SNIPPETS FROM A JUBILANT JOURNEY

Are we there yet?

This, I did not ask. For how could I when every minute of the journey left a sight to behold, a breath to hold, a moment to remember. We may need to ask Sir J to confirm what this travel writer once said: To cross the Golden Gate Bridge is to be a student of fog. But I'll be the travel writer here and I'll confirm myself, ha-ha: To do a train-ride along The River is to be a student of concentration.

I want to sit by the bank of the river,
in the shade of the evergreen tree,
And look in the face of whatever,
the whatever that's waiting for me.*

Picture this diversity: To my left, visible from my enormous train window were granite pinnacles and boulders; a marsh of lilies; small castles on the edges of cliffs; soaring peregrine falcons; beds of lilacs and squadrons of wildflowers; blue sky - all sharing introspection with The River of my dreams.

And then, to my right, by my side, let it be stated on record and under oath, I promise to tell the truth, so help me God, is My Life Professor, she with the discerning eyes and prominent jaw, she whose every breath carries a purpose, she whose every glare generates a sparkle, she whose every twitch connotes a value, and she whose every word reveals a substance.

And last, which at that moment could be the least, was the book I shifted between my left hand and right: Alejo Carpentier's Explosion In A Cathedral, a jarring account of the period of Enlightenment, the French Revolution and its global vicissitudes, specifically in the Carribean, an era so enlightening it was a time of me-against-myself attitude, such grandeur!

I was thinking now. The only thing missing to complete my fulfillment during that journey was the melody of Anton Dvorak's Tempo di Valse or George Butterworth's The Banks of Green Willow, but then again I would have been totally overwhelmed, sufficient enough for me to see the silhouette of my soul rise in ecstacy...

There are things of which I may not speak;
There are dreams that cannot die;
There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
And a mist before the eye. **

(this journey is still ongoing...)