A pre-Winter's day. . . .
a deep and dark November . . .
Trees are bare, leaves stripped
blown away
huddling in corners
hiding in the bushes
by the chill winds bearing down on us
from way North in the freezing Artic. . .
I hurry . . . .but. . .
"I touch no one and no one touches me. . .
I am a rock. . .
I am an island. . .
I build walls that none may penetrate,
alone in the womb
safe within my tomb. . .
I touch no one and no one touches me
for
I am a rock. . .
I am an island. . . .
A rock knows no pain . . .
and an island never cries. . . ."
~~~with some thanks to Paul Simon and Art Garfunkl
Last summer I was poking thru some boxes in the storeroom downstairs. . . and came across this old 78 or was it 33-1/3 record, in its tattered jacket an album from the days of my parent's youth when I wasn't even a twinkle in my dad's eyes. . . .yet. . .
I spent a lot of time with that album in those warm days of summer. . . .today, their song is on the back burner of my mind with some variations of my own. I recorded the album to a CD and have it in my scattered collection of memorables. . . .For some reason which I haven't deciphered yet it reminds me of a conversation I had the other afternoon with a student at the clinic.
There, these people who come for help of some kind are known as clients. . .patients. . . my 2 o'clock appointment. . . .I won't use these terms. . . I don't like them. . . these seem, to me, to objectify people who do know pain . . . . who do cry. . . and laugh. . . .and feel . . .
Anyway. . . the student's name. . . .let's call him Todd. . .has been thinking some deep thoughts which I will not. . .and can not tell you about. . . .as such. . . .and from a hundred years ago this line from a song . . and all I remember about it. . ."and by your students you will be taught. . . " I am writing a reflection in response to a question he asked me. . . . .and it may show up on The Dunes. . . . ;-) (Todd asked me to write it down. . . ;-). . .)
On Tuesday Peter and I will load Mme Bouvier into the back seat of the FIT and head home to the Cape for the Thanksgiving holidays. . . .It seems like forever since we've been home on The Cape all at the same time. And. . . ..where has this term gone to. . .?
T.W.U.L.
j u s t i n
a deep and dark November . . .
Trees are bare, leaves stripped
blown away
huddling in corners
hiding in the bushes
by the chill winds bearing down on us
from way North in the freezing Artic. . .
I hurry . . . .but. . .
"I touch no one and no one touches me. . .
I am a rock. . .
I am an island. . .
I build walls that none may penetrate,
alone in the womb
safe within my tomb. . .
I touch no one and no one touches me
for
I am a rock. . .
I am an island. . . .
A rock knows no pain . . .
and an island never cries. . . ."
~~~with some thanks to Paul Simon and Art Garfunkl
Last summer I was poking thru some boxes in the storeroom downstairs. . . and came across this old 78 or was it 33-1/3 record, in its tattered jacket an album from the days of my parent's youth when I wasn't even a twinkle in my dad's eyes. . . .yet. . .
I spent a lot of time with that album in those warm days of summer. . . .today, their song is on the back burner of my mind with some variations of my own. I recorded the album to a CD and have it in my scattered collection of memorables. . . .For some reason which I haven't deciphered yet it reminds me of a conversation I had the other afternoon with a student at the clinic.
There, these people who come for help of some kind are known as clients. . .patients. . . my 2 o'clock appointment. . . .I won't use these terms. . . I don't like them. . . these seem, to me, to objectify people who do know pain . . . . who do cry. . . and laugh. . . .and feel . . .
Anyway. . . the student's name. . . .let's call him Todd. . .has been thinking some deep thoughts which I will not. . .and can not tell you about. . . .as such. . . .and from a hundred years ago this line from a song . . and all I remember about it. . ."and by your students you will be taught. . . " I am writing a reflection in response to a question he asked me. . . . .and it may show up on The Dunes. . . . ;-) (Todd asked me to write it down. . . ;-). . .)
On Tuesday Peter and I will load Mme Bouvier into the back seat of the FIT and head home to the Cape for the Thanksgiving holidays. . . .It seems like forever since we've been home on The Cape all at the same time. And. . . ..where has this term gone to. . .?
T.W.U.L.
j u s t i n
13 comments:
All too many people find themselves in that mode. A rock, all alone, with no touches from anyone. I enjoy reaching out to everyone. I don't mind being the light.
33 1/3rd on vinyl. 78s were made from brittle acetate and usually had only one track per side. The LP (long play microgroove) revolutionised recorded music, and introduced high-fidelity stereo in 1959 (I think).
The pick-up arm for 78s was heavy and used steel needles that were good for maybe a couple of plays before needing to be replaced. My older bros were too poor to afford a tin of steel needles so they picked thorns off the lemon tree in the backyard and screwed those in. Hehe.
Pick-up arms for modern record players were much lighter and used diamond or sapphire tipped needles that lasted several months.
I have the "best of" Simon and Garfunkel on CD... a class act for sure.
And away you go Justin! Nice to see you on your way, professionally. Wish you were around when I needed 'advice'!
Have a Happy Thanksgiving.
Thanks, JIM. . . .your comments mean much to me. . ;-). . .thanks.
Retreat, isolate, block-out, hunker down;
your safe place, risk-free, painless, faceless, nameless;
existence?
Sounds like you guys are ready for a little light therapy.
Yep, S&G were often deep. Some good lyrics they had. Some were froth too.
Oh how old I feel when someone does not really know the difference in recording technology.
I was going to comment much like Gary but he beat me to it...thanks mate. At least you stopped short of telling us about wax cylinders....lol...but then even you are not that old, eh.
Yes Justin, that is a good lyric and the fact that it, and its meaning, have stuck in your head is testament to that for certain.
...and I meant to say, I wish you good holidays too Justin, you and Peter...and Mme B etc.
Have a great time and I look forward to the inevitable great posts that come when you are relaxed and have some time back with the family and home surrounds.
Also, back to the lyric thing, I've often wondered what is in the mind, what has or is happening to the person writing them at the time. Sometimes it is obvious, sometimes it is just a lyric for the sake of a lyric, for earning one's living, but sometimes (often?, no) it is really deep, from the heart or from the head. Usually one or the other, music is mainly emotion I guess, and more often than not if it is written at the time then it is pure emotion with little head work involved...sometimes (always?) this is the best stuff? I'll ahve to think more on this.
It must be good therpay to write dopwn one's emotions, one's feeling and, hopefully, gain something from the process. I am sure this must be a well known therapy tool?
It has certainly helped me....I stumbled upon it ages back when trying to come to grips with a difficult situation. I was writing abolut it to a friend and it all came into focus....well better than it had been.
We all have different reasons for isolating ourselves, Jimm. I am a rock and an island by choice. I haven't always been that way, which is why I am now.
Go figure.
Justin,
I know the anticipation of Thanksgiving is just is more like being a youthful kid again. Holidays really put us in such a mode, that having Mme Bouvier and now Peter is overwhelming. It gives me such joy to see your
happiness-----you really make me feel young again. Live it in good
health. Happy Thanksgiving to the Whole O'Shea Clan!!!
Thanks, Joe. . .and Happy Thanksgiving to Young Joe Rad. . .;-))
Yes, life is good and I am grateful. . . I have been greatly blessed in so many ways. ;-)
Have a great holiday Justin. Try not to eat as much or drink as much wine as i will :). Best to you and all your loved ones!
Thanks, gp. . .thank you very much. ;-))
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