Once I got home,I started thinking about friends I hadn't seen or heard from in ten or more years. I found a couple of them through internet searches and attempted contact. We'll see how that turns out. Then before I knew it, I was plopped down on the floor by my bed in slippers and sweater with a kitty beside me, opening envelope after envelope of old letters, love letters, postcards, vintage magazines, collages. I remembered Christopher James Wilson, and hoped he got his PhD and started that blues band he always wanted to do. I re-read affectionately disjointed letters from Aaron Brizendine and hoped that he had overcome some of his mental issues. I wondered what became of Dave Moyer. I remembered which girlfriend sent me that unsigned postcard. For all of these, I tried to find them on the internet...because to me, finding an article or a site or SOMETHING on there usually means that the person has evolved up and out in the world and not folded within themselves into a small, small world.
Small worlds are sad to me, and always have been. It's one thing to live in a simple world with carefully chosen people--but an isolated mind that chooses not to seek out the expansiveness of education and inspiration, well...that's the saddest place I know of. Another example is someone who lives in a fantasy world of their own potential--where their dreams and wishes flourish in their heads but still go unvoiced. We all do this to some extent, but there are more serious cases. I know them--I have even been in love with them. They do not know how to allow anyone into their lives close enough to even share these dreams. It's too scary for them, or they are afraid they'll "jinx" it. Whatever. As we all know, our mind is our own worst enemy when it comes to tearing us down. So these people may have a brilliant idea that they know would make them happy, but they don't share it with others and eventually the mind breaks it down with something like "You'll never achive that--in a world of black tuxedoes, you're just a pair of brown shoes." With no one else to bolster, the ideas drown in infancy, bogged down by the mind's negative sludge, never to rise again.
I digress.
I went for a midnight drive after reading these bittersweet old letters. I bought a tin of those old-fashioned Christmas candies which I have always loved. You the kind--all manner of bright colors with almost indistinguishable flavors?
The kid in the checkout said, "Yeah, my grandfather still always eats those. They stick together in a big lump and you hafta break them up with a fork to separate them. I wouldn't touch 'em." This put a Cheshire cat-like grin across my face. I thanked him and took my "grandpa candies" with me. Hooray for grandpa candies!
Here's a picture...they had stuck together in one big lump and I had to separate them with a fork. Yep.
I slept well last night. I dreamt of travel and people and places, as usual. I dreamed of being sought after--both negative and positive, and a common dream for me. This morning, Christmas morning, I am alone. Am I sad? Not really. Wishing for more? Definitely. I would enjoy spending my Christmas with loved ones. I need them around me, and I'm not going to say I don't or that I don't feel a bit lonely today. However this "separated" feeling is something I'm used to, so instead I just try to enjoy my solitude, recognize and ackowledge those sucky little feelings, and be thankful for those whom I hold dear. I could use some hugs, some kisses and generally cherished feelings...I could use some "sit down at the table and talk" times, but I shall have them. So what if it's not on December 25? Hollow as it may sound to even my own ears today, I shall eat my grandpa candies and watch movies and read books and work on creating a better environment for my own inner world.
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