Wednesday Morning Wanderings

"There are no spirits or gods in the cat, don't look for them, Shed.  A cat is the picture of the eternal machinery, like the sea.  You don't pet the sea because it's pretty, but you pet a cat-why?-ONLY BECAUSE HE'LL LET YOU.  And a cat never knows fear-finally- he only winds up into the spring of the sea and the rock, and even in a death-fight he does not think of anything but the majesty of darkness." - Charles Bukowski


Perhaps that last bit is why cats were deemed evil in some places during the Middle Ages.  Cats know their place in the Universe, they walk with confident ease, making self-doubt ridden  humans feel too much like prey.
Perhaps this sense of the "majesty of darkness" is part of what makes "Vincent" in th 1987 TV program "Beauty and the Beast" so compelling.  In Mr. Perlman's portrayal of him we can see the duality of the uncertain, uncomfortable human and the majestic, certain, graceful, but often merciless beast.
A cat, an apex predator, more secure in that role, especially as a protector of what is his, than any human could ever be.
Yet, he has all those human frailties we are all faced with - he knows fear, knows the feeling of longing to belong, but feeling that he does not, knows a fear of a part of himself that seems alien to the rest of humanity, but is it really?  Isn't it only a matter of degree?
In every human heart is the instinct to protect that which we love from harm, and that which we need to survive from being lost.  The major difference is that humans think we need to temper this instinct, and are apologetic about it, at least most of the time.
Cats have no such self-doubts.  They know what they are, they accept the gifts of their strength and grace, and protect what is theirs with compelling ferocity.
It is to Mr. Perlman's and the show's writers great credit that we could see this conflict in Vincent's character.  After all, he is a symbol for what is ultimately a very human struggle:  how to learn to love and accept all of ourselves.  Vincent makes definite progress in this area, but, like most of us, never fully achieves that acceptance of his more instinctual nature.
This question of the duality of his nature has been discussed quite often in fan fiction, and often is handled very well, giving us even more to ponder about the nature of what it really means to be "human."

Traveling Thoughts

It has been eons since I've been on an airplane at night.  Last night, as I flew home from California, I got to watch the sky outside my window grow darker as we headed east.  I saw snow stream by in the lights as we headed into Denver.  On the way from Denver to OKC, I saw the full moon above us, and saw it shine on the wing and the clouds below.  As we got below the clouds before landing, I saw the lights spread out below like jewels, rare and beautiful and sparkling in the dark.
Our world is indeed a beautiful and magical place.

Moon through an aircraft window.

The ocean has such mystery and power.  Even when we see it on a mundane day, when people are out enjoying it, and it is relatively calm, there is a sense of the vastness, the potential, the eternal nature of the sea.

Moonlight on the ocean

 

 

Waves at night.

Surfers waiting on waves.

It's been a long time since I've been near the ocean.  I missed listening to it.  Missed the smell of the salt spray (and the hint of petroleum in the air). Missed the cry of gulls over the waves, and the way the sea seems to mute every other sound.

The waves whisper of faraway places, long ago times, adventures, losses, dreams.
No matter how big the ship, the sea is always stronger than it seems.
Though the land seems solid and unchanging, the sea knows
That this isn't so.
For over the years,
The sea ever so slowly
Moves and subtly changes
The face of the shore.
Also the storm winds and waves come,
And change the shore a lot. Suddenly.
The sea has moods.
Friday evening the sea
Was loud and crashing and rattling
The pier as we walked in the dim lights.
Sunday afternoon
It was playful
 Calmer
But not tame.
The sea is never tame.
Especially not the so-called Pacific
Which is cold, and drops off the California coast to sudden depths, and has evil fast rip tides that draw swimmers too far out before they know what's happened.


To feel the power of the waves hitting the pier, to see how excited my grandniece got feeling the waves shake the pier, and seeing and hearing the water below us, was sweet and beautiful to me.
 Yes, it has been far too long since I spent time with the ocean.

A Few More Poems...

Promises, Promises
By C.K. Armistead
June 2014
(For Michael O., because he loved it so)

Early Spring is a lovely promise.
New shoots,
Young leaves,
Tender blooms.

But early Summer
Is a promise fulfilled
Thick, green grass,
Deep, dappled shade,
Beautiful blossoms.



Cloud Fleet
C.K. Armistead
June, 2014

 After their midnight Battle
Filled with cannons of thunder
And bomb bursts of lightening
With fusillades  of water
That drenched the thirsty land
 All day Nature's vast armada
Has sailed past
Giving teasing glimpses
Of ocean-blue sky
Between the great grey ships
Casting shadow patterns
On the sparkling land.
 Perhaps their majesty
We should heed
As a reminder this day
That we live perpetually
Beneath Nature's
Daunting sway.


Little Makeshift Girl
By C. K. Armistead
June 2014

Just a makeshift girl
Good enough to pass the time
Until you find
The one you really want.
Forlorn lonely girl
Knows she isn't really
In anybody's heart.
She tries not to mind
But when no one's around
The makeshift girl
Falls apart
Can't make do
With part-times and
Promises forever
With almost-love
And not-quite-right
She cries herself to sleep
Most nights.
But somewhere
There's a love
Just for her
Even though she doesn't know it.
Hang on, makeshift girl,
Don't blow it
He'll soon come 'round
And then you'll know it
You deserve a love
All your own.


Compton 90221

By C.K. Armistead
June, 2014

Once, it was a good place.
We had block parties
Lots of different colored faces
Having fun
Sharing food and laughter.
And then the others came.
The ones with guns and cruel hate
Drove all the smiling ones
Away.
Left our block, our whole town,
Seedy and weedy
And full of bullet holes
And the profound sorrow
Of lost Hope.



Healing
By C.K.Armistead
June 2014

 More than a year
Has come and gone
Since the storms
Chewed up our town.
Still, many empty lots
Many businesses gone
Lives still rebuilding.
Yet,
Many homes are rebuilt.
Many new people have
Come to live in this little city
With the great big heart.
New plans are in place
To keep us all safe
As can be
If Nature decides
Again to be nasty.
Folks are still
Quick to smile
Glad to see their neighbors
And I am so proud
To be part of this
Community.

Small Miracles
By C. K. Armistead
June, 2014
For Butch and Walt

I hold in the palm of my hand
A gateway to knowledge
All the knowledge
Held in common on this planet.
With it, I can interact with people
On the other side of the country,
Or the world, or even
In orbit around it.
This little gizmo
So common that we
Take it for granted now
Was unimaginable
When I was a child.
My Pop said
Machines like this were
"impossible."
Not so
Said men like my brothers
Who built smaller,
More powerful circuits
And smaller, smarter
Machines
Men who read Asimov
And Bradbury
And dared to dream
Dreams.
Thank you for dreaming
And waking to build.