Love is a Place

As they say on my own Cape Cod, a rising tide lifts all the boats. ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy

I am back...physically.  I've discovered, however, that sometimes it is impossible to fully return from a place with which you have fallen in love.  I expected as much.  I mean, I expected to adore Cape Cod and treasure the experience.  I did not, though,  anticipate the strong and immediate pull to go back.  "I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds– but I think of you always in those intervals." ~ Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper  I suspect that several subsequent posts will center around my love affair with this region of New England, but it will take awhile for me to find the words to adequately express my sentiments.  I am still savoring certain moments and am, as yet, selfishly unwilling to share. 

It is completely coincidental (or perhaps, not) that my inaugural visit to this lovely parcel of the Northeast paralleled the introduction of autumn.  And maybe, just maybe, the lunar theatrics conspired to forever tether my heart to the Atlantic shore.  Here is a report from Dr. Tony Phillips of NASA:  "For the first time in almost 20 years, northern autumn is beginning on the night of a full Moon. The coincidence sets the stage for a 'Super Harvest Moon' and a must-see sky show to mark the change of seasons. The action begins at sunset on Sept 22nd, the last day of northern summer. As the sun sinks in the west, bringing the season to a close, the full Harvest Moon will rise in the east, heralding the start of fall. The two sources of light will mix together to create a kind of 360-degree, summer-autumn twilight glow that is only seen on rare occasions. A Super Harvest Moon, a rare twilight glow, a midnight conjunction—rarely does autumn begin with such celestial fanfare. Enjoy the show!"  A midnight conjunction...and what a show it was!  Standing on a Massachusetts beach with my friends, the harvest moon smiled at me across the water...amazingly gorgeous...quiet and still...beckoning. "Till then I wasn't alive, I longed for you like the love sick moon pulls the tide." ~Corinne Bailey Rae

The Moon by William Henry Davies

Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul,

Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright;

Thy beauty makes me like the child

That cries aloud to own thy light:

The little child that lifts each arm

To press thee to her bosom warm.

Though there are birds that sing this night

With thy white beams across their throats,

Let my deep silence speak for me

More than for them their sweetest notes:

Who worships thee till music fails,

Is greater than thy nightingales.

 
This past Tuesday can best be described as assiduous.  Following three hours of sleep, I awoke at 5:00 a.m. EST, (4:00 a.m. "my" time), loaded the car, and then began the two-hour trek to Boston.  Traffic was heavy but I arrived at the airport with time to spare.  The flight to O'Hare was depressing.  I was anxious to see my family again after my brief respite, but I had already begun wondering when I'd be in Chatham again.  (Like I said, I've fallen in love.)  "I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you." ~Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated  The layover in Chicago seemed endless, and the flight to Kansas City was cramped.  Fortunately, the nearest passengers were European and their conversations in both Irish and French kept me entertained.  I won't bore you with the details of the nearly three-hour drive home, following the final touchdown.  I already bored myself with the actual experience.  "The Portuguese call it saudade: a longing for something so indefinite as to be indefinable. Love affairs, miseries of life, the way things were, people already dead, those who left and the ocean that tossed them on the shores of a different land - all things born of the soul that can only be felt." ~Anthony De Sa, Barnacle Love
 
So once again I'll say the words...I am back...but I am somewhere else as well.  Tonight a piece of my heart is beating 1,400 miles away, in a small town that is blanketed by a dark blue sea. This 'tug' has a name.  

tide  \ˈtīd\    n.

1.  the alternate rising and falling of the surface of the ocean, the result of differing gravitational forces exerted at different parts of the earth by the moon or sun
2.  a fit or opportune time
 
"And, at such a time, for a few of us there will always be a tugging at the heart—knowing a precious moment had gone and we, not there. We can ask and ask but we can’t have again what once seemed ours forever—the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on belfry floor, a remembered voice, a loved face. They’ve gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass."  ~J.L. Carr, A Month in the Country
 
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places


yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skillfully curled)
all worlds


~e.e. cummings