Linguistic Underpinnings

When I first arrived in Mumbai it was the monsoon season.  I took this for granted because the rainfall was actually reasonably similar to the sort of rain that comes to both Tennessee (my birthplace) and Pittsburgh (my last state of residence in the US). If anything, I found myself thinking of childhood vacations to Florida, where the wind and clouds swirled around and dumped out a thunderstorm almost daily.  Mosquitos and humidity followed but it was always worth it for that brief vacation from the heat and the clean air which inevitably followed.

The same was true here. In that first month in India, I came to think of the rain as a distinct part of this place.  If nothing else,  it provided a reason to stay in bed away from the “What am I doing here?” feeling that followed most misunderstandings or frustrations that take place beyond the wooden doors of my apartment.

Now proceeding into the months of October and November when it hasn’t rained for 3 weeks plus, my roommates and I confess to audio hallucinations of rainfall.  Just a week ago during Diwali, I woke and heard that familiar Tennessee summer storm sound of hard rain on the windows and regular thunder in the back ground. Rolling over I dozed off again, feeling wonderful familiarity: if this is what I was hearing I must be at my parents house, and there would probably be someone waking me up soon for dinner so why not keep sleeping peacefully?

On waking a second time, I found the sounds in the distance were not thunder but fireworks going off, one after another.  Now loud explosions were happening just outside my window as neighbors set off rockets from the roof. Children laughed and cried in unison. The rain had only been my ceiling fan, and I was (and am), a thousand miles from Tennessee.

In June, India’s scientists went to work seeding clouds to encourage rainfall and ease the droughts that were destroying farms in the South. The rains came, (it’s still unclear what the seeding changed) and they lingered almost 2 weeks in the year later than they usually do.

Besides the seeding, other methods were attempted:

The government of Andhra Pradesh ordered  religious institutions to pray for rain

Frogs were married (later some called for divorce)

And in some villages, a girl wearing a skirt made of knitted vines and small branches, sang and danced through the streets of the village, stopping at every house, where the hosts poured water on her. The people of the village followed her dancing and shouting.

Following this,

the rain fell and fell and fell:  for a limited time only.

an indulgent journal entry:

Leaving school this evening I looked towards the horizon and was shocked to see how fast the clouds were moving. This was the beginning of Hurricane Gustav’s spin off moving over PA and within the hour the sky was filled with a mix of cirrus, cirrocumulus, altostratus, altocumulus, stratocumulus and stratus clouds. For those of you who aren’t savvy to clouds and their altitudes this means a wide variety of cloud cover functioning on three different levels ranging in shape from wispy to fluffy.

I realized it would be ridiculous to miss this cloud parade so I headed up to the city water reservoir in Highland park and went walking right as the sun was setting. The setting sun colored the sky a pale yellow and orange that emphasized the dark cerulean blue of the clouds surrounding. As I circled the lake the winds picked up steadily and thrashed the trees around me.

A few nights ago I had talked to someone who told me that box kites had once been used in battle to lift a solider up and above a battle field, presumably so that they could both awe and attack someone below. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have a person-picking-up sized kite with me at that moment. I imagined myself lifting up with a sudden rush, thinking:

“This isn’t happening!! Yes it is!!”

…and being yanked up into the clouds to ride the crest of the hurricane into some other state.

I always thought this would happen to me when I was a kid: that I would construct some craft and would leave the house as a storm approached. I would set up my kite or glider or para-sail and be gone. I would drift up and away from the neighborhood and coast for miles over forests, trailer parks, rivers and unsuspecting deer. Of course I never imagined how it would all end. That was the boring part- the important part was to imagine the take off.

As I rounded the far side of the reservoir I hit the point at which the wind had the most flat space to roll uninhibited over the water. You could see the wind suddenly hit the surface in the distance and travel towards you in a dark ripple- like some herd of invisible animals at full gallop. The wind blew hard enough to make me think I was going to be knocked down and I gripped the railing along the water as one dark ripple after another traveled towards me. It was like having a face off with nature and it stirred a fight or flight impulse in me. Mostly it was hypnotic. If I squinted my eyes clouds flew around me in a way that emphasized the curvature of the earth.  Wind pushed at me and roared in my ears. I called a friend and left a message that was just the roar of the wind.

Surprisingly, I was the only one around that end of the reservoir. As I turned to finally walk back to the entrance of the park the lights surrounding the water flickered out.  The brightness of the moon was visible and with it, a sudden view of hundreds of ducks on the water bobbing up and down.  A cloud drifted over the face of the moon adding to the darkness. Gusts of wind shook the trees around me and I finally ran…not out of complete fear but out of simply wanting to participate in the pleasant feeling of danger that seemed to be swirling around this place.

What is it about nature that is so grounding? Returning home and sitting down in front of the computer again I feel like some heavy hearted feeling was scrapped off of me… I feel satisfied  to think that some portion of my thoughts was in fact caught up in all the blowing, and is now floating carelessly and confidently north of Pittsburgh at some treacherous altitude.

Thanks Gustav.

I realized a long time ago that we want a frame of reference.

This frame must be mutable and temporary to remain functional:

Temporary is forever.

A place can tell us who we are and what we should do.

So can a person.

How is it that these two things became so amazing and important to us?

To come and go from each- people- places- can change who we are. It is that simple.

Our identities are intertwined with stability and mobility.

Our backyards are enormous, or non-existent.

The sky unabashedly occupies the space over each of our heads.

Many of our fears are related to our sense of self.

Concepts of conspiracy are really a convenient way to package larger social problems.

Greed and apathy come from a lack of understanding our connection to people and place

There is no set way to achieve greatness or goodness.

There are many ways not to screw up.

Why do some animals have ear tufts?

I recently came across a mention of a tree on the historic register of trees (yes it exists, nice, huh?) called a Look-see tree. Elaboration?

“ This White oak was used by Arkansas Forestry Commission Rangers as a look out tree in the 1930’s. Some trees located around the state to supplement the few fire towers the Forestry Commission operated. The \”Look-see\” trees had climbing pegs hammered into the tree, a platform built in the top and a telephone line. During times of high fire danger a Forest Ranger would use the tower as he patrolled his area.
The clmbing pegs are still visible on this old tree. There is also a remnant of the platform in the top, and an insulator with phone wire is located just below the platform.”

It sounds like a purposeful adult tree house to me!  There weren’t any images available so I went looking for others…

The image up top was taken from a site that documented a survey  done in Sabah, Malaysian Borneo in 2000 of tree canopys and the trees that surrounded them and contribute to (VOC) levels in the canopy about the platform / walkway / tower- slightly unfamilar territory for me, but the images are great.

Also, I found  the  The 61m Gloucester Tree (second from the top)  in Australia. The Gloucester is the world’s tallest fire-lookout tree, and visitors can climb up to a platform in its upper branches for a  view of the surrounding karri forest.

My ideas for what a tree house can be are expanding…