You know the feeling too well; falling down an elevator shaft; yet for me there were momentary lapses falling stopped. Why would or should such a divine commemoration be an endless nightmare. . . .the only two best remembered: Randy telling is grandmother, my mother; fists planted on each hip in his Doctor Denton’s: “ Don't you ever speak to my father in That Tone of voice. Ever!”
The other was at a time very young, uncertain where, but, paternal grandparents, present, had given me a toy farm populated with two dimensional figures plus fences and trees. I suppose in some sense it was humble--dare you to say ‘cheap’!
Between friends, mates, lovers or drive-by fornications: nudity is not the issue but naked souls blest. I was to be privileged to see my paternal grandmother nude; a memorable occasion since she defined the difference between nude and naked, having so shame of her body. Outstanding even then a fox until she died. Better and more frequently recalled her teaching me to tie my shoes. A double slipped reef knot; one lesson did the trick and more often when putting them on, seldom, shoes that tie instead of scuff. She stood there without shame or flinch; nude not smiling but her eyes saying; ‘yes’ to be so touched by grace is memorable beyond any amount of money in heaven, earth or hell forever.
For me to be now celibate is to love better all life. In denying myself the gratification of lust slaked I find myself better able to penetrate hearts, souls and minds. . . .Remembering Whitney Houston the difference between using a long lens and being up close and personal with a point-and-shoot. Fully clothed lounging in the doorway of her trailer talking to fans--I posing as one--now recall brokering a deal for Star Magazine to purchase images of her and Bobby, she in a bikini. On God! What a voice and body. The most sensitive sex organ is between our ears.
Other nominally near Christmas’ past better than most memorable. Remember Beethoven said something like; music is the best message of universal love. And she called me the night of her death to say goodbye from lung cancer, like me, a cigarette smoker. We met at the local public library. As previously stated, female librarians are oracles to me, always have will always be. When returned to Randy from Paradox I was refused access--typical of Susan--from beginning to end. She stood across the internment holding Nancy’s hand while I writhed upon the muddy December ground hysterical; a wooden Indian she selling no cigars.
Reggie (Regina) and Ralph took me in, accustomed to strays, as their son would have it of me and all who preceded me in their hospitality. Christmas' there was a Bacchanalian Celebration; I steered the eggnog which towards the end was more rum than egg. In the living room a star flashing varicolored lights obscenely joyous into the coming dawn; a new life for one and all to be well in eternity. Remember kiddies savior yourselves this Christmas for we celebrate He who died for us as well.
The Grinch Who Stole Christmas has formed a union; all Bankers of the World need not apply; they were made that way by greed. Us Tar Babies, we of color, even i a wannabe must stick together and walk outta the brier patch Bush/Cheney put us in. We Will Prevail inheriting the earth as the body of God. Or blown asunder merge meeting in the heart of God elsewhere.
Jesus did say, “The Kingdom of God is within you.” Meaning, at least for me for now; we are, or can be there, if only we are willing to vanquish our fear.
Oh yes! The reason I wept last lunch with M was hearing an aria remembering Reggie. Having read everything before she collected Harlequin Romances eating them like salty peanuts while listening to Opera. And now I celebrate all the women of my life; especially the Mother of God who upon the loom of first light, in robes black turning blue covered with stars gives virgin birth to the new and next day . . . and on very special times winks as she sets the moon goodnight.
There is artistry in all life if only you become awake to see it. Death having no dominion forever.
Happy All Saints Day on the morrow.
121031 05:29 touched by . . .
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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