Musings of Anna1liese

Dream Hope Breathe Believe
APRIL 5, 2012 9:44PM

That Night

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Some birthdays are ... so easy ... to remember.  Every four years ... my mother’s was Inauguration Day ... here ... in the States.  My father was an April Fool ... the world remembers his ... day ... still.

 

The birthday I married approaches.  15 April.  Tax deadline ... here.

 

For my once ... this year ... his sixty-fifth.  He was thirty when we met.  Early summer.  This hemisphere.  June.  I was twenty-five.  It was York.

 

He was the driver.  The Dickens tour.  He, the courier and I were the youngest ... by far ... of the group and so when others drifted back to their rooms ... once dinner and coffee were done ... often we would wander away ... long walks ... as longest days lit our way ...

 

That night in York, he took us on a rambling ... another rambling ... he was the only one who knew these streets ... town by town  ... we two Americans followed him.  That night we walked oh so slowly through a street that once known is  ... always yours ...

 

Second storeys jut out ... over the first ... so that ... long ago ... when someone reached out a window there ... to relieve chamber pots of last night’s fill ... the waste would find the gutter ... instead of you ... you, who were stopping to look in windows that had shown their goods these hundreds of years ... 

 

Cobble stones ... you must look down ... and so stop ... in order to look out ... and up.

 

The Shambles ...  even now ... in memory ... even now ... no wonder I always ... brought my students here ... no wonder that they ... too ... fell in love ...

 

All of York ... catches you ... makes you hold your breath ... but on that night ... after we had stopped so many times ... 

 

crooked, crooked meanderings ... so you could only see ... so far ahead ... until ...

 

pale yellow stone ... just beyond ... up ... and up ... and ...

on ... and on ...

 

the Minster ...

 

York ... Minster ...

 

and then ... we were ... before ... it ...

 

how does one begin ... to take it ... in ...

 

This is not ... the piece ... I meant ... to write ...

 

Layers ... threads ... all magic ... in moments ... like these ...

 

If you’ve ever stood right in front of the Minster ... you will know ... feel ... remember ... breathe in ... all ... of its ... immensity ...

 

A voice was speaking in my ear  ...  my professor’s voice ... English history ... medieval cathedrals ... through pale yellow stone ... I could see ... within ...

 

All that he had spoken to us ... craftsmen ... generations of ...

craftsmen ... of stonemasons ... who began to build ... began to dream ... began to help ... the dream ... come real ... layer by layer ... row by row ... the higher the spire ... the higher ... the prayer ... might rise ... 

 

so much begun ... now here ...  all ... here ...

 

At some point you simply must ... look up ... your eyes are there ... before you know ... but when you are so close ... you must look ... directly ... up ... and I ... I can’t look straight up  ...  even yesterday ... when I saw a rainbow arc once more ... when I tried to find it again while standing up ... I needed to find something to hold ...

 

I couldn’t stop my eyes ... that night ... and there was nothing to hold ... my hand reached out involuntarily ... and something appeared ... for me ... to hold ... so that ... my moment ... wouldn’t break ...

 

I was so held ... so completely entranced ... all those words ... that history ... had prepared me ... no ... had prepared the ground so that in this moment ... all history was one ... all history ... was now ... and all of the Minster ... all the souls ... now mingled ... here ... acknowledged an ... acknowledging ... trusted another’s ... trust ...

 

even now ... even now ... that moment ... I have ... never ... lost ...

 

Sometime after ... I must have lowered my gaze ... and as I did ... the supporting one ... backed away ...   I don’t think I had known who had reached out ... and when I looked to see ... it had not been the other American ... he had walked away ... impatiently ... but ... as I was remembering where I was ... I looked across and knew ... that the driver ... had recognised ... what the moment had been for me ... had reached across to support ... the moment ... for me ...

 

Just before the Minster ... on that night ... I first saw ... first knew ... my ... once ... the knowing ... in his eyes ...          

 

 

Perhaps what I had meant to write ... was meant ... to wait ...

until ... once more ... I could remember and ... allow ...

the moment of ... and the moment following ...

the moment that ... began ... so much ...

 

 

Perhaps it is in the not knowing what it is that we will write ... that words we’d not have chosen ... rise ... perhaps it was the remembering ... in the last piece ... of the fear ... that once I saw ... in this driver’s eyes ... perhaps if I had one gift to give ... it would be simply this ... my ... remembering ... of the moment when he allowed ... my peace ...

 

 

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Comments

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To be allowed to be, to simply feel so much is a great gift. To remember is to honor it. Thank you for this.
Sweet friend, though this was not the piece you thought you would write tonight ... it is the piece that was to be. As on that night ... the peace you remember ... was meant to be.

Much love ... and peace ... always.


Layers ... threads ... all magic ... in moments ... like these ...
To call this free association would demean it. Wonderfully creative.
As to the writing as John so marvelously expressed. As to the emotion, an enchanted night, one every one, each one of us hopes to have. And if we do, what a gift to be able to express as you have the wonder.
Anna, this is written so well.
Threads, layers, lines on a page.
One brief moment, a touch of a hand....
wonderful. always...
Thank you, lovely ones for your words.

Just after I posted these words, I went outside to find the moon. There ... as though for me. Crystal. Full. Perfect sphere. Gift ... if we will look. As was The Minster ... that night ... for me ... so very long ago.

Through the night ... this night ... I ventured outside again and again to follow the travels ... of this moon. Each time she greeted me ... follow on ... follow on ...

Twice more just now ... I’ve found her ... as she lowers in the sky ... and surrounded by a stream of mist ... she brings me to her mystery ... sometimes we know why thoughts may come ... sometimes ... we follow ... sometimes we look ... sometimes only mist ... perhaps the gift is found within ... within the lifting ... of our eyes ... the lifting ... of our hearts ... the lifting ... of the moment ... now ...

Thank you, moon ... for the mystery ... of now ...

Bleue, yes ... yes ... thank you.

Kate, dear Kate, even in remembering ... the moment of all as one ... so many threads ... even sometimes threads that break ... threads that hold ... our peace ... our all ...
Thinking of you, Kate.

John, thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts.

Rita, even in the remembering, you are right, it was an enchanted night. Simply to have experienced such a moment ... and for the moment to still hold ... but for someone else ... not in the moment ... to recognise ... to allow ... yes ... enchantment ...

Within The Shambles all had been so dark, so closed in, so full of so much history and then a moment when I could see above the dark ... to be drawn forward by pale yellow stone ...

What is it about ... those who build with stone ... who know the strength ... who sense the light ... who hold us ...
with their strongest ... hands ...

Mission, how your words speak to me. Thank you.
Your words have a way of transporting the reader. I felt like I was there with you, a foreigner, yet not, because you found the man you love. Beautiful.
anna: You met your loved one a Dicken's tour? Such a great story and remembrance. You can capture the night here.

"Perhaps it is in the not knowing what it is that we will write ... that words we’d not have chosen ... rise ..."

I have wondered about this too ... the words behind the words; the ones not written.
Out of 'The Shambles' & on to the minster, the minister, the mrs & the mister ... ;-)
I love the way the words ramble you on, as if it were the words, that take your hand & lead you along ... is how it is, sometimes, when memories catch up with our lives & show us the way for a while ~ let us remember, compose & create, allowing life to make sense however briefly ... grateful for the light, grateful for the clouds I think of old Basho : Clouds now and then ... with a smile.
What led us down these paths ?
So we could finally see beauty, permanence ?
Or so, reaching out, we might expand our lives however briefly, with whatever lessons & disappointments ; knowing awe, love, kindness, & " It's so delicious ... to cry for joy."
I have been here several times now ... reading your words. This time ... so many words ... rise. Let me hold these thoughts a while longer ... and find my way. Meanwhile, many thanks.
Sip some diluted honeymoon wine.
No feel morel mushy love's guilt.
If You ponder affairs Ya normal.

I remember ideations I hush`bout.
Instant ipod spouse Ya do divorce.

Tell Ya spouses Ya met a loser.
Go Buy a rooster and hen peeps.
No be a perfectionist who fears.
Tell Ya therapist they so kooky.
I'll nap-off morel mushrooms.
I'll sleep and acts more sane.
I did enjoy this read. Morel.
I wish I cook Ya mushrooms.
Skip my silly-sleepy comment.
Erica, Thank you and yes, the moment of the Minster ... a moment when all moments ... are one. How lucky I.

Scarlett, Yes. I met him there. And yes as well ... the words behind the words ... the words not here ... not exactly ... here ...

Art ... I so needed your words ... when I saw them ... gentle ... gentle ... smile ...

***

So many pieces didn’t fit the other night ... or did ... but I didn’t want ... to see. I wanted to offer the moment ... and let it go. I wanted ... perhaps ... to set myself ... free ...

and now, Kim ... I read your words ... it is as though you see right through me ... as though you know me better ... than I could ever ... know myself ... how ... can that ... be ... and yet ... out of The Shambles ... until ... they ... were ... everywhere ...

I never screamed ... I never cried ... I was ... too ... afraid ...

words not here ... best ... not here ...

I ... hardly know ... where I am ... I read these words and ... what I thought I shared ... has flown away ... and what is left ... is ... shredded ... vulnerability ... the place I ... numbed ... to ... walk ... away ... how can that ... still ... be ... here ...

I will find words ... for your words here ... but first ... I must .... find air ...

perhaps now ... someone else’s words ... your words ... give me ... something to hold ...

thoughts left here ... take me where ... I didn’t mean ... to go ... maundy thursday, good friday do not help ... chains of guilt ... far too close ... I will not ... let them ... in ... they are no longer ... mine ...

why am I thinking of his mum ... so much inside him wants to be loved ... wanted then at least ... from the start, I think ... so, perhaps, for her ... but ... like his mum ... it was almost as though his arms would lift ... and push ... all love ... away ... then he would ... rage at it ... tear it down ... refuse to allow it ... to ... be ... not truly ... be ... even when ... his heart had ... nothing ... else ... how does such emptiness ... form ... lie in wait ... what in the world ever set ... it ... there ... and how does one help another ... want the emptiness ... to fill ...

if my two ... his two ... should ever read these words ... look in my eyes and please listen to me ... I think it can never ... be ours ... to fill ... what ... will not ... be filled ... how I wish ... how I wish ... we can be here for each other ... and we are ... but when a void chooses the void ... we can only ... choose ... hope ... not to become the void ... ourselves ...

know how filled with love you both are ... look in my eyes and trust me ... for I have loved you most all your lives ... trust me, lovely ones, for though there is so much I do not know ... I do know this ... the loving fullness of both of you ... as I wrote these words the other night ... as I remembered the wonder of it ... I wished that each of you could have been there ... with him ... instead of me ... that you could have known ... that part ... of him ... if only ... there could be ... such gifts ... to give ... I think your grandmother would understand ...


I once thought I would live my life beside ... the one who asked ... the one I loved ... my once ... instead ... I ... one day ... walked away ...

perhaps once I had shared these words ... the moon came ... the other night ... and walked with me ... reminding me of calm ... of time ... of joy ... of peace ... not lost because I couldn’t give ... whatever would have brought him peace ...joy sometimes ... still mine ...

joy sometimes ... still mine ... and as I read I begin to smile ... " It's so delicious ... to cry for joy." How do you know, Kim, ... what you know ... all ... it is ... that you know ...


A bit of air ... at last ...

That night ... and what a night ... it was ...
Let me come back ... to only ... that ...
Perhaps it was the words ... drawing me ... Logan’s voice ... did I tell him ...
words that ... took my hand ...
That is the moment ... now part of me ...
That is the moment when ... a moment when ... all time ... for me ... was one ...
and how ... do you explain ...

How do you know, Kim ... all that you know ...
How often have you been the one ...
to help me see what it is ... I see ...

If I could move my own words here ... and let yours, Kim, stand as last ... yours would be the words one should come and read ... for they ... so speak ... to me ...

‘... grateful for the light, grateful for the clouds ...’ ‘... so finally we could see ...’ that we might ... “... cry for joy.”
"... your eyes are there ... before you know ..."

It has always been this way for me, sometimes so forcefully that it too, rocks me back on my heels,

when something or someone previously unknown to me, enters into a physical proximity with myself, and I know with all the visceral and intellectual capacity I may have for knowing, that this 'new' thing in my life, will now be accompanying me on... into the future.
This is exquisitely remembered and penned in a style which captures the reader. We all have had episodes like this but I for one don't have the memory to recall all he details.
Thinking of you today.....
I needed to simply be away from this a while. Thank you for coming to read.

Interrobang, Thank you for the knowing ... and yes, the accompanying ... even sometimes now from so very far away ...

Alfred, Thank you for your lovely words. It has always simply been ... a moment ... I have never lost.

DiBi, I wonder if you can possibly know how your words have helped. I am more grateful than you may ever know.

Once more, words that lift ... borrowed as they are ...
‘... grateful for the light, grateful for the clouds ...’ ‘... so finally we could see ...’ that we might ... “... cry for joy.”
I love the way you write about the tenderest of moments and allow us to share them. One of the things I wish it were possible to do on OS is to be able to meet everyone individually--face-to-face. Wouldn't that be cool?
A voice was speaking in my ear ... my professor’s voice ... English history ...
so much begun ... now here ... all ... here ...

At some point you simply must ... look up ... your eyes are there ... before you know ... but when you are so close ... you must look ... directly ... up ... and I ... I can’t look straight up ...
I couldn’t stop my eyes ... that night ...

Nothing to hold.

Aint much in this wicked world, I find.
Love is great if you are “worthy”. Blah.


I guess we gotta soldier on. Hearing voices, training our eyes to see better……….