"Maybee, this is it," I say to A. as we sit on a mid-day University Avenue where cars lurch by and the people stroll on a warm, spring day. Not quite thirty and still filled with the rebellion that seems to mark an artist's journey, he fights against the notion. "Really," I press, "perhaps, this is it," and I demonstrate a giving in and surrendering that I myself have resisted for many years now. Yet, here I am and, even though I was thinking I should leave or that this here "should" bee somewhere else, where I am is really quite a lovely place. In fact, it's exactly where I've always wanted to bee. Sure, there may not bee material abundance or free-flowing money but there is so much LOVE. It's in my home with my sisters; it's on the streets where acquaintances walk by; it's in stores and coffee shops where our community is; it's in restaurants where we work; it's on the beach and at the park where I lay snuggling up to a brother; it's in the dance studios. It's in the sky where Hawks drift on Pacific breezes of exhaust and marine layer and it's in the Earth where slithering serpents hug the contours of a coastal desert terrain. There are kisses and hugs, and sweet intimacies shared. There is acknowledgment and a sense of belonging. There are whispers and laughs. There is catching up on time that has passed under the bridge - longer stretches when babies have been born, marriages taken place, and with travel and exciting journeys. And, there are the short spans too, where a thick silence and stillness fill the air, when we just listen to the moments tick on by - tick tick tick. And all without having to drive or go somewhere or do something. Just by bee-ing - it is here, now. Why would I want to leave? What more is there? Is there anything else that would make me content? Not really. This is all I ever wanted. LOVE.
(Tribe and Village.)
