Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Air that I breathe

There is a scene in Doctor Zhivago where a thoughtless soldier kills a young boy in battle. Doctor Zhivago looks at the beautiful, dead youth, turns to the murdering soldier and asks, "Haven't you ever been in love before?" The soldier replies, "Well, I have three children and a wife."

The point is, of course, that the murdering soldier Doctor Zhivago addresses knows nothing about the lusts of life; he is unconsciously living; a wife and children are incidental; secondary to a life of following protocol down to government sanctioned paradigms of Russian war; and duties to men in power he serves without knowing, or WHY he does any action. What this solider knows of love is superficial at best.

This scene is so powerful because of the two world views of the opposing men and the horror committed by one. The answer follows, "Have you ever been in love?" to show the ultimate thievery involved in murder of a political sort. To take a man's life is taking away any chance they have of love. Contrast the love in Doctor Zhivago's world to this non thinking military servant with a weapon. He robbed that youth of love. There is nothing greater to live for in this world.

Doctor Zhivago many not be faithful to his wife, but in a time of war he finds lovers in overcrowded trains, makes poetry from desolate landscapes, and celebrates each passing day. In the frozen world of political collapse and in the confusion of a senseless war (an oxymoron) Dr. Zhivago finds his own happiness. His cup overflows with love against the most desolate backdrop he blossoms. There is nothing greater to live for then love. The heart was meant to beat for others. Zhivago means life.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

My Buddy and me Tour America

Of all my siblings the only one who I relate to in every way was my dear brother Ambrose. One of our favorite things to do was take a CD, get in his car, and drive. Amby loved to travel. There was something about motion that made us feel so alive. In motion we had no responsibilities and we could analyze life without letting it touch us.
When I was sixteen and he was twelve we drove to California. In my grand mother's home there is a picture of all of us, me holding Katlor, with the mountains of Wyoming behind us. That was our first major adventure together. I remember taking a long nap on that trip, during the two day boredom of cornfield backdrops, and waking up in the middle of the mountains of Wyoming. In all my life I can never believe that I could think or talk or catch my breath at the initial sight of that beauty.
How do people swallow those scenes and resume their lives? Make war or protest it? Fall in love or mend their hearts? It's humbling to be so small amid the force of nature.
Music is the language of the heart, and music was Amby's therapy. I still have a mixed CD that he left for me, with an eclectic mix of rap, classical, and surreal songs. I've worn it out, way before Amby said good-bye. We would listen to those songs and drink coffee and drive. We drove from San Francisco to Arcata. From Redding to Eueka, all the time talking about life. Laughing and complaining and sharing our secrets. One trip the topic turned to drugs. Ambrose was in a stage in his life where he was completely against them, because, as he said, they made him see the worst parts of life. And for him they did.
The only good thing about his military job was that, in his words, it allowed him to have his car. During weekends he would (illegally) leave his military base and pick me up, and together we would talk and talk, about everything. We covered everything on those trips.
The day came when he was in a bad accident that ruined his car and without his escape pod he lost his freedom. Being idle and dealing with a full time job is not in our DNA. Being tied down with the world's responsibilities makes our family go crazy. We were so innocent in the motion of travel.
I dearly miss Ambrose, this being the last month of the last year I had my friend in my life. But instead of being sad I am so internally grateful: so very grateful and blessed that I have those memories to carry me through the rest of my life. I miss my friend, but he did exist for 24 years and I am so very blessed to have known him. Instead of grief I have the joy of those memories of us: happy, together, and crystallized in eternal youth. It was awesome to know him. The world will never know another like him.