"Sometimes, I sit in a lonely place,
on a slope at the margin of the lake,
that is wreathed with silent plants.
There, as noon wheels in the sky, the sun
paints his tranquil image, the grass
and leaves are unbending in the breeze,
and no wave wrinkles, no cicada ticks,
no bird lifts a feather on the branch,
no butterfly flickers, no voice or movement
can be heard or seen, near or far.
The deepest quiet grips the banks:
then I sit so motionless I almost lose myself,
and forget the world: and it seems to me
my limbs are so still, no spirit or feeling
can ever stir them again, and their primal calm
is merged with the silence of the place."
--Excerpt from "The Solitary Life" taken from Giacomo Leopardi's "Canti"
Saw one of those crazy sunsets on the drive home last Friday evening, one of those pinkish gray jobs that defies depth perception. It seemed to hover ever distant as a dusk painting might, but at the same time envelop me. The enveloping part got a hold of me, gave way to a baker's dozen cherubs scrubbing down my aura like those lovely folks with the spray bottles do at Burning Man when it's real hot & hung over. Good way to start a weekend, fingers on pulses of blessings believed impossible prior to that very moment.
Romeo & Juliet Fire Ballet at The Crucible that night kicked ass. Dueling break dancers stole the show, although the ladies that hung from the spinning chandelier that shot flames will also always retain a special place in my memory.
Broke in a new road bike Sunday morning. Met Quintan at Orinda BART, flew down San Pablo Dam Road past the reservoir, up Castro Ranch, out Alhambra Valley where the wild west still yodels, up Bear Creek to harvest the three bears, far enough to still feel it as I type. There were some sections on Bear Creek where the heat of the sun kicked in and the vixen voices of my youth's springtimes whispered my name, unlocked forgotten points of view. The outstretched limbs of the trees rained greetings down upon me of a most sensual and caring variety, polished my fresh scrubbed aura to a blinding brilliantine. From the snarling faces of the roadkill racoons to the rich motorcycle exhaust, I savored every pain wracked revolution. Let's do it again.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
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