October 23, 2002

"All That Glitters"

Julia woke up in a curious mood this morning. ''Let's research and find out what particular crystal the beads in your new bracelet of yours are.'' Julia thought they were aventurine.

I have a few polished stones of a deep green aventurine with pyrite flecks in it, so I could understand why Julia would suppose such a thing. However, we looked all through the images that Google provided for us, and not a one of the 'peach' aventurine stones looked anything like it.

Most of the images came from new age crystal sellers. One sphere of a 'honey calcite' intrigued me, so I called up the page from which it came. Sixty images of various two-inch crystal spheres of nearly every possible crystal type slowly loaded. ONE of them looked exactly like a large version of one of the beads of my bracelet. The label underneath the image read ''RED GOLDSTONE''.

My next search for GOLDSTONES wasn't proving very productive on discovering the geological aspects of them, however. There were plenty of new age sites declaring the beneficial metaphysical effects of them. But by this time, it was time to go to work.

Julia ferreted the answer out while I was up to my neck in pants and coats. It seems 'goldstone' is not a crystal at all. It is merely glass with gold or copper dust. As I look at the bracelet beads, they do, indeed, have the glittery gleam of COPPER! However this copper will always stay shiny, for encapsulated within the glass bead, it can not oxidize. Laura had once bought a copper bracelet for me as, strangely, our local drug store had a display of them at the pharmacy counter, 'for relieving arthritis pain'! I wore that bracelet until my wrist turned green. I don't know if this common belief is only superstition, but find it amusing. Oddly, the new age sites didn't list relief of arthritis pain as a benefit, only something vague about 'energy transfer' or 'energy balance'.

All of which makes NO matter whatsoever to me. I've always loved these 'stones' simply because they are pretty. It makes no difference that they are 'merely' man-made.

 

October 24, 2002

"Tending The Soul"

Feeling very weary yesterday night, I wrote a meditative piece with the idea of healing relaxation:

Deep breathing,
shedding heavy weights,
Deep breathing,
shedding some more heavy weight.
What burdens let fall,
leave them to fall as they will.
You are your priority now.
Deep breathe,
and know this healing.
Take the cares off your back,
set them down, in their heavy sack.
Just breath deep,
feel it to every pore,
every cell.
List the things upon which you'll not stress.
Name them and fling them.
The world will keep on spinning,
whether 'Atlas shrugs' or not.
Let these forces do their work.
We are all in suspension,
held up in peace.
If we relax
and let those Arms hold us.
I need such support.
I relax.
Relax
Relax
Relax.

JAL, 10 - 23 - 02

That poem, when I read it, does seem to have a relaxing effect. This morning was filled with more inspiration. I've joined an e-mail list which features a poem by Rumi every day. Those that compile them often include several translations so we can compare them. Some translators go for a very literal transcription of the ancient Persian, while others aim for a more poetic effect.

Both of the two versions of If It Were Always The Season Of Summer seemed more literal. I was inspired to a more poetic version:

When your heart shrinks -
oh traveller, in the desert of the soul,
don't let its burning sun devour you.
Grief will not pay you now.
The expanded heart of joy
requires its balance.

If it were always summer,
the heat would fry the garden.
Delicate seedlings cooked under fierce rays
would die at the root.

For the dark face of winter,
has its kinder side.
Summer can laugh,
yet all the while it is burning,
burning, burning.

So to that shrunken state in the darkness,
bring peace,
relax your face, smile
This quiet expansion
will tend your days.
You are the farmer of your own soul.
Smile.

from The Mathnawi of Jalalu'ddin Rumi,
Mathnawi III, 3734-3739
poetic version JAL

The original translations are here. Also included is a Persian transliteration. Julia had great fun sounding out the words, while I noticed Rumi used pairs of rhyming lines. We could sense the flowing rhythm in his own words.

Not the only poetic offerings today, I also took the idea of being 'our farmer's soul' and brought to it the idea of 'turning inward':

When every moment is like a prayer,
say to the darkness,
I am feeding on the deep roots.
Let no starving thing die.
Deep roots of the well
sustain me
(surface all drained)
Watch and wait and replenish,
(darker times to come?)
Go deep,
beneath the noise
of civilization pacing to and fro.
Know your quiet places,
tend the soul.
Watch and wait.
Breathe.
Wait.
Breathe.

JAL, 10 - 24 - 02

 

October 26, 2002 - A

"Becoming What I've Missed"

An ad a woman placed in her journal 'for a man' got me to crying this morning. Nearly word for word, she wants one whose every characteristic could describe Laura. ''I miss your presence in my life,'' the author speaks to the as yet unknown man.

A person ''flagrantly different and alive'', that Laura was. That she was passionate, that her intensity enlivened our lives, she was and did. ''I miss your presence in my life,'' I cried to a Laura that likely cannot hear.

Then inspired, I was, to a poem:

In cravings first dawning -
oh, fire-spike and soft explosions,
gnawing, needing, driving,

I must learn to dance with it.
Shadow silk upon me,
wearing no black veil,
I AM the black veil.
Don't know how,
I will name it.
I have missed you
for lo, these many months.
I must become what I have missed,
rare spark, fire incendiary,
passion that will not die,
though I turn to rust and ash.
How can I name it so?

You are not alone on this path . . .

JAL, 10 - 26 - 02

Its poetic merits may be questionable, but my 'inner muse' did give me good advice, ''I must become what I have missed''. If I want that 'rare spark' in my life, I must become my own rare spark, fire incendiary. I shall work on this.

 

October 26, 2002 - B

"Carpe Diem"

Becoming 'what I have missed' should begin as soon as possible, for 'grudging time' already flees. Julia saved a favorite Latin passage by mistake in one of my folders. Its discovery was a happy surprise, for I like it very much.

Read, then, the words of HORACE:

Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi
finem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babylonios
temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati,
seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare
Tyrrhenum: sapias, uina liques, et spatio breui
spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit inuida
aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.

   

Don't ask (it's forbidden to know) what final fate the gods have
given to me and you, Leuconoe, and don't consult Babylonian
horoscopes. How much better it is to accept whatever shall be,
whether Jupiter has given many more winters or whether this is the
last one, which now breaks the force of the Tuscan sea against the
facing cliffs. Be wise, strain the wine, and trim distant hope within
short limits. While we're talking, grudging time will already
have fled: seize the day, trusting as little as possible in tomorrow

 

October 27, 2002 - A

"Laura Would Have Loved It"

''A secret is about
to be discovered.

TUCK EVERLASTING

An adventure is about to begin."

IF YOU COULD CHOOSE TO LIVE FOREVER, WOULD YOU?
So asks the poster for the movie 'Tuck Everlasting',
along with the beautiful young faces of Winnie Foster and Jesse Tuck

A fire-ache searing my inward parts, that called by some the soul, I exited the movie auditorium carefully. With some restraint, I kept my crying quiet in the theater's hallway as I told Julia, ''Laura would have loved this movie.''

Later, at home, I cried loudly, while in Julia's embrace. Laura would have heeded the elder Tuck's warning. She would have kept to the cycles of life and death if given a choice. I know that. Young me, oh, I still feel young at 43, if given a chance for a sweet immortal lover, would I taste of the spring?

I have not such a choice. I could not make such a choice for Laura. But how the young man reminded me of Laura, when he and Winnie stood at the top of the rock tower. He was showing her the places he'd seen. Oh, how many times Laura had shown me just such a special spot of beauty!

Heart-fire burns with the ache of it! I pause to think, observe the quietness of the house. The sunlight is gentle, the door is open and the house is light and warm and quiet. Julia sips tea, lost in her own thoughts, acknowledging as well the strange sensation of the deepening reality of Laura's absence.

It did not seem real for so long. She could come back from that bike ride, apologize for the delay, and life would resume as it always had.

But life did not resume in that fashion. Days and nights with Julia have established their own pattern. The seasons have changed.

Yet still the fire burns within, along with the thrashing against what is the natural path of life. I toss and turn inward. I want to scream ''No! No! No!''

But, oh, the movie was good. All the actors did well and the visual effects were lush. It is a treasure. And Laura would have loved it.

 

October 27, 2002 - B

"Vamps Would Have Hated It"

As they exited the movie theater, the deep voiced but pale faced man said to his friend, ''Crap, that movie was depressing,'' She looked just a little spooked and nodded wordlessly. He continued, ''All those problems and bad food, too. Bad food you have to chase down, besides . . .'' Truly irritated, he further allowed, ''Hah, if you'd have seen this movie before I . . . well you probably wouldn't have, would you have?'' Michael caressed Jessica tenderly, as he licked her neck.

The wide eyed young woman softly whispered, ''It is scary . . .'' and her voice dropped off. Her hand reached out to his arm for him to guide her.

''We'll try not to get all despairing now. I mean, I've been around for a good three hundred . . . and I haven't been all that . . . Yeah, there's the 'living in the shadows part', trying not to raise the locals' suspicions, and the constant moving every twenty years or so, and the terribly restrictive diet, but it really isn't that bad. I mean, if I want to focus on the negative, I might end up going out in the sun to 'tan' a bit myself, but really, it is not all THAT bad . . .''

His long haired girlfriend kissed him and replied, ''I'm sure we can have lots of good times. Jesse wasn't all that freaked and depressed. He wanted to explore the world with Winnie. His father scared the crap out of her . . .''

Getting louder and somewhat animated, Michael added, ''Yeah, and Jesse's brother, that was sad, wife leaving him, being called devil-spawn and having your house burnt down . . . Shit, that stuff could happen. Or we could end up on the specimen slab of some scientist trying to find out what makes us tick . . .'' Michael enumerated, aware of a growing tightness in his tummy.

''Yes, we do have to be careful,'' Jessica agreed. Michael sighed, as they rounded the corner on route to his car. Determined to not get thoroughly bummed out, he declared firmly, ''But bad 24/7, no that's not the case.'' Then a familiar gnawing realization hit him, ''Oooh, I'm hungry, are you? Shall we try the desert north of here, might be a coyote we can catch . . .''

Jessica brightly suggested, ''You know, we really ought to make a rabbit farm. They multiply, well, like rabbits, and one is a nice sized meal. With careful planning, our long existance might not be so precarious.'' She thought of how good one would be, in the hand and under the teeth.

''Good thinking, Jessica!'' Michael replied, with a forceful determination, but while smiling. ''Yes, positive attitude for us all. Amen, let's go for it!'', and his eyes brightened to a happy gleam.

By this time, they'd reached their car and headed north, in search of something wild but slow.

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