The husband had the day off, so he mentioned coming with me to the beach this morning. When he asked what time to set the alarm for, I said "If you want it to be GOOD, 5:30." I meant deer (he LOVES deer and is notorious for making me wake far too early to go to Cades Cove whenever we are in Tennessee). But things were not as I predicted. We saw very few, although I told him where to look on the ridges and indeed there were bucks with huge racks against the sky. The beach was vacant and the sunrise was extraordinary. I was less introspective with his company, but as we meandered and as he handed me this shell or that stone, I heard 'Home' playing in my mind. At this desk now, with the delectable internet at my fingertips, I am reminded that the real title is "This Must Be the Place" or, even better to my ears, "Naive Melody" :
Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong . . .
I got plenty of time
You got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up and say goodnight . . .
Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home - she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time
Before we were born
If someone asks, this is where I'll be . . .
....
I have been thinking a lot about the roselle on a map lately... and if you know me very well, I have been talking a lot about them, too. There's a graphic in a textbook I use that shows a person standing in the center of a roselle. In thinking about the all of everything, and the feeling of being lost or off balance, I have realized that this roselle has been an internal metaphor for decades, and , like the book's illustration, I find myself in the center of mine. I have had two friends who have always been 'on my compass' so to speak. They've been there because I have known them since the time I began to really understand who I was. They have been, each, one to my left and one to my right. When I see this image in my deep heart's core, I see one hand reaching out toward one, and one hand reaching out towards the other. In the reaching, I see balance. Now, of course, there are many friends I reach out to to find my way and who inhabit my personal compass, and the image begins to look like an old example of marquetry, with arrows pointing to not only the four primary directions, but to each possible direction from every angle. The best friend from college is there. The closest friend from work is there. My favorite professor, now more like family, is there. My 8th grade Social Studies teacher, who I am still in touch with, has a spot... and so on. And, of course, the person I am married to does as well. But still, in my mind's eye, the balancing points are these two friends who both recognized and taught me first and most about who I was. In this real world now, one remains, and one, for lack of a better word, is gone. With this new order, I am thrown into thoughts that might not otherwise come to me, and I have been wondering how I might keep my balance while reaching out for someone who is not really there any more, as well as the question 'where is my husband in this internal metaphor ?' And without really trying, as if he's been there all the while, I have lately come to see that he is standing in the center of the roselle with me, and is not someone who I reach out to for balance....
... so there he is on the beach with me this morning, and there is that song being sung in my mind. And there he is, in the center of my internal metaphor... and there he is, I notice, in EVERY photo I took of him this morning with one foot on the ground and one in the air.
That's my husband. Who works with stone. Who likes to point up at stars. Who plans the vegetable garden. Who said said we HAD to live in my grandparents' home so that "we can cut the roses they planted and put them on their graves."
That's my husband; "feet on the ground/head in the sky" and absolutely on fire.
[ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cqg_ZGcuybs ]
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