How long do I stay?

I tried to find some other reference to this topic in the archives, but I couldn't. I think it's something I've talked about with other people, but haven't discussed here. It's, eh, a vulnerable topic.

I didn't think I'd live in one place this long. I figured I'd be back in South America, or somewhere far more romantic and inspiring. But I've been here for five years, and my feet are firmly planted on solid nutrient-rich ground.

But then I think, is this what I want, for good? Do I want everything to stay the same, stay grounded in one place, of course not stuck, but committed?

It's not the most awesome city in the world, but it's my home, and my life is here. So many people that I love are here. The people in my everyday life are here. My thrift stores are here. The dogs I love are here. Whole Foods is here. My job is here, a job I love, with people I love, and each day filled with meaning and purpose.

But maybe I'd give it all up. Maybe I'd love something more than all that. Maybe.

My heart is in the jungle.

 

For a moment today, I had an intense rush of longing for the jungle. I longed for simplicity, and candles, and the river. I saw my own bare feet, and the emptiness of the day. I saw myself alone, and it was lovely. To think of it makes my heart ache. To think more makes me want to cry. I left my heart in the jungle, but I really don't know why.

Thrift Share Monday :)

I was checking out, paying for my stuff, when I turned around and saw this. I was reminded of Curtis Jere's wall pieces, and bought it immediately.

 

Quilted pillows are so beautiful. I almost wonder if I should change the decor of my sitting room and keep these pillows. I like them so much.

 

They still smell like vintage and moth balls, even though I cleaned them and left them out in the sun to dry in the fresh breezy air.

 

This is beautiful. I've found some similar things on eBay labeled, "Original Thai painting". I'm wondering if this is some kind of street art that a traveler bought in Thailand or a nearby country. It seems very exotic and reminds me of the jungle. Ah, the jungle. I miss it so...I am thinking (again) of going to South America over the summer. There are several reasons for this, and I will very likely discuss them at a later date. Happy Thrifting!

Linked with Apron Thrift Girl.

Brainstorming an Island Getaway

 

I am graduating in four months and have not gotten any further on my senior paper topic and subsequent thesis statement. Instead, I am dreaming of planning a post-graduation trip to an island escape over the summer. The following are the possibilities thus far.

1. Vegas baby!
2. Nicaraguan bed-and-breakfast on an island only reached by canoe
3. Go to the nearest airport and buy a ticket to a far-off destination...
4. Somewhere wonderful in Canada where lots of people would love to hug me
5. Columbia! Where I am guaranteed a place to stay with awesome people
6. Switzerland! Where I will most likely have a place to stay
7. Portland. Plenty of friends there with open arms
8. Your single brother/uncle/cousin's abode in a off-the-beaten-path village in Chile?

Send me your suggestions. We have time to brainstorm.

4. Pablo Neruda

I spent some time looking for poems, and almost quit, but then I found this Neruda poem, and decided to post it by itself. I tried to find a Jimenez poem or a Rilke poem that spoke to me in this moment, but I couldn't. I think that poems are like music in this way: a song can speak to you so profoundly in one moment, and be meaningless to you in another. It all depends on the state of your soul at that particular moment.

Neruda makes me wonder if an artist could be an artist without suffering. That is a very painful thought. Would I be me without my suffering? If I were always happy, would I still be me? The answer for me is yes; my happiness is not dependent upon the absence of suffering, and I am not myself if I do not recognize suffering. This may not be true for everyone. I've heard of people going on and off psychiatric medications because it makes them not themselves, but they need it to live, so they take it until they can make it, then go off of it.

Neruda spent many years in exile because of his political beliefs. It's so interesting to learn about communism in school as a kid and think, "Okay, that sounds like a good idea," but then become an adult and realize how complex the issue is. I think that most people don't even question it because it's so confusing; they just say it's wrong because that's what they've been told.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

Tus Pies

Cunando no puedo mirar tu cara
mira tus pies.

Tus pies de hueso arqueado,
tus pequeños pies duros.

Yo sé que te sostienen,
y que tu dulce peso
sobre ellos se levanta.

Tu cintura y tus pechos,
la duplicada púrpura de tus pezones,
la caja de tus ojos que recién han volado,
tu ancha boca de fruta,
tu cabellera roja,
pequeña torre mía.

Pero no amo tus pies
sino porque anduvieron
sobre la tierra y sobre
el viento y sobre el agua,
hasta que me encontraron.


Your Feet

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.

Your feet of arched bone,
Your hard little feet.

I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.

Your waist and your breasts,
the double purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
Your red tresses,
my little tower.

But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

3. The Chilean Coup of '73

Now to be fair, I am also equally fascinated by the Argentinean coup of the same decade (1976). And unlike yesterday, I will outline this love through film.

1. Missing: Jack Lemmon. Sissy Spacek. Disappeared people. Directed by Costa Gavras. Amazing. This is based on a non-fiction book of the same name, and is not explicitly about the '73 coup as it doesn't name names of the oppressors. It does, however, make clear the U.S. involvement in the matter, which is despicable. You can learn more about the disappeared here. It's interesting to watch an American film about U.S. citizens in Chile. It makes we wonder if that is why I cared to begin with. It really is difficult to overcome that intrinsic apathy towards people different from oneself.

2. Waking the Dead: Billy Crudup. Jennifer Connelly. This isn't a true story, but centers on the Catholic Church's response to Chile in the midst of the coup. It focuses on this through one particular American couple who disagrees strongly about the rightness of the interference. Is it right to smuggle people into the U.S.? Is it right to interfere in another country's disturbance? Note: Graphic sex.

3. Imagining Argentina: This is a film that is difficult to believe was even made. It is beautiful in so many ways, but incredibly raw and ugly at the same time. I commend the actors for their willingness to portray such an important topic: the disappearing of 30,000 Argentinean citizens by their military government between 1976 & 1983. This is also a book, which I own but have not yet read. Note: Graphic sex and torture.

War is ugly. I think that my own interest in South American coups might be linked to my own familial background and oppression. It's very difficult for me to talk about and think about my own family's suffering at the hands of a military dictatorship, but it's a whole lot easier to talk and think about things that are less connected to me and my life.

Note: The above photo is of the inland Amazon river shore. It was the closest I could get to Chile in my own photo collection.