Introduction:
A surface level synopsis of Lonesome Dove would state that this 800 page book is about a pair of aging Texas Rangers who are chasing sunsets in the sunset of their life. Although this is a sufficient synopsis and read at this level, I would argue that the meat of the novel lies in the longing of each character that we meet along the journey to Montana. Each character (big and small) brings a unique perspective and longing along the trail that drives them forward and gives meaning to the life that they are encountering in the barren deserts from Texas to Montana. For the sake of ease, I will be starting my characterization with the minor characters of the story as their longings are more simplistic and are presented in a more obvious way that serve more as a pointing arrow to the underlying current of longing that fills all of the characters, particularly our main characters albeit in a more complex and convoluted way. Dishwater Boggett (Dish): We meet Dish in chapter four of the novel and learn that he earned his name “because he had once rushed into camp so thirsty from a dry drive that he wouldn't wait his turn at the water barrel and he filled up on some diswater the cook had been about the throw out”, but “he was a good hand and could always get hired” (45). He’s an experienced cowboy with his feet on the ground, that is until he encounters Lorena. In this same chapter we learn that “he had just delivered a small horse herd in Matamoros and had ridden nearly a hundred miles upriver with just Lorie in mind” as he “had already been with her four times and had a vivid memory of how white she was: moon-pale and touched with shadows, like the night outside” (49). Dish came to the town of Lonesome Dove solely to visit Lorena, the resident whore that lives above the Dry Bean’s sole saloon. Dish is able to have paid transactions with Lorena, but he reveals that “it was hard to to make a girl realize you had special feelings for her when she wouldn’t look at you, didn’t hear you, and made your throat clog up” and “it was even harder to live with the thought that the girl in question didn’t want you have to have special feelings” (49-50). Dish longs for Lorena, for the whole duration of the novel (literally all 800 pages), and Lorena has no interest at all. Her longing lies elsewhere. Jake Spoon Another minor character with a clear path of longing is Jake Spoon. We meet Jake Spoon in chapter 6 when he rides into Call and Augustus’s ranch and it is revealed that he was once a Texas Ranger with them. He serves as the igniting force of the story as he prompts his old friends to leave the safety and complacency of Texas and head to Montana when he says, “Round up some of these free cattle and take ‘em on up. Beat all the other sons of bitches, and we’d soon be rich” (69). Ultimately, the old Texas Rangers (Call and Gus) find hope in a new longing for a new land by the recommendation of Jake Spoon. They follow his advice and head north, but along the ride we learn of the true longing of Jake Spoon, which is quite contradictory to his old friends Call and Augustus. Jake Spoon “just dreamed his way through life and somehow got away with it” (68). He chased pleasure, ease, and for someone else to take care of him. This is stated most clearly when Gus is explaining to Lorena why Jake abandoned her in the desert while en route to Montana when he says, “Jake Spoon has never taken care of nobody…not even himself. He’s the world’s child, and the main point about him is that he’ll always find somebody to take care of him” (180). Jake’s longing for ease and his desire to be a forever child eventually causes his downfall when he goes along with some horsethieves and murders. These wild men serve as makeshift caretakers for Jake as he too was on the run after killing two men. However, their caretaking duties are cut short when none other than Call and Gus track them and eventually hang them in the name of justice. The hanging takes place in chapter 74 (a really beautiful chapter), but Gus’s perspective on Jake’s ending can be found in chapter 78 when he states, “Jake wasn’t a killer…He liked to joke and didn’t like to work. I’ve got exactly the same failings. It’s lucky I ain’t been hung” (627). This quote is illuminating of the character/longing of Jake Spoon, but it also highlights the complexity that we’ll cover in the longing of our main protagonist, Augustus. Lorena Wood We learn of Lorena in chapter two, but we do not get a fair description of her until chapter three which states, “Lorena had her usual look – the look of a woman who was somewhere else. She had a fine head of blonde hair…her cheeks hollowed a little – it gave her a distracting beauty” (46). She was a beautiful woman, a woman that men would ride miles to see yet let alone visit, but she was also a woman who was cragfast. Her circumstances in her early life have led her to live a life of prostitution in the upper room of a small town’s saloon. Following this brief physical description, we learn that Lorena is longing for elsewhere and that elsewhere happens to be San Francisco merely because “San Francisco sounded the coolest and the nicest” (36). She longs for an escape from the heat and the hardness of life, but she is also longing for the person to take her there; then enters Jake Spoon. Jake Spoon, the smooth talking gambler who “just dreamed his way through life and somehow got away with it”, woos Lorena quickly with his “big muddy brown eyes”(68, 147). Lorena “was the one who suggested they go upstairs” and upon doing so, “She felt impatient – not for the act, but for Jake to go ahead and assume responsibility for her…She felt confident that Jake Spoon would get her out of Lonesome Dove” (151). Jake is Lorena’s escape plan and she quickly puts the wheels in motion for him to get her there. Together they join the Hat Creek Outfit and make their way to Montana with the plan to stop in Denver and divert west to San Francisco. To Lorena’s surprise, the plan never comes to fruition as Jake abandons her in the middle of the desert and runs off to find a game of cards to win some money. With Jake gone, Lorena’s escape plan quickly diverts to another leading man, Gus. She and Gus had had a transactional relationship previously, which is described in chapter three when she states, “In that respect, Gus was unusual, for most men didn’t talk. He would blab right up until he shoved his old carrot in, and then would be blabbing again, before it was even dry. Generous as he was by local standards – he gave her five dollars in gold every single time – Lorena still felt a little underpaid. It should have been five dollars for wetting his carrot and another five dollars for listening to all the blab” (37). Lorena was not enticed by Gus, he was merely a paying customer at the start of the novel, but after Jake abandoned her Lorena hitches her wagon to Gus as he seems to be her next best option. Lorena and Gus’s relationship progresses along the route to Montana, but fails to meet its own frontier as they make their way to Clara’s ranch…who was the woman “whom [Gus] had loved hardest, and deepest, and still loved” (46). It is here, at the ranch, that Lorena falls in love with the “softer life” that Clara and her daughters are living; soft beds, shelter, and an ease of life. I believe that it is in the home of Gus’s deepest love that Lorena realizes that she was never really in love with Gus, but instead with the idea of landing at a safe elsewhere. Clara’s home had become that new elsewhere and Clara (Gus’s deepest and truest love) was the one to give it to her (such beautiful irony). Clara Allen We get interspersed mentions of Clara throughout the novel, as she is a character that lives relentlessly in Gus’s mind. In chapter 44, Gus states, “Well, Clara was lovely, I expect it was the major mistake of my life, letting her slip by” (343). At the time of their initial meeting, Gus was married to his second wife, but “when his second wife died and he was free to propose, he did one day, on a picnic to the place they called her orchard, and she refused instantly, without losing a trace of merriment” (344). Gus was baffled by her refusal and asked for an explanation, to which she replied, “I’m used to my own ways. You might try to make me do something I wouldn’t want to do.” (344). Here is where we meet Clara’s longing, her desire for independence. After refusing Gus her hand in marriage, Clara accepted a proposal from a wealthy horse trader and together they moved north to Montana. It was there that they made a successful life for themselves. They sold horses, made a living, and started a family. However, tragedy struck them by the hand of the death of all her sons. Their death’s deeply scarred Clara, but her surviving daughters granted her a reason to continue living. As for her marriage to Bob, it was fairly loveless, but Bob allowed Clara to exert her independence and Clara functioned as the head of the house. This capacity further increased when her husband suffered a traumatic head injury after being kicked in the head by one of their horses. This injury left Bob unofficially brain dead and confined to his bed lifeless with his eyes stuck wide open. It was through tending to her dying husband that she realized that life wasn’t that different as the man hardly spoke nor provided companionship before the accident; however, what bothered her was that now he had become totally dependent on her. Again, we encounter Clara’s longing for independence. Toward the end of the novel, in chapter 88, Gus and Clara meet again in her house in Montana. Clara privately entertains Gus away from her children and her new boarder Lorena and it is here that Gus proclaims again his undying love for her in which he says, “I do only love you, Clara. I’ve grown right fond of Lorie, but it ain’t like this feeling I have for you.” (705). To which she replies, “You’ve been my dream, Gus. I used to think about you two or three hours a day” (705). Their mutual love is not enough to progress the situation forward as Clara says, “My husband isn’t dead”, to which Gus replies, “I’d smother Bob for you and send Lorena to perdition” if she were to accept his love again (704, 705). Gus is begging for Clara to accept him, but Clara has come to realize that time and circumstances have changed both of them and with that she ends the conversation with, “I won’t marry again” and “Clara cried, both tears born of vexation, long-affection and regret” as Gus rode off from her property forever. It is then that Clara is again left the head of the household with her daughters and her new boarder Lorena following her lead. Ultimately, Clara’s longing for independence trumps her love for Gus. Augustus McCrae Augustus, I would argue, is everyone’s favorite character in Lonesome Dove. He is playful, honest, child-like, and he is a man with no leash. In chapter 10 he is described as being a man who “loved to live and had no intention of letting anyone do him out of any of his pleasures” (115). He “regarded himself as a miracle” as he had lived through the rough and tumble days of being a Texas Ranger, and now he had settled into the comfort of drinking whiskey in the sun in his sunset years. However, Gus “didn’t want to start working over his memories, like an old man”; instead, he was waiting on his next adventure. That adventure began for him upon Jake Spoon’s return and the talks of Montana and his recent sighting of Gus’s “hardest and deepest” love, Clara (28, 46). In chapter 8, Gus says, “Jake, I notice you’ve not not answered me about Clara. If you’ve been to see her I’d like to hear about it, even though I begrudge you every minute" (75.) It is in this exchange that the coals of Gus’s love for Clara are stirred and the memory and hope of seeing her again mix to propel him to encourage his partner Call to take Jake’s bait and set out on their next adventure. Augustus’s longing is for Clara and it propels him to chase after her again in the sunset of his life. The chapter that is the key to this interpretation is chapter 44, when the Hat Creek Outfit comes across “Clara's Orchard”. In chapter 44, “they rode east and soon picked up the wagon trail into Austin, but they had not followed it far when Augustus suddenly swung his horse to the north”, to which Call says, “That ain’t the way to Austin”; to that, Gus replies, “I just remember something” (343). The reader is then transposed into a memory of Gus and Clara at the “little creek that fed into the Guadalupe” (342). Together they would sit under the shade of the oak trees and picnic before she was married and before he was able to ask for her hand. The memory is painted vividly and the flashback to present time finds Gus with “tears in his eyes that wet his cheeks and glistened the ends of his mustache” (343). Call is baffled by Gus’s overwhelming emotion to which he asks, “What has come over you?”. Gus replies, “Woodrow, I doubt you’d understand. I call this ‘Clara’s Orchard’. Me and her discovered it one day while on a buggy ride. We come here on picnics many a time”. To which Call replies, “Oh, I might have known it would have something to do with her. I doubt there’s another human being over whom you’d shed a tear” (343). Gus then gathers himself and wipes his eyes and says, “Well, Clara was lovely. I expect it was the major mistake of my life, letting her slip by” (343). This exchange is powerful and even more so when the reader arrives at the end of novel and discovers that Gus wants to be buried at “Clara’s Orchard” as his dying wish under the responsibility of Call’s last duty to their friendship. It serves a full circle moment and love letter to not only his love for Clara, but also his love for his life long partner in crime, Call. Woodrow F. Call Woodrow (Call) is a man of duty who sees the world in black and white. He is the complete opposite of Augustus. Call is described as being someone who “was not one to sit on a porch all day, playing cards or gossiping. He intended to work.” (28) Call “had always been one who knew his purpose. His purpose was to get done what needed to be done, and what needed to be done was simple, if not easy” (82). However, in recent years “his day-to-day responsibilities had constantly shrunk over the last ten years and life did not seem easier; instead it just seemed smaller and grown more dull” (28). Call was growing bored of life on the Lonesome Dove ranch as it seemed that all the work had been done. Therefore, when Jake Spoons arrives with news of new land and new work in Montana, Call’s longing for duty is what moves him northward. Call seems so simplistic on the surface, but as the novel wears on and the roads get longer, secrets are exposed to the reader. One of the young cowboys in the outfit is Call’s unclaimed child from the town’s late prostitute. Call hides his past and feels shameful of his relationship with the woman and the existence of his son. In fact, he never addresses it, even at the end of the novel when has the opportunity. Call is a man who longs for duty, but he fails to take up the duty of being a father to his son, Newt. With this stated, Call’s longing is arguably the most convoluted of the novel. However, the reader is granted some clarity in that longing in the form of Gus’s dying wish…his desire to be carried all the way back to Texas to be buried in “Clara’s Orchard”. I believe that Gus’s dying wish was two fold: to be reunited with Clara and to bestow a form of mercy upon Call by giving him a new duty that will carry him into the last years of his life since he has denied the opportunity to live out his fatherly duties which have filled his life with a suppressed rage and shame (see chapter 85 when Call almost kills a stranger in fit of rage over a menial matter). Ultimately, Call longs for duty, but since he feels such incredible shame for his not-so-clean choices in life, he fails to accept it (because of his black and white thinking). Conclusion: Lonesome Dove is a story of longing. Not one character in the novel reaches the fulfillment of their longing, but that reveals a deeper reality. The reality that longing is what propels life forward and moves us into expansion. It pushes us into new opportunities and chapters which is a far better result than the alternative (rotting in the hot upper room of the Dry Bean or aimlessly wandering around the safety of the Lonesome Dove Ranch). Longing moves us out of ourselves and out of the grave of safety. Longing requires propelling action. It moves one foot in front of the other, even if the road is unmarked or labeled ridiculous and impractical by those who sit on their porches in their rocking chairs. Longing is often construed as something negative, as being someone who is never satisfied. When in reality, I think longing is a sign of life and the lack of it is the embrace of death. We are a longing creature and it will never cease even when you get the desired longing. In fact, once we reach the goal, the goal posts move. And, that is not something shameful, but instead I see it as a revelation of our deepest nature…a longing creature that longs to be alive. We long to long. And, when the longing is over, dig the grave. ******Random Thought that I didn't know how to sew in************ Lonesome Dove: Even the name of the city and the title of the novels hints at the underlying theme of longing. One of the most common types of Doves are the Mourning Dove. To Mourn is to long. The dove’s cry has a desired landing place. An echo that extends outward.
0 Comments
 Every little girl grows up dreaming of her wedding and the diamond that will crown her left hand. That's the narrative, right? Well, I must have missed this programming because I never found myself using my vivid imagination to daydream about my wedding dresses, chosen colors, nor my desired diamond that would be presented to me as a man asked for my hand in marriage. No, instead my daydreams consisted of becoming an explorer who built dams alongside beavers. I daydreamed about hitchhiking across America with only five dollars in my pocket. I daydreamed about sitting in a Native American Indian Sweat Lodge as spirit animals were greeted and discussed. I daydreamed about milking a cow and learning how to lasso cattle from the saddle of mighty steed. I daydreamed about hoping on a train and riding the rails only to be dumped off in a mountain town. I daydreamed myself hiking the Appalachian Trail with all of my life’s belongings on my back. I daydreamed about wild adventure. And still do today. This proclivity for the wild led to a childhood adored in “tomboy” clothing, dirt under my fingernails, and tangled hair not foreign to being matted in mud. I was a mess and it was glorious.  Is it obvious I learned to walk and escape my crib at 9 months? It wasn’t until third grade that I felt the first pangs of self-consciousness concerning my own lens of life. I began to feel different, separate, and dare I say like a little bit of a freak. I did not blend in well, I was the tomboy in Michael Jordan’s basketball shoes and playing pick-up football with the boys at recess. The girls in my class were braiding hair and playing “wedding” and any attempt I made to hang out as the “wedding party” left me feeling bored and as if I had wasted my precious recess time. Years have passed, but this sentiment stays the same. Sure, there have been some developments along the way (I traded in my tomboy fashion for a feminine elegance and learned to curl my hair), but I am still that wild little girl. And with that, I still feel that same “otherness” that I felt when I was in third grade as I am still not the woman who daydreams about her wedding or the various arenas that fall under “domestic bliss”. Ultimately, I still feel like an oddball… That is until I read a story like Jane Dotchin’s. Jane Dotchin is a badass woman who makes the 600 mile trek from England to the Scottish Highlands by horseback each year. She takes no map and carries minimal supplies…oh, and she is a mighty 82 years old. Yup, she’s wild.
Jane has been making this annual pilgrimage since 1972. Each year, around the same time, she loads up her pony, Diamond, and she sets out on a seven week trek across her country's countryside. She has no practical reason for this trip, meaning that she is not on some mission to retrieve an item or complete some task, but instead her sole reason for doing it is to enjoy life. When asked her reason for starting this tradition decades ago, she simply answered, “I love camping and I love the countryside”. She’s a woman after my own heart. Her story appeals to my own desire to wander and test the instinctive skills of our own survival as she ventures off with only the minimum: a tent, her food rations, a few personal belongings, and her Jack Russel Dinky all piled up on her pony, Diamond. She has no fancy gear. Instead, all she has is the will to enjoy life and set out on the road ahead. I love this detail because it is a stark contrast to our consumerist culture which has transformed the “outdoor lifestyle” into a competition to see who has the latest Patagonia; and instead, our girl Jane is out here ruling the road with the minimal gear that she has had for the past 50 years.  Jane is a badass wild woman because she does not let the rain, her age, or her limited eyesight deter her from her date with nature. Her story is inspirational to all, but for myself particularly it prompts a validation of my own desires as I travel further into adulthood.
As I travel this winding road of adulthood, I still do not find myself daydreaming about my wedding, babies, or other arenas of “domestic bliss”, but the absence of these desires does make me feel that old familiar feeling of feeling out-of-place…or dare I say behind. But, I quickly snap back to my own reality of recognizing that those are not my desires, even if that is for right now. I do not feel pressured by some hypothetical timeline nor do I feel unfulfilled by not having the picture of “domestic bliss”. Because, again, my desires are rooted in freedom, adventure, new experiences, and embracing my own wildness…my own self as I am. Jane’s story is one that we can all gain inspiration from as she is a simple woman doing a simple task…enjoying life. And, she has reminded me that not every girl’s daydream diamond will be found on the left hand, but instead your Diamond could be the one that carries you into life’s next adventure.
At the age of fifteen he fell in love; not with a high school crush, but with the American West. Mark Maggiori was born in Fontainebleau, a commune of Paris, in June of 1977. His childhood was spent in France, but at the age of fifteen his family took a month-long road trip from New York to San Francisco and this is when he met his love, the Great American West. Mark was struck by the National Parks, the vastness of the plains, and the archetype of "cowboy culture". This trip left a lasting impression on him, but its manifestation would not present itself until later in his life. Mark returned to his home country and was formally trained in academic drawing at Paris’s "Academie Julian". After completing his degree, he then decided to take an artistic detour and pursue one of his other loves, music. In 1997 he formed a successful nu metal band named "Pleymo". The band went on to achieve success and through the various opportunities Mark began to dabble in other creative outlets such as photography, filmmaking, and graphic design. During one of his artistic escapades of filming a music video, he met his future wife Petecia Le Fawnhawk. She was on set as set designer as well as fashion designer for the video. The two artists bonded and Mark eventually made the trip to Oklahoma to meet her family. While on the trip, Mark donned a cowboy hat and Le Fawnhawk’s father challenged his apparel choice by stating something like, “If you a Frenchman are going to wear the cowboy hat, you better know the true story of the cowboy”. So, Le Fawnhawk's father urged Maggiori to visit the “National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum” in Oklahoma City. Maggiori went, and states that he felt as if he was “struck by lightning” and shortly after this visit his Western-themed painting career began. Mark Maggiori’s paintings capture the American Cowboy in a theatrical light via billowing clouds, strong contrasting light, and profoundly realistic portraits. His canvases are large and dominating, but provide comfort as the viewer gets pulled into the lullaby that is the beginning of the West. His artwork is adored in the Western art world and he has won several honors, one which includes being named a member of the “Taos Society of Artists”. I found Mark Maggiori via Instagram and upon first scroll, I was captured by his use of light and his gift of storytelling via a stagnant yet dynamic image. His landscapes capture the beauty of the American Southwest that I have experienced and loved since my youth. Several of his paintings remind me of my summers in New Mexico where I would spend countless hours running through fields and then settling only at night under the moon that hovered above our tents. Mark Maggiori’s pieces arrest me with a nostalgia and a longing for simplicity, adventure, and undomesticated wildness. I hope his art sparks these same feelings for you. P.S. Below are four random facts about Maggiori that I couldn't seem to weave in anywhere, but are worthy of your admiration. 1. He has incredible style. And this denotes for me that his incredible taste doesn’t stop merely at his paintings, but extends into any medium he takes on. And this is inspiring.   2. He loves classic American cars. Check out the photo. Need I say more. 3. His impecable taste extends into his architectural design. This can be seen via his studio in Taos. It is an example of living art and a artistic breakway from the cookiecutter homes we find in suburbia. 4. Mark Maggiori has great music taste. I know this because of what he shares via his Instgram stories. His most recent share was from "Hermanos Gutierrez". When I saw that, I was flabberagsted as they are a smaller band and deserve many more flowers. My favorite song by them is "Cerca De Ti". Give it a listen.
The thin chapters of my childhood are littered with the dialogues of family and strangers complimenting me with the confusing phrase, "You're an old soul". The phrase would slip from their lips as I questioned divinity, humanity, purpose, and free will. I'd often shrug my shoulders at the phrase, not knowing whether it was a compliment or some sort of curse. All I knew was that it felt true as I found myself pondering philosophy while dribbling my basketball in the back alley and worrying for the state of my soul while I played in the creeks of the Evergreen mountains. I was pensive yet playful; I was heavy in thought yet light with a sense of impending freedom...I guess that is what makes an "old soul". One of the first times I recall being called an "old soul" came at the age of six. I was belting out Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly With His Song" in my Grandpa Danny's cigarette smoke filled apartment. You would have thought I was in the local bar at the Thursday evening karaoke night with the performance I was putting on. I was crooning, swaying, closing eyes, holding my heart while singing with little assistance from the words that danced across the karaoke screen. That song was mine and my aunts and uncles would gather around and cheer me on as I sang that song of ache and abandonment. Even to this day, my Uncle Chris says he always thinks of me when he hears the song or its cover by "The Fugees" on the radio. My status as an "old soul" gained more and more footing as I found myself gravitating toward vintage design and styling, classic literature, and the now dead practice of burning CD mixtapes that were filled with 60s, 70s, and 80s music. I was ten years old dancing to 70s r&b in my bedroom, fifteen years old falling in love with Nathaniel Hawthorne's "The Scarlet Letter'' and seventeen years old driving my 1984 Toyota 4Runner through the Harvey Park neighborhood in order to admire the "California-Style" homes from the 70s. I have seemed to always ache for a time that was never mine, but I loved passionately anyways. When I reflect on all these loves in my life that have contributed to my “old soul” signature, I see a vein of similarity that permeates throughout…creativity, vibrancy, and novelty. When I look at the things that are considered "vintage", I see a break from the cookie cutter templates that we are currently functioning in our times. Architecture was creative and unpractical and I am sure it wasn't cost-effective as it wasn't concerned with protecting the "profit margins". Clothing was bright and colorful while being well-made in contrast to the blah functionality of the "Kirkland" specials that literally everyone is wearing. Our current design and styling is too much focused on "blending-in" and protecting the "practicality" and "comfortability" of everyday life that we have lost the fun and appeal of life. Instead, we are left with overly square homes that are called “modern” in place of the historical home in the new gentrified neighborhood. Instead we are left with chain restaurants and stores which create clones of society in every suburb of America. Everything is too blah, too streamlined, too sensible, too predictable. Personally, I would rather live in a world where people are impractical, fun, and expressive than one where we are minimalistic yet so obsessed with an image that has been developed via consumerism rather than by creativity and/or self expression. And, if that makes me an “old soul”, then I’ll take it.
I see the wisdom in expression, in color, art, and a well written novel that is free of SMUT (if you don't know what that is...google it...I just learned about it from a man I met in the sauna). I love a 70s playlist playing while I play a game of pool in my bellbottoms. I have no desire to “blend in” by assimilating into the trends of today in order to maintain some semblance of social status (which is just consumerism and “keeping up with the Joneses”).
I, instead, desire to move under the influence of self-expression and passion. I love what I love even if it crosses genres, eras, and niches. And by embracing the messiness of our own passions, desires, and loves…we find individuality…and the wisdom in expressing your own soul is what being an “old soul” is. It is the ability to unapologetically embrace yourself as you are, in all its mess and glory…no neat lines or boxes necessary. So, put the cookie cutters down and embrace the paintbrush. Bring color into the gray Kirkland ruled world. Decorate a space with thrifted treasures in lue of the Pottery Barn “latest”. Play the funk song that encourages movement in a calcified room. Stop watching “trend reports” and curate your own style. And please, for the love of god, express your soul in a world that seems to be losing its own. P.S. Read "Why Culture Has Come to A Standstill" at the New York Times if you'd like to further dive into the ponderings of why it seems culture has become so bland. I loved his point about how in the past we seemed to be pushing forward with creativity, but now we seem to only be pushing forward with technology and consumerism.
 She spoke to me in Arabic,
I smiled because I didn't understand. She said my cheekbones and dark features Remind her of her people's land. She handed me the Bic lighter As she assessed the angles of my face. She showered me with compliments like a writer, Slowly and then with pace. Her hazel eyes matched my brown As compliments danced across the counter. As two women delighted in ethnic beauty That visits in the white world that surrounds her.
Reading a book at a bar is one of my favorite indulgences. The moments of indulging in warm plates, cool drinks, and compiled words are the simple pleasures that I love to soak in as the summer unfolds. Today's location: A consistent favorite - Agave Taco Bar in Wash Park. My order: "The Traditional" with a Tajin rim & the Steak Nachos. The book: The Power of Myth Author: Joseph Campbell (1904-1987) was an American mythologist, writer, and lecturer. He is best known for his work in comparative mythology and the study of the human experience of myth across different cultures and time periods. Today's quotes and ponderings:
This book has been a beautiful read so far. Campbell is brilliant and the topic of the book combines two of my loves: literature and spirituality. The quotes above are not all that struck me as I tipsily read with my margarita in hand. No, there are so many more quotes and ideas...but I'll save those indulgences for another post...particularly the idea of the loss of ritual in our world. This is something I think about often because I feel that we have lost the sacred and instead are far too concerned with the base demands of the world: money, property, investments, appearances, etc. When we should be living in consciousness that everyday is a sacrament, everyday is a ritual, and everyday is an opportunity to unite with the divine; we just have to open and participate.
|
AuthorBrianna is a proud native of West Denver and she is an avid admirer of the arts. Her admiration of the arts is centered around her draw toward the beautiful and good of everyday life. Brianna finds beauty in a well-worn book, in the eclectic colors and textures of a thrift store find, and in the sound of a killer guitar solo whether it be live or through a well thought out Spotify playlist. Her passions are varied and many, but they all center on appreciating the fullness of life. Archives
October 2026
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed