We're celebrating the departure of, well that already sounds funny. But i think with contracts the way they are we all sort of view it as a sentence of some sort- so she 'escaped' and 'got out' and happens to be thinking about moving to iceland to open a korean restaurant with her husband so ... we're excited even though walking in monday and her being gone just blows obviously- yet another change in the notes of a far away workplace. We went out and had bbq pork and soju and a strange yogurt thing with shaved ice. J did her monologue since the k teachers didn't make it out to see and scandalized at least one of the teachers there who is pretty conservative. J and J both went to see fortune tellers before they set out on their journeys oddly enough, and we talked a little bit about church and k said she was only a sunday church goer. I heard her, and there was some sort of pain there i couldn't reach. It was frustrating because it was the sort of thing I wanted to hear more about- it was such a plain admission of ambivalence, that i wonder why she goes at all... searching i know, for something or the routine's a comfort? But still. And then we called it a night.
So k dropped us off at the top of the hill because for some reason that 5minutes down the hill and back up just does her in so we walked and the night was warm. J said that p and c were meeting on the beach and that i should come. I said ok. This happens to me, to all of us perhaps? Where we just get sucked into someones orbit and we can't leave. It's not even tormenting though bothersome maybe, but suddenly we find ourselves just going along, which is how last week i found myself at the bar and dance club. But anyway, we head down and the wine flowing. I have a sip. We get on the subject of cartwheels and i do one. Which was a good feeling to overcome that initial how do i defy gravity. I put my feet in the water. I look out at the calm sea. You know, we're having moments. Because it's that sort of night. C, he leaves. The girls start saying things like this is the best night of my life, and let's go swimming, and on and on into some sort of ecstacy of being to which when they say, isn't this excellent, i cheekily say, eh, so so. We laugh. I crack them up. I remain sarcastic as they exhalt in their new found loose carefreeness. We walk along the beach and out to the lighthouse that marks the jetty. They remind me of temple women talking sex, talking objects of fertility, of men and women, more wine, and dancing out at the sea.
I wonder at them quietly, contemplating, taking the dark in. I am silent. They goad me and pass the wine to me, thinking that if i have more, if i just... i will be like them, dance like them, come into some sort of way of being with them. It's always been this way with me and people like this, a tension, a love but a gulf, I never cross. Whatever it is, I remain on the edge. I think, is this really the best night? Have they never had nights like this before? Is it really their first? Am i witnessing not just drunken revels but something more they've never had. After all we're on an island. We've come here, wanderers, each of us in moments of discovery. Is this theirs?
And then I walk along the wall, and they above me. I absentmindedly put up the hood of my long black sweater. It draws their attention. Suddenly I'm legolas from lordoftherings. No, J, says, she's jesus. It makes Pocket uncomfortable. But J isn't swayed. Surely i am. She says, she's a wise woman. They both agree. They climb down the wall ahead of me and i see a narrow bamboo pole. I pick it up and then decide they'll get a kick out of it, to go with my sage like ways. They laugh. They see it immediately. J says, the Lord is my shepard. She doesn't know the rest, but that it was something dear to her when she was young. Something she walked away from to the universal embrace of 'divine' and 'source'. Pocket doesn't have a faith. She resists. I said, do you want me to recite it for you? J says, yes! I do. I can feel the charge of emotion as I speak it. I feel it resonate and floor them quiet. J says, I'm going to cry. I love it. Pocket says I love the part about the oil on the head. I say, it's a blessing. It's the oil of joy. We walk on. I break the mood with hamlet. We talk idle things. They love me. They pour their love on me. They want me to go to Seoul with them. I literally say, it's not my path. J smiles knowing. But still. But still. They say. Come.
And then Pocket asks if I go to church. If I'm religous. Not one of those judmental places? Something different? I say I pray for people. J says, she does. She has healing hands. Do you want her to bless you says J? Pocket says yes, that she could do with a blessing. I say ok. I put my hand over her head and i feel the warmth come into my palm. I sit in silence and see her in a vast field of flowers. I say, you don't know Him but He knows you and cares for you. He knows your worth and your value... something else, and then a simple end. Not too much. Just a sip. J says, Pocket, you'll accept the divine into your heart when you're ready, the truth of what k said. Pocket nods. She feels bare I can sense. We talk a little bit more, but the mood has shifted to something heavy and thoughtful, and then we break apart quiet and somber and go our seperate ways.
