What mysterious music leads me there?
I have been yearning. It’s no one’s fault. Someone casually mentions a city I’ve visited and loved. A food I associate for its first heart-stopping recognition with a particular time and place. Friends not seen in an age plus two more ages, and miss with all my heart. And off I go. Yearning, once again, to reconnect. To plug my lonely, under-appreciated passport back in to the hot socket and rev it up for travel.
Homesick! Happier than a pig in dirt where I am, loving every minute of my today-is-today life, rejoicing in the beautiful and joyful things that make my existence such a pleasure and a fulfillment–but able on top of all that sugar-frosted wonderfulness to still feel deeply homesick for places and people who make my many other homes, both slightly and exceedingly far away. From my longing distance, I throw kisses to all . . .
To our family all around the world–tied to us two by blood, or by music, by hope and serendipity and adventure. I miss you whenever we’re apart. To those magical places called cities, countries, houses, apartments, ships, fields and forests, or convent cells, that have given us shelter and, far beyond that, a sense of home wherever we may be on this big watery hunk of rock: I miss you every day that I can’t be there. To the memories and sweetness that have arisen from so many escapades and accidents and crossings of the way, I relish even those precious sensory connections that I never would or could repeat; you, I miss you too, and my mind roams your way whenever it can.
Above stairs, below stairs and through a million passages . . .
Beautiful are the passages in life that so stamp us with their marks as to turn up the corners of our mouths in blissful grins on every recollection. That make our eyes blur hazily in that inward stare of endlessness that can take us back at a second’s wishful impulse, taking us back on the vicarious flight to relive a bit of it.
Horrible and wonderful both, these cataclysmic catalysts that make me long, no matter how content, to rise up and run off! A fugitive passage of song, that peculiar light at the end of the hall and behind a certain door; the sound of beech leaves shivering in a breezy rain–suddenly I’m transported to the land of transportation, getting yet again that nearly irresistible urge to hit the road, the air, the sea, the rails. And while I’m not really moved to love the arguably threadbare joys of air travel in these latter days, there is one sound I love above all others that might cause this sort of travel-dreaming reverie and ache in the vicinity of the ventricles, and that is the sound of a train. Rumbling, purring, chattering. Calling out its whistle code to draw me out and wake me as it passes through the sleeping dark on the other side of the ravine to slide its way out of the present night.
. . . and every episode leads me to the next, and the romantic, mysterious next . . .
Art-Colored Glasses 
Now you made me homesick too. Great page. c
“Homesick” seems to apply, for me, to whatever wonderful place I’m currently *not*, so it’s nearly perpetual! The good side of it, of course, is that there are that many places I love that much and that many fabulous people in them. Dang! So complicated!
Beautiful post… And I titled mine today, “Train Going Nowhere.” They say great minds think alike, though my post is nothing like yours other than the train in the title.
I will certainly have to take a ride on *your* Train to compare notes, my great-minded friend! But it’ll have to wait until morning. Too much to wrap up before I can crawl into bed just now. See you soon!
Kathryn
I’m lost in your photos today…to whom does that magnificent instrument belong?
Just looking at them, I can smell the dusty pipe-room of my home church, and hear dear old Bruce make the seamless transition from quiet Offeratory into swelling Doxology…
The pipes in question are in the loft instrument in the chapel of the Episcopal Church of the Incarnation in Dallas, where my husband’s doing his interim-choirmaster gig. His choirs sing in the main nave itself–so far. But since it’s a bit of a trek into Dallas from our place, I go with him when he leaves at 7 a.m. Sundays and attend all three services where he conducts so I can hear all the choirs’ work–well, that means that sometimes between the 11:15 mass and Evensong I’ll take a stroll if I’m not too embedded in writing or drawing. And one Sunday I finally took a stroll *through* the church campus to get a little look around at parts previously unseen, including the chapel. Quite lovely, and I must say, as always I find it just as calming and meditative and thought-provoking to walk through an empty and silent space like that as when it’s in full smells-and-bells mode.
I subscribe to blogs for the poetry and I usually don’t read essays or whatever else someone mixes in with their poems. Yours is the exception – because you always grab my interest. You have a great blog with your mixture of art, photos, poems, & the rest. One thing you might consider: The emails that announce your latest post come to me with the complete post. If you want to switch that so people can’t read the whole without coming to your blog, here are the steps (and it’s very easy): click Dashboard, Settings, Reading. There, look for “For each article in a feed” and click summary.
Brilliant! I’ll try it, thank you, Dennis. And I so appreciate your support and commentary. Many thanks indeed.
Your photographs are so nice, they are all like a story of us, (of our imaginaries or memories…) This train always passing through… sometimes we are in this train, and sometimes we are watching this train… But this is clear by a camera and by words something is being captured…. Wonderful post, Thank you dear Kathryn, with my love, nia
Thank *you*, dear Nia, for once again sharing your gracious support! You said it yourself perfectly, “This train always passing through . . . ” That’s our life.
xoxo,
Kathryn
Yes although I love to travel I think I am with you on ‘the arguably threadbare joys of air travel’ A train is of course an entirely different matter.
Trains. SO entirely different! 🙂
What a beautiful post.
Thank you, sweet Geni! I’m glad you like it.
Your mention at the end of trains and the night reminded me of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.
Good gracious, I have a whole lot of work to do just to see a train through Kerouac’s eyes a little, but I thank you deeply for the inspiration to do that work!
This was a beautifully written post, accompanied by some exceptional photography. I’m very glad you stopped by my blog. Coming here to visit yours has been a real treat!
Thank you, John, you are most kind!
Amazing photography. Love stairs!
http://theeyeoffaith.com
Thank you! And I’m enjoying your blog very much myself!