Notes from the Celf

Notes from the Celf as I listen to Jörn* composing.....

[Trying to shake off the frozen state I have fallen into. 

I go from exhaustion to sudden emotional bankruptcy .....]

~ find a corner to write in & write into my phone~

It rained all day.....I start . And stop.... and stare at nothing infinitely 

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I can see how the isolation may soon become too loud

the ghosts get louder

     as they leap from the attic


I don’t realize till now

how long it has been

since I noticed .... a reflective

.....reply

oh where have I been but in such a frenetic hurry and only now notice total exhaustion —what is happening to me, I wonder? I slip deep into thought and don’t notice

Jörn has been composing

The deep sounds of the piano that arrived Friday echo under the high ceiling of the empty, modern, renovated, barn house. I’m sure the sounds carry off for miles away, but we are far from any neighbors. The nearest is several miles down a hill


his music echoes through my thoughts .... his new works from the past few weeks have become more somber in tone. They seem to follow the course of dreams that lately have surfaced since the occurrence with .... what happened

those nightmares of deception .... deceit.... treachery

sometimes I have disturbed Jörn’s sleep when I call out from dreams suddenly in terror and he looks so shocked and worried among my fits of screams that wake me up


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Later:

Thoughts of DNA memory

....of course I have considered the DNA factor in respect to my  mother’s side. So I think about this a lot .... As they were all blond and mostly with blue eyes from the Russian side .... so it has often lead me to wonder if they had, indeed, descended from the Rus

I always find fascination with the secrets of the earth; like fossils and .... excavations —I should have been an archeologist but anyway..... 

I don’t know if my personal obsessions ....you know.... are behind the reason for these particular obsessions for me —as in my search to define in my dictionary, word for Celf; for identity .... to identify—with? To indentify with anyone; someone ..... (UFO’s?) And then as in origins because—I search everywhere..... as I have never belonged anywhere. Not to any name either ....the name on my birth certificate is a lie; denied by the namesake himself; disowned

this stigma of illegitimacy that before I even knew the words or their exact meanings.... I felt ....shame 

and for me unnameable as I could not fathom what he meant when he called me that....  “nigger-baby bastard!” 

I just knew it wasn’t good. And it made my skin feel filthy. All the way inside. 

And defeats me.

To not be able to wash off this shame ....

This obsession I have to be clean ....

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But there are times when I know and remember meeting him as a child. Him. My Agamemnon 

Like a memory I forced away and buried deep. But I do remember him.

I associated him with kindness and acceptance but something even more than that too. He spoke to me like s person not a child and he listened to what I said and I remember his smile ....and our Thursday telephone talks .... that my mother never spoke of after he died and told me things were not real that I knew had happened

this was how the two realities overlapped. Why I had to keep track of both

when to deny

when to pretend

when to lie and be it for good

when a lie was bad in someone else’s favor

I had to learn to keep track

to maneuver in this world I lived in

His music blends with his voice....

I watch him write on sheets of music paper but now as he plays he brings words to the notes —he sings in hesitant phrases at first as he composes ....then he writes it down

What did I call out to him in sleep? I suddenly fear because I remember his wife’s face in my dream .... and my sister’s and realize something about why his wife, Lisa had looked so familiar to me

Gerald once said about souls that they tend to reincarnate in clusters ...those we knew incarnate in time together ....to meet again in order to accomplish something necessary to their reason for existence; he said sometimes the years can be off by a few or by even decades because age is only relevant to the present meaning, but not in the infinite sense

And so, If the smeden left behind their twins how possible would it be for one of that line might have landed somewhere near Minsk? 

.....If you consider how small the human population was, it is no great stretch to know that who has survived came from that gene pool thanks to survival of the fittest







*happy birthday