living in deep mountain

The meaning of life is to try everything that you have not tried yet.

Maybe this is the reason why I am here right now.

I grew up in a big, big city that has numerous tall, tall buildings with lots and lots of people.

Somehow, I decided to come here, the Ojai Valley, a year ago. And I got into a school where there are no buildings that have a second floor with less than two hundred people in total.

photo credit: kcet.org

After living here for days, I am starting to feel that I am part of nature. What a weird thought this is, and I have never had such an idea before. 

Especially on the camping trip, we just slept in sleeping bags, and considered the sky as the quilt with the ground as the bed. 

And with fewer people, there are fewer distractions. I have plenty of quiet time to sit outside in nature, to be deep or lost or sunk in reverie.

Also, I have had the chance to watch the sunset since we have some free time after dinner. This is a really incredible experience to enjoy the sight of clouds and sky change their color and shapes slowly and fast. 

Nonsense Poems

Here are some of my favorite nonsense poems!

These photos are not mine.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,
  The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
  And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
  The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
  He went galumphing back.”

-Section of “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll

Click the photo to see Johnny Depp recite “Jabberwocky” as the Mad Hatter

Raise your hand if you remember this poem from Tim Burton‘s 2010 version of Alice in Wonderland.  It sounded wonderful in Johnny Depp’s gravely, low Mad Hatter voice, his eyes burning emerald and hair of bright sienna.

“There was never a sound beside the wood but one, 
And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. 
What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; 
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun, 
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound 
And that was why it whispered and did not speak. 
It was no dream of the gift of idle hours, 
Or easy gold at the hand of fay or elf: 
Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak 
To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows, 
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers 
(Pale orchises), and scared a bright green snake. 
The fact is the sweetest dream that labour knows. 
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.”

Mowing” by Robert Frost

I had to memorize this poem for my freshman English class in high school.  It struck me as strange and beautiful.  Though much time has passed since my recitation, the words have never left me and often when I am running in the heat or enduring some unpleasantry, they come floating back, soft and haunting.

“Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.”

-Section of “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe

I used to volunteer at a soup kitchen and I worked with a guy who could recite “The Raven” in its entirety.  If you know this poem, you will know that is remarkable.  If not, click the link above and see just how LOOONNNGGG this poem really is.  I read a series called Nightworld by Ljane Smith and one of the books in the series is called “Witchlight.”  There is a character in the story named Iliana Harman who is said to be very beautiful.  An artist creates portraits of the characters for Ms. Smith’s website and the depiction of Iliana seems like the perfect face for the mysterious Lenore.

Portrait of Iliana Harman by Jan Sovak

“Let us go then, you and I,
To the Tomb of Ligeia, bye and bye,
Let us go to the Kingdom by the Sea,
The fish and chip shop of Annabelle Lee.
Let us go to the costal laundrette run by Lenore,
Let us throw open the windows and the door,
Dispel the gloom and evict the black cat,
Make a monkey of the ape asleep upon the mat.
Let us drink a draught of Hemlock at the House of Usher,
Where the décor is like the unquiet tomb, only plusher,
Let us imbibe at the Tell Tale Heart,
Let the parrots sing and the ravens play their part.
Alas, alas, M. Valdemar has come and I am at the door,
And I hear a melancholy chorus of black birds crying, Nevermore.”

-“The Love Song of Edgar Allen Poe” by Max Scratchmann

I thought this little poem amusing if not only for referencing two of my favorite poems (“The Raven” and “Annabel Lee”) and a few excellent short stories but it is also quite clever and, to my standards, nonsensical.

Note: He does spell Annabel Lee differently than Poe.

Annabel Lee