The Quest For Camelot

In the words of some poet or other, I've forgotten the name just now, all troubles afflicting modern life, no matter how alarming they seem, will subside into a mere trifle under the influence of a steaming cup of the globally grown and locally, what is it? That's right, the locally roasted brew-haha that we affectionately and respectfully dub as Jah's Mercy.

The above is what Mr. Kier, my high-school English teacher, would call a run-on sentence. But aren't some subjects deserving of a lengthy treatment? I think so.

Although coffee is a favorite subject of mine and I am fiercely devoted to the stuff, on this particular morning, I was inclined to question the poet's sentiments. 

I'd wandered around the long-leaf pine savannah of Brunswick Forest, drinking a triple-shot espresso, and expecting the mood to lift like the morning fog. Didn't happen.

Eventually, I came to the spot where my Rock, that most dependable paragon of strength and resilience, stood looking out over the waters of Evangeline Lagoon. 

That very spot, that sun-flooded Eden, is the most congenial spot for happily-ever-aftering--think of Camelot where it never rains 'till after sundown, and by sunup the morning fog has flown. That's the baby!

However, on this particular morning, it just wasn't so. The mood remained bleak and grey. I didn't like it.

What to do? That was the question I asked myself. Surely there was a power principle in my mental toolbox, a metaphorical socket wrench that I could use to tighten up the emotional works.

I looked inside for an answer or a clue to brighten the day. And I was in luck.

Last night on Deb & Samantha, that's the name Wonder and I gave it, but if it's not the name of the podcast, I apologize. Anyway, on that podcast, Samantha said, or maybe it was Deb, that we tell ourselves stories about our lives and those stories become our lives.

Now, I agree fully that we tell ourselves stories about our lives. I do it all the time. And I'm open to the idea that those stories become our reality. Given that, pay close attention because what I'm about to say is the salient point.

Change the stories you tell yourself and you change your life.

I don't know about you but, as for me, I love that idea. This blog has always moved in that general direction and I think that with a bit of tinkering, The Circular Journey can, and will, become the stories that change my life.

And so now I'm off on the quest for Camelot!

But I won't find it without your help. Please stay with me.  

Don't forget to tell your friends about The Circular Journey and leave a comment because I'd love to hear from you. Remember my friends, life comes hard and fast. It pays to be ready for anything. 

Fierce Qigong!

Her Again

I've recently wrestled with questions that have troubled me for most of my life. Then last night, I had a dream in which I was speeding away from an evil organization only to realize that a bionic man was chasing my car, on foot, and he was about to reach my door.

Suddenly, I remembered a lucid dreaming technique taught to me by my first therapist, Susan Sunbeam. I realized that here was an opportunity to get the answers I'd been searching for. I paused the dream, a technique developed by the O'odham people of the desert southwest, and I spoke directly to my pursuer.

"Stop," I said. "I want to speak to someone who can answer life's biggest questions. Send to me the most knowledgeable person in the Universe."

The bionic man slowly faded and in his place there appeared someone instantly familiar to me and yet I was stunned to see her. No, it wasn't Ms. Wonder. It was the one known as Death. You probably remember Her from a recent post entitled It's A Good Day to Die.

"Well", She said, "I certainly don't see this every day." And even though I didn't see Her face clearly, I somehow knew or felt that She smiled. 

I remained quiet for a moment. I was a bit stunned and, not surprisingly, in disbelief. I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I was of course.

"I am impressed," She said. "This has never happened before. But I have urgent business so tell me why you summoned me, and make it quick."

I searched for words but it was a bust. Nothing.

She placed a hand on Her hip and cocked Her head as if to say, Don't make me wait.

"I'm so sorry," I said beginning to feel that I'd crossed the line by summoning Her. After all, who was I to make demands of Death.

"I truly don't mean to offend," I said. "Now that you're actually here, I feel that I've taken a great liberty. I want you to know that I'm extremely grateful that you came. In fact, I suppose I'm eternally grateful."

"You made a joke, I think," She said. "A joke, yes? I am hoping to get better at detecting humor."

"You mean that some people make a joke of dying?"

"My most recent encounter was with Sinatra," She said.

"Frank Sinatra? Frank Sinatra joked when he met you?"

"Yes, The Chairman," She said. "When we met, he asked if it meant he wasn't Chairman any longer."

"Did you laugh?"

"No, I don't experience emotions like humans but I find it interesting that some people make the most of any situation, even when they are powerless."

"Well, I'm sure you will come up to speed quickly and, when you think about it, there's no hurry is there? You have plenty of time to work on that."

"Another joke, yes? Two jokes in one meeting. I am rolling I think."

"Yes, you are certainly on a roll."

"But you have a question," She said. "Let us do this so that I may get back to my duties."

"I had three questions but you've answered two of them already."

"It is good to be of service," She said and for the first time, don't ask me why, I sensed that her existence might be a lonely one. But She had mentioned being busy so there was no time to go into it.

"The remaining question is about some memories I had as a child. I remembered a life that was not mine but was not entirely foreign to me. Memories of a previous life."

"Atlantis," She said.

"You know about those memories?"

"I learned something about you when you imagined meeting me on the bridge. I also became interested in who you are when you refused to open Death's Door at the time of the auto accident."

"Oh, my!" I said. "It was you all along!"

"Isn't that why you summoned me?" She said. "And did you not ask your questions of Ekaterina, the one you call Ms. Wonder?"  

These last words were the last little bit that made all the difference. I felt that too much was happening too soon. It was heaped up, pressed down, and running over. How could She possibly know so much about one person's life? I wanted to speak to Her about so many things and yet I knew that our time together must come to an end soon.

"She is a wonder," I said. "She is often the only bright spot in my life."

"You are fortunate to have her care for you," She said. "Love is the most beneficial living condition for humans. Most humans seem to want it and yet have no understanding of how to go about finding it. When it happens, it usually happens by accident."

"Do you know everything," I said.

She didn't answer me but I knew that She was pleased to have recognized another bit of humor.

After sharing and savoring a quiet moment, She said, "Atlantis is a memory of a life lived in what you think of as ancient times. Those memories first belonged to one of your ancestors and have been recorded in genetic material passed down to you over millennia."

I pondered Her words trying to fit them into my emotional experience of those memories.

"And now," She said. "I am satisfied to have been of service and I must bid you farewell until re-seeing you. Do not take your life for granted, Genome. There is nothing in the universe to be desired more."

"I remember reading somewhere that even the angels in heaven are envious of man," I said and I have no idea why those words came out of my mouth.

"May I take one more liberty?" I said. "I feel that your job must be a lonely one. And I have come to see you not as someone to be feared--the classic hooded wraith who carries a scythe. Instead, I've enjoyed talking to you and will miss you when you leave.

In fact, you were so comforting to me in that meeting on the bridge that I no longer fear dying. I feel that a friend waits to meet me when it's my time."

"I am not alone," She said. "I have extended the transitions of my administrative assistant, Susan, and also my adopted daughter, Gloria."

"Wait, could it possibly be? Is Susan by any chance my first mental health therapist?"

"I also have my dog, Pluto, and many honeybees. I have a sweet tooth."

I wanted to spend far more time getting to know Her. But She was determined to get back to her own world and I didn't want to take advantage.

"I'm happy you have them," I said. "No one should be alone."

She nodded.

"Before I take my leave," She said. "You didn't explain why you brought your questions to me instead of Ms. Wonder."

"Oh, that," I said. "Just as you pointed out, Wonder is a very special someone, and she amazes me with her depth of knowledge and her wisdom. But I'm afraid that finely tuned brain of hers has finally come unglued."

"How so," She said.

"Well," I said, in a near whisper as though I didn't want Wonder to hear, "it's like this. We visited Brookgreen Gardens last evening and I complained to her that the wind stopped blowing the Spanish moss around each time I tried to video it..."

"Yes?" She said.

"Well, you may find it hard to believe, but she began huffing and puffing in the direction of the live oaks, much like the big, bad wolf."

"Hmmm, I see," She said. "But good for her. It's quite satisfying when mortals find ways to enjoy their time on earth."

"The most amazing part of the story is that the Spanish moss began moving again and I captured it in the video. Wonder thinks she caused it to happen."

"Interesting," She said. "Gives you something else to think about, doesn't it?"

We shared another quiet moment. I began to wonder if it would turn out to be a big day for quiet moments.

"Au revoir, Genome," She said. "Until we meet again."

"I hope it's not goodbye," I said.

And with that, She faded away and was replaced by the bionic man that had been chasing me when the dream began.

I found myself suddenly very irritated that my pleasant meeting with Death had ended and was immediately followed by dealing with the senselessly aggressive invention of a power-mad tyrant.

Have I mentioned that I have anger issues? 

The vehicle I'd been driving was an armored military personnel carrier. It was heavy and built to withstand a lot of abuse. It was dangerous to pedestrians even when standing still.

With absolutely no aforethought of any kind, I drove that vehicle right into robot-man and enjoyed every knock and bump of him rolling around underneath the wheels as I drove away. 

All in all, I'd say it was a very satisfying dream.

 

Sing In The Sunshine

We'll Sing In The Sunshine

A song written and recorded by Gale Garnett in 1964.

In the song, a woman tells the person who loves her that they will be together for a time but then she will go away. She promises him that he will always treasure their time together.

We first met Uma at a pet adoption fair promoted by Best Friends, the adoption agency. Her name then was Reeces, because her fur was dappled and spotted, and brought to mind the popular candy known as Reeces Pieces.

Only a few months old, it was clearly evident that she wasn't very sociable. In an open crate with three other kittens, perhaps her siblings, she was alone in one corner as far away from the others as possible. 

My heart went out to her when I recognized that solitary nature. You see, I too am a lot like her. I prefer my own company to that of others although I've learned to pretend well enough to fool most people. 

I knew right away that she was going to come live with me and that I was going to give her the best life possible.

About a week later, with all the paperwork and veterinary exams complete, the Best Friends reps brought Uma to our home. 

I'll never forget the sight when her carrier was placed on the floor across the room from Ms. Wonder and me. The rep opened the door of the carrier and Uma came dancing out and crossed the room to introduce herself.

When I say that she danced across the floor, I mean that she seemed to be floating inches above the carpet and moving to music that only she could hear. She never stopped dancing to that music for the next 19 years.

She stole my heart in that moment. Forever more when I spoke of her, I told people that she was my heart.

Not long after coming to live with us, she stopped eating. I was inconsolable. Her veterinarian, Dr. Barbara, told me to leave her in the cat hospital for the rest of the day so that she could work with her.

For the remainder of that day, I thought of nothing else but Uma. I stayed in a bookstore across the street from Durham Cat Hospital, so that I could get to her within minutes.

I'm not a religious person, but when someone you love is in trouble, you do everything you can to help. That includes praying. And I prayed. I didn't know who or what the prayers should be directed to, so I just prayed to the sky. Continuously.

Toward the end of the day, Dr. Barbara called me and told me that Uma was eating and that the exam and lab work were normal. I felt a gratitude so deep that I doubt I've ever felt a deeper. 

When we were back home, I never left her presence for the next few days. But during that time, Uma told me that for the remainder of our time together,

We'll sing in the sunshine

And we'll laugh every day.

We'll sing in the sunshine

But then I'll be on my way.

And she was right. She was the delight of our lives for almost nineteen years. In truth, she wasn't the most loving of our five cats. She wasn't the sweetest. She wasn't the least trouble. But even though she never weighed more than ten pounds, she took up most of the space in our hearts.

During those years, she told us that,

I'll sing to you each morning.

I'll kiss you every night.

But don't cling to me

Because too soon I'll be out of sight.

We said our final goodbyes a few weeks ago, but I can't seem to let her go. And just as she made clear so many years ago when she was only a kitten,

When our time together is ended

And I have gone away

You'll think of me every day, and you'll say,

We sang in the sunshine.

We laughed every day.

We sang in the sunshine

And then you went away.

Thank you, Uma Maya, Queen of Cats and Empress of Chatsford Hall. I hope that when it's my time to go away, you will be the first to greet me on the Rainbow Bridge. Until that time,

I promise to sing in the sunshine

And remember you fondly every day.

We Need a Vacation

"For the last several months I've been chivied by the sewer harpies in the relentless manner of Patrizia's terrier, Snowball," I said to Ms. Wonder. 

"Let me see if I remember that story. You were riding your bike in the manner of look, Mom, no hands. Is that the story?"

"That's right," I said pleased that she remembered. "I was negotiating the sharp curve on the road that ran by Aunt Maggie's house."

"It didn't turn out well, as I remember," she said.

"Is that how you'd describe it?" I said, "The full account includes something about skidding off the road and falling to earth amid the briars and brambles of a passing blackberry patch."

"Yeah, it's quite a funny story when you take the time to tell it in full," she said.

"I didn't enjoy it,"  I said.

"That story," she said, "makes me think of..."

"No," I said holding up a hand in the internationally recognized signal that means, Go no further. "If you're thinking of something to do with Napoleon or Catherine of Russia, or if there's a mention of sea biscuits,  I don't want to hear it."

"But why?" she said.

"No relevance," I said.

"How do you mean, no relevance?" she said. "Napoleon couldn't have been happy with the way things turned out for him."

She gazed at me with a twinkle in her eye indicating that she was having fun ribbing me. I returned her's with a gaze of my own to indicate that the ribbing stopped here.

"Alright," she said. "I'm teasing but it's well-intended. I only want to cheer you up. I know that sewer harpies are no laughing matter. Have you talked to Dr. Beach about it?"

"I haven't as yet," I said, "and she's not a doctor; she's a therapist. I do speak to Feldspar about it, and it sometimes seems to help, but it's a temporary palliative and not real progress."

"Remind me who Feldspar is," she said.

"Not this time," I said. "Feldspar is part of an alternate dimension and I'm not sure you're ready to hear about him."

"Well," she said, "I know that feldspar is made up of a group of alumino-silicate minerals and is the most abundant mineral making up the earth's crust."

"Are you sure about that?" I said.

"Of course," she said, "is that what you're thinking of?"

"You do know everything, don't you?" I said.

"Akashic Records," she said as though it explained everything.

"I'll ask him about that the next time I see him," I said.

"Ask who?"

"Feldspar, my spirit guide. He's a yard gnome. I thought you knew that."

She removed her glasses and rested her head in her hands, her eyes covered. I've read about the move, of course, but this was the first time I'd witnessed it.

"We need a vacation," she said. 

"We're going to Litchfield on the 19th," I said.

"Not soon enough," she said. "We need a vacation now."

Another Day In Paradise

Castle Street basked in the glow of a golden spring morning. The storm that, two hours before, had raged through the parks, along the riverwalk, and into the downtown business district, was only a memory now. In the aftermath, the air was cool and sweet, and the damp earth released a healing fragrance. 

The city, bathed in the clear light of an early summer morning, was an earthly paradise. The skies were blue, the river shone, squirrels raced about the parks with carefree abandon, and as far as the eye could see pedestrians tootled along behind happy, carefree dogs. 

Fortunately for those pedestrians and their dogs, the ideal towards which the Wilmington city planners strive is to provide a public house for each individual archetype in the city. You can’t throw a half-brick in any direction downtown without hitting a pub, a cafe, a bodega, or a kiosk, and many of them are dog-friendly.

Scattered thunderstorms might be raging elsewhere, but inside Native Grounds Cafe, there was the peace that passeth all understanding, that perfect unruffled peace that comes only to those who have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. 

Consoled by the still, dry atmosphere inside the cafe and refreshed by the steaming contents of a china cup that read, I’d rather be surfing, I had achieved a Zen-like repose. 

I took a deep breath and leaned back against the cushions and the mingled voices around me began to quiet the sounds of the retreating storm. The sound of water coursing through downspouts had replaced the drone of soft gentle rain on the roof.

Island Irv, who was telling me all about his recent trip to the Sunshine State, is not the type to routinely leap from chairs, but suddenly and without warning, he managed a maneuver that almost made it look like a leap. 

Let me make it perfectly clear for those of you who may be new to these pages that the mothers of Shady Grove train their sons well. Once we've grasped the fact that all exhibitions of emotion are nothing more than rannygazoo, without substance or staying power, we maintain our poise even in the presence of thunderstorms and earthquakes. 

Although conscious of a certain uneasiness when Irv shot ceilingward, I was determined to remain calm. Intending to stay in full control, I took a deep breath and, unfortunately, I exhaled so sharply that a man at the next table who was eating a carrot-and-walnut muffin stabbed himself in the chin with his fork. 

I didn’t like the look that crossed his face, but then I didn't care much for it even before his chin began bleeding. His hands were clenched in fists of rage, as I believe the old saying goes. 

I doubt that he'd had a Shady Grove upbringing but even if he had, it was obvious that mother was forgotten for the nonce, and even great-aunts, those supreme enforcers of proper behavior, were not remembered. 

I realized that a word in time might provide healing balm and I searched the memory banks for some gag or saw that would soothe the savage beast and prevent a total brannigan. No need for him to punch the weasel, I reasoned.

“How's the weather on your end of the coast?" I said. "Exceptionally clement I hope."

Not one of my better gags but I had precious little time to come up with something. We will never know if the words would have brought calm because the man left the cafe without finishing his cappuccino and was last seen heading up Castle Street toward 8th Avenue.

"What about you?" I said to Irv.

"Oh, me?" he said. "I didn't realize my coffee was so hot. I burned my tongue."

"Is that all?" I said. "I thought you'd forgotten to text your wife or something equally as rotten."

"It hurt," he said.

And I'm sure it did hurt. It just seemed to be so very much animation for so little cause. But that's life on the Carolina coast for you. One never knows when the next storm is going to pop up and come sashaying around to see what it can get into.

All in all, I suppose it's what's to be expected from another day in paradise.

Happy summer, my friends. Thank you for supporting The Circular Journey with your time and attention. Don't forget to leave a comment.

PS -- I borrowed that comment about throwing a half-brick from P.G. Wodehouse, who the author of Proverbs must have had in mind when he wrote "a word fitly spoken and in due season is like apples of gold in settings of silver."