I Was With You In The Big Bang

I like to think about the fact that everything that exists now, also existed in the Big Bang. First, just as dirt, now as fancy dirt. All of us were there. The particles of the universe rearrange themselves all the time. Into people or plants or water or sky. There is no thing that was not there. Those revered by religions were there, my TV was there, the moon was there, the walls of my bedroom were there, mitochondrial Eve and her parents were there. Everything living and inanimate, present and past, we were all together once. You were with me at the Big Bang.

Japanese Wonderful Dream

That's me in the middle. I lived in Japan when I was little

I had the most surreal childlike dream about being in a Japanese airport at night. It reminded me of a cartoon for little kids where life is only sweet and snuggly and safe. The airplanes were like chubby little colorful glowing paper lanterns decorated the way little kid's kimonos are. They were fragile, made of paper and bamboo, and about 3 feet long . Each plane held one or two passengers snuggled into soft blankets, no working parts or pilots. The travelers turned into toddlers just before they were put in a plane, but their inner maturity was still intact. There were lots of darling babies, who spoke different languages, crawling around where they would board their airplane. People were very nice to each other. I was saying goodby to my sisters, who were ready to fly away, when I realized that one of them had the car keys with her and I needed them to drive home. The keys were retreived by one of the lovely staff. I was so happy that the dream didn't take a bad turn here. These are so often the spots where the vibe can change. You can't get anyone to help you or you can't find your car or your way home. I was so glad it stayed pretty and comforting for the whole dream. Outside, I was watching the little plane shaped lanterns, glowing, floating off into the night sky and the pretty way they looked lined up for take off in the dark.

Leave Out The Sad Parts

There are no do-overs, but I was thinking about how much in love my daughter and her husband seem to be and it made me remember how much I loved my first husband. Nothing about our marriage was perfect, but I loved him with all I had. I hope she gets to live the loved life I couldn't. There must be couples on this earth that chose so well that they stay dizzy with love their whole lives. Why couldn't that be true? We all know there are all levels of suffering. Let Buddha be wrong just once.

My first husband, me and our son, 1973

Maybe I could retell my life's stories and put all the bad parts in footnotes. That way, if you don't read the footnotes, you can see what a blissful life I've had.

2019 Post Script: I do not define everything through my past pain anymore. Older / Wiser. I truly did not understand how to choose relationships that would be healthy for me. So, I see the past differently now and know that it was not someone else's fault that I was unhappy. Now let's talk about something funny!

It Wasn't My Car

I sort of accidentally married a guy who turned out to be a lot like my father. In the mid 1970's I moved to Austin, Texas after my first divorce. I didn't have a car so my dad let me borrow one of his. Now that he was single he had a little yellow TR-6 and a dark purple Jaguar XKE, aka the penis-mobile. I usually drove the Triumph. I don't know if my future mistake noticed me or the car first, but together we were exactly the package that a young guy, who thought just like my father, couldn't resist. I was too innocent/stupid to recognize that pretty much everything this guy told me about himself was a lie. He was so besotted with the cars that he didn't notice that, while I thought they were pretty cars, to me they were just a way to get from here to there. If I had to buy into "cars as symbols", it would be closer to the truth to say they symbolized my father's juvenile attempt to attract young Bond Girls to drink his fine wine, that he wanted to identify, sage-like, by vintage, with a mere whiff of its bouquet and to fuck without having to get to know them, just like Heff and James Bond.

One of these handsome men is my father.