Some say that the eyes are windows on the soul. I know better. They’re windows all right, but we don’t see with them. We see with our brains: the eyes are just windows. How do I know this? Well, my little ‘windows’ aren’t wired properly to my brain. I am amblyopic. I have a dominant eye and an amblyopic one. The amblyopic one looks lovingly across the bridge of my nose at the dominant one.

In the great scheme of things, this isn’t all that important. Most of my life I could see just fine with my one good eye. True, people at a distance of more then 5 feet away thought that I was looking at something over their right shoulder rather than at them. But, I could live with that. I did insist that photos be taken on my right side as it lessened the effect. Also, I never allowed it to be said that I had a “lazy” eye. ‘Lazy’ eye inferred that if my eye could just get its act together, all would be well. If only.

As a small child, I was taken to the famous Dr. Hans Barkan in San Francisco where we lived. He operated on my eyes when I was 3 years old. That procedure was only cosmetic, it didn’t fix the eyes. That solution would only be somewhere in my brain, my twisted little brain.

After we moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles I was sent back one June when I about 8 years old, on my own, to see Dr. Barkan. Well, I wasn’t entirely alone. I was put on a plane by my Mum and sent to Oakland because my Aunt Fritzie was there. Aunt Fritzie was newly married to Uncle Paul. Uncle Paul was a paraplegic and they were struggling financially to get along. It was made clear to me immediately by my auntie that I was an imposition, a burden. (more…)

This has been yet another annus horribilis. Starting with Boxing Day 2004, Mother Nature has shown us, lest we forget, who’s in charge. From earthquakes to tsunamis to hurricanes and floods; we look weak and our responses have been inadequate on every level.

Our bodies politic have been shaken to the core. Don’t feel that it’s just your system that’s in turmoil: institutions everywhere have been tested and found wanting.

Our faith in those who would lead us has been shaken to the core. Those in power abuse those fragile rights that we, the governed, have always been told are inalienable. Those out of power seem unable to find their way out of the desert. Their voices are discordant when they need to speak as one.

So, where does that leave us? If we have seen the enemy and he is us; then we need to look inward for the answer to what ails us. The human experiment evolves, but it’s based on one basic premise: we must care for one another to survive.

Hobbes said that we must make sacrifices to live inside the leviathan. We give up those freedoms to do as we wish in order that our lives will not be, “short, nasty and brutish.” We can live out our existences inside the leviathan because we are inside. But in order for the experiment to work, we can’t atomize ourselves: e pluribus Unum. And that whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Here’s to the good ship of state and all those sail in her. May the seas be calm in her wake. May the wind fill her sails. May the setting sun see her safely home.

I was just watching “Rashomon” again. Our separate realities is a theme I keep returning to in my meanderings. It lives side by side with my view of human relations as an existential exercise: we create our realities.

In “Rashomon,” whose story was true? The thief, the wife, the husband? Was the woodsman, in the end, telling the true story, even though we find out that he’s a thief? Or, did they each create their own reality because that was what each of them could live with? In statistical analysis, triangulation gives a semblance of the reality behind the numbers. In “Rashomon,” there is no triangulation. It’s true that the thief and woodsman both say the thief killed the husband. But, is that just what conforms to what they each need to be the truth? (more…)

I haven’t taken the Christmas decorations out yet. I’m thinking that I won’t. This year I can’t seem to find my Christmas spirit. Oh, I gave to Médecins sans Frontières. I bought gifts for the children. I’ve made and sent the cards long ago. But I haven’t bought a tree and I don’t intend to this year.

Maybe next year, maybe. So, I’ve been looking at Christmas’ past. Check out that little gingerbread man. Doesn’t he look cheery? It snowed on Christmas Eve that year. I had wanted snow and everyone had said, “Oh, it doesn’t snow here at Christmas.” But, it did snow for me. I was a child again. I put on my wellies and long johns and ran down the road in the snow. There wasn’t a lot of it; just enough for snow angels, but it was my snow. That Christmas no one could deny me my happiness or my snow.

(more…)

And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart

This time of year always seems a natural time for me to think about how we’re all just stardust. Everything we are, everything we will become is all wound up in the stardust that we are.

High up in the sky the little stars climb
Always reminding me that we’re apart
You wander down the lane and far away
Leaving me a song that will not die (more…)

The Monkey King had learned enlightenment. He could make a cloud trapeze to cross continents. He could make an iron cudgel from the tiny pick behind his ear. He could defeat any army on earth or in Jade Heaven. (more…)

Anon is not the most sentimental of people. I’ve been accused of having ice water running through my veins, and that was my children. I’m comfortable with that assessment because, if they knew how soft-hearted I am about them, they would probably get totally sappy: that’s when my heart does shrivel up a couple of sizes.

All that said, this morning I found myself looking at my youngest, the principessa, sleeping just as I used to when she was a baby. And, as when she was little, I stood there watching her chest rhythmically move up and down. I’m thinking that most parents have done this when their children were sleeping.

We have been through the worst of her health crisis and the HB and I are heading home. Fingers crossed, we will be able to celebrate a healthy Christmas. The picture is from the Christmas when the principessa was conceived. So, in a way it was her first Christmas.

Love is a funny thing and it shows itself in many and odd ways. It often seems so awkward. But, here’s one that works for me: Buon natale, principessa. Ti voglio bene.

Oh yeah, and I’m still waiting for the south-facing room in the palazzo.

Here in the land of Anon, we are starting to think about the season again. Barring any unforeseen glitches, Christmas will arrive: God willin’ and the crick don’t rise. I have a conundrum though. We are in the snowy depths of NYC right now and I’m lovin’ it! Snow everywhere, freezy breezy, frosty breath, Jack Frost nipping at your nose: the whole works. We get inside and a hot toddy feels so good. There’s only one problem. Tomorrow we head back to Santa Tourista. It’s going to be sunshine and palms trees.

Now, the HB loves sunshine and palm trees. He can take that for all seasons. Anon, however, is of a different mind. I’m in the mood to go cross-country skiing. I want to make snow angels. Bottom line: Anon loves the cold, HB hates it. We are so amenable on so many levels, but not when it comes to winter weather.

The thought of lawn chairs under the tree are his idea of how to spend the holidays. When we get home, he will put the hammock back up and enjoy the sunshine. I’ll be inside pretending that it’s snowing and playing Harry Connick jr’s Christmas CD. Deep sigh right about now.

Speaking of CDs, I just got new solo one from pal Dom Chapman. It’s not released yet. It’s totally great, especially the cut, “You and the Stars.” We had a wonderful meal with Emilia and Dom in the Village the other day. I had my favourite drink: key lime martini.

Breathe in, breathe out. Life will now proceed as usual.

The cloud on the emotional horizon has passed for now and has been replaced by a real sky filled with snow. A little while ago the flakes were so big it looked as if someone had opened a heavenly pillow and snowy down was falling. Now, the snow has formed little mountains on cars that were parked overnight. (more…)

I looked out my window today, saw the sun, and put on a t-shirt and shorts. Then, I went outside. Big mistake. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and it’s colder than a witch’s hoo-fob.

Why is the sun so cold in the winter? It’s the same sun that brought us so much warm in the spring and summer. Just a few weeks ago, the rays of sun warmed my face. But, now the sun is emitting icicles.

Or, maybe it’s just my mood. I can’t find comfort anywhere. I’m distracted and angry. I want to become like Lear and rage and scream against the wind. But, when Lear lost his mind, he still found no relief. So, I’ll keep my marbles for now.

I am angry. I’m angry at people who haven’t carried their share. Not all people, I’m angry at some very specific people starting with someone I refer to as ‘El Pendejo.’ (more…)