By Zara D. Garcia-Alvarez
I do not wish upon a star.
I wish upon my wish list.
We can change our lives. We can do, have, and be exactly what we wish. – Tony Robbins
Wikipedia defines a star as:
…a massive, luminous sphere of plasma held together by gravity. At the end of its lifetime, a star can also contain a proportion of degenerate matter.
Why, then, would I hedge my bets on that? Something, even though, luminous, is held by the weight of gravity and contains something degenerate?
The only plasma I see myself wishing on is the HDTV in my living room when I catch sight of Denzel Washington giving me a performance of a lifetime…or at least for an hour and a half.
Yes, the twinkle of the little star is a favourite nursery tune for my two-year-old daughter and myself. But its light is left to leave me gasping in awe when I look through our family telescope on a clear evening. It isn’t there to carry the weight of my lofty desires.
Wishes, are to me, easily attainable goals when coupled with a reasonable timeline and a good plan. Dreams are the stuff that poets write sonnets about, but what I refer to as the visual contingency after a long and complicated day.
Thus, onto more practical, yet fun things! My ever-growing list of wishes. It’s Wednesday. And wish starts with a W, which is enough serendipity for me. So, rather than wish upon a star like the swooning romantics who follow in the traditions of Romeo & Juliet, I blog instead my raw desire for these:
The bloom of a cherry blossom tree in my backyard. And a yard large enough to house one. A flower and rock garden that hosts flowers not only on aesthetic, but on Victorian meaning as derived from the story, The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh and its companion book, A Victorian Flower Dictionary by Mandy Kirby.
The cherry blossom in Japan are held in the highest esteem where a celebration of hanami is celebrated on an annual basis to visit and view the bloom of the cherry blossom in its short season. The original purpose of hanami was to reflect on the transient nature of life as defined by the Buddhist tradition.
The cherry blossom is also connected to the history of the Samurai as representations of their sacrificial drops of blood.
In China, the cherry blossom is indicative of women’s dominance, beauty, and feminine sexuality.
And in the tradition of the beat poets, I’d like my very own working Remington 5 Streamline vintage typewriter in black. Not for display. But, for dexterous practice of creative writing by type—by each pound of the key.
Errors would not so easily be taken for granted if it weren’t for typewriters. Now, it’s just type, type, type, and delete. Oh, and yes, those “bastardized” acronyms of LOL and OMG. With the typewriter, I think a certain conscientious writing and care takes place because of the fragile and scarce nature of the typewriter ribbon.
To own this myself would ensure an imprinted gratitude and connection with writers past. Bang! Bang!
Great Canadian Plant Guide, 3rd edition, ed. Trevor Cole:
Unfortunately, I don’t have a green thumb; I have, instead, a blue index finger and a middle finger callous from writing by hand in ink!
I do, however, have a fascination with flowers and plants. I want to know morphology, genera, etymology, and floriography. It’s a mouthful of “study,” but well worth the time if I want to have a better understanding of the flowers and plants that I love.
I also want to ensure that the garden I will eventually plant will not shrivel up and die on me. If I’m going to invest time and money on my hands and knees in dirt, something better grow—and flourish!
To know something or someone, is to give it your highest respect.
– Zara D.Garcia-Alvarez
What or who is it that you desire to know more, enough to write down on your own wish list?
Join me next Wednesday to see what else will find itself growing from the perpetual seed of desire.
Until then, I’ll be thumbing through my plant guide, typing out my latest story, poem, or blog post (on my imaginary Remington 5 Streamline typewriter) underneath the cherry blossom tree of Japan in my conjured backyard—with a wistful lei of Sampaguita around my neck!