Beatitude Point ( # 4 )

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” And the earth was without form : and void and darkness was upon the face of the deep . And the Spirit of God hovered upon the face of the waters . ” Exodus 1:2

 

Dale , sitting on deck in the quiet of the night , feeling lonely at Dave’s escape , listens as the blurred sound of ” Columbo ” floats up from below . Dave is usually out here under the stars but now Dale is pinned alone to the hallucinatory pewter sky . He wants to fit in , uncomfortable like on a secluded beach . The four mates graduated together from Grand Rapids Christian High , an education based upon the Dutch Calvinist denominations strict principles and parental education , binding each of them to the other as though on a see-saw , each attached to an axis that would lift them into each others life . The taste of spray off the restless blue green sea , reminding Dale of all the warnings not to drink , swear , dance or have sex . All four of them are athletes and this too joins them like a school of powerful fish . Yet Dale , being the shortest and from a less affluent background , wonders if he is worthy … even though the others consider him the toughest , surviving two concussions on the football field and getting up to finish the game . Remembering his team mates admiration at his strength puts him in a momentary state of exaltation and he feels pride as a constricting sensation in his chest , close to pain , difficult to breath . . . this feeling overcoming the secret of his recurring headaches . He suffers one this night and grimaces with a wary painful smile , looking out to the empty cove backlit by the amber setting sun where silhouetted figures on shore break away and merge into a darker mass . The rolling waves bringing slumber … Tomorrow he will try harder , try harder to prove himself . The vibrations of Led Zepplin are heard and enter Dales spirit , opening a door to a different realm .

“Stairway to Heaven “

” There’s a feeling I get when I look to the west

And my Spirit is crying for leaving .

In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees

And the voices of those who stand looking .

ooh it makes me wonder

ooh it makes me wonder .

And it’s whispered that soon , if we all call the tune ,

then the piper will lead us to reason .

And a new day will dawn for those who stand long

And the forest will echo with laughter “.

 

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Monday , 9-18-72 ( Chris’ journal )

We’ve learned a lot today . We awoke to the alarm at 5:00 am , but Dale and Dave had to be persuaded to get up . After a fine breakfast of pancakes and milk , we tried in vain to contact the Coast Guard and raise the 6:00 am weather report while the rain continued to leak through a cabin joint on Buzz’s side and the newly drilled radio antenna hole . Dale also complained of a leak over his bunk . Dave and I seem to have the only dry corners of the boat . I called the Ludington Coast Guard with some difficulty , much to the amusement of the telephone operator . They told us to call on channel 16 and then switch to 12 , but as I found out later , we have no channel 12 . The forecast called for 20 mph winds and 2-3 foot seas which have yet to materialize . The predicted rain has also failed to fall . The day dawned gray and overcast in distinct contrast to a striking orange sunset that preceded the coming darkness last night .

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Pentwater was a small hole-in-the-wall type of town in which you could see from one end of downtown to the other . Presumably still half asleep , we cast off with great difficulty at 6:30 this morning . This difficulty can now be recorded with some amusement value , although it could have been disastrous . 

When we tied up last night , we secured our fore dock lines before our aft lines which were , as is commonly true , piles without a catwalk connection . This we perceived to be an inadequate procedure and promised each other to reverse the technique . I am about to describe something I still fail to understand completely and cannot afix guilt for the blunder for fear of disrupting corporate harmony and because both parties have expressed feelings of their own guilt . In any event , Buzz or Dave in the difficult task of casting off from our incorrect mooring , dropped a dock line in the water to attempt a rescue of the drifting dinghy . The dinghy escaped and the dock line found it’s way around the prop and rudder ( as we found out later ). Out of the slip now we discovered our problem and drifted helplessly toward the west side of the harbor . Since we couldn’t start the engine with the line around the prop for fear of damaging the line or the engine or both , I declared that someone had to strip and dive to untangle the rope . Buzz said we were gaining on the dinghy so I turned the boat to bear upon it as Dale divested his clothing . The water was bitterly cold and I suggested Dave watch Dale in case a rescue was necessary . About this time , Buzz retrieved the dinghy we had caught and asked if he should slow the boats progress by pulling it with the dinghy . I told him to go ahead and try . Buzz then suggested I try to turn the bow into the wind , but the wind caught us broadside and our speed increased ! Now less than 30 ft. From shore , Dale kicked his way down to the prop for the 6th or 7th time and un fouled the propeller . We started the engine not 20 ft . from shore . Dave had a towel ready for Dale when he climbed on board , leaving me to handle the helm and catch the dinghy line from Buzz . Dale , in his haste to reach the warm cabin , slipped and fell hard but with no apparent injury . We all breathed a sigh of relief , praised Dale for his work , and entered Lake Michigan at 7:00am.

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We cruised under power for about an hour and a half and then tried to pop the spinnaker . I watched from the stern as the others rigged the sail with some ” discussion “. It went up nicely but our wind soon failed and we took it down . It was up backwards anyway ! We saw two steamers on the horizon , but no sails until we reached Ludington around 10:00am . We docked at a gas stop called Wally’s and went to talk to the Coast Guard about our radio . In talking with the radio man we found out that our radio didn’t have the necessary crystals to communicate with the Coast Guard unless we were in an emergency situation . 

After refueling at a different gas dock , we left Ludington for Manistee , cruised under power along a changing coast  until 2:00 p.m. when we stopped at Dave’s suggestion and went snorkeling . This lifted my spirits tremendously . We pressed on an hour later to arrive at Manistee at 4:00 p.m. We ate Spam and vegetable soup for supper and had a couple beers at the Coral Gables Bar . I elected to take a shower while Dave , Dale and Buzz played pool and swiped apples . Dale’s got a date for 11:00 tonight . The alarm is set for 5:30 a.m. And Dave is sleeping outside .

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Tent Vision – P.J.Poet – Poetry Love Crown

imageNow living in a tent , upon awakening , under my cloud-like pillow of feathers , I find a poem written on pink tissue paper , folded so carefully like my mothers floral batiste handkerchief . I hear Baby Blue Samsonite ( Sammy ) sigh , sigh long as she sits in the far corner enjoying the canvas walls gentle movement . . . I often wonder just what she does while I sleep … especially now in the tent ! She holds , like a drawer , all my clothes neatly placed in piles of cotton , silk and wool and yet lately I find them in a confusing mess as if she loaned them in the night to someone else , with my green vintage dress ( the dress of infinite possibilities ) rumpled in a heap on top . Just WHAT has she been up too ! Her sigh this morning is all-consuming like the grace of a beatitude which is why I’m not really angry with her mysterious antics .

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Photo by Aela Labbe

The poem is dated November 6 , 2011

I see him out

my window where

the heavens crack

the rain splashing the sky

a scent pungent falling

a crown upon his head .

he enters the room

no one sees him come in .

the curtains move

like oceans touching land

shadows sink

with the sun onto the floor

a symphony strand .

I see him .

the others gathered here,

a celebration taking place ,

seem not to notice ,

the stir around them

quieting me .

Mouths moving

i hear not their sound

only his gaze familiar and sweet .

and when he goes

no one knows he’s left

but I do

and cry at the emptiness

like drops of rain disappearing

onto petals of flowers unknown

that bring forth

a vision of life

of that which remains

a cover of silvery stars

in his pale brown eyes

looking at me .

standing in the doorway

a room in my view

a vision so handsome

i see him still

a crown on his head

resting upon my flying bed

reflecting a mist

where I exist .

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In the Bhagavad Gita , Krishna tells Arjuna , ” Nothing is ever lost . What you relinquish on the material plane you will rediscover a thousand times more wonderfully in God “.

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Photo by Lara Zankoul

Reality Interlude # 4

image It is a small village ( Glen Arbor )by the Great Lake Michigan along the Sleeping Bear National Lakeshore in Leelanau County . On it’s Main Street you can find a coffee brewing company and cafe , art galleries ( Synchronicity ) owned by my brother , The Totem Shop where I once bought moccasins and the silver bracelet I never take off , a post office , a bookstore in a historic log cabin with the scent of vanilla coming from the first edition used books in the back room , the tea house where jeweled imports are brought back from India , a portrait studio , a kayak shop , Arts Bar with a pool table , a winery , Boondocks restaurant where various bands play nightly on the open deck and some big abandoned wood buildings along the river that hold mystery in their beams … Around this center is a Tuesday Farmers Market behind the old Town Hall ,charming cottages down dirt roads , bicycle trails and woods alive with deer , fox , even bear , sand dunes , a river with salmon spauning  with eagles and falcons swooping above .  It is something from a mythical America where no one locks his door , so calm that you feel sheltered , sheltered all around by tranquil wilderness , a shoreline of white sand and small fossil stones and thickets of ferns and moss . Sometimes the horizon between water and sky makes one to easily believe yourself at the end of the earth . It’s also easy to believe yourself creating masterpieces of paintings or novels inspired by the waves and the light on this Great Lake the Native Americans call Michigami ( great water ). image I left St.Joseph on August 4 , 2014 , in the depths of my dream . The world was already quaking from wars in the Middle East , lost airplanes , uprisings , ex terminations of ancient cultures , hurricanes and plaques . It had been a snowy cold winter … unusually so , my brother calling it the polar vortex effect as Glen Arbor lays on the 45th parallel . I love northern Michigan . I love it’s tranquility , I love it’s scented forests , I love it’s clear river streams , it’s mysterious seasons . I love it’s loud storms , loud with thunder , wind and lightning . I love that it birthed me and that it is my home . image Having just sold my house and nearly all possessions , all debt paid , I bought a tent . Earth , earth pulsating . Earth , earth warm under my feet . Earth , earth orbiting . I laid down that first night  happy with thanksgiving whispered as sleep found me , found me like wind finds a branch to speak for it . And the tent it’s pinnacle like a crown upon an earth created by a magnificent God sparkling with a sky filled with stars , who swept me away within the protective hide a way of white canvas , the walls moving like breath embracing me .   Now I am awake ! … or am I dreaming ? I stand up to make sure … The Great Spirit has found me and I AM AWAKE ! Hearing loud drumming , loud celebratory chanting repeated many times , many times for nearly an hour , I realize it is coming from the direction of the lake and it sounds so near , so near and distinct with a loud beating . The sky is clear black , many stars , a gentle wind , quiet except for the Native American chants heard  … I’m listening , listening long , still listening as I lay down on my sheepskin where sleep once again captures me . image Two days pass … I shyly mention that night in a photo post and tell my daughter about it … when I read an article about the Odawa Nation Pow Wow that had taken place across the lake in Harbor Springs , more than 60 miles away ,taken place that first night I had slept in my tent ! It was the Great Spirit who awakened me and spoke to me , welcoming me back home, sending the Pow Wow over the long distance , over the waters, christening a name from generations ago into my awareness , one that sounds familiar : ” She Who Walks Barefoot “. image Oh Great Spirit

whose voice I hear in the winds

and whose breath

gives life to all the world .

hear me

I am small and weak

I need your strength and wisdom .

let me walk in beauty

and make my eyes ever behold

the red and purple sunset .

make my hands respect the things you have made

and my ears sharp to hear your voice .

make me wise

so that I may understand things

you have taught my people .

let me learn

the lessons you have hidden

in every leaf and rock .

I seek strength

not to be greater than my brother

but to fight my greatest enemy , my-self .

make me always ready

to come to you with

clean hands and straight eyes .

So when life fades

as the fading sunset

my spirit may come to you without shame .

 

Chief Yellow Lark ( 1887 )

Clouds : screenplay

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Scene 5 : Sandcastles

Time : dusk

Place : beach in Hawaii

Music : only the sound of waves and surf with faint tinkling of bells heard

Abu , sitting under the shade of the Gingo tree from previous scene , is now joined by Olivia , who is seen carrying a transistor radio and holding the hand of little Peggy ( first appearance here in scene 5 ) . Nearby , Baby Blue Samsonite ( Sammy ) is almost asleep until Peggy steps onto her , climbing into the swaying hammock … the scent of plumeria bushes , a sweet aroma , drifts sweetly like the gentle mist on naked skin of a rainbow low in the heavens . See here the moon , rolling down the boulevard in the sky lighting up this hazy scene .

note to cameraman : 3 min. Close-up of Peggy as she falls asleep while the following lullaby is playing on the transistor radio .

Goodnight My Angel

Goodnight my angel ,

Time to close your eyes

And save those questions for another day

I think I know what you’ve been asking me

I think you know what I’ve been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

And you should always know

Wherever you may go

No matter where you are

i never will be away .

 

Goodnight my angel

Now it’s time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean

Im rocking you to sleep

The waters dark

And deep inside this ancient heart

Youll always be a part of me .

 

Goodnight my angel

Now it’s time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry

And if you sing this lullabye

Then in your heart

There will always be a part of me .

 

Someday well all be gone

But lullabies go on and on …

They never die

Thats how you

And I

Will be .

written and sung by Billy Joel

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Cameraman : focus on Olivia where only the universal rhythm of the waves are heard.

Olivia , once again , sees beyond the breakers , waves that bleed from grey to white , a white horizon where everything melts into everything else , like a ghost in the night . Bells chime , “she is here to bear witness “. And now , a single , unattached to a house , window appears like a vision with Olivia looking in , out at the sea and then  1000 miles down to the seabed .

Cameraman : long underwater scenes with sea life , dolphins and coral until there lies Peggy , looking up from underneath , peaceful in the deep cathedral of the ocean .

Music : Harp playing with the passionate voice of  Florence + the Machine  singing

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This scene fades away to Tavisha at the distant end of the beach walking towards them after writing her lost loves name in the sand .

She is talking to herself . The alchemy of her own salty ocean tears begins to drop onto her toes , nails colored pink , pink like the inside of oyster shells , feet still like those of her girlhood .

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Narrator ( Abu ) : Earlier on this day , when the beach had been noisy with families and children , Tavisha had often stopped in wonder , awe , and admiration for the pathway of sand castles being created . Ones with delicate peeks and well thought out moats above dug out rivers , others larger and strong with fish , stars and mermaid intricately designed . But now this world is changing from sunny noon bright heat  to twilight where a dolphin is suddenly seen jumping out of the waves and the sound of the pounding hoofs of Waipios wild horses is heard in the dusk of the distant valley .

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Music playing from Dire Staits ( Alchemy Album )

Abu continues narration :

Tavisha swims into the rolling waters and when she emerges cleansed , back to shore she is weeping , weeping for her lost youth … gone now . A heart bruised and a body broken , tired more , aging fast , sleeping more , crying more , life meaning more . And now see the tears dried from the lovely strong wind and look , look as she sees the sand castles now being washed from the beach  as the tide rises . Look , how beautiful they  suddenly are ( so much more than before ) . The edges smooth , the forms simple and softened round , no details left  … only the hint of a castle now with its soul exposed into something strangely fat and alive making a map to another planets dimension  seem only a mile away . Something surreal , surreal with ancient amazing beauty .  The wind blows her hair , blows it like the waves blow the sand into a perfection sweet like silky soft baby hair .

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Scene closes with window close-up in which a multitude of stars are seen thru the pane and a falling star lands in the eyes of Tavisha , bells tinkling , Baby Blue humming , Peggy sleeping , Olivia silent  and the grapefruit moon beaming it’s reflection on the floating windowsill .

Music : ” Closing Time ” instrumental played by Tom Waits

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Scene # 6 :  Stormy Clouds

 

Narrator : Abu watching over Peggy as she dreams

She walks to the center of the grassy fields that she use to play in . She is ready . This life is to curl . She wants the storm to wash her away like water does to sand . She is a sandcastle and this is her wave . She is ready to get washed away . Hush , hush , hushing …

 

to be continued

 

 

 

There is Dark , There is Light ( continued from 1000 First Chapters from Jan. 23 )

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Amelia is perplexed still . The conversation of the night before , like a hunger strike , lingered in the pit of her stomach . Why did her sister fall in love many times over … and so easily ? A stone , a leaf , a window … sadness and hope , cruelty and love . The venomous chaos , a penetrating chaos with potent terror was evil . Evil in the form of a man named Martin . A chaos cold and numbing . Tavisha had been swallowed up by the abyss and yet somehow she had crawled out in tack . And this is what I wished to understand . She once quoted , like a black and white tattoo embedded on her skin  from Anna Karenina , ” All the variety , all the charm , all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow “. I’ve never forgotten her saying it . And I saw that her shadow , like the shadow of a dead bird growing larger as it falls from the sky , was dark , blood red , a gash deep that still scarred on her neck , deep into her heart. Evil was lurking around the corner and love , like optimism turns up where you least expect it . And in the end that’s all there is, love , sorrow and it’s truth . Some people are born to suffer , it’s the same place where love and freedom and pride are born and it never stops, we just pretend it does . We tell ourselves it does to make the children stop whimpering in their sleep . These are my sisters words remembered that morning years later that was the beginning of my own journey towards enlightenment . It begins with truth … the telling of it and the hearing of it too .

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” He stood watching me . I could feel his stare as obvious as a cheap , strong perfume . He already knew that I was broke and broken . My friends just recently had deserted me , my best friend , remember her , you dated her brother ? Anyway ,.. Um .. Martin kept skulking in that coffee shop I worked at . I’m sure he had heard gossip about that African doctor and me and I’m sure now that he preyed on that vulnerability and hurt of my loneliness  . I felt so alone and clueless . Now , even glimpses of evil appall me , appall me like the sight of an egg splattered with its yolk broken and leaking … it turns my stomach but back then , in ignoring , it caused me awful trouble .”.

I sat still listening and decided not to ask questions and I knew from the intense look on her face , a face drenched in destiny and oddly radiant like the faces found in paintings of doomed and haloed saints , with wrinkles half hidden on her forehead by her long hair , that it was good to release this old pain inside of her .

” I first felt sad for him , for the loss of his mother at 14 and his dad’s desertion , his need to make money illegally to survive , sorry for the girl he was forced to marry who was pregnant and even sad for his catholic beliefs . I pitied the hatreds that lied to him and weakened him . I was so stupid to believe all his sad stories and remember the hook he used to gain my sympathy , it was , ” I have feelings too , just because I’m a big guy doesn’t mean I’m any differant from everyone else “. I chose to believe all his stories and for years after , even now sometimes , odd lies he told return in my mind like danger street signs along quiet country roads and I say to myself , ” Wow , that was a lie too “! But he had a power , and it was this and I’m embarrassed by it … I was madly in love with him , especially in a sexual way … I was sick , seriously sick  “.

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The way she slowly shook her head and the sadness in her eyes embarrassed me for her stupidity had made me so mad before . But some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you and it was there in the darkness of those eyes of hers . For awhile we just sat there each with our own separate thoughts … a silence so profound that the breeze on my ears from the open window was like a child’s sleepy whisper .

” It was his voice I first fell in love with , deep and melodious with confidence and strength and then the sweetness saved for only me , differant than how I heard him talk to others roughly and with dam nations . Was I so intrigued … paradoxes have always fascinated me … was that it “?

Where my sister saw intrigue , all I saw was danger and would have run fast in the opposite direction ! I noticed first that he pretended to be rich , showing off 100 dollar bills , wearing expensive designer watches ( always a different one ) and strutting his Tommy Bahamas shirts on his large frame like a show off . Why she was attracted to a big fat guy I will never understand ! She was so stupid and even believed that he stayed on the second floor alone of his ex-wife’s house out of a sense of duty . He first conned my niece , knowing if he got her approval the others would soon fall in line too , which really shocked me as she fell for it all too and she was so street wise and protective of her mom . He was slick like a greasy pan of Mexican sausage and I hated him ! He somehow sneaked his name on Tavishas only investment account from her dead husband and gambled it all away telling more and more lies . I remember the day she phoned me and said ,”things just don’t make sense to me anymore “.

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And so finally , after a year when the nature of the universe revealed it’s tendency towards complexity , Tavisha began to face her fears like peeking from underneath a sheet covering her whole naked body until one night it was torn swiftly to show the evil that had been lurking and it clutched at her heart with talons of truth . A night of redemption , an unknown flower blooming in the dark night that opened wide her eyes to what she had not seen before . He was like a dark angel wandering the earth with the stink of sulphur like cancer in his breath . But he was just a man , an evil man of deceit and hate , cursed with the fact that he could no longer experience good . Always playing the victim he was corrupt and full of wickedness , he lied too well , he lied with every nerve and fiber and it scared her cutting thru her heart until the calm demeanor of her acknowledgement baffled his senses and his hatred was unleashed .

” Don’t ignore me”!  walking toward her

” Leave me alone “!  running upstairs, locking the door .

” You never let me finish my sentence you condescending B…. I said I’m not gonna hurt you ” yelling as the door is broken off its hinges by his strong , bulky stinking body .

” Leave me alone “!  He grasps hard a hold of her kicking ankles and pulls her quick with a thud to the floor , picks her up again dropping her straight on her head and she knows she is injured badly . Reaching over and ripping off from the wall a screwed in metal clothes hook , he thrusts the sharp edge like a knife to her throat saying , ” you f….. B …. I’m not gonna hurt you , I’m gonna kill you “!

Tavisha freezes , her broken body slumps into complete quietness like a captured animal, her breathing still and almost non existent . She whispers a name , ” Jesus “. Suddenly he let’s go , walks out of the room , smokes a cigarette in the garage , comes back up , says he is sorry and she pretends to accept .

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The following day , in a dark hole of worthlessness , she walks into the sea with all her clothes on … the sea where all of life begins . When a woman makes a baby she gives it water to grow in and just like the sea it has the same ratio of salt . From the beginning we took the ocean with us , our blood and sweat is salty and we cry oceans in our tears . ” And the earth was without form : and void and darkness was upon the face of the deep . And the spirit of God hovered upon the face of the waters . And God said let there be light : and there was light ” Exodus 1:2&3 . Floating above an undertoe , wondering if she will die drowning , she once again calls out “Jesus “. A radiance appears in the sky and in her eyes a vision , a vision of purity , a vision of gentle peace and a beautiful face parting the clouds and a voice ” I hold your hand , I am the I am ” . And like the sobbing at night in a distant village of wretchedly miserable poverty an understanding of “why” comes forth from Gods out stretched arms … no happiness exists without its woe , no wealth without its cost , no life without its full measure of sorrowing and death .

 

” Later he had me followed by his mobster friends who broke in leaving threatening messages until I finally left for Mexico after our parents died . I heard he moved back to the big city , sick with throat cancer and died a year later . I visited him once , grateful for how he pushed me hard into my true awareness of the Divine . I confronted him and offered forgiveness and asked for it too as I was not without fault … but he remained stoic with a paralyzed face, looking at me only sardonically with his bloodshot eyes . I touched him and walked away . Outside I sat awhile and gave myself completely to that golden , fate-filled moment and in gazing at the spring buds on the trees I felt the silent, secret , heartbreaking joy , God puts into everything that blooms and grows .

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From my sister Tavishas diary :

” The truth is that there are no good men or bad men , it is the deeds that have goodness or badness in them . There are good deeds and bad deeds. Men are just men – it is what they do or refuse to do that links them to good and evil . The truth is that an instant of real love, in the heart of anyone , the noblest man alive or the most wicked , has the whole purpose and process and meaning of life with-in the lotus folds of its passion . The truth is that we are all , everyone of us , every atom , every galaxy and every particle of matter in the universe , moving toward God “.

 

Note: portrait photos by Ellen Rogers photography

Clouds ( continued from first scene – May 29 )

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Scene # 4 : Setting love free

Tender and lyrical music playing as Abu , the secret keeper walks gently by playing his flute from previous scene ( scene now changes )

Note to cameraman : 3 minutes each in slow motion of volcano erupting and lava flowing , a pink flower blooming and waves of ocean rolling , followed by close up of Tavisha waking up and out her window we see a canoe going against the current .

 

Narrator : Brushing over her eyelids , the new day awakens her . She believes in the “green light , the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us . It eluded us then , but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster , stretch out our arms further … and then one fine morning , we are born back ceaselessly into the past “.

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Scene description : Eric and Tavisha laying in the grassy hill overlooking Eastsound Bay

“But I am older “, she says

” And don’t you know I won’t ever leave you , even though you are always leaving me … leaving me to be a mother still to grown up children . What about your life … and mine ? Why should I not admit it , in this moment my heart is breaking . I want you to come back , I will wait for you . You’re age doesn’t matter “!

” I am in love with everything and everyone I see “.

” Do you love me , my love “?

” Yes “.

” Then I will wait for you . Please don’t give away what you love the most “. He reaches for her and touches her skin , ” so much darker , so much softer “.

Music plays from ” Phantom of the Paradise” … ” Old Souls ” as scene changes to 3 yrs. later in Hawaii .

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Narrator : ” She had been here before at her daughters on a now repeated journey . Hear the melodious , haunting note of the distant violin . He had married another … he did not wait . ” The heart dies a slow death , shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none . No hopes , nothing remains “.

The noise of children is heard running and playing and Baby Blue Samsonite is heard singing , ” A Case of You ” : ” oh , I am a lonely painter , I live in a box of paints , oh , you’re in my blood like holy wine , you taste so bitter and so sweet , oh , but you are in my blood , you’re my holy wine … You’re so bitter , bitter and so sweet “.

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Narrator : ” As sadness is encountered , loneliness is acknowledged and consciousness awakens … It is the day after the Summer Solstice  and strange is Tavishas dream .

Music playing ” Here Comes the Sun ” – Beatles

She sees herself running , floating above the ground , her mouth is wider , her teeth whiter , her darkest brown hair of youth , shinier . She wears the earth colored silk dress Eric had once bought for her the week after they met … It’s ribbon trailing behind with all the knots coming loose as the dress falls off . A voice is heard  , it is from their seer and teachers beloved wife , ” you look very beautiful together “. There up ahead is the hammock Eric had given Tavisha and hanging on the edge of it is the silver necklace of antiquity  with the blood red stone that had been discovered on Friday Harbor on Valentines Day . Tavisha awakens , crying from the lucid dream , remembering the electricity they both felt running thru their veins the first time they had sat next to eachother with legs accidentally touching … the shock of it and the poetry written because of this lightening , the poetry of them both , the poetry he had bound for her when she left and that now was kept inside Baby Blue Samsonite ……

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Scene changes : Ocean beach in Hawaii

A distant prayer is heard from the volcano . The whole ocean is inside of Tavisha and she loves him … loves him still , but new with no attachments and deep , like the flaming sonnet of her heart set free . She loves him .

Abu is seen sitting in a Gingo tree , a blissful smile upon his brown weathered face as he watches Tavisha writing Eric’s name in the sand once again , only this time she is dancing her foot-prints all around and as the waves wash it away , she is heard by Pele , the fire goddess  , to be laughing like the sound of bells as a single orange bird flies like a brushstroke over the aqua sky .

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We leave this scene with the image of the volcano erupting red , the bass drum beating loudly …as the hammock swingsImage

 

Photos by Ellen Rogers

Meg Dickerson

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Reality Interlude #3

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Awakening after my first evening on the “Empire Builder”, I am grateful to my green vintage coat , that used as a blanket , kept me warm in the chill of the night train . A train immense in its pounding power and gentle in its rhythmic rocking , the wheels touching fast the metal track sounding like a lullaby from outer-space , the velvet sky embracing the swift movement of the mighty train beneath it . I remember something … Sleeping , I had a dream , a dream of a train wreck with the luggage thrown all over and name tags I could clearly read , floating in the air with clothes flying about like the spirits of ghosts . And I saw my old friend too . I saw her young and on a beach holding a framed in glass photo of her and her now dead  lover when they were young , young and very beautiful . She begins running away from me on the waters edge , her long , auburn in the sun , hair flowing down past her narrow waist …

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The train is now somewhere in North Dakota passing thru Fargo last night where the plane was bound for when Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly died in a crash , known as ” the day the music died “. We passed on thru Devils Lake , a remnant of a glacial sea the Indians called  ” Evil Spirit Lake “, believing the loose rocks were the result of a mammoth struggle between thunderbirds and water monsters . And on thru Minot , known as the ” Magic City ” because it grew overnight , like magic , the moment the Great Northern Railroad announced it’s route and too , where Al Capone used the town as a central hub for his liquor smuggling . Gazing sleepily with stardust still in my eyes making my sight blurry , I watch a rose colored dawn appear out my window as we pass by Fort Buford , the sad place where Chief Sitting Bull surrendered after the Battle of Little Big Horn in 1881 and I hear a melodious note of a crying violin .

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The breakfast car is just opening , it’s 6:30 . The waiter seats me at a crisp clean table with three others who are already looking at the menu . We introduce ourselves … this is a very polite car … where the passengers seem on their best behavior . Let me introduce you to George , Cathy and Matthew , the following is what they revealed to me :  George and Cathy have been married 45 years . George is Greek , retired and a sportsman who really wants his 14 year old grand-daughter , Isabella , to become a TV weather woman because she’s a wiz at math and could make a lot of money in this profession . But instead she already is a trained , professional ice skater who won’t listen to his good advice ! Cathy , as small and short as her husband is tall , wears no make-up and is naturally pretty . We talk about creative personalities and her career as a ballroom dancer . They tell me I would love Boston . And now as the food is served , silent Matthew comes alive . He is a rather plump , unassuming man in his 40’s with wonderful eyes that look directly at you with kindness . Living in a condo in downtown Philadelphia , he walks to work , owns no car and is traveling to Seattle just for the enjoyment of it . He asks us only one question , ” How are your pancakes “? and when Cathy says , ” delicious  “, Matthew exclaims ,” Ditto”! ( obviously a foodie ).

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The train of insomnia comes to a stop again in the middle of the North Dakota plain because of the right of way of the freight trains . As the four of us admire the beauty of a sparrow , outside the window , sitting on a tall blade , a sparrow out of the nest for the first time looking for a cricket in the tall grass , we say our goodbyes . Returning to my seat , still sleepy from the nights dreamland crossing , a message appears on my phone ….. “she died last night “.

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All photos taken on the train

 

 

 

Reality Interlude #2

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Chicago : Adams street just outside Union Station .

Leaving Union Station , I take the escalator up and out to Canal Street . I had forgotten the hypnotizing allure , like the whistle heard in the distance of an oncoming train , of the big city streets . Large tourists boats beneath the street bridge , glide like noisy swans , on the wide river , glimmering in the sun and on the sidewalk corner an old man with a saxophone performs for a few coins to be tossed into his open instrument case of torn burgundy velvet . His music is sweet , his face weathered , his shirt torn ragged . As I walk east towards Lake Michigan down Adams street , noticing crowds of beautiful people and admiring the breathtaking architecture of tall buildings , my now highlighted pink and purple hair blowing north , south , east and west , gives me freedom in my step with flip-flops bouncing down the sidewalk . I smile at the uniformed employees chatting together in the wind in front of hotel lobbies I wish I could stay in . I would love to live in lots of different hotel rooms for a year !

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Suddenly a man , a very handsome man , a tall man appears walking in step with me . Why is he walking with ME ? Being quick in my observations , I notice his fine navy linen suit , tailored a size too small like the European men in Sofia and his laced tan leather shoes shine to am almost burnt orange sheen . He has a face slightly boyish in its angles , terribly handsome like Brad Pitts in ” Meet Joe Black ” and his long thick white blond hair brushed casually straight back off his forehead , was nearly too much for me ! Seriously !

” You look as colorful as the city , like an exotic bird ”

” It’s windy up there so I landed down here ” . Can’t believe I say this !… as he laughs . ” It’s an amazing place for sure “.

” Where do you come from , some other country “?

” Um , no , Michigan “.

” But what is it you do “?

” Um , I’m an artist , um , what about you “?

” A writer , I live here , a film writer . Your hair and your coat ( bright green vintage ) … pause … they are provocative … I’m sorry , I knew I shouldn’t have said it that way … It’s the way you walk wearing it so large on you … and your blond pink hair too . Where are you going and would you please have a coffee with me “?

” Um … Thankyou , but ” … almost feeling sick to my stomach , I stop walking ,

” Jack , my names Jack , look here’s my card , what’s your name sunshine ?

” Meg , but I have to catch a train in less than an hour “.

” Are you coming back thru this way ? Look , look here on my card , my phone number , will you please call me . I just had my 50th birthday and I’ve become more brave , I know I’m just a stranger to you but I would really like to talk more with you again . You are like a peacock , so bright . ( now I think he’s really funny ! )

” I’m going back now , back to the station “. as I turn around and ignore responding to his plea .

” Wait , don’t go … let me at least help you cross this busy street “.

Once on the other sidewalk corner , I look straight in his brown eyes and simply say , ” bye “.

” Don’t be in a hurry “, spoken under his breath as if it were a secret thought I couldn’t hear .

” Are you flirting with me still , a much older woman “?

” Yes , I’m attracted  to you “.

” Um , lucky me ” … I surprise myself flirting back and flashing my eyes at him like a camera shutter , sending mixed messages .. “Bye”.

He stands still , putting his beautiful hands in both pockets , his dear smile lost in the Chicago crowd .

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Narrator ( getting confused as to which story he’s in ) : ” Walking away , meg hears another conversation between two young women “.

” Did you hear that ! ! ! … I swear I heard that baby blue samsonite suitcase that woman is carrying say something !

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Personal note : Encounter on Adams Street dedicated to you , Robbie … umm … you know what I mean !

!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reality Interlude

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St. Joseph , Michigan : Amtrak Station

 

Travel Attire :

clean underwear .

white cotton t-shirt .

silk tunic .

blue jeans

vintage green velvet oversized coat .

$2.50 pair of flip-flops .

 

Suitcase check list :

oval framed photo of grandmother , Lily De Korne .

book : ” Treasure Island ”

food : water , apple , cheese and hard role

sketchbook , paper , pen and pencil

toothbrush

party dress ( for dancing )

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Vintage full skirt

Mexican blouse

Nightgown – white

Mens blue and white stripped pajamas ( oversized )

Hand-knit sweater

Ballet flats

Norwex face lotion

Silver-city pink lipstick

Vanilla lotion

Red leather journal of important information

Passport and debit-card

Pillow

One heart filled with joy and gratitude , in love with love for all who share this earth ( animals and nature included )

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Union Station : Chicago

 

 

The Suitcase

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A suitcase found itself standing around the corner from the open gate . ” It’s perfect here “, Baby Blue Samsonite thinks , watching the flower of life bloom a sunrise amber like the eternal flame still burning at Arlington for President Kennedy .

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A girl appears on the scene , appears floating like a bird with head bowed , a girl who sits down in silence , a silence killing her with its loneliness making everything ordinary too beautiful to bear . She hears water dripping from the rusty sprinkler head , dripping methodically like the even rows of tombstones stretching into the horizon … Listen now , listen to the dripping sound .

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Baby Blue opening around the corner

around the corner of the earth

of the sea

of a tree .

Around the corner of my heart

from the pasture

from the orchard

around the corner of the sun .

Baby Blue , infant blue ,

stars across her chest

around the corner

from my house .

A new word , a strange quest ,

a grain of sand

embedded in an open wound

to become a life

around the corner

from the sailing ship .

Baby Blue

around the corner

around the corner of the earth ,

Baby Blue .

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This girl , on her way to someplace , she knows not where , watches for hours this samsonite suitcase with its name tag , Joyce .

” Why are you left here , are you forgotten “?

” Open me please “, the suitcase whispers .

The girl hears the dripping sound . A gust of wind like the sound of a trumpet , blows the suitcase down and twin caterpillars crawl to open the latches , one on each side . The lonely girl looks inside  ..the scent of roses. Oh look , look and see … A frock of fascination , a frock of gratitude , a yellow frock of joy , a petticoat of wind , cloud and sea waves . A frock embroidered with music notes and one with names around a sash . .. and look , look an envelope faintly written on with ink … It says , ” OPEN , repack suitcase and leave for someone around the corner of your life “.

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