KJPcreations

Mason Jar by mbwphoto

Do you ever wish you could drive over your own head with a large truck to make it stop thinking? I do; but then I couldn’t listen to music anymore and that would suck hard. I’d settle for an old fashioned coma, stuck in a luminous cloud of slumber, but I would worry about who would tweeze my eyebrows whilst inside my sweet siesta and I would totally miss trail running.

Recently, I discovered the perfect musical companion to the tree canopied trails of Forest Park: Van Morrison’s new album, Keep It Simple. If the massive, Douglas fir trees could perform for the woodland creatures, a myriad of bird and mammal varietals, they would chronicle a life of roots music based in blues, folk, country with a splash of gospel and filter in rays of light, evangelizing “etrainment.” Their lyrics would turn round reflections of a life filled with longing - for place, for rescue, for spiritual transcendence. “Only a fool could think that things would ever be simple again,” Morrison sings on the title track. It’s that kind of foolishness that feels like the wisdom of the old growth.

Towards all things foolish, I have joined the online dating service _________. (Fill in the blank.) It feels rather like I have put on my favorite party dress, glossed-up and perfumed, and chosen to surround myself with my most favorite candy treats and put the entire scene inside a glass mason jar - not unlike a snow-globe - and then placed myself in a dryer with a natty pair of sneakers and asked someone to shut the door and press the start button and now I am tossing about inside the dryer with a pair of sneakers and I am hoping I don’t get kicked so hard that it all breaks apart and my sweet treats melt and my party dress gets ruined and it all goes to hell in the lint screen. Is it just me?

To that end, Spring has decided to weep all over this season. It’s been a gush of big, fat gator tears in an ever-ambivalent manner and I have tried to catch a ride on the backs of a few of those drops to no avail. You can’t ride tears into outer space; they are not meant for such fortitude.

The best I can hope for now is a puncture hole on the lid of my mason jar or a fortuitous choice to be recycled. I am still good for another function all together. Mason jars are good for legumes or lemonade or a small plant. In Portland, mason jars are all the rage.