Sunday, May 4, 2008

Moondance

Sometimes it is that which is most in contrast to your idea/path/story/soul (fill in your own blank here) that reveals more clearly who are you are by showing you what you are not. I always think it's funny that the very sharpest lessons are taught by the simplest message.

Eddie Izzard (and we may be talking about him all week long, because as I have previously mentioned I am in my "after" crush phase and that will take a bit to wear off) said the he hoped Europeans would someday travel to the moon. He said that when Americans stepped onto the moon, everything was very calm, very rational and somewhat boring. And that if the English stepped onto the moon, they would be dancing, running, looking for monsters, making a joyful noise. And I thought how for years I had felt like America was the rowdy child and everyone else made good sense. But, when he said this, the way he said it...I thought that America is the child who doesn't make sense and acts aloof about the whole thing. While some of the rest of the world hams it up a bit, gets wise about taking themselves too seriously, and says boo to our aloof-ness.

I want to go back and read to see if this is making sense, but I won't let myself yet...there are too many things in my head. Edit later (if I remember!).

Not knowing everything is one of my favorite things about life. Believing in absurd consequences is also one of my favorite things. Being sure that each person that I run into has a message especially for me is one of the most magical things about running the rat race. Sometimes you get it quickly, and sometimes I believe it spans years of time. But, even when they don't know it, people teach me the most amazing things. What is great about that is that I can do with it what I'd like. Absorb or refract.

It felt good to be in the city. And Washington is full of nice folks. I actually stayed in Arlington which is like a lovely old town where things are happening and life is a-buzz. I ate at the best Mexican restaurant and had two lovely pomengranate margaritas (what a combination of health juice and tequila madness) and Ceviche. I never order this soup unless I am confident in my surroundings, because if it doesn't taste fresh and if the seafood isn't firm and salty buttery it could be the worst thing I'd eat all year. But, my friend made me confident and I ordered it and I was ever so delighted with it.

I left there a bit caught up. Cities always rev my mental engine. I think of possibility, probability and potential journeys that the every moment there might offer me. And it takes me a bit to come down from that high thought. It makes me want to be someone that I am not...just a tiny bit. I want to be the girl who runs to and fro in her high heels and houndstooth skirt. I want to be having 5 o'clock drinks with a social network that challenges and gets me. I want to breathe the night air of taxi's rushing by my sidewalk, and hear the happy voices of couples exiting a bar. But, I leave it exhausted, and knowing that I am not at that place anymore. I would hunker down in my too expensive apartment. I would become wary of humanity and traffic and rudeness and carelessness and I wouldn't visit the museums because it would be so easy. I wouldn't meet friends after work because I would need to find quiet somehow, desperately. I would not learn the things I am passionate about learning in this lifetime.

It is this place that makes me feel lucky to have visited that one. And this place that gives me the strength to look into rather than over people. It is the quiet that I share here with the dog and the two cats and the rabbit that makes that trip out for Ceviche on a Saturday night so special and alive. There is no this without that.

What about us makes the view so moderate? Where's the heart of America these days? I can tell you this much for certain, if I ever make it to the moon I'll definitely be dancing with Eddie. I'm just that kinda girl.

3 comments:

Michael said...

Well, it is a marvelous night for a moondance.

I have often wanted to be other people.

I usually wind up playing myself.

More accurately, playing the understudy for myself, waiting for my chance to go on.

America?

As I wrote on another blog, you can carve the motto of America 2008right above the door of the George W. Bush Presidential Library.

"I Got Mine. You Go To Hell."

Jane G. said...

I heard it differently. I think he was pointing out that the astronauts we sent up were more serious mostly because of their training (which is true since there were military/pilots and selected, in part, specifically for their personality profiles as they relate to the risks and rigors of space travel), and that if the Europeans get to the Moon, they should send some joyful, silly folks.

The picture he painted was very funny.

k said...

Michael - well put. Feels like teen spirit.

Jane - Exactly, the aloofness aspect is just a conversation that has been running in my mind for many years when talking to people from other countries. And so I focused there instead. Yours is the better review of what he was technically saying. And it was a very funny piece.