Meanderings

Watched the "Age of Innocence" this morning...the ballroom scene...and Archer's facial expressions...rewind, begin again...rewind, begin again. There is a pausing point in the story where we see the open page within, "The House of Life"...


Supreme Surrender by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

To all the spirits of Love that wander by
Along his love-sown harvest-field of sleep
My lady lies apparent; and the deep
Calls to the deep; and no man sees but I.
The bliss so long afar, at length so nigh,
Rests there attained. Methinks proud Love must weep
When Fate's control doth from his harvest reap
The sacred hour for which the years did sigh.
First touched, the hand now warm around my neck
Taught memory long to mock desire: and lo!
Across my breast the abandoned hair doth flow,
Where one shorn tress long stirred the longing ache:
And next the heart that trembled for its sake
Lies the queen-heart in sovereign overthrow.

There is a book I fell in love with during college titled, "The Brotherhood of Letters". Snippets and phrases that sang to me. My closest friend in the universe photocopied the book and I have carried it through every move. Re-read it now and again in full and reference its existence in my head when I look through the bookshelves. Holmes, Churchill (not the Winston--the other Winston), Marvel, Landor and a few others...Rees would be at home with these others...someday he shall come.

"...spent a certain evening together, discoursing on subjects of mutual interest, and what scope we have for conjecture as to how their hidden souls leaped out to meet each other. The freed imagination lingers over such a meeting for days and seasons. We live again for ourselves, the hours they this lived, or should have lived, during that interview; we hear again the words they spoke, or should have spoken; and these help to make for us a life, nay, a world, sacred and personal and secluded."

"...something of hero-worship felt by Thackeray when he said: 'I should like to have been Shakespeare's shoe-black, just to have worshipped him, to have run on his errands, and seen that sweet serene face.' . . . It does not matter how much superior to the worshipper the hero may be: the man who worships cannot fail to feel himself, in a certain sense, of kin to the object of his adoration. The mere act of worship has in itself and uplifting and refining influence of no mean extent."

"In the centre of all, and object of all, stands the Human Being, towards whose heroic and spiritual evolution poems and everything directly or indirectly tends."

"At one end of the table sat Longfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced--a most agreeable rather than a brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always pleasant to look--whose silence was better than many another man's conversations."

Still in the haze

z: ...Still in the haze...costa rican haze--vegas haze....

n: ...i bet you are in a haze. good luck getting "back"

z: yes...goodluck needed to getting back....

n: decompression is *the worst*

z: have decompressed from reality...now need to compress for reality...how weird.

n: yeah, weird and kinda sad...probably a little painful too, huh?

z: very

Repose - Gaylord Ho

The Vegas purchase...his work is amazing.

Blue and Gold Macaw - Chuck Quinlan

The bird.
The adventure of oversized carry on parcels.
Rainforest to suburbia.
Flying “home”?

Double x-rays.
Unpacking and repacking.
Again in Miami, unpacking and repacking
and nods of disapproval.

Arriving home
…last unpacking.
The colors as vibrant
Staring.

The way home

5:00am, On the way to airport, Jorge says, "...differente pantaloons" (you look different in pants). I laughed. I know few words but have learnt some. "Chico?" (look like a boy). Jorge laughs. "Si." He says the word for cold, sounds like "frio San Francisco?" I say hugging my shoulders, "Si."

And back to reality.

~~~~Later~~~~

child on the plane

bilingual. fluent.

loud, questioning, observant

living out loud.

untamed

and of course, for us adults, he was

tiring
annoying
self-centered
unaware
smart
creative

and he left us

angry
smiling
conscious of what it is to have that air of freedom
conscious of how much we wanted to sleep

and his bouncing in his seat
causing ours to rattle

his energy level so high
and us winding down for the six hour flight

i thought, but when do we become tamed?
when we still exude and exert all the exploratory energy on learning
but somehow repress it so deep

i thought, why is the taming so full and complete
why do we not tame to become attuned to others
to be aware that we share a space
to be aware that the love of life can be shown
but quietly, softly, tenderly, intensely, passionately

why is the taming so complete
why do we tame our children to oblivion

Last Morning

It's been incredible, wonderful, a very dreamy reality.

Jorge, Doris and Aferni came last evening late. Very tired, needing rest. This morning I woke around 4:45...the rooster were early...and watched as the sky grew brighter. The mountains in the distance, the ocean at Quepos visible, the low clouds thin almost transparent.

Aferni who is just two is wandering--calling--reaching--words not yet formed totally. I watch as Jorge feeds him...Jorge's enthusiasm life giving and Aferni smiling. It's a fitting end to have a child run about the house and give it that sort of life force that is so rich in the rainforest, in the motion of all sorts of things outside the windows and doors of this house.

We will go and pick-up the picture and head toward a National Park on the way to San Jose. Like Steve's first day...sitting back...letting the world pass or rather letting soak in to the core.

Wonderful holiday!

Morning

One wakes with the sun and the local roosters in Costa Rica. Sunrise is generally cloud soaked with a band of orange and grows lighter. Morning here is filled with animals...this morning a family of monkeys. Seven of them. In the tree, then to the fence and back into the trees. They are attuned to their environment--all watching me watching them from the terrace. Two smaller ones flying at one another superman style...chasing, playing...took a different route through the trees. Their backs and flight available only for a few seconds now and again.

The birds in the morning are bright chested reds and yellows. Sitting outside while sippling coffee, one flew to a spot a few feet away. Looked at me with one eye--then the other--then off he went.

It's a pensive morning...my mother would have loved it here--surrounded by sounds of nature, the rainforest, animals passing by on their route to where ever, the ocean in the distance. She would have picked up painting again...she would have embraced the experience--and it might have given her the fuel she so needed--the wonder, the ability to see and soak it up--a sense of being "at home with oneself".

Grey and raining but it will clear eventually...the color outside appropriate--the brightness of intermittent moments (when the birds touchdown nearby) amplifying the sense that there is a certain peace in being able to sit and do nothing, of letting one's mind wander.

Time - One year later

Time - Alan Parsons Project

Time, flowing like a river
Time, beckoning me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river
To the sea

Goodbye my love, Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love, The tide waits for me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it's gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Goodbye my friends, Maybe forever
Goodbye my friends, The stars wait for me
Who knows where we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it's gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

The real deal

Amazing, wonderful, incredible!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA

Thank you Steve

Watching the rain

as simple as that.

Yesterday we went rafting and it was a blast. A lot of laughing, all smiles, very enjoyable. It brought back a rush of happy memories from way back when which just made it that much more enjoyable.



Not sure what the next few days will bring...maybe repelling down waterfalls--theme keeps coming around or heading back to the galleries in Quepos.

Just the beach

We did nothing but sit on the beach...chill, chill, chill. Riva loves it here too.

My little sister Kirsten is in Germany with her boyfriend and some other school friends. First pic to be posted...she doesn't look too happy but evidently is having a great time per the blogs.

A3's family

Marcella & Allison



Daneth & A3

No where in particular

I have finished four books this past week and have enjoyed them all. But still…how lucky to have been born and brought up in the States…how fortunate not to have a sense of “duty” that binds one’s life--that holds oneself hostage against one's will.

“interpreter of maladies” by Jhumpa Lahiri
“The Space Between Us” Thrity Umrigar
“Arranged Marriage” by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
“Malgudi Days” by R.K. Narayan

Vid tells me I am missing (at least) half the story if my thoughts are constantly along the lines of one betraying their core being, of a life given to misery by outward compliance and internal chaos, of…. I try to put it out of mind but it is always there in the forefront. I have never known a life where things are to be different from what you choose to make them.

Both of my parents very much believed and stated repeatedly, “The only one you can embarrass is yourself.” In their actions they supported our varied interests, weird friends and my crazy notions of how the world really worked (I think my brother gets the free pass on this one as he identified the “system” at a very young age). They were right and in them I think we had learnt that this life is what you make it. Perhaps their own doubts, fears, failures are the things that drove them to this type of guidance. Maybe it was their errors in knowledge that they did not wish us to repeat. Or maybe, just maybe, it is better to learn from a distance what it is you can become (a sort of false deserted island of oneself) than to embrace and reproduce what has always been.

In reading the above books, although some of the content is universal…even if one has to abstract a bit, other things are concrete and do not translate. And this is what Vid tells me I should focus on, recognize and embrace. “As an American you culturally skim over that as if it doesn’t matter—but it’s all that matters.” We disagree. But her point is wander the details instead of label them. Imagine a world where it is the reality—(because it is)—and then maybe you will see it. We disagree. “You have no idea how to balance two worlds. Zane it doesn’t even occur to you that there are two worlds to balance.” She’s right--it doesn’t (balance two worlds is akin to a split personality--no?), and so we disagree.

I have enjoyed all of the books and looking forward to the discussions, the coffee, the walks along the water. It is not the content of the books themselves but what someone’s eyes say and the emotions they display while trying to find the correct words for the ideas. The intensity, the depth, the need to explain in the most simplistic way the essence of a difference and communicate it in a way that both speaker and listener find themselves staring not at the distance while processing but at each other. That moment—that look, that understanding makes it all worth it.

When I return there is another stack of books on the “list” awaiting me. I look forward to the conversations--the many ups and downs in the dialogue and the moment of resonance that often leaves us silent and walking to no where in particular.

Later...the facts

Jefferson is fine. Sleepy 15 year olds fill in the gaps. The car did not flip--some damage but nothing like the images going through my head.

As we will always say...we can replace things--we can't replace people.

Reality slapping us in the face

6 calls rom Jefferson at 5:30am. We spoke to Frederick...it appears Jefferson flipped his new car in San Diego sometime early this morning. No confirmation of facts other than it seems he is okay. Although we don't actually know--but he called leaving no messages but spoke with a very sleep-dazed Frederick.

We have emailed his myspace friends. We have spoken with some other friends.

As a parent you just want to know your child is safe. You want to rush home, you want to see that they are in tact. Nothing else matters.

We're edgy, anxious, worried.

Waiting for a phone call. Waiting for an email.

Waiting.

For all it's splendor, grace and beauty I would rather see my son and know he is okay than to have ever experienced any of this wonder in Costa Rica.