“Some Daily thoughts, a bit of mental therapy, published weekly or so…”
“The disciples were absorbed in a discussion of Lao-Tzu’s dictum:
Those who know do not say;
Those who say do not know.
When the Master entered, they asked him what the word meant.
Said the Master, ‘Which of you knows the fragrance of a rose?’
All of then knew. Then he said, ‘Put it into words’
All them were silent.
~ Retold by Anthony de Mello ~
From his so much at the present ‘a propos’ album “Enlightenment”, ‘”Van Morrison” singing “Start all Over Again”. No doubt…
Oh! what cloudy days… dark nights, lightning, somber across the street, patches of lighted windows at times flickering, no open spaces but buildings after buildings with just enough room for the lightest of winds to move on unstrapped from the City present. The smell of a storm approaching through an open crack, this is not the Desert, far from it, but the company of my Mother so much makes up for it. And more. Reminiscing of old times, times lingering back from days too far back of my own birth, she, the Story Teller across me as never before has immobilized my senses to listen and comprehend a Family Genealogy which I had only heard of bit and pieces in earlier times.
Of incredible frames passing, great grand parents and their lineage, their escapes from the Wars, the births and the marriages. I think we covered the World’s History, ours. We are the last of the Mohicans. I am . My last name "Gureghian" will no longer exist some day as all others also have dwindled in the course of the years. It is what it is and must enjoy the present moments, this worth while outing in Munich. So much needed, so much real, so much so wondering if any repercussions will take place besides trying so hard to move my Mother to Atlanta, a City she really likes and familiar with. Buckhead.
I feel as much as I have been here before the City has changed. The crowds are greater, the immigrants from other Countries are also present. They are not Tourists. I hear so many foreign languages. Friends have written and I have read their words while at times able to get on the Internet which is rare here, the public ones that is as all is so strongly locked down. They have written to go here, to sightsee there and as much as I would love to, we cannot. Could 85 be the magic number when all dwindles down? When suddenly the energy of being out is shortened to a few hours? It seems that way. Hoping to feel as good as when and if reaching my present Mother’s age.
Plans are changed every day as also the weather does, there is now fall in the air. A boat ride on some Lake has not happened yet. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not. I have come thousands of miles to only be with her, to try making sense of a move to the USA for these last years left, this last "Hoopla" as I call it. The ball is in her court now. Can lead a horse to the water but not make it drink. Isn’t it the saying or close? And yet I understand the obstacles as moving at this certain age from one Continent to another has more logistical difficulties than moving a tent. Sometimes though one "should" need to do what they "should" do to keep a branch of a Family together.
The "program" as I call it has been just about the same every day. The subway a block from here on to "Marienplatz". Some window shopping, some a bit of hiking through some multi floor department stores and it is enough for Mother as she then goes home. I hang out watching the Tourists take the same photos all have taken for years including myself, stop at the "Apple" store, seemingly the only space with free Wi-Fi, walk around a bit more and myself then on go home. In a space so busy as a downtown New York, I myself remain still with a rictus of a constant surprise.
I never met the German Man sitting across from me on the boat we took around Lake "Starnberger". A pleasant 4 hour ride, some Castles turned into Hotels, beautiful sailboats, but it is the "man" that intrigued me. So close and yet miles apart. What would he know about living in the Desert in Utah or Texas and what would I now known about living in Starnberg? And maybe he does know better than myself. We did not however conversate. How can we be such strangers ‘be’ in a land that has become I must say "strange" to me. Maybe today and now so different I am better off only posting some photos of the daily Life. Here, with no fanfare, from miles away.
I also cannot today describe the smell of a rose.
Yet so close.
In my effort to stay on the road “we” now have a T Shirt and Merchandise store. I think you will like it: “Spirited Oasis”
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You be well… Ara and… missing Spirit!