When the Dalai Lama was young, still a boy, he was lonely in his palace, the Potala, and would walk on the roof looking through field glasses down upon the houses of his subjects to see if they were having parties, and in order to watch them enjoying themselves. They, in their turn, would hide themselves and hold parties out of his sight, so as not to sadden him still more.
i can't tell you how this passage moves my heart. i hadn't seen my family. i hadn't laid eyes on my tribe. i hadn't touched the women or men of my family for three years before october. i spent ten days, ten glorious days, cradled in their arms, nursed on their affections, and laughing. we laugh much when we're together. we fight, because we're mostly latin, and we sing because we're together. we sing when we're apart, but i think it reminds us of being together.
my sister and i reminisce about the many years we've travelled and the baggage we still carry. trying to offload some of it with the help of the other. that is our job, skycap to each other.
let me carry that for you a while, you look burdened.
upon returning, i found christmas well nigh unbearable. if you receive any of my private correspondence, you know this to be true.
this year, this, how many years has it been now, let me pause a moment and count. this would be the --i can't even remember how long it's been, since 1999-- seventh year since my grams' passing on to the heavenlies. where she is amusing many, i'm sure.
this seventh year, a symoblically significant year, is all ready tough for me. i've been unable to pull out of the tender place i've been the past few days. making love is but a brief comfort.
writing poetry, too soothes for just a moment.
having spent seven full days with wild women, i realize afresh what a treasure my grams was, is. how much i miss her. my mom told me a phrase she used to say, i've been trying to figure out how to use it because it made me laugh. my grams had spanish sayings that would be so profound, and now in hindsight we laugh to block the tears which would come if we sat silent.
so today, march fourth is my grams' third birthday in march. i told a friend it was a long story, but i'll tell it here, because you can leave if you get bored, and i'll be none the wiser. but i must tell it, because she is listening and i am going to try to laugh as i tell it to keep from tears (too late).
my grams had three birthdays because she was born in 1920. apparently, they weren't too certain what day it was and wrote her birth certificate for march 1. it was, in actuality, march 2. then, city hall burned down, and she was issued a new certificate with the march 4 birthdate, about which she probably laughed and went about her business.
she loved a good celebration and three days of birthday are better than two. three is always better than two. so she would have said.
the dalai lama quote above touches me because today, my tribe, women of my flesh and blood. women who share my face and stature, my hair and mannerisms are getting together for a cafecito. which, i am told, they are given to on occassion. reminsicent of an english tea, they have pan dulce, or sweet bread, coffee, and my sister often naps like a cat in the living room (we're notorious nappers, my sister and i. sometimes, i used to have such bad nightmares, the only sleep i'd get was naps during the days around friends. i'm sure glad those days are over).
but this dalai lama business reminds me of my day today, because they will likely call and laugh and talk to me and tell me how much they love and miss me. and i will be grateful. but it will ache. i will cry. but i want them to penetrate my silence with their voices. it is what keeps me alive. even though it hurts, it heals. it reminds me that our tribe is still together and moving forward.
on my grams' deathbed, i promised her we'd keep the family together. hard to do from a distance. i've listened to more tales of dismay than i care to hear, but that is part of it. when it comes down to it, there is her blood coursing through our veins, and for no other reason, we band together and laugh.
i don't take many pictures anymore. since my grams' died, i just lost the gana, or desire. i wish i had a picture to share with you of the women of my tribe, but i don't.
my sister hopes to go walk the beach today and talk to our grams and her baby sent among the waves.
i will likely sojourn to a little place i had a memorial put up, just to have a destination. not because i need a place of rememberance. i bear it in my flesh always. but so i can see the ocean of sky above, and wonder if grams is looking down her field glass at me, and if she misses me, too.
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