June 15, 2013
God Bless America
After a full seven days back in the USA, after considerable time away, I feel like I should be settled. I am not, but largely because I am leaving again (in 11 hours). But also, I think that it might be an accumulation of subtle shifts in the earth's core or in my psychic space that have caused irrevocable change that I can feel so palpably that I cannot see clearly and certainly not think clearly.
I think the moment when I knew that I was watching a sci-fi version of the world that I left was when I heard the following conversation:
Upon greeting a group of old friends, "Oh is it so good to see you. How have you been?" to one friend and... "I don't need to hug you, I hugged you a few weeks ago" to another. These are the words that have irked me and literally woke me this morning with the dawn birds and have kept me up since.
I come from a place where upon meeting a stranger we greet with a hug and a kiss. And the conversation goes like this: "Welcome home, Nice to meet you. We don't shake hands here." Hug and kiss.
Am I alone my the horror of these words?
"I don't need to hug you, I hugged you a few weeks ago" is a condemnation of what I value in humanity. It makes me want to wrap my arms around everyone and everything, to ask the world to climb up on my lap and nestle in under my chin; to snuggle and nap in a big cozy pile. I want to stroke the hair and kiss the forehead of every person on the planet, until they all know that any hug, every hug and from everybody is an essential human food-- if we have gone so far as to not crave, it is no wonder we are starving.
"Comme'er money; I wanna spend you!"
Inspirational words from a three-year-old send me out into the universe. "Comme'er money; I wanna spend you!" he says while shaking a pink bicycle-shaped piggy bank. Shake, shake. Rattle. Shake, shake. Bang, bang, bang. Shake, rattle, bang, shake-shake. Young Thatcher speaks wisdom, or rather puts words to a cultural craving, or our human core, gone global. He channels the cosmic voice while speaking to the coins inside. Shake, Shake, rattle-bang. The power of his words scatters out onto the kitchen table and tumbles to the floor. and silently a coin slides backwards out of the slot and onto his hand. A miracle. "Papa, Do it again!" He clutches the booty recently rescued from the abstinent piggy-bank. "What are you going to buy?" I ask. And like with any hard-won prize, the joy is in the effort, he says, "I don't know."
June 12, 2013
Waking Sleeping Dragons.
Standing on the precipice. Ready, or not quite, for the plunge, the next step, the leap into the unknown the abyss, the known abyss. Years of preparation for this moment and moments of thought and the a sporadic rash decision... that is the culmination of a life ... and there are the consequences, there below in little shards, scattered on the beach below in and amongst the rocks. In mid-breath, the rumble of future ramifications and then it is done, no turning back-- it has begun and ended in the same moment. Will the world shake?
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