and bewildered people who recognized an attack upon democracy and individual freedom, but had no idea what to do about it."

Here we can draw a line, albeit one that's a little shaky, between Dewey's beliefs surrounding the lost, no longer democratic or independent individual and Lao Tzu's understanding of the forgotten (or maybe misunderstood/misplaced) Tao. Maybe there are more connections between these ideologies?

Tzu, Lao. Tao Te Ching. Translated by Ralph Alan Dale, Barnes & Noble, 2004, p. 43.

Simpson, Steven . “Dewey, Democracy, and Experiential Education.” Association of Outdoor Recreation & Education Conference Proceedings. Accessed 19 Feb. 2024.

[bananana-boat]

You don’t have to like unsweetened tea.

It’s ok to drink hot tea and dislike the taste.

Where’s the flavor? Some honey would make this worlds better.

But I insist, for one cup, try to drink it with just the tea.

It tastes like leaves and water.

Yes. But, take another sip and tell me where the line blurs between leaf and water. Smell the warm ceramic and feel the wetness on your tongue. Tell me what about this you don’t like and where it could be better.

Now let me add some honey. Can you taste the golden color of it. Can you imagine, there’s bees somewhere that made this honey. These tea leaves grew on a tree and were harvested and dried and we bought them. I pulled this water from the tap and warmed it up and all of it has come together.

Like us here, now.

Ps- I, too, prefer tea with honey