A page or two from my marble notebook... plus

It took less than one hour.

I walked out of my apartment, under the self-deluding idea of getting snacks, but when I reached the corner across from the Lawsons, I kept going.

I felt down. I felt lost, lonely, out-of-place, and far from anything familiar. Of course, I was only half-right on that last measure. I turned right at a random corner and walked a street I had never walked before. I saw nothing new, nothing special. It was the "how" that changed. At first, I looked out at the world through Jim's eyes. I sized things up and found it all to be acceptable. I saw pots and pots of plants lining every street, surrounding every tiny apartment. I saw lines of bottles filled with water, waiting to nourish. I truly appreciated how many people come together to make this city green, breathing and alive. Then the true shift began.

I looked out at the world through Anna's eyes. At first, I continued to appreciate the supported greenery in the city. I marvelled at how the city is so clean, but there are no garbage cans or dumpsters anywhere. Then I turned Anna's eye on myself. I saw what I was doing and I truly understood friendship. Friendship is knowing - knowing the how's, the why's, but more importantly, the perspectives. Simply having the idea to put on Anna's perspective, a very tail-eating experience, instantly showed me who my true friends were. Those people that I know well enough to be able to shift from my perspective of the world to theirs. It is not an easy thing to do and to trust that you've done it correctly. The combination of looking out at the world through Anna's eyes and looking back at myself showed me how everyone not only has their own perspective, but their own rhythm. And that is when I saw my situation in full and saw the solution to my threatening depression.

Cities are just like people. They can't help but be. Cities have veins, hearts, minds, perspectives, daily schedules, feelings, smells, tastes, and rhythms. Finding my place, and my familiarity became a matter of truly knowing the rhythm of the city. All American cities share a common rhythm. Each city has its own unique rhythm, but beneath each is a commonality. This is not America. This is something wholly different, and as far away from home as I've ever known. But, I'm learning. As fast as I can.


I walked slowly across a pedestrian overpass, feeling the bridge give a little with each step. I saw how the earth supports us all, no matter what. Every step we take, there is some give, our foot is taken in to a small extent and pushed along on our way. Time and direction are illusions created to make life easier to understand and ignore. The only truth is space. No two objects can fill the same space at the same time. That is just a poetic lie created to badly describe a certain experience and feeling. There can be no oneness, only a complex push and pull. A gentle harmony. The rhythm of the world.