I was reading Reya's blog earlier and also the comments--wow, lots of comments! I think our little splat is kind of a private interchange. The concept was to feed off of each other, so I will push on. But it seems funny now to me about the whole April Fool's joke. If the Gods so will it, I'll make sense of those last sentences. Somehow they're related, but frankly, even I'm confused.
Rick mentioned the theme coming home. For any visitors, the four of us go back over forty years. In the case of Rick and me, if I'm not mistaken, it has been nearly 50! So old friends is a good description. We're all artists so we like to think of ourselves as...well, as ourselves. Which doesn't seem to have much to do with age. I guess what I'm trying to say is--we're not THAT old!
Some commercial on TV has something to do with baking and the smells of fresh baked rolls, playing off the theme of coming home. You know that's not bad. The comfort smells, the comfort feeling, the secure and confident awareness of being surrounded by love--if these be the qualities of coming home, it is no wonder that it is a nice feeling. So in that symbolic essence, to return to that feeling, whether it be to the land of your forefathers or the place that you feel to be your most authentic self--going home is something that is a good thing.
Paul Simon may be may favorite balladeer. In certain categories, there is sacred ground that no one may tread. For all round God of Gods, Lennon. For wit, Dylan. For roundness and pudding like vocals James Taylor. But for touching me with his stories, Paul Simon. Anyway, on the going home theme, The Boxer just crushes you with emotion...
I have squandered my resistance, for a pocket full of mumbles such are promises. All lies and jests. Whoa. I just want to be smashed by the diamonds on the bottoms of his shoes, and get all mashed together with whatever else he steps in. And then I just want to hang there, in his mud room and get put back on in the morning.
But you feel it when he says it. Going Home! And you know he knows. That it is a reward. A safe place. A place to return to.
It feels like coming home to me to be reunited with Rick and Reya and Danny. And others too. There's Lowell. We had so much fun riding his "V-Dub" to school in the morning. And the stupid thing didn't have a heater! We froze on those winter mornings. But we laughed all the way. Telling stories and being so ALIVE! Now Rick Britton has joined fb (we'll have to get him over here--have you others added him yet? Let's get him to post!). And Greg Rainwater and Moe Spitskofsky. And all of my neices are here now! This virtual hangout. Gang have you thought about it recently how young this information age is? But we are able to hang? Like we're actually in a room, having a conversation!!! So cool and so vital!! Especially in the time we're in...
OK, so I'm off point. Reya has a client in a hospital. And her blog recently has been partially devoted to describing the experience. You can feel the energy of her visits. You can sense the nurses in the ward and you can hear the beeps and buzzes of technology and you can smell the sanitizer. Mostly you empathize with the patients who are separated from all the natural world. As it turns out, Reya's client is going to be ok, but some of the others who were there are REALLY going home. Like to the home of homes. Which makes me appreciate the feeling of returning to a safe LIVING place or a safe living state of mind.
To act like some kind of common thread and to stitch this whole puzzle together, I went back to Rick's last entry and reread it and wanted to "bounce off of it" and I noticed his was sort of a rebound off of mine which was called Ship Hattins. Which, even though I hadn't thought of it at the time, was written on April first. His was called "All Aboard." and the theme was "How did we get here?"
Having nothing almost to do with any of that, I recently added a post about idleness and when I thought of the author and his theme, I remembered a poster which was hung in my army barracks wall near my bunk, that I brought with me from home. The fool. I didn't even know anything about Tarrot cards then. But I had the poster.
So a search on the computer quickly found it for me and voila, it accompanied my post. Just a day or two after April Fools Day.
This is the joke of jokes I think. But I don't get it.
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I feel it, too, the coming home thing. Our reconnection has also been very healing for me, like some kind of soul retrieval. That part of my life was difficult, so to rediscover that I actually had fun with ya'll has been an amazing gift.
ReplyDeleteAs for the comments and blogging culture, remember I've been blogging for years. I had a blog before my current blog that ran for three years.
If you want to make this a more public blog, I can tell you how to do that. I think you are such an awesome writer and thinker - and Rick, you, too, though in such a different style than Dub - that I believe this would be a great blog for many different readers.
Love to you, sweet April Fool. Love that first paragraph!