Trouble sleeping over the last two weeks: waking every three hours, feeling I’ve slept for days yet the clock continues to read 3:30 am.
My work is done; most all responsibilities have been met and with this chased sense of guarantees, this solidity of self, my poised confident persona has gone by the way side: feeling like a stranger in a strange land.
Received a phone call from my dear friend this morning asking if a scrumptious picnic would be out of the question? Having not eaten properly for days the invitation seemed like divine intervention particularly designed for me.
She appeared in front of her drive way holding a true to form “picnic basket”, sun glasses and a kind smile.
“Let me drive.” she insisted.
We headed towards the country and suddenly arrived next to a river.
Living in city circumstances, cars, petrol, the feeling that one's space will explode at any moment, because we all seem to live on top of each other, no room to move, the drive in the country felt like a gift. The river smelled of fresh flowers and the walker’s all smiled.
After a brisk walk, we finally settled down next to a deserted old Fern tree. The public walking path was too close for total privacy, but far enough to make us feel that we were somewhat alone with each other.
We laid the blanket over the grass and all at once the beauty of our surroundings became evident before my eyes.
My friend had made cold Lamb sandwiches with just a hint of mint. The bread was bought at the bakery that morning and tasted like it had just come out of the oven. (There’s nothing like fresh bread). Reaching into the picnic basket, a bottle of 2000 Cabernet Shiraz and two crystal glasses. The wine and the Lamb were a perfect union, a marriage of the unusual but lovely sort.
As wine and delicious food affects one’s outlook on life, the afternoon a perfect temperature, both of us peered out toward the green mountain, she commenting how utterly beautiful the landscape, when, disrupting our reverie of aesthetic vision, a young German Shepherd bounded happily towards our paradise of beauty and perfection, turned around and proceeded to defecate in our ideal world. Her master appeared on the path and looked terribly embarrassed, but knew once the dog started, nothing he could say would change things.
The young lassie finished her business, turned innocently and smiled at us and trotted off completely satisfied.
We looked at each other and fell into fits of laughter, to the point of tears, because we both knew, life is amazingly beautiful, a miracle, but also, full of shit.
These experiences make life worth living.
I hope I can sleep tonight.
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