The Direction of Intention

The GrassKing. You know who you are. We hang on your every word. We await our next grass-master-secret-instruction. And, in this grass-green-confession, is a cautionary tale.

As an artist I have lived most of my life in cities. In apartments. Tending grass was not only not in my plan, it was a sign of value-collapse. Artistic annihilation. Mowing lawns and raking leaves served as an odious vision, a threat traded among fellow artists. “If you keep that up, you’ll end up mowing grass.” No Way! Never.

20 bought me a lawnmower when I moved to be with Kerri. “You’ll need this,” he said. Stoically. Knowingly.

“What has my life come to?” I asked myself. At the time, there was no answer. The universe-of-my-mind was silent on the subject.

It’s the word “never.” I know enough to never say never but I said it – and here I am. Every day I sit patiently, watching my phone. Awaiting the crucial word from the GrassKing. Over-seed Now! I imagine the GrassKing outside, wrinkled brow, meat thermometer in hand, taking the temperature of the soil in sun and shade. We are waiting for the optimum reading: 58 degrees.

The anticipation is killing me. What has become of me?

read Kerri’s blogpost on VALUES COLLAPSE

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