Patchwork

I am acutely aware (and more than rarely am - though not often enough) today of how our lives are a patchwork result of the people who touch us, their experiences flowing into ours. No man is an island, even the man who is sure that he is.

My news came this morning, in rapid succession - one friend facing birth, one facing death. The juxtaposition is breathtaking and awe inspiring. My usual emotional agility (insert hearty laugh here) completely replaced with the utter rigidity of shocking heartbreak, then instantly supplanted with wonder, then bouncing back to the emptiness that engulfs when feeling such a gentle, good heart pass. Today I am more them than I am myself, channeling the experiences of people I love. In the end, I am wrapped in this patchwork of pressed aluminium tiles that becomes a soft and welcoming blanket of life's twists as I and wish I could fold both friends in it and hold them tight, celebrating and comforting. I am not wrapped in the patchwork. I am the patchwork.

All that glitters

Inside St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City
I was certainly not struck by any modesty. None to be found. More holy than the excess (obviously), I found the art to be the holiest part. The place is beautiful. I wandered through, somewhat dazed, musing and gawking: dead popes behind sneeze covers, gold galore, flying stone saints, church leaders elevated to the highest parts of the architecture, marble inlaid in intensely detailed patterns, and the awe-inspiring (divinely inspired?) paintings by masters the likes of which the world will not know again. It was somehow horrible and, of course, utterly wonderful at the same time.

And then there was a similar feeling at the gold market in Dubai. Glory of God versus glory of man (well, ostensibly though sometimes it was hard to honestly say which was intended for which...) And there seem to be more tangible religion in the gold market - but only seemed (the veils?). Contradiction again, hypocrisy again. But beauty, again.
Human hands made both - the Basilica decor, the jewelry - from gold, nature, and element. Man and nature...praiseworthy indeed... to God, in the end.

Fulla

Whoa. Sometimes there is so much to say that one can't really say anything. And sometimes no words are really necessarily. But afflicted with, most of the time anyway, a severe "case of incipient verbal diarrhea," I will say something anyway.... (that quote is from a famous and infamous Texas lawyer routinely sanctioned by courts for his inappropriate - albeit amusing - conduct.)
A cereal box with a covered Barbie-esque doll? Are you kidding me? Of course I bought it. And of course I looked for the doll too!
Fulla, indeed... I leave it to you to fill in the blank. Fulla _________.

Many lifetimes

I love most those places I visit that make me feel as though I lived there before, at the right time, a part of the daily grind in another place and time. Standing inside the Colosseum wondering if the gorgeous lighting was just for me (ego, I know), I could practically hear the crowds filling the stands, smell their anticipation.

Since returning to New York, I have been surprised at the overwhelming loneliness I battle. Two weeks with family and close friends, constant companions, were so warm. The mistake was not preparing for the end of my personal utopia. Isolated at the office, I am floating, aware mostly of changes in the temperature around me. Unfocused and fuzzy. Hoping that this is mostly jet lag, I crank the ipod, eat something healthy, splurge on the occasional unhealthy treat of divine diet Dr. Pepper berries and cream. I am telling you - don't start! Dr. Crack is more like it. And wait for the weekend when I can try to reocognize my old self.
Two and a half hours of tennis last night brought immense joy and only slilghtly less fatigue. Music to my ears were the words (in heavy Egyptian tennis pro accent) "I was hopeful before. Now I am sure: you will be good." Even if it isn't true, I will certainly take it. Gladly. Back to the punisher tonight. 2007 could be a very good year. In this lifetime.

There's no place like home

The holidays are over, the trip is finished, back to the grind... but taking far less for granted these days. Whie I have ABUNDANT criticism for this country and more than abundant criticism for its current leadership, I am delighted to be part of it. For so many, many, many reasons.

I began my vacation in Geneva with my mother, sister, and my mother's brother and his family (wife and four children). We relaxed on Christmas day and followed that with an early rising for a flight that took us to Rome. It was my first time to actually get to go inside the colosseum. I loved it so much but am now much more comfy with the notion that I did not miss my calling in archeology. That work looks way too tedious (a potentially hyper0ironic statement from a lawyer, I know). I will be posting some photos and descriptions of the ruins in the coming week.

A few days back in Europe then it was off to Dubai, a big city heralded as both western and modern. I suppose it is, in some ways. It was extremely clean and shiny... all the buildings seems to reflect the desert sun and the bright sky. Myriad foreign workers (Bangladeshi, Ethiopian) sweep ceaslessly, not missing a single cigarette butt (in no short supply), even underneath parked cars. The city seems to grow under your nose, with floors added to construction sites overnight. Very impressive. The people were kind but not overly friendly. In fairness, I don't know that I was either. I get a little strange when overstimulated, which I was the entire time. But it was the women, the more traditional ones, I should clarify, who seemed least friendly towards me. I still am not able to say all that I felt about them. Contradictory, to say the very least, is a description to which I keep returning.

At the gold market, the shelves dripped with heavy orange and ornate gold - necklaces, rings, bracelets, rings connected to bracelets, crowns. Opulence. Decadence. Excess. But for the many veiled women crowding the windows and counters, clucking and admiring, I was so curious.... black ghosts, no gold in sight.