The Way

I am working on a couple of posts now that I want to spend some time and effort on, instead of just going stream of consciousness as I usually do, which the resulting product is often run-on sentences and poorly thought out philosophies that don’t fully express the point that I am trying to get across to my readers in that particular post, but I want to keep up the post because they say you should, so here is a post for today.

I would like to share one of my favorite poems and a good music video/song.  The poem is titled “If You Forget Me”, and it is written by Pablo Neruda.  The poem has been translated from Spanish to English. The music video is “Mississippi Isabel” by King Charles. Enjoy, my friends.

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

I think this song is pretty cool also.

On Friday, I left work around five o’clock as usual and headed home.  After pulling into my driveway, I noticed that my door was wide open.  My first thought was that I had left the door ajar when I left in the morning and that my dog, Cedar, had gotten out.  Nope.  Cedar was in the backyard were I had left her, sitting on her haunches staring intently into the house.  The door had been kicked in and now hung tenuously from its hinges.  I crossed the threshold and look to the right.  My TV was gone.  I looked to the left.  My computer was gone.  I had been robbed.  Mark it off the Bucket List, hell yeah.  Thirty six years and I had never been robbed.   Okay, seriously, this is not how I wanted to start the weekend.

I had planned to head to the gym, but instead I had to call the police.  The officer came and took the report.  After he left, I called my insurance and filed my claim.  So my door is messed up, my TV, computer, and some other stuff are gone, and I am late to the gym.  I was on hold with my insurance company and of course I had to let the world of facebook know, so updated my status.

I went over to my friends’ house later for some chili and wine.  Last year around this time I had given them my TV.  I just didn’t want it anymore.  I got back in shape and started living my life, instead of reveling in the zombification of  1080 high definition    About six months after I got rid of my TV,  I bought another one for various reasons, and things went downhill.  I try not to blame things or people for what occurs in my life, unless its not my fault.  I am blaming the TV for everything that has gone wrong in the past six months. TV is another addiction for me.  Thanks to the immediate gratification of Netflix, all day TV binges are readily accessible.   Couple Netflix with a Playstation 3 and a supply of games funded by an adult bank account, and you know there are going to be problems.

I imagine the person(s) who burglarized my home as some degenerate drug user who couldn’t afford his next hit.  Perched behind my bushes waiting for the right moment, he sprang into action and burst through the front door.  Like a jungle cat he pounced on my TV, deftly severing the cables connected to my TV with his switchblade, he and his buddy were probably in my house for less than a minute.  I wonder if he thought about how I would feel when I got home.   I felt powerless at first, violated for a second, angry, but, ultimately, I feel relieved.  I will feel even better once I get my insurance check and the door is fixed.  I may buy another TV someday, but for now the demon is gone.

Under the twelve-year cycle of the Chinese Zodiac, 2012 is the Year of the Dragon.     This year the Chinese New Year began on January 23rd.  China is expecting a baby BOOM as parents do their best to have a child born under the auspicious sign of the only mythical creature in the sino-galactic-menagerie.  Thirty-six years ago on January 28 my mother gave birth to me.  I am not a Dragon; I am a Rabbit.  The Chinese Calendar does not follow the Gregorian, or regular, Calendar.  If I had been born two days later, I would be the most sought after animal of the Chinese Zodiac, but I am a Rabbit.  I couldn’t name the blog the Year of the Dragon because I am not a Dragon, and naming it the Year of the Rabbit, never really occurred to me.  So unicorns.

Unicorns are mythical creatures also, or are they……….

I have always thought of Unicorns as effeminate, maybe it is because I associate them with rainbows.

Throughout history, however, Unicorns have not had an effeminate reputation, and the Ancient Greeks did not consider them mythological.  To the Greeks, they were real.  Cosmas Indicopleustes a merchant traveler reported back after a journey to Ethiopia that unicorns are ferocious beasts that cannot be taken alive and all “its strength lies in its horn.”    The available descriptions of the physical characteristics suggest an animal similar to the rhinoceros, or the now extinct Elasmotherium.   Versions of the Bible translate the Hebrew word re’em as unicorn, other versions translate this word as wild ox.  The passages using re’em are allusions to the animals great strength.  During medieval times, the story of the virgin trapping and taming the wild unicorn came to popularity.  In recent times, the term unicorn has been used to refer to tall, blond, seemingly unattainable women.  Modern unicorn sightings reportedly occur in gyms, yoga classes, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, and the professional beach volleyball circuit.  It is probably the modern, colloquial use of unicorn that has led me to assign feminine qualities to the otherwise historically untamable, ferocious beast.

So unicorns are not feminine.  In fact, as we have learned, they can only be tamed by virgins, and all of their power is located in the phallus protruding from their heads.  I am also beginning to think that the unicorn existed in some form.  It seems like one of the most likely answers would be the Elasmotherium.

I am not sure how any of this really affects what I will write about in this blog.  It is interesting, however, what may have once been a real animal has become a symbol for so much more.  We like to explain shit in weird ways sometimes.  The End.

If we could all be as lucky to be as passionate about something as the subjects of the story at this link:

http://gawker.com/5880878/was-ice-cubes-good-day-actually-november-30-1988-an-alternate-theory?tag=investigations

And yes, the Lakers beat the Supersonics

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E80RGtvZQqc

Lisa and I (Lisa is in the center)

I have three siblings, and three very different relationships.  Growing up, my sister Lisa was the leader and the most responsible of us kids.  Lisa is six years older than me and the second of my parents’ four children.  I was always proud of being  Lisa’s little brother.   As long as I can remember, Lisa has been  involved in sports:  horseback riding, basketball, volleyball, soccer, track, etc.   She is a competitor.  She is tough.  I have never known her to back down from a challenge.

I went to my sister’s house the other day to celebrate my birthday with her family.  After dinner, Lisa pulled out some photographs, including the one above.  She is always telling me that she thinks of me as  ”her cute little brother.”  I have always been skeptical of being cute at any point in my life.  My memories of what my siblings thought of me growing up would not lead me to the word “cute.”  As far as I remember, my siblings despised me .  I played the role of the obnoxious, trouble making little brother.  Every time Lisa has told me of my alleged cuteness, I figured she was just being nice or experiencing some sort of hormonal imbalance, until I saw this picture.

I was cute, happy, and confident.   I am probably five or six years old in this picture.  I have thought a lot about this picture.  At what point did I forget about this kid?  At what point did the doubt creep in?  Looking at this picture takes me back to a time in my life when I truly believed that anything was possible.   I wanted to be a zoologist.  I wanted to live on the ocean, and swim with dolphins and whales.  Limitations were not an issue.

I know that I am still that kid.  I can still do anything I want–while I may not believe that 100%, I have been trained to say it over and over.  Despite lingering self-doubt, I have another problem; I don’t know what I want to do with my life.  I have a good job, amazing friends and family, a really cool dog, a house, two cars, money in the bank, but something is missing.

What do I value?  What is success?  What will make me happy?  Right now, I don’t know.

I am not willing to accept the current state of affairs.  I mentioned in my original blog post that Lisa had asked me to do a triathlon with her.   A journey to change my behavior and consequently, hopefully, change my life.  I am doing the race.  I have not signed up yet, but I went out and bought running shoes and a new bike.  I also took another step in my training; I am ending a relationship that I have had on and off since I was twelve years old.  I am breaking up with nicotine, so if my writing is a little disjointed or unfocused over the next week I will blame it on withdrawal anxiety.