Hours Like Slippery Fish

Ah, well.  Yesterday was another day where somehow, despite my Best Intentions, there was no blog.  I went down to the Bay Area for a quick trip, and by the time I got back in the afternoon, so many things were clamoring for attention that…well, finally I went to bed.  With a pillow over my head.

The hills along Rt. 5 are sensuous, once you get used to the landscape.  It used to seem rather barren and depressing to me as a child, on those long and frequent drives with my mother.  When The Partner and I first came up here to see this place we live now, the hills were covered with an incredible shade of green, somewhere between emerald and grassy , and they rolled along like long bolts of velvet.  This time of year they’re the color of lions, and there are flocks of birds boiling around through the air, and big hawks with intricately feathered and colored chests.  The fires that had been set the day I drove down had filled the sky in one place with low hanging smoke the next day.  It was a strange effect but it did make the colors of the fields almost flourescent, with flashes of ochre and mauve.  When I got home, it almost felt like the trees were surrounding me and giving me a big welcome home hug.

One thing that happened this visit was that my friend and I went out to dinner, which in itself is an extraordinary treat.  We went to a new Cambodian place and, amazingly, a waiter from a Cambodian place I’d gone to and loved twenty years ago was in this new restaurant.  It made me think about how people endure and survive and ultimately flourish.  The first place was in downtown Oakland, and I used to go there with my husband.  When he died, I went in with a friend to eat and, upon hearing the news of his passing, everyone there cried.  The chefs came out and the two waiters stood there wringing their hands.  These were all people who had made it out of Cambodia alive, had lived through Pol Pot and the Viet Nam war.  They had, and have, a particular resilience, in that things that might seem like deal breakers to an average person don’t really phase them one bit; they just keep moving and working and making an effort.  So to see them all in tears that night was both moving and difficult.   Seeing my old friend this week made me remember all that, and I was very happy indeed to see him well.  We discussed my garden- he was impressed that I can get lemon grass to grow up here, and I promised to stop in on my next trip down.  Plus, he wants to meet The Partner- after all, he needs to approve my choice, apparently.

So, it really made me think, once again, how we all are part of such a much bigger whole, and that all beings truly do want to be happy.  We can communicate with each other and thrive through doing that and building new relationships and paradigms.  The important thing is not to give up- not on ourselves, and not on others.   When we give up we live in constraints and operate out of fear, as though we are our own prisoners- we don’t really live.  Which is a shame, when there are old friends to meet unexpectedly, and velvet hills to pass through on the way.

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Wanda Brenni on October 21, 2011 at 2:30 pm

    Just to let you know, I’m here and know those hills and felt and feel the same way, their beauty coming to me with age and oh to think of waiters who carry you with them and of course the food–miss that part of the Bay Area.

    Reply

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