Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Pulse and shudder (Music therapy: Rodrigo y Gabriela - Ixtapa)

Take the first song you hear and make yourself at home, all that languid hope lost on strings and rhythmic vibrations. Pretend you live in a place that is both old and saturated with sunlight. The kind of place where lemon trees grow in the front gardens of old ladies who dress in black and wear head scarves. They bicker like all the other old ladies in the world, except they have lemon trees in their gardens and their feet know the arch and angle of every cobble on their street.

This afternoon as I was walking home my head was caught in a cloud of scent. Lilacs, as if suddenly I was about to crash into a mountain of them, pollen raining down and staining my skin and clothes. But when I looked I saw only a small plant inside a grocery bag which was being carried by the woman in front of me. I thought: I want to be as bold as that plant, issuing such an exuberant pulse into the world that doesn’t expect it.

Think of kissing strangers just as they are on the brink of a decision, then stepping back and watching everything they have ever been slip from their expressions. They can’t remember where they are, who they have been, what they were thinking. They can only feel the breath that has left their lungs and the ghost of your lips on theirs. Leave them before they find their way back to themselves. Store up those strange, blissful manifestations. Know that periodically throughout their lives, they will remember that moment as if it were some porthole to themselves that they haven’t found since.

I can’t remember the last time I was barefoot outside. I think it has been cold forever, even though the sun blazed into my eyes as I walked down Princes Street and resisted crossing and going into the bookstore. Even though there are tiny flowers poking up through the grass in the park and the teenage boys are starting to venture out in t-shirts, their hands dug deep into their pockets as they pull their shoulders forward and attempt to create warmth inside the curves of their chests.

No, I can’t stop thinking about a land of olives and sundried tomatoes and fruit that squishes juice almost as soon as you touch it. Somewhere you can still feel the warmth in the stones of the buildings all the way until the evening, until eventually the night pulls the last of it out like the final little shudder after an orgasm. The one that makes your whole body relax and sends you off to sleep.

People keep telling me spring is coming. But it isn’t enough. I need to be filled with the sun, bathed in it, turned over in it until not one inch of my skin remains cool to the touch. I want to be like the Lilac, like the stones in the evening. A giant pulse, a little shudder. Bliss.

17 comments:

Lena said...

What a beautiful sentiments.

I have to admit that I'm not a fan of the sun and shy away as much as I can (I'm a ruddy ginger nut with pale skin and freckles, so I've no chance of enjoying the summer fully!) but I'd love to be that lilac regardless!

Barry said...

Oh I love your writing, and your dreams of spring!

Like you, I want to feel the warmth and smell the Lilac!

Zhoen said...

Rodrigo y Gabriella hit it big in .... Ireland. Only goes to show, we want the other thing. Kissing don't last. And Summer comes in when she's good and ready, not before.

We can't wait, and yet we must, and we somehow survive.

lakeviewer said...

Oh, you are a temptress! O Sun, oh sun. We are hungry for it.

Jeanne said...

Winter here has lasted forever, but the past few days have been sunny and (relatively) warm.

Your description sounds blissful!

Annotated Margins said...

Wow! What a wonderful post. I copied it to read again later. "Think of kissing strangers just as they are on the brink of a decision..." what a wonderful line. I had fun reading this.

(Music therapy... that's my life... and I love it... .)

Carol Anne Strange said...

Fabulous imagery from your words! Just beautiful writing. I feel like I'm walking down Princes Street again. As for spring, she's moving closer. It will be so good to feel the sun's heat. xx

ellen abbott said...

I hurry it on it's way to you.

Marcheline said...

I will admit, I find my heart responding blissfully to your post, and at the same time my mind plays the devil's advocate... picturing how life-changing the moment would be if, while one was standing there trying to make an important decision, a big smelly street person came up and kissed one on the lips.

Ha!

Word verification: "sculae"
Definition: The doctor's name for the result of said kiss.

Julia Christie said...

It's magical what you write. The San Juans keep teasing us Washingtonians - bulbs are up and a day or two of 'spring' weather, then back to grey, windy and wet! Maybe if we all join dreams spring will take pity on us and come the sooner!

J said...

Hi, to say that you write beautifully would be an understatement. For someone, who loves words I could not help but be moved by yours’. I am so happy I discovered you and can feel the same joy again when I read your next post.

Looking forward to it!

Irish Gumbo said...

I've been hearing a lot of Rodrigo y Gabriela lately (actually have a small crush in her), the music is just right.

Perhaps the best moments in life are those small shudders...

Spring is coming, it is, I feel the sap starting to rise in defiance of the cold gray outside my windows. Lilacs, unite!

Brian Miller said...

nice...great post...love walking barefoot outside...spring is coming...hoping the weather this week was not a tease. it was gorgeous!

Ruth said...

So gorgeous this was, I loved every word. What a writer you are, painting pictures and feelings. Bliss.

Lucy said...

Delicious.

Dale said...

Hey, I'm on the brink of a decision, here. Where are you? :-)

Notes from a Broad said...

And here I am in a place where summer is winter and winter is soft and pretty and flowers bloom all year round and all I want is to be in another place, Scotland being at the top of that list :)