A dear dear friend of mine is festering a meltdown in #Egypt. Recently, he returned to his homeland after living in Brazil for over two years. He is a political writer and a stone merchant who is exceedingly over educated (English Literature, Univ. of Cairo) and has lived as both a pauper and a millionaire. My psychological profiling is he is suffering from culture shock. He no longer has any identity with his contemporary homeland. There is nothing in its current format of #Sisi-land he upholds, respects, or can feel connected to in Egypt.
When I go to alien nation #America, I try and focus on the joys of my family and different bird habitats and turn away from the invasive geography of nowhere and chronic consumerism. We go to museums as a family, church, celebrations, and so forth. I sit and talk with my brother about ideas and concerns. He and I go out on the lake in his boat for a entire day and barely talk because we are comfortable with each other = and we remember Capt. Arthur. I visit with friends and we talk about food, art, music, birds, freedom, gardens, books, movies, inspiring concepts and how to make the world a better place. What I do know is each time I return to my homeland, i am becoming more and more a stranger in a strange land called faux America. My beautiful family are secure and blessed. They operate in an intelligent universe of success, goals, and love.
It appears to them I am living as a semi-happy jungle hermit although my brother gets on my case for not painting. This is mostly true, residing here on Finca Vigia has not dramatically altered my focus only intensified it, yet, hopefully cleansed most of the caca inserted into me by a home culture wrongly based in corporate state big, bigger, and biggest.
I tried for years to change the systemic rotting core from inside the body politic at a local to state level in Gringolandia. I worked 100-hour weeks to create and build small businesses that exemplified aesthetics and a political and social philosophy I think was meaningful. My class act attorney husband was there to support me with his maturity, compassion, and wisdom, and I supported his efforts every which way possible. We accomplished in love a lot, and then we became moving targets.
Close friends have heard me tout, “I know I have one more run,” meaning I have one more long term attempt to maybe leave a crisper legacy of joy and accomplishment. This epilogue attempt will be more finely based because civic virtue, ethics, and mystery are better integrated? See, i can clearly envision the principles of this next book, yet I have only a budding clue where or with whom. I learned some globally handy stuff out there in the community of a small seaside quaint town while serving superior espresso, planting gardens, birding, politicking, designing, boating, and fishing. My closer buddies usually look around where I am and roll their eyes, when i chatter on about what I label – my last lemonade stand.
Residing in a healing paradise and my serene life is the envy of the world. I dunno. Maybe, I need to be challenged to feel fully in tune with Pachamama? Here life is Pura Vida. Why can’t the rest of humanity on this planet know the oneness I experience without even trying? Although I suffer no pangs of guilt, my heart screams out over the horrors we inflict upon each other and Earth.
Here at Finca Vigia, oneness rolls into view, it produces glorious nature happenings – it flies by, it scents up the garden, and it constantly reminds me how elegantly simple is life when in harmony.
The truism is apparently correct – we are not meant to be alone. We are humans who turn moonbeams into our holy communion with the cosmos and clouds into dreamy dancing elephants and giraffes. We seem to need, but not needy, to deploy the toggle and tussle of others so we groan and grow.
On October 26, it will be one year since my husband’s ashes went into the drink (the Atlantic Ocean) off Montauk Pt., New York, in one of his favored Striped Bass angling spots. The upcoming anniversary is the closing of a fantastic chapter and verse of a life well lived. What happens next is a fresh start.
Learning how to let go, so the Creator takes the helm, is probably going to require a few more spins on the dial.