Hurricane Harbor

A writer and a tropical muse. A funky Lubavitcher who enjoys watching the weather, hurricanes, listening to music while enjoying life with a sense of humor and trying to make sense of it all!

Monday, May 09, 2005

Silly Questions on Friendship

Someone left me a little present the other day ..for me to find among the racks of books that were donated to the library. There between the biography of Robert Capa and a book on Provence was a book by good old Richard Bach. Some dear Kappa person I know loved Richard Bach and the whole Jonathan Livingston Segall thing. It never resonated with me personally even though I love seagulls and the open water and the beach. I was always more a sandpiper sort of love with both sea and shore.

And... I imagine they are a bit afraid I am suddenly going to dance away or upset about something so suddenly there are reminders dropped like boxes of tin and glass to remind me they are out there somewhere .. watching from a far.

So the book opens with the question..

"Can miles truly seperate you from friends? If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?"

And, what they never get (maybe because they are used to being far away and watching from there) is..............yes, those miles can truly seperate you and if you aren't HERE... you are in a land called the Past or "Far, Far Away"

You aren't here when I lie in bed at night thinking. You aren't here when I have to wash my hair or decide which day to make it more Rosewood. You aren't here when I have writers block and can't finish my novel but I can spend five minutes amusing them online to give them a new idea for a scene ...and then they fly away like the seagull to write and think and ponder until they need another fish to eat.. swooping down into the water, grabbing it... and flying away again.

IF you aren't here.. you aren't anywhere but in the past, a memory that is hard to forget and that ebbs and flows, like the tides sometimes higher..sometimes stronger..sometimes not remembered at all.

Linda is dead. She died. She is gone. She never got to see the babies be born or hold my hand or encourage me to get divorced when I needed to or to remind me who I was when I forgot. She is here in my heart but she is ... gone, dead.

Mr. Kappa, Kapp, Cappa, Capp, K person is gone.
He works, he makes money, he builds a retirement nestegg, he pays for the good little boys to go to college and study science and maps and he tries not to look back but he probably does. He is a part of the past. Inspiration for movies and screenwriters who obviously have an axe to bear and don't like something about Mr. K.

As the song was sung... you are so far away.

Memories are only memories. Beautiful, sad, poignant and laughable.

They don't hold me at night or give me peace.

Take the book and give it to someone else who agrees with the logic of the book because I don't.

Yesterday I threw out one of Richard Bach's books that also mysteriously appeared on my doorstep while I was cleaning my bedroom bookcase.

When you show up. When you care.. you don't let someone walk away.
When you don't sit on a trailer staring up at the stars wishing for Bobbi. You get off the rooftop and you go to Bobbi and you tell her you love her or you crawl back down off the rooftop, go to sleep and go on with your life.

You get off the fence. You can't have things both ways.

In says in Chassidus.. you are never standing still. You are always either climbing up the ladder or moving down the ladder. If you are standing still.. you are not moving up that moment are not progressing towards the top. You have stopped.

Fly away Jonathan Sebastian .. fly away.

As the yearbook said. You go your way. I'll go mine. If by chance we meet. It's beautiful.



Post a Comment

<< Home