Comments from the narrator so far:
]]>Comments from the narrator so far:
But love is what we want, not freedom. Who then is the unluckier man? The beloved, who is given his heart's desire and must for ever after fear its loss, or the free man, with his unlooked-for liberty, naked and alone between the captive armies of the earth? (p. 53)
Cities are not immortal; nor are memories; nor are gods. Of the deities of childhood's Olympus, hardly any now remain. (p. 57)
...I heard a new voice speaking to me, not in any language I had ever learned, but in the secret language of the heart. It was the sea. Its come-hither murmur, its seductive roar. That was the music that could wash my soul. The lure of a different element, its promises of elsewhere, gave me my first intimation of something hidden within me that would pull me across the water[...]. The sea, the wine-dark, the fish-rich. The lap and suck of waves dying on sand. Rmours of mermaids. Touch the sea and at once you're joined to its farthest shore, to Araby (it was the Arabian Sea), Suez (it was the year of the Crisis), and Europa beyond. perhaps even—I remember the thrill of the whispered word on my young lips--America. America, the open-sesame. America, which got rid of the British long before we did. Let [him] dream his colonialist dreams of England. My dream-ocean led me to America, my private, my unfound land. (p. 59)
No shortage of explanations for life's mysteries. Explanations are two a penny these days. The truth, however, is altogether harder to find. (p. 74)
Now, looking back, I can say that we have been more or less on a par, the world and I. We have both risen to occasions and let the side down. To speak only for myself, however (I do not presume to speak for the world): at my worst, I have been a cacophony, a mass of human noises that did not add up to the symphony of an integrated self. At my best, however, the world sang out to me, and through me, like ringing crystal. (p. 75)
...Which was necessary; but also spoke of trouble ahead, or would have, had either of the happy couple been listening. But they turned a deaf ear to all words of warning. They were deeply in love; which beats earplugs. (p. 81)
I, however, am my parents' child, in that I have always been deaf to religious communications of all types. Unable to take them at face value—what, you really think there was an angel there? Reincarnation, honestly?—I have made the mistake ... of assuming that everyone else was of the same mind, and thought of such speech as metaphorical, and nothing more. This has not always proved a happy assumption to make. It gets one into arguments. And yet—though I know that dead myths were once live religions, that Quetzalcoatl and Dionysus may be fairy tales now but people, to say nothing of goats, once died for them in large numbers—I can still give no credence whatsoever to systems of belief. They seem flimsy, unpersuasive examples of the literary genre known as "unreliable narration." I think of faith as irony, which is perhaps why the only leaps of faith I'm capable of are those required by the creative imagination, by fictions that don't pretend to be fact, and so end up telling the truth. (p. 123)
Live on, survive, for the earth gives forth wonders. It may swallow your heart, but the wonders keep on coming. You stand before them bareheaded, shriven. What is expected of you is attention. (p. 145)]]>
Jody lives in Atlanta, and works the overnight shift. I don't call him as often as I should, but the timing of our lives means that he is finishing up his day as I am readying to start mine. I take a perverse delight in making sure my calls to him start just a couple of minutes before 7, with earpiece tucked securely in my left ear as I drive.
We talk, and more often than not, it's mundane. Today it wasn't.
There's been a lot on my mind this week, a lot that I'm well aware I can't discuss or disclose, and I feel genuinely dishonest even referencing it obliquely here. That's been a theme of my life in the year and a half since I took the job; there are many things I need to say, want to say, and just ... can't. I've made a lot of phone calls to cope with that problem in this past year, and with my inability to write honestly here, those calls have served as my lifeline of honesty in a time when I feel I have to watch every word I write or say.
I spoke honestly.
I struggle with living in the South, and it's getting harder as I get older. I look at people who are able to be radically different from those they share their lives with and realize that they are stronger, more resolute people than I will ever be. I love my friends and I love where I work, but I hold different beliefs and opinions than most of the people who surround me, and I do not always do a good job of moderating my thoughts and opinions enough to live comfortably here.
* * * * *
I liked the Pacific northwest a lot. I am not sure why I went in with the expectation that it would be an awkward fit, because in retrospect, Jeff and I have both adored Vancouver and Victoria for years, and they are both nearby. I expected differences, but found them equally foreign and comforting.
I knew the moment I was in trouble, and I laughed inside when it happened, because I knew what triggered it and knew that if I'd had old friends standing next to me at that moment, they would have seen it coming. We had dipped into the city for me to hit up REI for hiking boots (which I bought, and threw in a new backpack carrying case for my camera). We'd run some errands and were off toward Pike Place Market for my Seattle Tourist Moment™.
We were parked some distance from where we were going, and I was striding across rain-slicked cobblestones in hiking books that were too new and unsure of me just yet. We dodged traffic and metaphorically pulled up our collars to protect against the drizzle, ending up at a concrete overlook. I'd spent most of the time across the street watching my feet, to make sure that I didn't perform a spectacular wipeout in front of my friend, his brother, and what seemed like half of the tourist traffic in Seattle, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.
When they nudged me verbally, I stopped. Just stopped. It all hit me at once. The buildings crowding down into the Puget Sound, the smell of gasoline and conifers and city life, overlaid with that almost-intangible something that I think coastal residents are inured to: the scent of the water, which draws me in ways I cannot explain.
I wasn't sure if Adam or Jordan was the one who asked, "Don't you want to take a picture?" It could have been either brother. I wasn't paying close attention, as my ears were secondary to my eyes. It had been years since I had been to this part of the country, and it came back to me keenly, sharply, like the scent of evergreens and salt water and conifers in winter: I remembered why I found this place beautiful, and why I'd wanted to come back for so long.
I took no photos. I wouldn't have known what to point my lens to if I'd decided to try.
* * * * *
I talked to Jody and it all came out: the remembrance of snow, mountains, conifers, water. The sharp disconnect I had when flying home, the days it took to adjust to being here again, the time I needed to make sense of what I'd seen and done now that I was back to my own life.
"I know you better than most people you've ever known," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice when he said it. "You should be frightened by that statement."
"I'm not."
"You've always had a wandering soul, sweetie."
No one has ever said it to me in quite that fashion, but that phrase summed it up better than any other I've ever written. I tucked it between my ears when we disconnected the call, and walked in the building. My commute was over, and wandering soul or not, there was programming to do, and further introspection would just have to wait.
]]>'In Teh Beginning' (lolcats meets inexplicable meets ... uh, you'll see)
From Colter: 'How To Get Your Love On' on relationships:
]]>'In Teh Beginning' (lolcats meets inexplicable meets ... uh, you'll see)
From Colter: 'How To Get Your Love On' on relationships:
"See, at a certain point, all the variants become so astounding, so dizzying, so universal, that you finally realize (yes, for the 1,000th time) there is no rule. There is no pattern. The exceptions are the rule. There is no approach that, overall, seems to work for most people most of the time. There's not even a hint of a possibility of a whisper of a rule and anyone who deigns to tell you differently, be it a church or a parent or a relationship guru, is, to put it gently, astoundingly full of crap."
....and:
'Library director resigns to head to New Orleans'
Speaking of inexplicable, if anyone can explain to me why so many coffee drinkers persist in continually drinking a beverage they don't even like, I'd love to hear a good explanation. Yes, yes, I know their excuse is the need for caffeine, but why not get your morning kick from a beverage you actually like?
P.S. - Send half-and-half. I'm out.
Love,
Amy
(who is debating whether she should give this entry a title or just use that odd conglomeration of free tags as the title)
Phone calls are still rare beasties indeed, what with my so-called energy levels looking more like a college student's overdrawn checking account than anything of actual use. Short breaths are better. Deep breaths provoke coughing, which has provoked threats of legal action from my diaphragm, which is tired and wants to rest a while.
Nevertheless, worth passing on:
Matthew: "So, basically, you've been a giant feverish heating pad for your cats."
me: "Oh, yes. [hack hack wheeze] They think it's the best thing ever. I'm extremely warm, covered in blankets, and I don't move much."
Matthew: "But what about the coughing?"
me: "They've learned to surf."
I might add, with baleful looks, put-upon kitty sighs, and much twitching of whiskers. One doesn't have to be well-versed in Feline to translate: "Would you STOP, already? You're ruining our nap."
]]>(sleepy mumbles of agreement)
"I'm working on 'enthusiastic.' Right now I'm to 'awake.'"
So I guess we'll meet up with Brian after all.
]]>(sleepy mumbles of agreement)
"I'm working on 'enthusiastic.' Right now I'm to 'awake.'"
So I guess we'll meet up with Brian after all.
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