Puffball

Blow on a dandelion puffball and watch as bits of fluff, floating upward and out, carry seeds into the distance. I’m superstitious and often pause to blow on fully-seeded, easy-to-reach dandelions. I first close my eyes to wish for something, and then like the plant’s airborne fluffs, words begin floating from deep inside me. Sometimes they seem random and other times suggest patterns. Those random words, from somewhere deep inside, are like dandelion seeds springing from plants with roots that extend fifteen feet underground.

We can’t plunge into our own depths to understand why various random thoughts pop up. Are they from ancient memories or recent experiences? People may satisfy a question with a symbolic act, like wishing on dandelions, a plant that’s existed for thousands of years. For most of that time, humans have grown, harvested, and eaten dandilions, and made wishes before blowing its puffballs apart.

The superstitious part of me that wishes on puffballs is rewarded by upward floating words that resemble the plant’s fluffy bits. I try to capture these words, maybe they’ll hint at a cohesive idea. I’ve learned to think quickly about my fluffy-like words and conjure stories. This begins by retaining the first word that pops into my mind and adding as many more pop-ups as possible. I jot into a notebook every recallable word to seek the possible nucleus of a story.

Several years ago, a friend gifted me with a small box containing 1,000 magnetized words. She said, “These will help you write poetry.” The instructions called for randomly placing words on a magnetic surface, like a refrigerator, and then, rearranging them into a sensible order. I’m no poet but got the drift and enjoyed playing with that word set. It’s akin to blowing on a puffball for words that may suggest patterns and strings of thoughts.

Making a wish helps to start me on a path toward logic.

Dear Readers, have a great day! Diana