I’m in Denver, Colorado this week—fire and ice—when I’m outside, the sun beats down on me and threatens to melt me down into a pool of biomass, human goo—when I’m inside, the air conditioning freezes and shatters my atoms—I am not a body but a collection of icicle shards.
You: Are you having a good time?
I don’t know.
I think, after I leave, I will tell you—Yes! I’ve had fun. Right now—I am glad I’m here. I want to be here. It’s important to be here. But am I having a good time?
I don’t know about that.
I’m away from my fam this week and I miss them—don’t miss them. I don’t miss them in the mornings when I can be utterly selfish and just about me and do all my own things. I miss them at bedtime for a while—nobody to give goodnight kisses to, however will I sleep?—but then crawl into bed when I please as I please, knowing no one will wake me up in the night—yes. It be heaven, just a little taste of heaven, my darlings.
I love you, my darlings. But I am treasuring these slices of solitude.
Busy-not-busy, tired-not-tired, missing-not-missing, what do people want? People want to be loved and understood. They want to belong. They want to be part of something greater than themselves; among them, a few also want to contribute to this thing greater than themselves.
Most basic needs, those.
Moses gave them stone tablets and a codified religion.
What am I giving them?
(Don’t worry, I’m too lazy to start a new religion. But everything boils down to this, really: people want to be loved, understood, to feel they belong… to have a chance to contribute—often in as small and effortless way as possible—to THE THING. Wait. That gives me an idea…)
Busy-not-busy-busy-not-busy. Do I want it this much? I don’t know. Not at any price.
I’m meeting dozens, possibly hundreds, of people every day. I’m listening. Trying not to talk too much but to really listen. Look for seeds, beginnings. Try to figure out—what will I nurture when I get back home? How do I choose?
You: I thought your motto was “why choose.”
Jane: You always have to choose. Something.
Sometimes, I panic. Today, I won’t.
So many ideas. Not enough time. But that’s not true. I have all the time there is—I have all the time I need—I have everything I need, and when I don’t have something, I ask for it.
Thinking about radical honesty and radical compassion—I’ll tell you about it later. Missing strangers. Reluctant to see friends. So much to do.
I have all the time I need.
You: Self-indulgent as fuck.
Jane: And that, my love, is the beauty of a not-for-profit blog.
—->>>POSTCARDS FROM CUBA
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