Musings

The night is long and, while my body is exhausted, my mind is restless.  Long to-do lists form as I try to sleep and I suddenly remember things I needed to accomplish, people I needed to talk to, emails I needed to send, but didn't.  So I'm up again writing people I need to, and to people I love. Postcards are scattered across my desk with a variety of colorful destinations: Peru, Spain, Sacramento, Fallbrook.

The night is dense and ocean fog shrouds the stars in a veil of mist. There's a 3/4 moon hiding somewhere out there. I suppose knowledge is like that: you know it's there, you just have to find and learn it.  That's probably why it's addicting. There's so much potential to learn, and often about things you didn't know existed.

I'm off to make a cup of Jordanian tea and write a few more emails. The sun'll be up soon.

Countless Stories

The waves were loud and filled the air with a fine, salty mist. Seagulls cackled as they swooped above the foaming waves. Washed up seaweed curled around the rims of his wheelchair and you could see his shoulders sigh.

His tousled hair was pure white, resembling the ocean surf. Slouched in his mechanical chair he stared out to sea lost in thought. The ocean air played with the loose button-down shirt that hung from his thin, bony frame. His legs were weak and bowed, but his eyes were strong and he gazed at the watery horizon with a determination that comes only from countless hidden stories.

What was he thinking about, the aged man in the wheelchair? 

Happiness

Politics

Economic Crisis in Spain Reignites an Old Social Conflict

"Nobody lives here now, but the sprinklers are functioning and keeping the lawns beautifully green. Just imagine how many farming wages you could pay instead of using the money to water empty gardens."

Dance

The beat is irresistible and your body sways involuntarily with the rhythm. It's like a musical heartbeat; something you can't control yet takes over your entire being. You close your eyes and feel the music. Fast. Intense. Calming.

The room is large and the music bounces off the tall ceiling. Bare feet patter on the dance floor and you can hear the women breathing hard. Afternoon sunshine streams through the windows and as a dancer passes through the beams of light, she's transformed into graceful silhouettes. Bending. Moving. Twisting.

I've never been a real dancer, but I've danced my whole life. When we were little we'd turn on the American Graffiti soundtrack and dance to the oldies as we swept and cleaned every Saturday morning. We'd listen to mom's stories of her days of a dancer and she'd teach us to point our toes and walk straight, like there was a string through our spine. I tried ballet, competed once in Irish dance, spent a summer doing flips with my Swing buddies, line danced downtown, and learned some salsa from a Colombian. Yet, in the whirlwind of life, jobs, and school, dance was never a constant.

But that doesn't keep it from being just as magical. Stretching on the dance floor last night, I learned to just let go. With each deep exhale your worries simply disappear and you're fill with excitement and determination. You learn the steps and suddenly your body moves in ways you never knew you could do. You become aware of each muscle as never before. As your lithe, beautiful body moves, you become free and it shows in the smile behind your concentrated eyes.

It's addicting and in less than an hour we'll be back on that dance floor. Barefoot and beautiful and free.

Ignorance is bliss and, at the moment, I feel I know too much. There are injustices and pains I'd like to be unaware of; you can't worry if you simply don't know. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can change, and knowing breaks my heart. I want to retreat into myself; let Risa curl into a ball and I'll hold her in my hands. I want to wrap her in a warm blanket of quietness and just let her be. Because ignorance is bliss. 

Caves and Avispas