   Contact Kelli, temporary manager of Doug's "The Wondering Jew" |
Jan. 18, 2002 - 19:09 MST THE WONDERING JEW Real Then This is what I think I do, "The compensation of growing old was simply this: that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained -- at last! -- the power which adds the supreme flavor to existence, the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light." this is a quote from Virginia Woolf. And as it turns in my mind it sparkles with the zest of once held youth, a glitter ball of memories. The depth of meaning of those memories is I think now fully understood by me. A warm summer vacation day, free to roam and going for the fun of it, through a meadow, listening to the crackle of the grasshoppers as they flew in fright around my ankles, going onward to a a wide spot in slow flowing stream oft frequented by me and friends. The day is warm and comfortable, cattails over on the opposite side, tender shade from the cottonwoods, a zephyr tussling my forelock. I sit on my spot, a slight hump of land near the water and watch the dragonflies silently weave my dreams. I watch at times, the little water bugs that move on top of the water and look for the occasional flash of a fish. I appreciate those times then just how miraculous a magpie's flight is and chuckle at the the occasional butterfly in its crazy flight. An occasional car going by on the road, leaving a bit of dust in the air, soon gone and forgotten. My aim those times was to live at ease and try to become one with nature. Of course I didn't have the vocabulary then to express it that way, but that is what I went out to do. Maybe in the evening Mama would take a walk with me, and while I gave her my questions we would enjoy the soft, warm darkeness as we walked and talked. Many of my questions would be answered, "I don't know, why don't you ask your Dad ?" But even if not one of my questions was given an answer I was accorded the dignity of being listened to by one I loved. Those walks are precious in my mind even yet. The glitter ball slowly turns and shows me what was Real Then . . . . . 0 comments so far
|
|
|
