Like plants (astonishing thing) [and you cry]

today i went to find books at the university library, and i found an astonishing thing. i found a book called "talking about death". this is a book that has been ingrained in my psyche since i was a child. my mom or another adult in my life gave it my brother and i when our father died. i poured over this book again and again as a very young child. it's those watercolor drips: that's what i thought death was. i couldn't read yet, you see. but this book is full of the kind of paintings that are pictured here. i think in my loopy proto-understanding of letters, i thought the word "death" itself was a watercolor painting; you see it so much in this book in this bold handwriting. anyway, i'm not sure what it means, but i'm glad i found this book (my mom couldn't remember what it was when i asked--she said, i know that we read elisabeth kubler-ross; so i looked up books by kubler-ross, and browsing nearby through the other 5 books dealing with children and death, i found this one).

of course i bursted out crying as i looked at the paintings and realized it was the one i'd been searching for--cries of astonishment really, at seeing these ingrained-in-my-child-brain images and dealing with the overwhelmingness as they encountered by adult-mush-brain. but this crying only fits with the week i've been having--i've been showing the documentary "food inc." in my classes, and i cry during class as i show it everday, in both classes-- (sheesh!inappropriate!)-- at the lame cows, at the child who dies of e-coli, at all of it, the food industry terribleness.

it's been that kind of week, a cry at the clouds week, a cry at anything remotely emotional you encounter week. cry, i say! cry with purpose and astonishment and plain old feelings, all the better that you may cry!