on Saturday, I went canoeing in the arboretum. It was a sacred experience to smell the smell of minerals in the water again, hear the way the sounds of traffic disappeared once we entered the arboretum, and to be a part of juji130's first canoeing experience. I only regret not bringing my guitar, or not taking more time to enjoy the surroundings and less time to paddle. I could write a song about what it was like to finally discover Issaquah, home of so many of my friends with Juliana, a 21st-century pilgrimage that ended at cold stone creamery ,time getting away from us as pop songs played on the radio under her sweet nonchalant wisdom.
I had more encounters with Quechua in strange places in the city. Today, at Opened books, without even my mentioning that I spoke Quechua, the sales woman mentioned a Quechua poetry anthology by Cecilia Vikuña. It took me a minute to remember that I have read a book by Vikuña, a Chilean Aimara-Spanish collection of children's stories. Completely independently ,we found a poem in a Gabriela mistral book called "Quechua song." I have also had multiple encounters with the Klein 4 group, but those probably aren't as interesting or poetic and mostly have to do with Arthur's and my drunken epiphanies about integers m and n who are relatively prime. I no longer find these connections strange and hope I can keep embracing them. Life is fantastic when I do.
During all that time I spent in the Andes and in Reno, the Illimanis or the Apus were protecting the frequent-buyer card that ciara and I jointly started two weeks before both of us broke up and moved away from Seattle in 2007. The guy remembered me, and explained that they usually throw un-used cards away, but some how ours escaped. In the mean time, Linda, the isomorphic Klein-4 counterpart to this beautifully poetic experience, was calling me.
I finally found a classical guitar adaptation of Alfonso X's Cantiga Santa María. We'll see if I can learn it. I bought an anthology of Hebrew poetry from medieval Spain which might have Alfonso in it for good measure. I asked the waitress at College In where I grabbed lunch to read it to me. She said "no" with a weirded out voice. It wasn't even busy.
All this synchronicity is making my agnosticism swing towards a belief in god again. I confess that I bought that Hebrew poetry anthology with the hopes of finding Him in there somewhere, maybe on a lonely hot summer night, Daniel F playing in the background: "la distancia nos ha declarado la guerra, nos ha declarado el amor." The most rational explanation for the past few months of my life is that god or something like it is looking for me.
The problem with lj-posts is, has always been that they are made of words. Nothing more and nothing less. four years from now none of this will mean as much to me as it does now. maybe I'll be able to play and recite the Cantigas, maybe not. Maybe LM will still be in my life, maybe not. maybe the Opened Books guy will still remember me and not throw away my card. maybe... maybe... maybe... For now, I'll go to the airport and lose myself in the now, what D.H. Laurence or ST. John would call the flesh. Help me to put less faith in words and more faith in flesh.