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| Moss That Carpets the Rocks in New Paltz New York |
Introduction:
On this mid-May day, the air is
fresh and sparkly. I’m lucky to work and duck out for a run, and then get back
to work. The run clears tangled thoughts in my head, allows me to catch la
vida cotidiana or daily life of the people around me. It helps me put the
headlines aside for a bit, admire the babies that parents and grandparents
push in strollers, the kids playing in the schoolyards and parks, greet people on the street,
watch the crazy construction machines as they paw voraciously into the earth,
while others stretch up to the sky, and move my body which, in turn, always
helps my mind.
On this mid-May day, I reflect on the past few weeks, and try to organize some thoughts and slices of life. Today I consider our capacity for so much in life—our strengths and support, and our multifaceted ability to live many lives in one.
Part One:
“Flamenco class, right?” The older elegant Black gentleman
who monitors all the events of this West 43rd Street building greets
me with a broad smile. I’m delighted he has identified me as a flamenco dancer.
It’s Saturday, and I’ve come to dance for an hour, to gain insight and wisdom of movement. I see the goal in my mind; I want to be like my teacher—like the other dancers—for whom all the gestures, the movements, the sounds, flow gracefully. I’m in love with everything about flamenco: the music, the emotion, the expression, the feeling I get when I watch it, and how I feel when I attempt to dance it. I recognize that achieving my goal requires time.
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| With My Beautiful/Wonderful Teacher, Deirdre |
Time. And effort. I’m relishing both.
Time, lately, has invaded my thoughts, it seems. I’m finding ways of dividing it, categorizing it, and most of all, attempting to enjoy it and shift it into different realms of being.
Perhaps that’s why references to time are fascinating to me.
Just a few weeks ago, when I was reading Elizabeth’s Gilbert book Signature
of All Things, I learned her protagonist, Alma Whittaker’s, proclamation that
there are many types of time, ranging from Human to Divine, and including
Geological and Moss Time.
Moss Time. This may be my current time of choice.
It moves slowly, and in a colorful manner…softening the
rocks it rests upon.
Part Two:
People who know me, know that I am “enamoradiza.” It’s one
of those words that can’t be translated easily from Spanish into English. Still,
I can explain the meaning: it means I fall in love easily.
Recently, and perhaps due to the accumulation of decades of
life experience paired with some thought of looking ahead, I’ve been trying to
fill myself with experiences and knowledge—of many sorts. More and more I’m
considering what I want to do paired with how I am supporting myself (and
realize that this is a privilege). There are, I see, ways to fill life up with
a myriad of choices that are both enjoyable and meaningful. Ideally, they are not
mutually exclusive. I also like the multiple life theme…
And I’ve got some great models; I know plenty of people who
have multiple lives. Take my older brother Shawn, who works in construction by
day, and as an artist by night—and on days off. AND he works with a whole group
of construction workers who are also artists! And he plays soccer. And more…
Funny, I remember my parents talking about “Gentle Julius”
when I was a little girl. Apparently, he was not only a dentist—which is how
they met him in the first place—but also an accomplished violinist.
I remember being fascinated by that. I had never heard of
someone able to do such disparate things. After all, I thought teachers lived
at school—and slept there. I viewed employment as monogamous. As a child—and
despite the many activities and even teachings of my parents--I thought people
did one thing—and that’s what they did.
My, how wrong I was!
Part Three:
“Onward ever, backward never!”
This is yet another quote, one of many notable ones, from
Elizabeth Gilbert—one of the authors I’m currently in love with. (Told you I
was enamoradiza.)
She’s been talking to me (yes—it feels that much more personal
when someone is speaking in your ear—even if it’s an audio book narration!)
about setting time aside, about not being afraid, about enjoying the process. I
recognize that this is a luxury that I’m lucky enough to be able to enjoy.
I take in her words, and then scatter them throughout my own
thoughts—not unlike sprinkling my much beloved cilantro, fresh lime juice and
salt on my avocadoes. Her words complement my ideas. They bring out the best in
flavor.
Part Four:
The Audiobook
Listening to a good audiobook is like trying a new recipe:
there’s an unknown bit that can bring delight in the form of flavors of
thought.
Words fill my ears—some go deep, some stay with my earrings.
In the past few months, I’ve discovered the joy and depth of audio books. Voices accompany me on my walks—and runs—and
as I cook.
The beauty of the audiobook is that it’s flexible: you can
start it whenever you want—and you don’t have to carry it with you. Like a
paper book, you can go back and replay sections.
What do I look for in an audiobook?
· The narrator’s voice has to be one that I enjoy hearing. (I started my whole audio book foray with a voice that I most enjoy: Barack Obama’s)
·
A plot/story of interest: this is obviously key.
· Interleaving of nonfiction and fiction titles,
and a diversity of authors (though now I realize that my latest books were all
written by women). Some of the books are pictured below.
Conclusion:
On this mid-May day, I share with you dreams of peace, an end of so many wrongs in our world, and wishes for love…always.
With love always,
Arlen
