I've actually written a few blog entries that withered on the vine, attempts to recapture something unemotional but enlightening. Let's face it; It's better to leave enlightenment in words to another forum. As Mark Twain said, "It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt."
My search has become interesting over the past few weeks, travelling up to Ojai, Santa Barbara, and Solvang, meeting people along the way and discovering the completely unexpected. With completely open eyes, no fear of the road less traveled, and a camera in my backpack, I've seen a lot, sometimes asking myself "How did I get here?". Watching an oceanside wedding, being invited to watch a play in an outdoor theater modeled after the Globe, driving along a 150 year old stagecoach route, the list goes on.
As if that wasn't enough, there was a flashpoint of activity with my family that brought on a lot of new information yet to be digested. My family history back in Argentina is a total mystery, which makes my family here in the states my closest friends. Yes, I have that relationship with them as a group and with them as individuals. The momentary re-establishment of contact with Argentina just opened a dusty and nearly forgotten footlocker of history that includes a lot of finger pointing, power struggles, politics, a child born in a convent, and fifty years of silence between siblings. The escape of my family to the U.S. was exactly that: a flight to pursue freedom and a future in a Romeo and Juliet kind of way, and new fertile ground to plant new roots and raise a family. This is just the beginning of it.
Naturally, I needed to get out of the house to clear my mind. Then I got sick and had to go see a doctor. Prescription medicine is not cheap.
My mind, of course, hovered back to the recurring questions and debates over the people who have floated through my life. The interesting thing about being in the state I've been is that I've kept myself away from others, finally quarantining myself with medication and silence. At work, I stayed at my desk, did everything I could to guard myself and keep a steady schedule of remedies. Today's my first day out of the shell, a chance to stand on a peak and look above and across the path I've just come down, even the part that precedes me and is still shrouded in fog. From here I can see some simplicity in the whole thing, even if it escapes me to some extent.
A while ago, a girl wrote her phone number and email on a random blank page in my notebook, and I believed for months that something significant would happen when I arrived to that page. Although absolutely nothing happened and I was eventually rejected and dismissed by the girl, I was sitting on a warm patio in Ojai with a huge margarita in front of me and I flipped back to the page with the phone number and wrote this:
For posterity:
Something was supposed to happen upon arrival to this page. It was a miracle; The sun rose, it set. The moon quietly crossed the sky. Wind blew through leaves and children laughed in the distance. It was a good day.
Yes, getting sick was a blessing, so I could think about the weekend excursions and those other magical moments I've had this year. There are moments so fleeting, that stupid me, as I wait for something significant to come along, they come slowly and fade, hoping that I would notice and appreciate them. I see those moments and won't lose them:
...standing in front of that girl and basking in the glow from her smile...
...sitting in the Hollywood Bowl with a friend enjoying the perfect romantic atmosphere...
...driving along the rocky coast by Malibu feeling a lump of stress blow away...
...and now, sitting two tables away from a beautiful friend at work who is also eating alone. I think I'll have lunch with her tomorrow.
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