Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo LATE AUTUMN: 18 Qawl (10 December) 42º. 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ I walked across the campus at sunset in the calm and cooling air. The squirrels were my only companion. I spoke on the phone to my aunt in North Carolina; she chided me for not taking care of myself. But I felt good. The realization of what really went wrong 3 years ago had dawned on me before I called. Not that I could change history, but it gave me some peace. 'Not knowing' has bothered me most of my life. I do not seem to understand reality in quite the same way others do. There is an acceptance by most people that what they sense before them, that what they are told is true, must be true. Part of me has always questioned this. Even as a child I felt different in some ways. Whether it was the inability to reach out to other kids in spite of their cruelty, the fear of family, the impersonal coldness of strangers, I'll never be sure. All this made me hypersensitive to my part in the greater scheme of things. I didn't see that I had a part. Today was a good day, reading my poems to a group gathered for Bagels and Bards. I read two recent poems, 'The birds of Battenfeld' and that silly one about rescuing Santa Claus. Didn't matter. I met a gardener, Carolyn Litwin and we spoke of dahlias, cannas and peonies. The most impressive read was 'Ggoma' a Korean short story about a cherished pet. We took a break after that ... thankfully. It was very moving and I was next (whew). I had a bagel, some nice french cheese, Ethiopian coffee (Harrar) and got to pet a big grey cat. Yep. Good food, good company. Nothing wrong with that. I'm listening to 'Getaway Car' by Slaid Cleaves. Which reminds me somehow of Tracy Chapman's 'Fast Car' which is one of my favorites. Now Crosby, Stills and Nash's classic 'Judy Blue Eyes' is on. This Yahoo music idea is working out. A glance aghast Because I see the future in the mirror of my past I don't reach out afraid that once again I'll be outcast and seek the silence deep beneath these bleeding rocks of blame. I swim these coal-black icy pools that mirror my face and looking back at who I was I envy him his place when innocence adorned his lips and eyes knew not of shame. I turn my back aghast, at his naïvete of coming pain. [163.469] Did anyone notice that today was "Human Rights Day'? Hmmmm. I heard no word of it today. Too bad. Guess sports and ... whatever ... is more important. I finished reading 'Rosaura a las diez'. It's a very intriguing read. What is truth? This book by the Argentinian Marco Denevi written in 1955 is surely a classic. Magnificent writing. Wonderfully colorful characters. Great use of vernacular that makes these people come alive. What is really true you do not know until the end. I need to go over the handouts Nick gave me and try to reread the story by Tuesday when we will have our last tutoring session. His test is Wednesday. Yesterday was the anniversary of the beginning of my hand-written journal. It has reached 1,163 pages in 1,097 days. The goal? To express myself with fewer constraints than a normal letter to a friend. Yep. It is mostly a long, very long letter to a friend. Everything I would say if I could. Like ... it's 47º there now, are you enjoying the mild weather? 11,782 views ** Image ID #1134108 Unavailable ** Kare Enga Anticipation Hey dad, how many days till we flood the yard? Are the nights cold enough now it's August? Canada's son That summer, they moved to Texas. Hell had never been so hot! He waited with his skates for winter. ... Didn't come. Why did we fight? Where was she? She said she would come. Said she might be late from work. Who could be more important than me? Gloves come off. I add these at the end because they are part of my portfolio to be sent to Chatham College or wherever. These were published in the Ontario Amateur Hockey Magazine, London Edition Spring/Summer 2006. It was a pleasure to open up the mag and find them on page 11. I only knew that they had chosen some for publication, but not which ones . |