Flying in Sensuous Formation

The romantic novels … that find their way into our reading list … sometimes brings a much needed distraction. Its story telling at its best … with a hint of imagination … and self gratification … thrown into … a restless guilt … that finds its quiet satisfaction. I eventually avoided … stories of the new nurse in the village clinic … or that gal inquisitive about the new bachelor neighbor. It was getting too real. So I went back to the period stories … of swashbucklers … princely barbarians … and highwaymen.

I can't say I've read many … for the sensation from the stories carries … and soon I was dreaming over my school homework … and finding that every gal I ran into was beautiful. It assured me … of the qualities of love … and created a mysterious promise about older women … that I couldn't shake free. And … what we cannot avoid … is naturally the thing … we bring to a closer view.

Has anyone wondered why … cranes … the bird kind … are used to depict an older personality in stories? The Oriental refers to it as … the bird of peace … sometimes doing origami paper models of a bird … that they hang from ceilings … in imitation of flight. The Indic depicts cranes … in Mughal paintings … that adds a touch of unattachment … to the painting. I figured … it has a specific reference to the experiences of human passion … but couldn't put my finger to it.

It wasn't until … I ran into a family of cranes … nesting near a river … that runs alongside a cafe … I frequent ...that I had my first hand account of its grace. It has a smaller body than swans … and takes off … and lands easily in confined spaces. Its white plumage … adds a vivaciousness … to its body … that is quite sensuous. Then I saw it. Just before he lands … he brings out his long legs … tucked a little under his body … and keeps the body straight … for the landing.

I realized then why it was such a favorite bird with Indic painters. But before I dismissed it … my mind … sailed over to old Indic gentlemen … deprived of their youthful sexuality … who might have found the crane … an uncanny substitute … for their past longings. In association with the wandering thoughts of old age … that finds a story in most things … the crane … comes to represent the way … these men have overcome their childhood pangs of deprivation … and play again with their minds … in the fields of possibilities.

Its a cold … hard reality … out there … filled with willfulness and strength of character … to see ourselves through … the imperatives of income and survival. We bring to that … our own arrangement of mind-set … from our childhood. Sometimes it works great … simply the arm and leg … of a society … that walks around with earphones … has 300 friends but they are all on facebook … and meets up with buddies at the cafe … to finger touch … their own cellphones … and keep their heads bowed to themselves … at a common table.

But like children with toys … we do tire. And beyond the electronic chatter … we look around and find grandma and grandpa … like nesting cranes … secure in their mind-set … and away from the instruments … of modern society … that was supposed to help us … deal with our lives … and make things easier. At this point … we wonder if we ought to disconnect from the internet service.

I disconnected … and took back my home and my privacy … from the self-reversed glare … of the world's attention. It took some doing … and I found myself being hounded … about dropping out … but eventually … re-discovered my innate impulses and thoughts … without it being suggested … by a blog … or website. I use the internet service at the cafe … been re-experiencing food flavors by cooking … started to watch the plants outside … grow. And then I saw the cranes.

Its been considerably helpful … in reviewing thoughts … and I get self-conscious these days … when I step into the shower. There's something curious here … about youth that doesn't want self conscious … compared to age … that seeks to find its self conscious again. And we do that in all the strange places … that we have hidden our own alert attentiveness … to issues. It appears to me sometimes … we have even told ourselves … to stop caring so much. That certainly has a toll.

I realized one day recently … that I had killed my crane. Well … actually … its been that way for sometime. It happened in a flash … and I'm still figuring what happened. They fly in formation … and justify an assurance … that everything is right and is the way it should be. I still like to find that out for myself. The assurances of our societies … fathers … friends … blogs … are still exactly what they are. Each brings a specific view … and would like for us to believe them. I re-discovered my youth in some ways … and that's taken me off promises … and to rely on what I see and know. Its not about the truth … but an ideal.

The cranes still fly overhead on occasion … over a home … that is distinctly individual and separate … from the world which I experience … at the internet cafe. And I think I want to keep it that way for a while. I've stopped subscribing to this site … with this wonderful gal who is in communication … with visitors from the stars. I did that as a kid … it was like a personal God. I like my cranes on the ground nesting and I'm not shy about confessing that I find their slender bodies … quite an invitation … to my imagination.