It’s been almost a month since I posted, my intention at that time was to try and post every day. The road to hell and all that…
Anyway, I’m settling in to my new little pad in downtown Vallejo, a quiet place in a sometimes noisy neighborhood; although sporadic, the random noise eruptions of poor urban life tell a continuing story by them selves. At least once a day I see some sort of police activity; at night there is an almost surreal sense when I have seen police lights flashing 8 or 10 blocks ahead and then turn into another street and there is another set of lights flashing there…The random eruptions of poor urban life.
Last Thursday was my first Thanksgiving in 30 years without Linda, so that was a little strange, not unexpected, as it is for so many, but still, a learning curve. Like today, I overheard a couple in a grocery store have this exchange: She, “I don’t know how I did it but somehow I got rock in my shoe.”He, “You probably dropped your ring and one of the diamonds bounced of and into your shoe.” He had a toothpick in his mouth and was grinning. All of those small exchanges of complaint, or humor, or understanding, or ribbing, or give and take; that are the woof and warp of the fabric of two lives in long term proximity. The noise-some eruptions of intertwined lives.
I plan to make the next two months or so a personal practice period of looking into this beginning of solitariness, if that is what it turns out to be, and how my relating to others changes; which in turn will point towards my changing relationship with my Self and The Eternal. Worth looking at.
On Thursday I spent a few hours in Napa at some meetings and then a few in Vallejo at some meetings. At the Napa locale they deep-fried twenty turkeys during the day as part of the sobriety meeting marathon. In Vallejo there was a bucket of KFC. Economic disparity and yet great similarity in people expressing their discomfort with the holidays. The have’s are just as dis-satisfied with their lives as the have-not’s; but their dis-satisfaction doesn’t have the same dire social consequences. However, it does have the same spiritual consequences.
When we make the feeling of “lack” a central point in our lives, it is like certain invasive plant species. Starts out as a conversational piece in our “garden” but soon there is no garden because the “lack” Kudzu has taken over.
As I’ve said before. I never metaphor I didn’t like so much that I wasn’t willing to torture it.
I am off the internet grid at home so I will come to the library a block from my pad and try and keep this thing going.
I met by chance a musician friend of mine on Lakeshore Blvd. in Oakland the other evening, and we had one of those intense and rather deep conversations, that ensue when people are exploring each other after they have had a so far satisfying short acquaintance. He’s about 44, so he see’s me as an elder, sort of. He knows I’ve been around the block a few times and we have a lot of cognate about urban life; he’s black, I’m not. Differences in the minutiae and details and the potentials in each set of the similar situations. He’s a professional blues musician. I’m not. I have certainly felt very blue and I can moan about it but can’t sing about it. Although I did give him two good titles. Anyway, he liked some of the things I said to him in our conversation and suggested that I start a Twitter account and “start posting some of that stuff, you’ll end up with a million followers and make a load of money.” We had recognized each other as hustlers from our first conversation and that we were both in the continuing process of trying to move past that view of life; so when I told him that everything that I said was given to me freely; I think he saw that the blues, too, were given to him freely, and that gave them a value beyond recompense. In a sense.
Oh, the joy of living and learning. Of never being too old. I love life. Thank you.