i love hot days. there's something comforting about eliminating the chance of being cold. the heat is so strong, so extreme, that it is an absolute certainty. almost nothing is truly an absolute certainty. relentless, devoted, and pure, heat holds you from all sides and follows you everywhere. last year i wrote, "unconditional heat is almost as good as unconditional love." but now i think it's better.
i've been working at the reed alumni reunions the past 2 days, and i remembered why i was so set on coming back in time to work. last year working at the reunions was a turning point in my life. i was on the verge of... something horrible... like suicide, boredom, or confusion. at the worst point, i spent a week in this lovely purgatory where old souls come to tell stories. i organized hundreds of folders and materials for the alums, and spent days hanging out with the class of '62. i went to their class dinner and listened while people went to the front of the room and told their stories. everything made me want to cry.
the thing that struck me then, and now, is how each person is the embodiment of what i'd like to be at that age. gentle, smart, and strange, with so many things to talk about and a great sense of humor. i watch them and think "this could be you, if you're lucky."
today i helped tape record an oral history session with about 10 alums, and many more in the audience. the subject was lloyd reynolds, a godlike figure who taught calligraphy at reed from 1949 - 1969, and also taught his worldview, which synthesized william blake, the arts and crafts movement, zen buddhism, letterforms, breath, and unity (he taught "learning to count to one"). some the alums had taken classes with gary snyder, phillip whalen, and lew welch, beat poets who went to reed (and dropped out). listening to these 50 - 70 year olds talk reverently about their teacher was mesmerizing.
lately i've been having a silent crisis with myself. donna isn't here, and i need someone to have a philosophical argument with me. that's the only thing that will cure me.... i'm having a conflict of ideas but the stakes are very real. all day listening to lovely wise old people tell tales i tried to glean as much as i could that might help me. last year working at the reunions brought me out of my misery and helped me decide definitely to go back to reed, partly because i saw the school through glowing eyes of nostalgia. this year... i feel the same about reed, but i haven't found any answers for my larger problem. i have never felt so strongly that i need some kind of therapy, like, right this second. i'm teetering on the edge and i don't want to ruin everything. but it isn't as simple as everyone thinks. simple solutions don't work for me. and the more people disapprove the more i want it. i wish i could change the way my brain works. also, i need to remember how to love things.
this evening, i did it for the third time. then i went outside and picked flowers from the lawn: roses, lavender. it was so nice out still, at 8:30, that i decided to take a walk. i didn't let c. come with. i like being alone. i walked randomly, and rather unsteadily, down division. there's a store with a bunch of old bikes out front, and it was just closing when i got there, but the friendly man let me look at them. he was an enthusiastic salesperson and offered me a $60 bike for $35. ("end of the day special"!) it looks just like my old one, except brighter blue and a little heavier. he even let me ride it to my bank so i could get the money out. so now i have a beautiful blue bike that only needs a little tuning up.
when i do things like ride a bike i'm constantly having a dialogue with myself-- this is enough. isn't this nice? remember when this was the best thing? yes, you're really enjoying yourself. this could be enough.