Sunday, June 15,2003
Call it dream or nightmare, whatever. A recurring dream, back again.
I must get away because I have killed someone. I take a practice shot and am told by my sister, “I cannot undertake to explain contravention of the 1919 Firearms Act,” or words to that effect. She sort of knows I intend to use the rifle but doesn’t want to know. Then I’m hiding, across the street from the house I grew up in. But I’m bad at hiding, and keep being caught by members of my family, who don’t realize I’m really trying to hide. I try to figure out where to hide, how to make a place to hide.
By 7:30 I turn to my journal.
“I am up, showered, and dressed. I just realized I have been having dreams for years in which I am walking around naked, suddenly realize it, and from that moment have to deal with the fact that I’m naked in public and must somehow get from that condition to a normal respectable condition. For the greatest number of times! And each time, it is so real that I forget to record it as a dream. This has been happening for the longest time – and this morning I am moved to remember it , though it did not just happen, nor has it for quite a while, as a carom shot off the words I wrote, `up, showered and dressed,’ to a fast recall of a letter to a magazine making fun of a story having written that the character showered and had supper, asking if he hadn’t dressed first. Now, I don’t for a second doubt that the memory was facilitated to remind me of those dreams. The question is, why here and now, in the mental context of my considering writing an article or two on the religious and spiritual things I have been pondering?
When I ask the guys, I get:
“You are reminded that wandering about naked is not considered respectable, but you do it quite naturally until your attention is called to it. Don’t think it would be any different if you were to wander around in print naked – as indeed to some degree you already have been doing.”
Russ and I talk for a long time, about their work and The Monroe Institute,. In the afternoon they take me to see two ancient stone barrows on a hillside overlooking Solway Firth. Between times, of course, we eat, and the time passes agreeably. Finally before supper I get to do some energy work on Russ’ leg, which had been hurting him, and then did the “river of life and health” meditation for them. To my gratification (and some relief) Jill, who is a healer herself, sees the value of it, and asks me to repeat it the next night on tape.
Russ and Jill
Among the books in my room I find and old, old friend, The Wind in the Willows, and re-read a couple of prized chapters, particularly the lovely “Wayfarers All.” How many times I have read this book, including at least once to each of my children. Also among their reading material are five volumes of poetry by a friend of theirs, J.B. Pick, that I like very much. A lovely, quiet Sunday at home — for I feel very much at home here.
Monday, June 16,2003
My last full day at Russ and Jill’s. I am up again early, and am out at the fish pond in the morning sunlight. Is the weather warmer, or is it absence of Iona’s continuing wind, or am I just getting used to it? I am out in T-shirt and dungarees and no socks, and am comfortable. But then, I’m also in the sun, which no doubt helps greatly.)
“My good friend David, any words for me this fine morning?”
“Have y’ not had a fine holiday? Suitable for framing? The bird is on the wing, but you’ve been flying with it these days, eh?”
“Life has been lovely. The only thing missing is meaningful external work, though internal work as been going on. I just fear that internal will not manifest into external.”
“And you do not, then, see it occurring already? Besides, what use is fear to you? Or anybody? The bee gathering nectar from that flower doesn’t go from plant to plant fearing. If anything, he goes calmly rejoicing.”
This day we take an excursion to St. Ninian’s cave, by the firth. A lot of walking and some sun. Very nice, very – surprisingly – tiring.
I make a meditation tape for Russ and Jill, with the lovely metamusic “Remembrance” in the background. There is one bit of “Remembrance,” I tell them, that makes me nostalgic for home – and I don’t mean Virginia. Moves me to tears, in fact.
Tuesday, June 17,2003
I shall miss Jill and Russ, and this place – and these holidays, for that matter. I’ve had such a wonderful time, every minute except some draggy evening time the first two nights at the Iona B&B and the first night at Stoke-on-Trent. Well, come to think of it, the B&B at Inverness too. The common factor was feeling confined to a small room, alone. Not something that would have bothered me at all, or not consciously, earlier this local-time life.
Jill and Russ take me to the train station at Dumfries, and by 3:30 I am on the train to Glasgow. A great relief to be on almost the last connection to be made –potentially the most troublesome, if I had missed it. The only jarring note of this vacation came in the morning when they had the radio news on. First was a debate of some kind about America and Iraq, then some news, then an interview with an MP named George Galloway, who is supposed to be a crook but sounded honest enough to me. But it was still media, and a disharmony.
“Friend David, now I have time and isolation again, what words have you for me?”
“You see my country now; your old country, if you wish to look at it that way – for Scotland is more like Wales than England is or was. It does make all the difference, does it not, to know the locals if you want to get a feel for the land?”
“Yes. Robert, Michael, the Russells.”
“The Englishman, the Scot, and the couple who bridge the two.”
“I don’t know how it’s going to go when I’m’ back at work.”
“Nor do you ever. Can you see that from the point of view of the completed self, you are (usually) at a decision point, and what you decide determines where you go next? So if you want advice, it is always available. If you want prophecy, it is always – debatable, to say the least, for what if you are told a future and you go elsewhere? As you have every right to do.”
(4:40) I can feel my energy draining away. A few minutes’ nap leaves me leaden and sad, or anyway dull. I’m tired of traveling, now, and all I have in front of me is the rest of today and an artificially long day tomorrow, with no thing to look forward to, only things to be endured. Worst and hardest is to anticipate – to experience already! – the ebbing of my mental alertness into dullness and cow-like endurance.”
Then to Glasgow central, and a train-bus combination to the airport, and dinner alone at a Holiday Inn, with American pop music unfortunately in the background. I go to bed early and hope to sleep as long as possible: The plane isn’t leaving until 12:45 p.m.