I'm still recovering from people weekend. I had a fantastic time, I enjoyed every minute, and still at the end of the weekend, I'm left exhausted for days. Last night, I fell asleep at eight, and slept straight until 5am. The sun hadn't even set yet, nor yet for half an hour, and already I was collapsing in a heap, desperate for sleep. And as bad as that sounds, I really enjoy the peace of the morning. There is something sanctified about the silence of dawn and pre-dawn.
The moon hasn't fallen beneath the horizon and the stars are glittering still in the heavens, like an eye and freckles of the sky. Walking in such a morning is perfect prayer time, and I think, of late, there are plenty of things to pray about - maybe there always are.
Today I did plenty of thinking on a number of topics. I'm moving soon, likely to just another portion of the same town. When I was checking out in Fred Meyer, I asked the cashier what his plans for the day were, and he said he was packing up and moving to McMinnville, and he was already exhausted from the moving process. It can be difficult packing up and moving, because we tend to accumulate.
Glancing over my life today, I asked myself: what would break my heart to lose? What things would I not want to live without?
I'm the present owner of a couple hundred books (maybe up to 600), and I admit to a certain sadness of losing those. My computer? There are millions of replacements. Clothes? Meh. I don't even own more than 5 shirts I regularly wear, and I think I have four pairs of pants, three of which look exactly the same. The only thing I'd actually really lament losing would be my journals. Everything else is replaceable, but those are history.
It's like what Clooney said in the monuments men:
Lt. Frank Stokes: You can wipe out an entire generation, you can burn their homes to the ground, and somehow they’ll still find their way back. But if you destroy their history, you destroy their achievements, then it’s as if they never existed. That’s what Hitler wants, and that’s exactly what we’re fighting for. (Monuments Men - Movie)
Wiping out my writings over the past years would be removing my history, and that's the only thing I wouldn't want to live without. Even though I don't often pore over those notebooks, I like knowing they are there. I enjoy glancing back at my bookshelf and seeing my section of journals, and knowing that my past heart is bled out on those pages.
It's like the legend of how a man arrived at a large expanse of water, and knowing of no way to cross it with his treasures in tow, he set out to build a raft. Upon building his raft, he set his possessions on the raft and rowed out into the waters. Through various storms and hard waters, by the time the man reaches his destination, he's had to jettison every last possession he'd originally placed on the raft. But that's the truth of nirvana, of heaven, anyway. Everything but who you are cannot be taken into eternity.
I'm reading Iron John, and Bly digs into what it means to be a holistic man in our present culture which diminishes the masculine. As I read it, I can't help but imagine living as a pastoralist or a nomad - of remember what the wildman living is like in actuality. The mere thought is tranquil, reminiscent of Tehillim 23, lying beside still waters or roaming the abundant grasses of the hillsides. Even wandering through the shadows of the valley of death I imagine as more fulfilling than getting stuck in a life of stuff.
I've been thinking about all of these things because I'm reaching a deadline. A similar deadline has forced me to consider goodbyes. As I was drawing, today, I was contemplating the receding hills and imagining them as the crests and troughs of life.
Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you are no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn't just a means to an an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top. Here's where things grow.
(Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - Robert Pirsig)
I'm seeing my own walks among the mountains and the travelers I meet. I hate wandering around the edges of hills and losing sight of people; I hate knowing I might be saying goodbye to everyone I see - but I will. The things that I hate leaving behind, along every stage of life, are people, not materials. Every goodbye breaks my heart, because I know every bird must fly - I just wish it didn't have to always be so far.
I have amazing news for you. Man is not alone on this planet. He is part of a community, upon which he depends absolutely. (Daniel Quinn - Ishmael)
I love the idea of community, though we've manufactured, assembly-lined, overproduced, and made a mcdonalds of our community until there is nothing left, the original idea appeals to me. But we live in a world where it's easier to leave a community than to invest in one for a long period of time. We develop these communities that last only a couple of years, and expect to be filled and then pushed out of that nest into our next. Life is one bird's nest to the next, never learning how to fly because we never stay long enough to earn our wings.
Truly, Mr. Hughes:
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
(Langston Hughes - Dreams)
soon goodbyes crucify but spring belief redeems
cottonseed blowing and even with
the grasses and tiny trees green,
I've forgotten spring, for the worries
lay heavy on my heart, more
than I let the light relieve,
and as the hills recede beneath
the clouds and setting evening -
I remember
http://benjaminwblog.com/?p=313
soon goodbyes crucify but spring belief redeems
cottonseed blowing and even with
the grasses and tiny trees green,
I've forgotten spring, for the worries
lay heavy on my heart, more
than I let the light relieve,
and as the hills recede beneath
the clouds and setting evening -
I remember
http://benjaminwblog.com/?p=313
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