Thoughts on Transitions
I am the vein, constant in flowing, away from the source. Rome, the contents of the needle, fizzing and fermenting within its enclosed space, waiting for the thumb to send the thick liquid shooting. The entering into movement is the downward thrust of the thumb; Rome is omnipresent, it is any destination that follows a decision. As Rome enters me or I enter Rome, flourished visions cross ancient statues, cross jumbled cobbles, cross a multitude of faces who walk with obscured eyes because the fashion is for oversized sunglasses. What Rome can give is only what I allow myself to see and here I am dilated, these pupils could not open any further.
First I must back-up, into reverse, past the hellos and good-byes, past the packing and the mental preparation. It all begins with a decision, seemingly the simplest part and equally, the most disconnected piece in the whole process of movement. To say, “Yes, in two months time I will be moving back to Rome.” To say, “In four months time I will transform water into wine and cause bread to multiply of itself, so that those who go hungry shall not.” Or to say, “Tomorrow I am going to wake up early.” Oh, how far away words are from actions. To have left Oakland, after saying for months that soon I would be leaving, felt as separate as words are from their meaning. Though, of course, without formulating ideas into words, actions could not be possible, but words do not cause actions.
Two months time came to pass, my excess stuff was discarded, the rest packed in suitcase and boxes, I got on the plane, I got off the plane; it was just as easy as all that!? This transition lacked the dramatic, as I believe myself to be better able to remain in the present. Finally learning to not look so far ahead into the future for eventually I will get there. Anyway, that hyper-forward thinking blocks out the moments to be experienced now, moments that become memories remembered in times of nostalgia. They will always be there within me, vivid and alive, for that I give thanks!
And now, “Ciao bella!” A time of transition to accompany every movement and flow. Rome is flowing through my veins in a constant of stimulation, assisting me in biding my time, until there is an apartment, a room with a desk on which I may place this loving typewriter. Rome is as fecund as the virile earth, the city comes to me in my sleep and whispers into my mind words my fingers become giddy to transcribe. Rome is the cradle of creation; to experience this pleasure I will wait and wait and wait. Amen!
Formello, Italia
April 2007
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