Farewell until February my dear blogging family . A journey from the northern Great Lake Michigan to the far Pacific coast is calling me into new territories of poetry and song , of order and chaos , mystery and redemption and always love .
Farewell until February my dear blogging family . A journey from the northern Great Lake Michigan to the far Pacific coast is calling me into new territories of poetry and song , of order and chaos , mystery and redemption and always love .
Farewell my dear blogging family who I love . I hope to write poetry with Vincent Van Gogh on his ” Cafe Terrace at Night ” … P.S. – clue : my cowboy love seen just behind my shoulder will find me soon … and ” Jack and Francis ” will continue their journey into new territories of order and chaos , mystery and redemption and always Love . . .
” 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 “.
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 .
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.
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 .
” Dead Poets Society ” … excerpt
” O Captain , my captain … Who knows where that comes from ? Anybody ? Not a clue ? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln . Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating , or if you’re slightly more daring , O Captain , my Captain .
Why do I stand up here ? Anybody ? I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way . They’re not that different from you are they ? Same haircuts , full of hormones just like you . Invincible , just like you feel . The world is their oyster . They believe they’re destined for great things , just like many of you , their eyes are full of hope , just like you . Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable ? Because , you see gentlemen , these boys are now fertilizing daffodils . But if you listen real close , you can hear them whisper their legacy to you . Go on , lean in – listen , you hear it ? … Carpe … hear it ? … Carpe , carpe dime , seize the day boys , make your lives extraordinary . Boys , you must strive to find your own voice . Because the longer you wait to begin , the less likely you are to find it at all . Thoreau said , ” Most men lead lives of quiet desperation “. Don’t be resigned to that . Break Out “!
Chris’ journal : 9-17-72
Dave and I were enjoying cooler temperatures outside , sleeping in the cockpit until about 1:00 am when gale winds off Lake Michigan brought us a pounding rain . We tumbled below and soon fell fast asleep .
The morning of our second day started at 9:00 am and all hands decided our days should start earlier . The wind might be better then . We’ll have to wait and see . After showers and a filling breakfast of sliced oranges , apples , pears and bacon sandwiches , we left Grand Haven about 10:30 am . The chores on board will have to be done after the days sailing , which is another reason for early morning departures .
Buzz was putting on the airs of the skipper this morning , noticed by Dave and Dale also . I hope this skipper syndrome will not endanger the harmony of the whole .
I’m studying the Rules of the Road and keeping busy with little odd jobs . The weather is clear and warm but the tremendous winds of last night are nowhere to be found . We are having trouble with our gearshift ; it slips out of high into low without the constant pressure of a cord holding it back .
We sighted two large freighters leaving the Port of Muskegon today around 2:30 ; our first , but hardly our last . One was carrying cars on its deck and we cut his wake about 75 yards behind him . We waited just long enough to hear his warning blast before we came about .
we cruised under power all day keeping busy or amused with repairs and games . Dales constant adjustment of the water pump grease and discovery of another cooling system turn-off kept the engine temperature down .
The day began clear and sunny but ended overcast and sprinkling . Dale and Buzz argued about weather for awhile ; betting on the coming of rain . When it just barely sprinkled , they couldn’t decide who had won , so they called it off .
We argued about who should be assigned to wash the dishes while we ate a supper of canned beans , carrots , buttered bread and a quart of milk .
No showers for us tonight , but no slip fee either . We’re running low on ice and will buy some tomorrow . Buzz has an alarm clock and we’ll wake up early tomorrow . It’s raining lightly and Dave’s watching Columbo on TV.
We called home to another world tonight and I didn’t know what to say even though I wanted to say something .
We have to check the charts , weather reports and call Coast Guard tomorrow to inform them of our ETA .
As soon as the light begins to stream thru the gaps in the curtains , casting it’s strange reflections of Lake Michigan onto the wood planks of their cabin , Dave would arise to throw open the shutters and each time wonder at the beauty that rushed in and exploded like the thrill of heeling over as “Ventures” sails filled , being pushed by the wind with speed picking up over the vast waters . All four crew-mates would admire the awesome sea with the orange dinghy tied behind the boat , bobbing in the waves with the mist rising above the dark wooded hills on the shore , and the way the first freighter of the morning joined in the current as it cut thru the open water , hissing like a ghost . They would gaze at this brilliantly colored realm to see a glorious and mysterious whole , their souls rejoicing to be alive , humbled at being part of something even greater .
” If people stayed outside and looked at the stars each night , I’ll bet they would live a lot differently “.
Seeing the ghosts of ancient ships lost like the Egyptian city of Heracleion sunken and shrouded in myths and legends , made them contemplate the largeness of history and their own smallness . They became drunk on the intense infinity shimmering all around them and it would sometimes overtake them .
Note from ghost-writer : I hope you will hear Dave , Buzz , Chris and Dale speaking to you on their journey from the Great Lakes to the Bahamas … It is a true story about the essence of friendship , adventure , love , anger , surprise , anxiety , joy and tragedy , life and death . The words from Chris’ journal are in their original form … I will note the order with each post with a number placed behind the title “Beatitude Point” in hopes you won’t get lost … Thankyou for being interested …
” They tell me I must wade into waters , where I will soon drown . Before I march in , I leave this on the shore for you . I pray you find it , sister , so you will know what was in my heart as I went under “. Khalid Hosseini
Chris’ Journal entry : September 16 , 1972
“I arrived three hours late for our departure and was much concerned with the possibility of hard feelings . These fears were soon dispelled and I found my friends benevolent . Our first day proved itself to be a sailing thrill tempered by unsettled stomachs and big heads . Dave and I suffered some discomfort because of the previous nights activities .
We left the port of Holland , Michigan at 11:00 am – sighted only two other sails and a cabin cruiser during the four and a half hour cruise to Grand Haven arriving at 3:35 pm . After docking , we confronted the various problems of supper , a satisfying if not epicurean feast . Hot dogs with carrots and peas washed down with some High-C orange filled the cavities that had been emptied by reverse peristaltic motion .
Dave worked on the radio antenna and we heard our first weather forecast ; gale warnings with 35 mph winds and 12 ft. seas . Needless to say we spent our time securing gear , putting on extra dock lines , trimming our new hatch boards and caulking last minute holes . I decided to shower and the others went out on the pier and came back describing nature in awesome terms .
It’s poker tonight and a welcome early sack time . I feel like calling home to let them know everything’s ok . I’m afraid I left an impression of disillusionment “.
1972 marks a black year in history , not only because of the continuing Vietnam war or the escalation , like strong currents , of the Nixon scandal , but also a blackness due to the use of terrorism entering the sports realm like a huge octopus with the massacre of 11 Israeli athletes by Arab gunmen in September , which now links together an invisible fishing line hooking deep into the events of 9/11 . Gods world of ’72 is in turmoil … a tide of turmoil where sea anenomes are beached into colorless form : “Bloody Sunday ” in Northern Ireland , a Lufthansa jet hijacked by Palestinians , General Idi Amin beginning his reign of terror in Uganda , earthquakes of 7.7 destroying entire cities in Turkey and Nicaragua and in the Andes Mountain range , 16 survivors from a plane crash are rescued after practicing cannibalism and the following benediction is heard at a random High School Graduation ceremony :
May God bless you with discomfort ,
At easy answers , half-truths and superficial relationships ,
So that you may live deep within your heart .
May God bless you with anger
At injustice , oppression and exploitation of people ,
So that you may work for justice , freedom and peace .
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer from pain , rejection , starvation and war
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
and turn their pain to joy .
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in this world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done .
In the name of the Father
and The Son
and the Holy Spirit
The music and lyrics of Bob Dylan’s ” My Back Pages ” is heard from the distant shore , ” Ah , but I was so much older then , I’m younger than that now “.
There is a dream , found in the attic of a memory . It is of my brother . The memory is vague like the weak signal on a radio dial . The days previous , listening in on two separate conversations , one from his daughter at a family party and the other from my sisters ‘ husband at the Leelanau coffee shop , these conversations become the rope that knotted the year 1972 to 2014 and tightened my consciousness to the mystery of the boats ” point of sail “.
They name her ” Venture “, a 28 foot Larsen sloop built in 1958 , and the small dinghy floating behind , ” the orange peel “. The orange fruit an ancient symbol of the sun , a symbol too of ” good luck “. Two names of paradox , one meaning to go somewhere unknown and dangerous with risk involved and the other ” good fortune “. It was to become a poignant paradox and one that would loosen that rope from the sail boats safety of the suns’ warmth , into the depths of death.
Chris , Dale , Buzz and my brother Dave , each being 19 or 20 years old then , boarded their shared vessel on Lake Michigan , after waiting for Chris who was usually late . It was just past noon on September 16 , 1972 , Venture bobbing gently in Holland Harbor under the protection of ” Big Red ” lighthouse . The sounds of Deep Purple could be heard rockin in the background with ” Smoke on the Water “, as a large Bon voyage group of family , including cousins and many friends cheered them on . The mood was festive and some there would return to find their destiny together 40 years later with two of them embracing the long return of young love that had its beginnings that blue grey sky autumn day , a momentous day after the beginning of the biggest political scandal in modern times broke , Watergate , with Grand Jury indictments .
To be continued …
photograph of girl in water by Lara Zarkoul Photography
Now 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 .
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
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 .
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 .
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 “.
Photo by Lara Zankoul
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 ). 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 . 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 . 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 “. Oh Great Spirit
whose voice I hear in the winds
and whose breath
gives life to all the world .
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 )
Guest blogger – B.B. Samsonite ( a k a … P.J.Poet )
Baby Blue Samsonite ( Sammy for short ) , dreams she has a real face , a pleasant face , a recognizable face , a face rather like Meg’s .
” It is not a good thing you have done to me ! I’m confused as to what story I’m in and I’m beginning to get lost and tired of going back and forth between all your quirky characters … Who exactly am I anyway “?
Meg has a lot of thinking to do .
After days without food or water , alone , between a novel , a screenplay , reality interludes , the weary suitcase receives a communication from the Wakan Tanka ( the Great Mystery ) . The vision is not hazy or ill-defined . It is real . It hits Baby Blue sharp and clear like an electric shock . She is wide awake and suddenly there is a person standing next to her who she knows can’t be there at all , yet she is not dreaming , her eyes are wide open ! The vision speaks to her .
Photo : Ellen Rogers
” One must die lovable ( if one can ) . There is no greater achievement than to be totally lovable at the end . You can not predict what will happen when the day comes for you to crawl into bed for the last time , but if you are not taken suddenly , you want to be lovable ( if you can ) “.
I hope Meg clears up this dilemma before then ! Especially since she’s left me in such a limbo . Look , look , here is my imagined face … I’m nearly human after all !
Further Perplexings :
transformed into a
butterfly , the
not of her beauty .
but of her
weirdness . They
wanted her to
change back into
what she always
had been .
but she had wings .
poem by Dean Jackson
P.s. I hope Meg let’s me be a quest blogger again ! Please put in a good word for me as I’m not sure she always hears me !
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
Will be .
written and sung by Billy Joel
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
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 .
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 .
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 .
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
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