Across
the hours, down the days, eating miles between my
former home and now, I became lost in silent contemplation of my
gratitude for it all. The friends left behind and those to be
discovered ahead. Wondering how it came to be that I left one for
another at such an advanced age. . . .sensing
myself as wed to M as to Pam in a love elastic beyond distance and
time.
Loss has a way of doing
that, eliciting the reevaluation of meanings, values and priorities.
Revealing important, formerly hidden, truths and choices made on any
basis. To hold or fold, gambling on the potential imagined or
intuited that may be consequent in choices made.
Finally conscious that when
I claim, men never really grow up but merely old then die, I
recognized myself as a flirt seeking from women what I was unable to
receive from my mother. Who remained, essentially, immune from my
attempts to glean her attention, joy or laughter. Which, obviously, I
personalized as my problem not hers. A problem I too easily assuaged
with wishful thinking in all other relationships save for with M.
Whose suggestion that I volunteer for hospice service was the origin
of my current geographical location. . . .
130807 EDT 05:17
In
an attempt to distill my dream, from which I have just awakened, I
began to recognize a collective communal
corporation
of love for life.; made
obvious
through
my
daily research. And discovered within the long silence begun at the
moment of my departure; moving, not to Vermont, but to Pamela.
Central to my conflict is
the simple sense of losing M. Or choosing Pam over her. But within my
dream I sense a union of both and an incarnation of M’s gifts to me
manifest in community. A choice made for what remains of my physical
life; the long or short of it. What has been forged within me by M is
unbreakable. Add. If it happened to me it can happen to anyone since
all are capable of loving life; the all of it: rising up and going
down.
130811 04:08
Within my dream I stood
suspended in stasis. No way forward, unwilling to backup, leaping
from the shear cliff face traversed I knew I could never reach the
rock spire of what seemed safety distant ahead. Falling I discovered
there was no bottom. No sudden death from either terror or collision
with the distant valley floor. Awake standing in the dark with my
first cigarette I saw a shooting star and thought there are no
boundaries to God, or good, or whatever had brought me to this moment
in life; for the source is both extrinsic and intrinsic within all
and each of us equally.
My current sense is that
dreams analogize experience into a comprehensive direction for what
is next in life. Which, given my current state of continual
transition from the past to future, indicates a need to more fully
inhabit the present. To more specifically focus on the human
condition versus cause and effect. And, in a sense, I feel that I am
being drawn back into photography of people in isolation and
transition in this failure of free market capitalism the new religion
and creed of America. . . not my problem but ours. The ideal of
liberty for all has been sold to the highest bidders; those who take
pleasure in hoarding the labors of our forefathers and our selves . .
. the consequent death of our future and the victims of greed.
Regardless of duration, life
seems more precious to me here and now. Resident in the second least
populous state of America; wall-to-wall green mountains. The people
of all ages are the subject of our evolving tapestry about which I
refuse to attempt prophecy but can record and annotate the remarkable
trashing of what was once the “American Dream.”
130731 EDT 06:27 and both
© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All
Rights Reserved
