Dreaming Out Loud

Dare We Be Happy Despite The Hell They Created?

“Everything here appears calculated to inspire kind and happy feelings, for everything is delicate and beautiful. The very light falls tenderly from above, through the lantern of a dome tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands.”

Washington Irving, Tales of The Alhambra

When writing stalls, for several weeks, I find myself like a befuddled Disney character, some kind of Giuseppe, tossing pieces of fascinating bits and pieces around my workshop until I find the perfect thing that is what I wanted to describe.

”Where is it?”

The paradox is that the more I collect the harder it is to begin. I’m back in that place of being unsure of the coherence or appropriateness of what I have to say, but deciding to stumble forth anyway. It will “make sense” even if this may not happen in this particular post. I truly have an important message. (This post will contain photos and videos that are not always explained.)

I did not, in fact, have internet when I thought I did about a week ago, but this is through no fault of Spain’s.

About Spain, I am passionately protective, in love with everything I see and hear, unable to stop taking pictures of details—people, doors, tomatoes, stop/go signs. I’m overcome by a persistent luminescence of what it all seems to mean.

It’s not about “travel,” or about Spain, certainly not about me.

It’s about the absolutely breathtaking fact that (according to me) they (the Poisoners) can not succeed, will not succeed, and are quite possibly already defeated. And the way I know this by observing Spain, very carefully, and collecting what you might call “data” about the eminent survival of the perfectly human spirit. A land governed by what seems to be an invisible fleet of benevolent spirits issuing respect for one and all.
Where is all the injuring I’m so accustomed to? About that (poisoning and the nature of injury culture,) this latest by Toby Rogers is jaw-dropping.

I’m trying, here, to introduce a new theme, in the next crop of writings to come. If they seem to be “about” Spain, per se, then I will have failed. It is about something that I see and discern through the lens of Spain.

I'm fascinated by the evidence for the survival of the human soul, beneath the mummy bandages of “Covid.” I remember vividly what it felt like to be dead. Now I want to chronicle becoming un-dead, by any and all means possible.

The human spirit, and our ability to love, is the answer, the counter-prayer, and the cure for this vile attack, this slithering monster lizard set loose by, as Toby Rogers writes, sociopaths. These are people who never think of love, only of domination and spite.

They have nothing except ever cheapening spells about “variants” of their spectral deity (SARS Cov-2) which they hope will be enough to get us to lose interest in life again. Our own lives.

No.

The way forward, and I do not intend to make this sound preachy, or easy, but the way forward is to live brighter, fuller and more lovingly than ever—because of Covid.

As shell shocked, and deeply wounded as we are.

For me, going to Spain for my son’s wedding, and simply not returning to the US, was how I was able to shed the Covid-mummy bandages.

I soaked my senses in Spain, and Spanish people, just being how they naturally always are, and soon I was not feeling like a fossil anymore. I was feeling human. Happy. Amazed. Hopeful.

The Covid Beast is a vampire that feeds on hopelessness, so don’t feed it what it eats, ever ever ever. Don’t do it in the name of informing people or “waking them up—” just don’t do it.

What, then? We ignore reality?
No, we expand our willingness to look beyond the images they have projected onto us.