I’m not gonna sit around and waste my precious divine energy trying to explain and be ashamed of things you think are wrong with me.
—Esperanza Spalding
Honestly, I have no idea who Esperanza Spalding is, but his or her attitude makes me so happy I could weep, though that might be other things, like the two utterly profound yoga classes I took today with the astounding Colleen Saidman and Rodney Yee (for which I am so grateful), or the way the day started early with the fog around the ferries so thick that even the lights on the dock couldn’t show through. Maybe it has to do with the sudden lickers and sippers (as Paula and L.B. used to call the summer tourists) out in our beautiful beach neighborhood, throwing much needed dough into the system but ruining the view. (Maybe it had to do with the astonishment I felt at my own territoriality, and sense of “us” and “them.”)
Maybe it had to do with the fact that Toby and I were lying around my treehouse yesterday while Angela cooked us lunch, and now they’re gone. Maybe it had to do with the ladies made of silicon I saw today, who broke my heart; I wish people would love up their children, and I wish they wouldn’t replace their body parts with plastic, but that’s just me. I like to know where people have been.
The summer is here, and I find myself, on the first day of this new weather, missing, of course, the person I’ve spent the last many summers with. Her summer hat, her wife beaters, our walks through Soho. I don’t miss everything, but I do miss her morning coffee, and all the other things she did to make me happy. Maybe that’s why I feel weepy too. Anyway. Samsara is a bitch and then you die.
Happy Memorial Day, Blogateers. May your summer be cool and filled with kindness, love, and so much friendliness towards yourself that you know just how precious you are.
Deitch 