there are blurrier picturers which bring me more joy, ones of the goldfinch swaying to and fro, with the cosmo in the wind. He is there again, striking among some darker purple flowers, the sight mocks me, for my batteries gave out while I was filming him earlier, as they recharge, he sits and feasts, and I can't capture any of it, except for with my eyes. And that part of soul which records such things, to do what with I know not.
I read GoodThomas's blog, and Vesper's before I went to sleep last night. Things seem to hang in the air around me, and over-lap, falling on me in layers. I keep thinking of Alena, of this time last year. I dreamed for the second time this week of my mom and my aunt, at my nana and pop's house. The over-lapping of people and time. My Pop said to me in the dream, "You can't change any of it now, you can do it after I'm dead". We were in his basement (in the dream I must have had plans to change it). And just as he finished saying it, I remembered that he is dead. And that is when my mom and her sister entered the dream. I woke early and couldn't fall back to sleep. I thought about how Ocean City, New Jersey is like home to me, because we go every year, because we have always gone, because my family on both sides always went. I think about how my homes have changed over the years, but this ritual runs like a thread through my life, a constant. We only go with ourselves now. Bob and Cheese and I. Occasionaly we will run into some of my Nana's relatives (thus also mine). And last year, my Aunt took her family and my Mom and Grandmother all went too. I have video of Alena there, pictures of her alive. Time, home, people, over-lapping, fading in and out of my life.
Home, home is something that is shifting. I remember when my Nana and Pop's house was home, always a home base, I thought it would be so forever. But now the door that locks, I do not have a key to open it. I can not go inside. I am outside of, where used to be the heart, the core, the security of my world. I think, how can that be, how could that have happened? How can there be day without sun? They were like the air, the trees, the sun, ongoing, part of the world, part of existence. The thing is though, even the sun, does not go and on the same. It will change getting so hot to burn us all, to burn our home, our planet, and then turn so cool that we would freeze. Even this, our Earth home, if we are lucky enough to go on and on here in the future, then humanity will need to find a new home. We will all need to leave, and search for a new place to call home. I will be long gone then, millions, billions gone then. The sun does have the luxury of time, going on so for millions and millions of years (or is it billions and billions?) before it changes. But would I exchange one lifetime, finite, of love, of hope, of despair, of people, for millions of years of burning in my own fire, suspended alone in sky. I would rather live, live and die. In my small, small space in time.
And so I sat with my thoughts. And when I got up to listen to music and brush my teeth. I thought about Mikiyoshi. About the attention and affection of GoodThomas's post, and how that is something I need to see, to feel from Mikiyoshi at the end of the story. I knew he had changed and you see it in his actions, but this degree of tenderness, does not pour off him, and he needs it. He needs it to flow through him, and startle him. I could not see its absence and give it to him before, because I do not have it to give. But I see now, it will become part of him. Part of his journey; different eyes. As his heart unlocks and opens. The joy of it will scare him, as will the vulnerability. He will live in the world in a different way than he did before. I am glad I saw this, glad I read those words (GT's). It is in some ways a nuance, this addition, a few words, a few sentences, the story is still the same, but...but it changes everything, its impact, it is all different. It is an emotional connection I wasn't feeling, Mikiyoshi wasn't feeling, that is necessary to truly know the transformation, not just of actions, not just of ideas, but of heart. His being, his soul, reflecting light differently, in the world. And feeling this, I felt more, and I saw more; I saw farther and deeper into the story, its heart. I saw little nuances that changed scenes, and I saw scenes I didn't see before. So thank you GT, and blogosphere, for this gift, for another piece of the puzzle, or another piece of colored glass for the mosaic, I am trying to create. That will hopefully reflect the light that is within me, and reflect its light into me. (illuminating some darker areas, letting light in)
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