Sitting on a Story

 

1. Visit a park, choose a bench, explain your choice, and describe your bench

For my bench, I chose the one outside the library. It’s the one just outside city hall, sheltered by a huge tree, hulking overhead. The backing of a tree makes it feel safe, as though I’m sheltered by this great spirit. The bench itself is not particularly comfortable. It’s made of wood slats, up the back and on to the concrete block below. The wood is a cool brown, bleached over the years by the sun. The lack of space below the bench prevents one from swinging their legs back and forth, or folding them beneath themselves. Much of the library landscaping is very modular and modern. The benches aren’t quite ergonomic enough for people to sit there for long periods of time. Much of it is mildly hostile, in attempts to ward off homeless people. All harsh lines and the most practical of shapes. I haven’t been to the library in quite a while. When I was younger, I used books as a form of escape. While my childhood was far from tragic, I had my own struggles. Books helped me through a lot. I spent hours around the library, speeding through page after page. My Ate (Filipino word for big sister, although she was my nanny) would take me and my sisters there after school. On warm days, we’d hop around on the stones. There’s very few limits to a child's imagination, and we’d exhaust them all, playing for hours on end until we were bored. My Ate would sit, similar to how I am now, on a bench close by. Always ready to jump into action if  one of us hurt ourselves. She’d sit with the stroller and a bag of snacks from the Filipino store nearby. That store is closed now, shut down during the pandemic. Not enough business I guess. It’s stunning really, how quickly my childhood escaped me. 

2. From the bench, describe what you see, what you feel, what you think, what you want

The day is a bit cooler than forecasted. There are thin clouds overhead, but no threat of rain, and a warmth breaks through it all. There is a child, maybe 10, hopping around with his mother in front of me. He’s talking a mile a minute, maybe telling her about his day at school, or what he wants to do with his friends later. One foot, jump to the next stone, hop, hop, skip the third. Imaginary rules floating through his head, making up new ways to make the world fun. The water fountain gurgles, a welcome white noise. It takes away from the sharpness of the traffic. I’m not sure if “fountain” is an apt description. It’s more like a man-made stream, flowing down the spaces between the steps. The wood is warm beneath me, a welcome comfort in lieu of the wind whirling around me. I wish for nothing more but for the comfort of our naivety to encompass us once again. There’s a woman sitting to the right and across from me, up the stairs at some other benches. I imagine that she’s on her lunch break, eating what I believe to be pasta out of a thermos. She has bulky blue headphones on, and I imagine she’d listen to Khai Dreams or Laffey. Something soft. Maybe she works at the library. Perhaps I’ll go and get a donut at Tims later. It’s been a while since I’ve indulged. I’m sure that Ali will steal one of these scones when I arrive back home. I’m glad it didn’t rain.

3. If a bench were dedicated to you, where would you like the bench, and what would you like the inscription plate to say

If I were to be dedicated a bench, I would want it to be along the beach near Pacific City in Oregon. My aunt and uncle had a beach house along the sea there, and I spent much of my childhood playing on that beach. We would go down every summer, and spend all day lounging around until it was time to go back. My dad would make an elaborate sand sign, reading Oregon 20__, and we’d take a picture with all the cousins. I built a sand pit one year, with a “table” in the centre for a small fire. It was an impressive feat, to dig out such a large amount of sand, and make it structurally sound enough for one to sit on. I would want the bench to be at the end of the path that leads to the beach. It’s a simple path, pressed between the sides of two houses until it opens up to a sprawling view of the ocean. We’d kick off and leave our shoes there, with no fear of them being stolen. I would want the inscription to read “Find your satisfaction. Eat an orange.” To find satisfaction is what I believe we should all strive for in our lives. All other feelings are impermanent, but satisfaction can transcend them all. Oranges reflect a simple satisfaction, to be eating a small, delicious fruit, feel the joy in the simple sweet juice. They represent a simple connection, for there is a soft kindness in sharing segments of an orange with another. 

4. If you dedicated a bench, where would you like the bench, and what would the inscription say?

If I were to dedicate a bench, I would put it in Alice Lake Campground up in Squamish. It would be dedicated to my childhood summers, where my family would always go up with two other families. We’d always camp in the same few sites. There was a set group of us, eight kids in total. Charlie and I were the oldest, born six days apart. Then my sisters, his younger brother, and the eldest ofKi the Connors’. Then Charlie’s sister and Zach, the Connors’ youngest. We would take our bikes and ride around the grounds. Tearing through the forest and breathing in the fresh air. There are very few moments that I have felt as free as I did there, unconcerned with the worries of the world. I would inscribe it to say  “Let the freedom of your naivety encompass you once again.” I believe that this encompasses that feeling, and is a good reminder. I feel as though we focus so deeply on growing and maturing that we can forget what it means to be young. There is always time to heal and reconnect to your inner child. While I may be seventeen, I’m also fifteen, and ten, and two. Each year that I’ve lived is inside me, and they aren’t something that I need to repress. They’re a part of me. When I mess up, maybe that’s the ten year old. When I eat too much ice cream, maybe that’s the two year old. And that’s ok. While it may not be conventional, I believe it is much healthier to embrace that inner child. 

5. Write a journal response about your trip to the park

Saturday June 11th, 2022

Woke up late, 11. Ate a sesame bagel with peanut butter, and Mom made a green smoothie. Watched three more episodes of Spy x Family. Had lunch, leftover pasta with pesto, olives, mushrooms, and chicken. Decided to walk to the library. Took maybe 15 minutes. Not very busy, the weather was mostly sunny, a few clouds in the sky. Pretty warm, but I needed to grab a sweater on my way out the door. Passed by Uncle Jonas and Auntie Vicki’s place, said hi to Micah and Nico. Micah’s much bigger now, less and less of a baby everyday. Nico’ll be going to kindergarten before I know it. Stopped into Whole Foods, grabbed a set of four blueberry scones. Grabbed a drink on the way from 7-Eleven too. An Arizona iced tea, green tea with ginseng and honey. Walked up to the library, pretty sure I saw Jenny inside the Chipotle. Found my bench. Was unsure of what to do, so pulled out my journal. I’m glad I brought the journal instead of a computer. It feels right, to write it all out on paper. Put in my AirPods, and listened to some lofi. The sleep playlist, night time neon lights. Turned the volume way down so I could listen to those around me, take in the water, the low chatter. It’s calm. If one can ignore the honking of traffic, it’s downright peaceful. Took down some notes for the other segments. The boy and his mom, the woman. Completely separate lives moving around me in tandem. After about 20 minutes, I packed up and left. Walked back home as some clouds were rolling in, though it shouldn’t rain. 

6. Choose a poem that suits your bench, and explain your choice. Include a copy of the poem

The Orange - Wendy Cope

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange

The size of it made us all laugh.

I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave –

They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park

This is peace and contentment. It’s new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all my jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I’m glad I exist

This poem connects to my bench as it is about the simpler things in life. I believe it important to find joy and contentment in the average things about life, the plain, daily tasks. It’s about taking time to enjoy your surroundings. I remember coming here, to the library, with Ate, my little sisters and a bag of mandarin oranges. We’d sit and peel them one by one, swapping pieces and enjoying the flavours pouring over our tongues. Kind days between the stress of everyday life.

7. Explain how your poem connects to your personal philosophy of life

It’s important to find beauty in the subtle things around you, the plain bits, the menial tasks of everyday life. It’s a concept I saw online a while ago. They called it glimmers. Glimmers of hope, joy, purity, happiness in the world around us. They can be found in anything. A pretty flower, the smell of fresh bread, the sunlight between the branches of the trees. It’s meant to help you practice living in the moment, being grateful, and overall thoughtfulness. In a world that seems to constantly be filled with negativity, I think it’s important to take the time to see the soft side of things. The poem shows how you can find peace between to-do lists and busy days. Take some time to be grateful for the life that you are living. The other piece is connection. It’s something that I’ve struggled with, a cycle of isolation. With the pandemic, it’s become a widespread issue. It’s easy to fall into a habit of keeping to yourself, only reaching out when you truly need to. Connection is a part of what makes us human. It keeps us grounded in the world around us. I believe that we are all just pieces taken from everyone we’ve met. The longer you spend with someone, the more alike you’ll become. When we are isolated, we can begin to forget who we are, and how we relate to others. It leaves us stranded. The poem displays how simple human connection can be, how there’s no need for us to overcomplicate our relationships. 

8. What is the purpose of a park? What are your thoughts about parks?

Parks hold many purposes, and are incredibly important to foster city development, community connection, and better public health, both mentally and physically. They provide a natural escape that has become increasingly rare in the ever-growing urban city-scape. It’s been proven that they discourage criminal activity, especially when open later at night. They encourage people to get out and exercise. People feel motivated to go on a walk or a run if they have a nice space to do so. In turn with kids, it gives them a space to play outside, especially with those who live in a very developed city, or in apartments with no other access to green space. It helps provide a holistic childhood experience. If designed properly, they create inclusive spaces for children of all abilities and ages to play. With different playground equipment, parents will bring their kids multiple times, and as they do, it’s more likely they’ll meet other community members. Parks help reduce stress and blood pressure. They help protect natural ecosystems, and if landscaped properly, they can help preserve native flora. Trees in cities help to save money on storm water retention. They clean the air, helping remove pollution. From a more corporate standpoint, they help increase property value. It’s constantly shown that if your property is close to a park or greenspace, the value will increase. Larger parks offer places to hold festivals, concerts, markets, and general events that will encourage community and economic diversity. They overall help develop a sense of cohesion and pride within communities. 

9. Write a poem reflecting upon your bench experience or impending highschool graduation

            We took a stroll

            One sunny day

            Down to the beach

            We used to play at

            And we sit

            And split a mandarin orange

            The juice flooding my tongue

            And I find my peace

            For what more could satisfaction mean