I’d never heard of the song or seen the video until November 7, 2019. Yet as I watched it began to dawn on me that through whatever series of odd coincidences I have been — at one time or another in my life — physically present in a close equivalent to every scene in the video. Present for those in black and white as well as those in color…
TODAY, viewing again, I’ve still been in them all:
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
Gerard Van der Leun
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In dreams we can almost make it home. In daily life going back home is an illusion. Home is not there anymore.
The word HIRAETH comes to mind.
All my life my heart has sought
A thing it cannot name….
Based on my perspective, having eight decades behind me, I have to allow that by the time a guy gets seven decades behind him, especially the last seven decades, it get pretty hard to look at just about anything and not say; Been there.
Done that.
You got that right, O’Neil. That’s why I was onto close equivalents.
There are exceptions that prove the rule Gerard, I gotta admit I never ever, not even once, put a running dildo in a guy’s desk drawer. 😉
But you will given half a chance.
I just have to say…I just love all of you here.
I loved that song and even the heavy nostalgic note. Yours is a life well lived, Gerard.
In this romantic song of yesterlife, there isn’t much that really approaches the homelessness situation. Danger, violence, cold, sickness, abuse, drugs, alcohol, mental illness. It is a shit sandwich that never ends. The ones you see aren’t even the worst of them. It’s the ones stuck by the river who don’t come out to be seen.
Sorry for this rain. But rain is my memory of home.
Local, around since +/- February ’20.
A handsome man, tall, and out of his clothes occasionally. Beyond remote; silent.
https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/912192ddf6d95551b7f4227d091896de53bf432f27d2d98651f835b79a3061a1.jpg
-viewing his foto I’m reminded of a point in my life where I snapped out of it just long enough to say aloud, “You have size sixteen feet and you’re looking at owning one shoe.”
Just as quickly I went back.