I am sitting in the dark of the "Batcave." The rays of a late afternoon, southern sun, are falling across the wood floor found inside of the studio. Adam, one of my neighbors who resides on the corner of 14th and F Streets, recently shared with me that SuperGirl's name - as in, from the 1950's SuperBoy comic strip - was Cara. "Cara Star," he said. "She arrived right around the time that Crypto showed up." "Hmmmm... interesting," I think, although I reply with a, "Good, I like that."
Today, I ducked into the brand, spanking new East Village Coffeehouse with a reporter. He had spent almost three decades working for the U-T. He retired some time ago, and had run off to Europe for a change in scenery. He, like me, was making a recent return to downtown San Diego living. We met on the streets of Little Italy earlier this afternoon. Carrying a South African basket and munching on locally-grown walnuts, I was returning to the Hive after spending the morning at the Farmer's Market. He fell into line behind me. When I turned my head to pass onto the other side of the street, I chose to say "Hello" to him instead.
"Hey," like honey, the words spilled off of my tongue.
Thus beginning a journey down an uncharted path - a trajectory that could not be forced, willed or premeditated. It can only be responded to within the open moments of vulnerability and surrender, of saying "Yes, and..." to as many moments as are humanly possible in any given situation.
"Heyyyyyy," she says.
So, we walked and we talked. From Union to Market Streets, the concrete passed underfoot and time oozed by, in complacent ease. Our conversation was lively and full - from homelessness to compassion, from children to artificial insemination, and from philosophy to practice. Few stones were left unturned. "I am surprised someone as independent as you wants to have kids," he shared.
"I have no remorse for not having children, or a wife. I was married once, for eight years, but she divorced me because I was in love with my work. I have no regrets," he spoke as he kept up with my youthful stride.
Like all good things, even the amazing dances must come to an end. For it was time that I returned to the Hive. In spite of his language to the contrary, I felt the subtle flutter of his energy.
Would he like to play Clark Kent to my Super Woman?
Maybe.
However, this cartoon character has only recently learned to fly. And she's hoping that she won't have to duck into a phone booth or turn back time in order to keep meeting back
in the middle
of a dance floor, certainly,
of sustained intimacy, definitely,
and of the balance between
work and play.
