Traveling and Gymnastic Gyrations of Girls of Glasgow

Traveling and Gymnastic Gyrations of Girls of Glasgow


31 DSC_0370August 8 am Wednesday – Glasgow: Reflections on the Imperative to Travel I’ve traveled most of my life, in one way or another. As a poet and artist, my travels are of the mind and spirit. As a person, my wanderings have taken me around the globe. I could not imagine life without traveling and discovering.  The travels are not necessarily the “oohs and hash,” snapshot photos of places I’ve been. Like all of us we do want the iconic picture of sunset in Venice or moonlight at the Taj Mahal, but I want more of the essence of the experience.  Taking the time to breathe and travel. Not hurried from place to place, not on the demand of a schedule, but the imperative of no imperative.  I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor, and believe me, rich is better; nevertheless, I would rather be a footloose vagabond wandering the globe, with few possessions, than the Pasha of Para.   A suitcase on wheels, my travel guitar, art and writing stuff, passports, and my best travel buddy Zoe … I am all set.  A woman had asked, “How do you plan all of your travels?”  I said without pause, “As the wind blows.”

As Erasmus said, “If I have money I buy books and if I have any leftover I buy food.” For me, “If I have money I travel and if I have any leftover I travel some more.”

Nevertheless, in my Libran homebodies. I love the ease and familiarity of home, that I can wander around without glasses and I know where every light switch is and can navigate fairly easily. (Though I do need to take a sharp detour here, last month I wanted a pinch of salt for my toast and reached for the white salt container on the kitchen table and soon realized it was carpet cleaner.  Maybe there are some merits to wearing glasses.)

I’ve been in Vermont since April 2016 to August 2016 – four months – I was restless to travel again a month after coming back from winter travels. However, I was able to channel that travel lust in to my work, writing, and art at home. I love my home in Vermont. I love waking up and walking outside at any time of the year. I love the quiet and sanctuary of home, the time to dream huge dreams and make them come true. I love the time to create and make big art projects. Tennis any time I’d like and can manage with my aged knees. Blue Heron Pond is sanctuary.

It is curious that my Zoe and I have traveled and lived around the world. We cherish the multicultural world of languages, the mosaic of people in all the ways that people are, and of course – nature from mountains to , deserts, oceans, and our beloved woods in Southern Vermont.

For every traveler, no matter how peripatetic, the compass points to a place called home. For all of us, what is that place called home? Is it a place of spirit, discovery, and a place in your bones and soul that is rooted for dreaming?

Yes, we have that magnetic compass that is defined by the land, mountains, rivers, sounds of birds, the change of seasons, the flowers that appear throughout the year. Nevertheless, our compass points we towards points around the globe that we love to visit time and time again.  There are too many of them to count. It is time in Isla Negara in Chile with friends from around the world and dinner at Sandra’s funky Eco-lodge. It is fun time with friends in Pana in Guatemala and celebrating a wedding. It is dreaming together and make a workshop with new friends in Algeria. It is creating art projects to celebrate peace with fellow artists in Santiago. The fun time playing doubles in Malaga in 40! (C). the time to be with our community in the mountains of the Dominican Republic doing community projects in San Jose and Biota.  In Marrakesh last year renting a cheap 4 bedroom house outside of the walls of the old city near the leather market and inviting friends to come and show them the enchanted Marrakesh.

Imperative to travel: – Though some like Emily Dickinson who never traveled her dreams took her far.  There are some friends who rarely travel, but through a bit of luck, grace and effort have made this journey

A poem from Glasgow.

“Girls in the Gym and Love Making in Glasgow”

In my hotel across the street

from a gym with large windows,

the young women in leotards

and halter tops were busily sweating

for me. Their legs pumping high and

then thrusting forward with a vigorous

shout. Their cheeks blushed and wet hair

across their faces. Weights in either hand

as their muscles were quivering. And then

lying back legs spread with scissor kicks,

wide stretching, then side to side, and finally

the tummy thrusts. Lying back their pelvises

thrusting upwards and I could almost hear

their collective ecstatic yelps.

Though some twenty meters away, I was nip

and tuck with their orgiastic gymnastics, thrusts,

and sweaty gyrations.

A vigorous morning at the gym!






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