"listening to teaser and the firecat"

Morning has broken, and I’m here in my apartment with the miss-matched curtains, procrastinating the dishes from last night’s gathering of the teacherly kind.  Awesome people.  All the people I’ve met are what truly make this experience, and me, so much richer.  

Ah, Cat Stevens.  The future husband of my childhood.  Yousef Islam.  Guess that won’t be happening afterall.  As heartbroken as I am, ya just gotta roll with life changes, ya know what I mean?  Still, listening to Teaser and the Firecat is as homey as it gets for this stray human.  If I ever change my name, I think I chose “Rubylove,” after my ultimate favorite song.  Okay, so some may feel he was a little harsh on that Rushdie character.  Don't know the whole story. (Still haven’t read that book, seeing as how I don’t like following hype.)  So what!  He’s making music again, that's what!  Right where he left off.  

Tuesday.  Rubylove Tuesday.  Perfect.  

I’m happy to discover again and again that those things - music we listened to, Sunday morning breakfasts (toasties, by many other names, is toast with an egg in the hole in the middle), rainy days - stay with me wherever I am.  Parents, those family rituals are so important.  Varied experiences are great, but ah, those rituals create grooves in the brain and in the heart that last a lifetime.  Not much has been stable since then in my life.  Not complaining, I love that.  but, it makes those times that much more important.  Thank you so much, Mom, Dad, Bro.  The best family I could have ever asked for.  Dang, getting all sentimental.  It’s Cat’s fault.  Maybe if I laugh just a little bit...

But, I’m here in my life in the Emirates, mostly extremely happy.  Missing people is the hardest part, but seeing them all the time and feeling like you aren’t following your path is a worse tragedy. All you younger folks, I always worried that I’d be the one person that would reach the 30’s/40’s with nothing to show for it.  You know, the one who gave up on their dreams. Who gave in to the mentality that you have to settle for what you’re handed. But, it’s never too late. It might be hard on some people when you do that, but inevitably, it’s best.  For you.  And for them.  It isn’t about money.  It’s about passion.  What does your soul, genetic make-up, that impetus you came into this world with, what does it tell you to do?  It isn’t the same as anyone else’s. We all know it’s better to live it out, right?  The recipe?  One-half effort, one-half openness to change and to letting go.  Only two ingredients.  As for the others, when you do that, you might become some sort of mini-prophet, the one who reminds them of their own true path.  

True paths don’t have an end goal.  In fact, it’s better if they don’t.  Living your great TRUTH is not a means to something, it is the something in itself. A path is a path is a path.

I’m even feeling like I might finish that novel during some long stay in Morocco.  There’s still a chance I’ll learn to play saxophone.  To play on that fire escape at 3am in NY city.  Those were on my list way before “bucket list” was a term.  And maybe I won’t, but you know what I’ve regained?  The great possibility that they CAN, if I chose to follow through.

Anyway, that aching sense that I should be doing something else, looking for something I’ve lost, it’s still there.  That must have been what took me walking around the neighborhood without permission when I was little.  (I did find $5 and Eddie the paperboy’s house, but neither one was quite what I was looking for.)  I’m finally starting to realize that the longing will be there for as long as I’m here on this beautiful precarious stone floating in space, even if I’m fortunate enough to put a footprint on every last inch of land.

Maybe that’s Mystic Me talking.  Today, there are Buddists and Muslims who have special holy days today.  All kinds of roses in this garden.  Maybe that’s the exploring I need to return to today, searching for the question “why?”  “Laish?” "Limotha?"

Well, I know we don’t take the material things with us, and I have no idea what sort of memories will be ours after all this is finished, khalas.  I think it’s the living for now that matters.  How to make a life rich with experience, love, and happiness without intentionally hurting anyone, including yourself.  Seems like all religions in the world kinda boil down to that.  I wish that for all of you in your own lives. That you have found or are finding your way back to that road you make by the footsteps you take.

Oh, if I ever lose my fingers, middle, index, pinkie, pointers...yes, if I ever lose my fingers, oh aaaay aaaay...I won’t have to type no more...