Without thinking, I posted the picture of Dorothy on the David's Dream blog. Dorothy's picture was supposed to appear on my other blog page: just-dale.blogspot.com where I post my dot pictures. Dorothy will have to explain how she managed to get herself posted on this blog as well. You can find her any morning at
Dorothy Newmire
c/o Uptown Bill's Small Mall
401 S. Gilbert
Iowa City, Iowa 52333
319-339-0401
She likes getting cards and letters.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dorothy
She sits in Uptown Bill's each morning dispensing words of wisdom.
"I'm here because I'm not all there."
I too am not "all there".
Many times I am not sure I am "here".
I am glad that Dorothy is here.
The warmth of her smile is beyond my knowledge.
Her laughter brushes the spiderwebs from my heart.
Thank you Dorothy.
"I'm here because I'm not all there."
I too am not "all there".
Many times I am not sure I am "here".
I am glad that Dorothy is here.
The warmth of her smile is beyond my knowledge.
Her laughter brushes the spiderwebs from my heart.
Thank you Dorothy.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Maybe The Last Dream...For Now
I stand in the water and look up at the clock. 8 a.m. 8 a.m. central. In Sanfra it is 5 a.m. David is working hard to make to San Francisco. He is taking actions and learning new things every day. Life remains full of surprise and wonder.
I put on my goggles, raise my legs to squat against the side, then leap backward with my arms over my head. The water embraces me, its calm soothing presence removing the emotional chatter that often lives in my brain. I know that eventually the water will melt away the chatter leaving my thoughts clear...or at least with the illusion of clarity.
I only know one stroke; a sort of backward butterfly that I invented. It is not elegant but it does propel me to and fro from one end of the pool to the other. Back and forth I go for a minimum of 30 minutes, often for 45, once for a full hour and a half. However long it takes for my thinking to calm. It is difficult to describe the sensation (but when have I ever lacked the ego for an attempt at describing that which is beyond description?). One moment my brain and body are full of the tensions of fear, anger, anxiety, guilt, etc. The next my head feels empty and I sense only the motion of my body in the water.
Today is such a time. I watch the lines in the ceiling pass with each stroke. The emotions fade and I tackle the thorny question of why I took the trip to San Francisco. My glib response is that such activities help keep me out of the hospital, and it is true that I feel stronger each time I am able to tackle something that initially strikes fear within me. Yet this is only a partial answer. There is more to it.
Is it an innate desire to be a "good" person? How awful for me if this is the case. My experience of being on a mission to do "good" has seldom if ever been a positive one. More often than not I become blind while on a mission of "goodness". I become so focused on MY (or worse, a Divine) purpose that I am unable to see the person standing right in front of me. They become nothing more than a tool for me to use in my grand purpose of "doing good". If the tool is helpful in achieving my purpose then I cherish it and lavish praise upon it. If the tool cannot be turned to my "good" purpose then I toss it aside. In either case, I am so lost in my mission of doing good that I am no longer alive. I can only see, hear, taste and touch that which can be perceived through my filter of "goodness". I sincerely hope that I did not undertake the trip to do good.
So what then? Was the trip pre-ordained by a supernatural being for a purpose of its own? A purpose unknowable by me? Perhaps. Perhaps I had no choice in the matter whatsoever. If that is the case then no need to worry about it any further...I have no free will and thus the responsibility for the outcome lies with the being who chose me for the trip.
Was the trip an act of selfishness? Was it really nothing more than a desire to keep practicing those things which keep me out of a mental institution? Was it a desire to be famous and receive praise from others? I think this is at least partially true. Yet it is not selfishiness as I used to define the word. It is the same selfishness a jellyfish has when it captures a shrimp; the selfishness Doofus, my cat shows when he comes to me to be rubbed; the same selfishness a baby has when it reaches for its mother's breast. It is the selfishness of life striving to continue and flourish.
So yes, in the end the trip was a selfish act. There was an element of care for David and Joe within it, but if my only motive was care for others I could have taken a different path. I could have avoided bringing pain to Rejeanne. I could have sent the money to a friend in Africa. I could have donated the money to the food bank. I could have sent it to my daughter and her husband. In each case some would benefit and others would not. But, who can say or decide what would have been the greater good? Not I certainly. I lack the information and perspective to make such an absolute judgment.
Thankfully, that is not my job. I used to search the want ads looking for a job as "God". I never found one. Besides, based on the number of priests, gurus, politicians and do-gooders in this world there is an abundance of applicants ahead of me for the role of ultimate "decider". I leave it to them to determine the ultimate goodness of my actions. I will go have a cup of coffee - smell its rich aroma, taste the flavor from mountains half a world away and savor this moment of life.
This may be my last posting on David's Dream. Some of David's dreams have been fulfilled. I was fortunate enough to have witnessed this. David is hatching even more dreams as I write these words. Regardless, my role in the dreaming is at an end for now. There may be other dreams and chapters about this one but I do not see them now. Of course, I will continue as David's friend and help him when I can, but he has gained the strength and hope to carry on his dreams with or without me. In the end, isn't that the point? And anyway, it is time to plant fruit trees.
I put on my goggles, raise my legs to squat against the side, then leap backward with my arms over my head. The water embraces me, its calm soothing presence removing the emotional chatter that often lives in my brain. I know that eventually the water will melt away the chatter leaving my thoughts clear...or at least with the illusion of clarity.
I only know one stroke; a sort of backward butterfly that I invented. It is not elegant but it does propel me to and fro from one end of the pool to the other. Back and forth I go for a minimum of 30 minutes, often for 45, once for a full hour and a half. However long it takes for my thinking to calm. It is difficult to describe the sensation (but when have I ever lacked the ego for an attempt at describing that which is beyond description?). One moment my brain and body are full of the tensions of fear, anger, anxiety, guilt, etc. The next my head feels empty and I sense only the motion of my body in the water.
Today is such a time. I watch the lines in the ceiling pass with each stroke. The emotions fade and I tackle the thorny question of why I took the trip to San Francisco. My glib response is that such activities help keep me out of the hospital, and it is true that I feel stronger each time I am able to tackle something that initially strikes fear within me. Yet this is only a partial answer. There is more to it.
Is it an innate desire to be a "good" person? How awful for me if this is the case. My experience of being on a mission to do "good" has seldom if ever been a positive one. More often than not I become blind while on a mission of "goodness". I become so focused on MY (or worse, a Divine) purpose that I am unable to see the person standing right in front of me. They become nothing more than a tool for me to use in my grand purpose of "doing good". If the tool is helpful in achieving my purpose then I cherish it and lavish praise upon it. If the tool cannot be turned to my "good" purpose then I toss it aside. In either case, I am so lost in my mission of doing good that I am no longer alive. I can only see, hear, taste and touch that which can be perceived through my filter of "goodness". I sincerely hope that I did not undertake the trip to do good.
So what then? Was the trip pre-ordained by a supernatural being for a purpose of its own? A purpose unknowable by me? Perhaps. Perhaps I had no choice in the matter whatsoever. If that is the case then no need to worry about it any further...I have no free will and thus the responsibility for the outcome lies with the being who chose me for the trip.
Was the trip an act of selfishness? Was it really nothing more than a desire to keep practicing those things which keep me out of a mental institution? Was it a desire to be famous and receive praise from others? I think this is at least partially true. Yet it is not selfishiness as I used to define the word. It is the same selfishness a jellyfish has when it captures a shrimp; the selfishness Doofus, my cat shows when he comes to me to be rubbed; the same selfishness a baby has when it reaches for its mother's breast. It is the selfishness of life striving to continue and flourish.
So yes, in the end the trip was a selfish act. There was an element of care for David and Joe within it, but if my only motive was care for others I could have taken a different path. I could have avoided bringing pain to Rejeanne. I could have sent the money to a friend in Africa. I could have donated the money to the food bank. I could have sent it to my daughter and her husband. In each case some would benefit and others would not. But, who can say or decide what would have been the greater good? Not I certainly. I lack the information and perspective to make such an absolute judgment.
Thankfully, that is not my job. I used to search the want ads looking for a job as "God". I never found one. Besides, based on the number of priests, gurus, politicians and do-gooders in this world there is an abundance of applicants ahead of me for the role of ultimate "decider". I leave it to them to determine the ultimate goodness of my actions. I will go have a cup of coffee - smell its rich aroma, taste the flavor from mountains half a world away and savor this moment of life.
This may be my last posting on David's Dream. Some of David's dreams have been fulfilled. I was fortunate enough to have witnessed this. David is hatching even more dreams as I write these words. Regardless, my role in the dreaming is at an end for now. There may be other dreams and chapters about this one but I do not see them now. Of course, I will continue as David's friend and help him when I can, but he has gained the strength and hope to carry on his dreams with or without me. In the end, isn't that the point? And anyway, it is time to plant fruit trees.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Let Him Speak
David sent some more writings. Let him speak.
After capturing his first (and it turns out only) queen ant and marveling at the hills of my home state - Arkansas, David had another moment of wonder in Texarkana.
I just incountered a most wimsical place. Which so closely resumbles my home state. As to have me thinking I am between Des Moines and Iowacity. Tell I looked closer. Noting the entire land is as flat as a pancake. Its as if somebody took a huge steam iron to the entire state of Iowa. This place is as flat as Arkensal is hilly! Then I noteced what had to be clearly artifical cactus. That looked so real I went up to check the plants close up. And to my supprise. They were real! The plants. Well known as a hot house plant. Where not only growing by the road. In an out door planter. But they were thriving! With out the aid of a hot house. It was the dangist place I have ever seen!
In Dallas, we met two old friends of mine, Carol and Richard for an exotic dinner at a Nicaraguan/Mexican restaurant. However, our hotel left a little to be desired. David found a sack of prescription drug bottles in his room. He quickly called the front desk who took quickly took care of the problem but the incident was not one of David's favorites.
After passing through Dallas and spending we headed for Abilene and David's first view of desert country.
After Abilene, we moved on to Wilcox, Arizona where David began to discover the difference between hills and true mountains.
The hills around Willcox Arazona. It took some getting used to the scale of things. I having nearly walked from my hotal to a hill I assumed was at most a cople thousand yards away. When it was in fact nearly FIFTEEN MILES! A good thirty minits by car... Thankfully I changed my mind. Shoes you see are very expensive in Iowa city Iowa. And I realy can not afford to wear them out...
The following evidently was written our first evening in San Francisco (Sanfra in David's tongue). We were there three days. The transformation to David's psyche was decades in scope.
Puruse for a momet. A town. Made from left over bits of all other towns in the world. All cramed togaver. And drapped over a frighteningly steep hill. Now name the streets at randome. And you have a town you can name a type of dream after. It the place. Is fully outside my understanding. Its ok to smoke a joint. But one dare not light up a camal. But strange as the place is. I can allready see myself calling it home. Less than five seconds after my right foot landed on the readymix. I have no name for this town. So well just call it. Dreamtown USA. Or San Fra... Will also do.
On our second day in San Francisco, I took David shopping and to get the "thing" (nose piercing) done. The piercing was not a favorite of mine as David evidently noticed.
Finally after two days of hellish 800+ miles per day driving, we neared home. As we reached the Missouri I heard more tapping on the keyboard...
And finaly. We see the state of Iowa close up. Famus for its corn, beans, corn, beans and pigs. Oh and theres a person or two too. Along with its maze of rural roads. Make a wrong turn here... And your gona stay a while. There is no excape from this most beloved land between two rivers. Most beloved cause well. Thats where my heart has been... Named after a tribe that once lived there. I call it by its other name. Home! Ok make that my home away from home. After all. My real home is by the bay. In a town called San Francisco. But we just call her. San Fra.... I can think of nothing to add. Write on David.
After capturing his first (and it turns out only) queen ant and marveling at the hills of my home state - Arkansas, David had another moment of wonder in Texarkana.
I just incountered a most wimsical place. Which so closely resumbles my home state. As to have me thinking I am between Des Moines and Iowacity. Tell I looked closer. Noting the entire land is as flat as a pancake. Its as if somebody took a huge steam iron to the entire state of Iowa. This place is as flat as Arkensal is hilly! Then I noteced what had to be clearly artifical cactus. That looked so real I went up to check the plants close up. And to my supprise. They were real! The plants. Well known as a hot house plant. Where not only growing by the road. In an out door planter. But they were thriving! With out the aid of a hot house. It was the dangist place I have ever seen!
In Dallas, we met two old friends of mine, Carol and Richard for an exotic dinner at a Nicaraguan/Mexican restaurant. However, our hotel left a little to be desired. David found a sack of prescription drug bottles in his room. He quickly called the front desk who took quickly took care of the problem but the incident was not one of David's favorites.
A oddish land of wimsy. Great to visit. But not to stay! Unless the dope I found in my motal room is yours? Then please do stay a while. Say ten to twenty.... But please! Keep out of Iowa! We don't want your kind! Now while the place has its charms. The hotal in Dallas left a lot to be disired! With useless internet service. Plus somebodys large stash of perscription only substances I discovered when I opened a dresser drawer. (Eather the owner is dead? 'Given the sheer number of pill bottles. Or he/she is headed too or is allready in a longer stay hotale. Curtisy of the Texas dept of corrections.)
Oh and the place is sheer murder on my feet! Even with the boots I purchesed just for this particuler plot of wimsicle oddish ground.
Oh and the place is sheer murder on my feet! Even with the boots I purchesed just for this particuler plot of wimsicle oddish ground.
Am finaly exiting Dallas. Fortenly the incident with the dope. Turned out to be inocent. Turned out the hotal was like two miles from a majure texas mential hospital... Hummm. Hence the large amount of perscription medicene left behind. And I thought taking two pills a day was a huge amount! And a night with feet propped up did wonders for my poor feet.
After passing through Dallas and spending we headed for Abilene and David's first view of desert country.
And I am now making a bee line towards fire ant country! Which will be far more freindly to feet than set ready mix.
After having found my second queen. Who turned out to be not long for this world. We now make a bee line towards our next stop. Abilene texas. If only Justen knew... Then after another night in a hotal. (Ps. I have become quite adept at setting up Myrmecology labs in record time.. Only to then take them down even faster.) Hopefully with internet service. And free of substances.... I will be making a bee line towards the Desart!
Iowa. Seems to be more a faiding memory now. As if some faveret childhood playground. A place now as exotic and noval as Texas. The land of wonder the land of wimsy.
After Abilene, we moved on to Wilcox, Arizona where David began to discover the difference between hills and true mountains.
The hills around Willcox Arazona. It took some getting used to the scale of things. I having nearly walked from my hotal to a hill I assumed was at most a cople thousand yards away. When it was in fact nearly FIFTEEN MILES! A good thirty minits by car... Thankfully I changed my mind. Shoes you see are very expensive in Iowa city Iowa. And I realy can not afford to wear them out...
The following evidently was written our first evening in San Francisco (Sanfra in David's tongue). We were there three days. The transformation to David's psyche was decades in scope.
Puruse for a momet. A town. Made from left over bits of all other towns in the world. All cramed togaver. And drapped over a frighteningly steep hill. Now name the streets at randome. And you have a town you can name a type of dream after. It the place. Is fully outside my understanding. Its ok to smoke a joint. But one dare not light up a camal. But strange as the place is. I can allready see myself calling it home. Less than five seconds after my right foot landed on the readymix. I have no name for this town. So well just call it. Dreamtown USA. Or San Fra... Will also do.
On our second day in San Francisco, I took David shopping and to get the "thing" (nose piercing) done. The piercing was not a favorite of mine as David evidently noticed.
I am now near the end of my first full day in Sanfra. Did some shopping over on Folsum street. Before then undergoing minure surgery on Castro street... (Nothing like ending the day getting a ten gage dermal punch driven through ones nostrals.) Which has taken some of the bullish stubreness out of me... And since you have to ask? Yes it hurt! But not as much as it hurt poor dale. Who had to stand there wincing as that big needle was thrust through his freinds nostrals. (You know. We could have had you on the table while I held you down and watched... Just kidding dale.)
Finally after two days of hellish 800+ miles per day driving, we neared home. As we reached the Missouri I heard more tapping on the keyboard...
And finaly. We see the state of Iowa close up. Famus for its corn, beans, corn, beans and pigs. Oh and theres a person or two too. Along with its maze of rural roads. Make a wrong turn here... And your gona stay a while. There is no excape from this most beloved land between two rivers. Most beloved cause well. Thats where my heart has been... Named after a tribe that once lived there. I call it by its other name. Home! Ok make that my home away from home. After all. My real home is by the bay. In a town called San Francisco. But we just call her. San Fra....
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Lost Treasure
Back home. Loving a coffee at my local Starbucks. AND I have my laptop, all on my own, no sharing. God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.
I see an unfamiliar icon on my desktop. I click on it. In amazement I read a previously undiscovered essay from the recently prolific author, David Young. Evidently it was written the evening after David saw the Pacific Ocean. Bravo David. May we see many more lines from you.
Now I am unable to discribe this land. In words. Other than to say. When I stood on the shore of the mother lake. That etheril legendary body from which all water and life arrises. It was as if a big boincer in a dark night club had crushed a football in my face. Making for a loud resounding boom! It was only after I had gotten into my motal room. That I realised the scale of what I had touched and tasted. For this was the great mother of waters. A true god. Whos veins flow with the same saltyness as my own blood. Of my freind Dales, Joes and even Barrys. It is the same tast of the meat that sustans me. Her water is the blood of all life. We came from her womb. And back to her we all must evently flow. For all rivers evently return to her. She is the alpha and omega of life. Which out her. Earth would just be another lifeless dead rock adrift in the cosmos. We owe her. Our gratitude. And our respect. She she holds life itself in her hands. The vegitation here is beyond discription. As if some gardener had gone mad. Planting every kind of green flowering thing. There are palm trees and a bewildering varity of fruit trees. All flowering plants are to found in profusion. Even cacti are well repersented. Yet no glass case or house incloses this ammazing garden. No did I see any sign of constent toil normly needed to grow such lush vegitation. Who ever the care taker of this wonderfull garden is. I sure have no complants as to his skill. A real master gardener is at work here.
And after having tasted and touched the mother lake. I now brace my self. For I am about to meet another lady. One I know well. Oh do I know this lady! For we have allready met. Before we ever met. For this lady. Who sets next to the mother lake. Has shown her face many times. In places where only sheep should reside to be counted. Her name is San Francisco. But she prefers to be called... San Fra... During the night. I am about to meet the lady of the night. Face to face. And this time. Nobody standing on the other side. Will write... I then wake up.
by David Young
I see an unfamiliar icon on my desktop. I click on it. In amazement I read a previously undiscovered essay from the recently prolific author, David Young. Evidently it was written the evening after David saw the Pacific Ocean. Bravo David. May we see many more lines from you.
====================================================
Now I am unable to discribe this land. In words. Other than to say. When I stood on the shore of the mother lake. That etheril legendary body from which all water and life arrises. It was as if a big boincer in a dark night club had crushed a football in my face. Making for a loud resounding boom! It was only after I had gotten into my motal room. That I realised the scale of what I had touched and tasted. For this was the great mother of waters. A true god. Whos veins flow with the same saltyness as my own blood. Of my freind Dales, Joes and even Barrys. It is the same tast of the meat that sustans me. Her water is the blood of all life. We came from her womb. And back to her we all must evently flow. For all rivers evently return to her. She is the alpha and omega of life. Which out her. Earth would just be another lifeless dead rock adrift in the cosmos. We owe her. Our gratitude. And our respect. She she holds life itself in her hands. The vegitation here is beyond discription. As if some gardener had gone mad. Planting every kind of green flowering thing. There are palm trees and a bewildering varity of fruit trees. All flowering plants are to found in profusion. Even cacti are well repersented. Yet no glass case or house incloses this ammazing garden. No did I see any sign of constent toil normly needed to grow such lush vegitation. Who ever the care taker of this wonderfull garden is. I sure have no complants as to his skill. A real master gardener is at work here.
And after having tasted and touched the mother lake. I now brace my self. For I am about to meet another lady. One I know well. Oh do I know this lady! For we have allready met. Before we ever met. For this lady. Who sets next to the mother lake. Has shown her face many times. In places where only sheep should reside to be counted. Her name is San Francisco. But she prefers to be called... San Fra... During the night. I am about to meet the lady of the night. Face to face. And this time. Nobody standing on the other side. Will write... I then wake up.
by David Young
====================================
"I then wake up." That simple phrase completely captures the essence of our trip. David, Joe and I awoke to new thoughts and feelings on the journey. For me, it was an awakening to beauty that has always surrounded me. A beauty that waits patiently while I strive and struggle to "achieve", to "be somebody", to fulfill a "destiny". Thanks to Nature's power and David's Dream I am once more occupied with being Just Dale, nothing more, nothing less. It is enough. Thanks David.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Mountains, Dreams and Diamonds
We drive east. Mountains in Nevada. Mountains in Wyoming. Endless plains in Nebraska. As we enter Iowa on the third day out from San Francisco, ragged clouds hover on the horizon and the sun edges toward dawn. In the west the clouds would be mountains. David watches the clouds. I watch him watch.
"You will never be able to see those clouds the same again will you David?"
"No."
"They will always look like mountains, I'll bet."
"Maybe."
The tires sing on the road. About twenty miles west of Des Moines David speaks.
"Well, now we're back in David territory."
"David territory?"
"Yeah...in the places that I have been before this trip."
"How do you feel?"
"A little happy and a little sad. I miss San Francisco but it will be good to be back and relax. I really want to move to San Francisco though...don't forget to print out those papers."
"Okay. I won't."
The papers are the forms for getting on the waiting list at the San Francisco Housing Administration. David looked them up and found out that the waiting list was eight years. I will print the papers anyway. David will fill them out. Time will pass. Maybe eight years. Maybe forever. Or maybe, just maybe, a miracle will happen and another of David's Dreams will come to pass. David may find someone willing to let him rent a room while he waits for Section 8 housing. That dream is no more preposterous than the journey we have just made...a journey that defied common sense and rational argument. A journey that certainly has felt much like a dream.
Dreams beget more dreams it seems. On, and on, and on the dreams come; waves in David's brain every bit as endless as the waves in the Pacific. He saw the Pacific, stared in wonder and then dreamed of going on to San Francisco. In San Francisco he changed, losing some of his hatred and fear. In San Francisco he dreamed of of finding someone to share his fantasies. His time was too short and his fantasy was unfulfilled. This caused great pain but David's love of San Francisco endures. David felts some of his old anger but that has faded, replaced with a new determination to try again. Maybe David will fill out the forms. He may even find the strength to continue changing...changing into something new...someone who can have many friends, some of whom share his fantasies. I hope so.
David's dreams have brought both joy and deep pain. Perhaps too much pain. So, should David stop dreaming? Should I stop dreaming? Don't dreams just bring pain when they are not realized they way I want or expect? Some say dreams are nothing but the gateway to unreasonable desires and unending suffering. I am not one of those.
Dreams are the diamonds of my life. Their edges are sharp and they can cut deeply with great pain. Pain, depression, illness may dull them for a while but like diamonds my dreams endure. Without dreams my life would be something less than human. Machines do not dream. Ants don't seem to dream. Maybe there even are people that don't dream; souls so bound up in the day to day cares of achieving what is "practical" or of staying "safe" that to them dreams are a waste of time. Once I thought I was someone without dreams...but no longer.
While dreaming, I once wrote a book. A friend referred to it as a treasure chest of gems. Some of those gems have turned out to be diamonds. Diamonds that begin as rough dull stones and then are cut by life's lapidary into brilliant treasures. This journey was such a stone...a dull glimmer of an idea planted in my brain and then put aside as I contemplated the difficulties of traveling with David. In the honesty of friendship I share that David can be demanding and grouchy particularly when he is tired. In those traits I mirror David perfectly. Perhaps that is why I worried about traveling with him. Yet, beneath his armor David is a gentle soul fascinated (as am I) with life's intricate wonder. Again, like me, much of David's anger seems to come from fear of rejection or embarrassment. In the end I realized that I am much like David and so if I feared traveling with him it was merely a fear of traveling with that which I fear within myself. This was the gem cutters tool that turned stone to diamond. To me this is at the heart of the teaching that I should act with kindness, or "Do unto others..." I do unto others not to get something from them but to change something within me. David has been a great teacher in this area. His rough edges have helped smooth mine. I hope, and yes dream, that my rough edges have helped him uncover a bit more of the diamond within.
The sun shines over the field outside my window. It is a spring sun. Leaves are just beginning to show. The magnolia bushes are covered with white blossoms and the iris are slowly fighting up through last fall's leaves. The sun's brightness causes me to squint as I write this. I squint against the brilliance yet it shines ever brighter. Eventually the light will cover the entire field. I will go forth into the day. Friends and people who do not yet know they are my friends await. Life is wonderful in the Iowa mountains.
"You will never be able to see those clouds the same again will you David?"
"No."
"They will always look like mountains, I'll bet."
"Maybe."
The tires sing on the road. About twenty miles west of Des Moines David speaks.
"Well, now we're back in David territory."
"David territory?"
"Yeah...in the places that I have been before this trip."
"How do you feel?"
"A little happy and a little sad. I miss San Francisco but it will be good to be back and relax. I really want to move to San Francisco though...don't forget to print out those papers."
"Okay. I won't."
The papers are the forms for getting on the waiting list at the San Francisco Housing Administration. David looked them up and found out that the waiting list was eight years. I will print the papers anyway. David will fill them out. Time will pass. Maybe eight years. Maybe forever. Or maybe, just maybe, a miracle will happen and another of David's Dreams will come to pass. David may find someone willing to let him rent a room while he waits for Section 8 housing. That dream is no more preposterous than the journey we have just made...a journey that defied common sense and rational argument. A journey that certainly has felt much like a dream.
Dreams beget more dreams it seems. On, and on, and on the dreams come; waves in David's brain every bit as endless as the waves in the Pacific. He saw the Pacific, stared in wonder and then dreamed of going on to San Francisco. In San Francisco he changed, losing some of his hatred and fear. In San Francisco he dreamed of of finding someone to share his fantasies. His time was too short and his fantasy was unfulfilled. This caused great pain but David's love of San Francisco endures. David felts some of his old anger but that has faded, replaced with a new determination to try again. Maybe David will fill out the forms. He may even find the strength to continue changing...changing into something new...someone who can have many friends, some of whom share his fantasies. I hope so.
David's dreams have brought both joy and deep pain. Perhaps too much pain. So, should David stop dreaming? Should I stop dreaming? Don't dreams just bring pain when they are not realized they way I want or expect? Some say dreams are nothing but the gateway to unreasonable desires and unending suffering. I am not one of those.
Dreams are the diamonds of my life. Their edges are sharp and they can cut deeply with great pain. Pain, depression, illness may dull them for a while but like diamonds my dreams endure. Without dreams my life would be something less than human. Machines do not dream. Ants don't seem to dream. Maybe there even are people that don't dream; souls so bound up in the day to day cares of achieving what is "practical" or of staying "safe" that to them dreams are a waste of time. Once I thought I was someone without dreams...but no longer.
While dreaming, I once wrote a book. A friend referred to it as a treasure chest of gems. Some of those gems have turned out to be diamonds. Diamonds that begin as rough dull stones and then are cut by life's lapidary into brilliant treasures. This journey was such a stone...a dull glimmer of an idea planted in my brain and then put aside as I contemplated the difficulties of traveling with David. In the honesty of friendship I share that David can be demanding and grouchy particularly when he is tired. In those traits I mirror David perfectly. Perhaps that is why I worried about traveling with him. Yet, beneath his armor David is a gentle soul fascinated (as am I) with life's intricate wonder. Again, like me, much of David's anger seems to come from fear of rejection or embarrassment. In the end I realized that I am much like David and so if I feared traveling with him it was merely a fear of traveling with that which I fear within myself. This was the gem cutters tool that turned stone to diamond. To me this is at the heart of the teaching that I should act with kindness, or "Do unto others..." I do unto others not to get something from them but to change something within me. David has been a great teacher in this area. His rough edges have helped smooth mine. I hope, and yes dream, that my rough edges have helped him uncover a bit more of the diamond within.
The sun shines over the field outside my window. It is a spring sun. Leaves are just beginning to show. The magnolia bushes are covered with white blossoms and the iris are slowly fighting up through last fall's leaves. The sun's brightness causes me to squint as I write this. I squint against the brilliance yet it shines ever brighter. Eventually the light will cover the entire field. I will go forth into the day. Friends and people who do not yet know they are my friends await. Life is wonderful in the Iowa mountains.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Joe
There was a void in the car today. There was no click of computer keys. No camera slowly moved forward from the back seat to record David and me as we talked. There was no cheerful Manchester chuckle over scenes from our trip. Joe is gone.
Who can say how friendships are formed? Sometimes they take years to grow and at others they seem to leap full blown from the ground. That's how it is with Joe. Our time together has been brief but our friendship feels as though it has had decades to grow. Perhaps, as some believe each of us lives many lives...working to free ourselves from illusion. Perhaps Joe and I met in some former life and I am simply recalling an earlier time. Or perhaps Joe's accent reminded me of the time I worked in Lancashire and Glasgow. Regardless, we quickly became friends on our quixotic quest to fulfill David's Dream.
Joe shared much of his life story with me. To me there is no greater gift. I feel priveleged.
I will never forget Joe. I will always see his wiry form running about interviewing the dozens of people he met along our journey. I will laugh at the shocked look on their faces that seem to ask, "Who the hell is this crazy man? Why is he talking to me?" I will smile in memory of how Joe quickly turned their shock into laughter and acceptance of their newfound role as stars in the documentary. If there ever is a film of our journey, it will be due to Joe and his artistry.
I miss you Joe. I hope you are home safe among friends and family. Say hello to Eve and all the rest. Maybe Rejeanne and I will be able to visit you someday. I hope so. I truly do.
Who can say how friendships are formed? Sometimes they take years to grow and at others they seem to leap full blown from the ground. That's how it is with Joe. Our time together has been brief but our friendship feels as though it has had decades to grow. Perhaps, as some believe each of us lives many lives...working to free ourselves from illusion. Perhaps Joe and I met in some former life and I am simply recalling an earlier time. Or perhaps Joe's accent reminded me of the time I worked in Lancashire and Glasgow. Regardless, we quickly became friends on our quixotic quest to fulfill David's Dream.
Joe shared much of his life story with me. To me there is no greater gift. I feel priveleged.
I will never forget Joe. I will always see his wiry form running about interviewing the dozens of people he met along our journey. I will laugh at the shocked look on their faces that seem to ask, "Who the hell is this crazy man? Why is he talking to me?" I will smile in memory of how Joe quickly turned their shock into laughter and acceptance of their newfound role as stars in the documentary. If there ever is a film of our journey, it will be due to Joe and his artistry.
I miss you Joe. I hope you are home safe among friends and family. Say hello to Eve and all the rest. Maybe Rejeanne and I will be able to visit you someday. I hope so. I truly do.
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