The man who created personalities created a multifaceted self. He was a molish kind of man. At least that’s who he saw himself as at the moment. To others he was many things. Musician. Artist. Cook, Lover, Artist, Musician, Husband, Gardener, Egoist, Queen, queen, bottom, top, philosopher, poet, arrogant, self-absorbed, insecure, jerk, stupid, lazy bum, but always with that ever morphing idea of Self.
And the “instrument” one needs to learn in order to play out the natural grace of living is the body. Grace leads us to our core, the vibrant entity of our bodily existence.
There are two types of animals inside each of us. They are constantly in a fight for our personalities, one could say our souls.
One is greedy, malicious, selfish, lazy, hateful, bitter and leads to a living kind of hell, a numbness which says nothing about your life, or only that you missed the boat. This part never questions why, but just does, in order to get something: power, money, control, revenge. It runs ever faster to escape listening to its heart.
The other is loving, giving, modest, polite, nonjudgmental, honest, grateful, and leads to a graceful peace who’s value is never in question. This part knows that we can never really know why we are here, but also knows that the heart’s quiet voice nonetheless gives a simple answer: love and let love.
The outcome of the battle depends on which one you feed.
Sometimes I feel twisted, writhing with doubts, questioning my faults. Anyone who questions themselves will find faults. But living with grace allows us to notice and smile and be as modest about our weakness as we are our strengths.
According to my massage therapist, we are human beings, not human doings. I liked that idea. Just be.
Wine is DEFINITELY alive. Each glass speaks to me, and sings from the lips of a large tulip shaped vessel like Pavarotti from the Met. Each bottle tells a story from beginning to end. Wine shared with friends connects us through its life given between our sipping smiles.
Back then Australian wines were becoming widely recognized. California was the hot spot for great wine, but it was already overpriced. On the recommendation of my colleague, I bought a bottle of Australian Shiraz for about $8. I was blown away by the first sip.
It tasted fruity and voluptuous, with a velvety texture. It was thick, almost viscous, with a huge, fruit bomb flavor. I didn’t need to ask the reason for sniffing the wine or swirling it around in one’s mouth. The wine encouraged admiration from every angle. I’ve never forgotten that experience. Beginning with that bottle I formed a connection with an ancient and living tradition.
Bordeaux is the original region of masterful wines in the world. They refined the art of making red wine. But it was the British who spurred the world to appreciate great, aged wine. They collected it and cellared it and cultivated the popularity of drinking imported wine. Otherwise the French would have just kept quiet and drunk it all themselves.
My first sip of the wine melted me. My friends thought I had fainted. It was perfect, at least from the view of my experience. The flavor was complex and subtle, just like the French culture. The mix of grapes, traditional in Bordeaux, formed a unique whole, like a great perfume. It lingered long and evenly on my tongue, opening up as it slid down my throat. It was dry enough to balance the food, certainly much dryer and more subtle than the Shiraz which had started me on this adventure a few years back.