The Louvre
One friend of mine said she would not want to relive her past. She called the thought a nightmare. Of course that conjures up Nietzsche's Eternal Return. Do you say yes or no to your life? My life has been a long one, filled with suffering, with loss, with sadness, with longing. Am I willing to relive all the staring into the abyss, all the pain, all the emptiness I have felt in order to regain the joys of my life? the revelations? the loves that tore my heart out? The moments of living to the hilt, the passions, the ecstasies... and the Ataraxia?
Oh yes, I want to relive those joys, each and every one. My journals contain them all, perhaps not written in the detail or with the quality of writing I wish I had; but there they are. When I rip out the pages of despair or times of thinking of suicide, what is left is a treasure, a life of profound awareness, of happiness, of well-being, and plenitude.
Enough of the grand generalities, though. My aim here is to share a simple, brief page or two from my journal from the beginning of the year 2000, the last of the past millennium, twenty-five years ago:
"Last year (1999) ended drenched in nostalgia, saturated with the past. Thanksgiving's trip to Paris and Amsterdam were for Darryl and me a trip along memory lane. Taking Mom along with us was not only an immersion into family, but also took us to familiar places. Mom wanted to see the Winged Victory in the Louvre, and the Mona Lisa. In Amsterdam we saw again Rembrandt (Mom has always admired him) and of course, Van Gogh."
"Christmas took us to Chattanooga and Savannah. We drank B&B and smoked weed with Starr and Bruce, floating away into nostalgic dreams. We drove to Mary's and visited Darryl's grandmother. At Brother Jim's smoke filled house, we photographed baby Kimberly opening her presents. As always, Darryl was extravagant in his gift giving."
"In Savannah we dined with Ben in what has become a mausoleum to Jim: art and furniture I lived with myself almost 30 years ago. Mom joined us and the dinner was good. On Dec. 26, Darryl, John, and I joined Dad for three games of bowling. I got three strikes in a row, bowling a 191 like old times. Dad at the age of 78 (My age as I write) bowled well. Coffee and Cake we had afterwards at Dad and Kathy's."
New Year's Eve brought more of the past: Paula and Joe visited at noon. In the evening we had bubbly with Maggie and Jocelin at their home with Maggie's Mom, visiting from England. Then we drove over to the McQueen's for a New Year's Eve Party. Sammy and Joe were there. I talked with Barbara Schreiber, the wonderful artist whose work was the subject of the first art review that I published in Art Papers 15 years ago.
As 2000 gets underway, I shall teach World Cultures at the Atlanta College of Art and work at BFA. Darryl will begin his new job as Medical Editor and program director at WebMD. Brother John is flirting with moving to Atlanta for a new job of his own.
January 24, 2000 (just back from Boston)
"There is nothing like a green tea bubble bath on a cold, overcast day, listening to Cole Porter as sung by several divas. Soaking in the warm bubbly, singing along with Mabel Mercer, I realized just how sweet my life is here in Druid Hills. I realized how fortunate I am to be loved by someone as sweet as Darryl: my stylish love, driving his 1976 silver-blue Mercedes, sporting his new Irish-red goatee, always dressed for fashion setting; writing with flair at WebMD. I am happy for him, happy for his 24th floor office at Colony Square. I am happy for the appreciation he gets there for his talents, his intelligence, his wit, and his diligence. Most of all, I am happy to have someone so kind and loving loving me. "
Up Next: Our Civil Union in Vermont in the summer of 2000 and the end of this Journal I have quoted: April, 2001 in Hawaii...
--Jack
Note and Comment:
Of course the enlightened view is that there is no past and no future, only the present. My journals express who I am, what my spirit is made of. Time and Space, according to philosopher Kant, are categories of our understanding. They do not exist outside of our minds. But there is also an unknown Noumena, a deeper reality we cannot get to with our conscious mind. Perhaps it is there that our spirit resides, outside of time and space, or so I gather from contemplating the Spirit of Darryl and my own.
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