Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Of Things Forgotten

Lookout for Pirates Wendy!

Not that i think you harmless Wendy (i do know you to be quite fierce), but pirates can be awfully tricky—crafty—and now that i must be away from you for so long each day i take concern over you. So be cautious. Be alert. As always though, be adventurous; there are so many corners of the Neverland that even i have yet to find!




You know the other day we had gone with our crew of two lost boys and one, very rare, lost girl to the Sciencenter? Well our little lost girl Auburn taught me quite a striking lesson as we carried on in the live animal room (imagine if we walked in once and all of the animals had been loosed from their confinements: cockroaches, snakes, frogs, geckos, and more all slithering/crawling/leaping about :-0 ). The lesson came as you were hoisting her up to see the turtles (she is still a little short for solo viewing).
They were painted turtles and you will, i hope, remember that there was one turtle who jostled to and fro with such energy that he truly seemed frantic to be out of his confinement. i imagine that, perhaps, he could see his stickier frog and gecko neighbors climbing the walls of their confinements and was seeking, himself, to do likewise. i almost felt to cheer him on as we watched—sorry, tangent: course correcting—
So here was this odd little turtle—quite a spectacle, really—and, as you held Auburn up to see, she didn't. Though she was now eye level with the turtle she coukd spare him none of her attention. She looked at everything but the turtle: the floor, the walls, the ceiling, curtains, the confinements. How very odd, i thought. Auburn became, in the moment, more of a spectacle than the turtle.
How could she fail to see the turtle?
Why wasn't she taking interest in such zany aquatic behaviors?
Why was everything stationary of more interest to this little girl than the wonder of natural life?
In all candor, and with not a little embarrassment in the admission, my first conjecture was that finding wonder in things would be something Auburn would just have to be taught by you or i. For the very briefest of moments i thought that perhaps her little mind, little eyes, and little heart were just not ready to take in all of the Neverland. Then wisdom spoke, and wisdom told me that little Auburn was more native to Neverland than even i.
The lesson was this:
Little infants never fail to find wonder.
Little infants find wonder in everything.
It is adults who came up with the idea of ordinary. We, as we grow, lose an interest in little things. We call them routine and, disparagingly, ordinary.
What a rather ugly word is ordinary. Yet i have been using it for a lifetime.
i thought, with a rather great deal of arrogance, that i had quite keen eyes for wonder in the world. As i walked and explored i would congratulate myself on finding a new insect, or a new leaf, or a new path. i thought that mine was a mind in tune with the wonders of the world. What a pygmy i am, however, by comparison to this little girl. This little Auburn who understands that exploration involves more than wandering about to new locales. Our lost girl who knows that if we are still, the world will change about us; that wonders need not be sought out, for wonders are brought to our very doorstep at every moment.
No, she was not missing the turtle—i was missing everything else.
Thank her for me will you?

Oh! And Wendy i learned something so very important. i learned it only just yesterday and that puts it so very far down on my list of all i can tell you, but it has to be told today as the energy of it is so strong with me! i learned that, while there are so very many differences between a man and a boy, there need only be one real difference: charity.
The world will teach that a man is more sober than a boy. More serious.
A man is to be more powerful than a boy.
It is taught that men must put away imagination, carefree play, and craziness.
None of this is really necessary though, is it?
The real difference between a man and a boy is simply that a man is a boy who has learned to love and care for others.
Wouldn't you agree?
As i dance around in play with our little lost children and you, my fairest Wendy, i feel more right than in anything else.
The world doesn't need heroes. It doesn't need men of great power. All that the world needs is to have fun, with fair attention given to those in need.
i feel i gave up a lot of the boy in me over the past several years in an effort to be more of a 'man'. Do not worry though Wendy, for i remember exactly where i left each piece of my boyishness, and i am off to get it back!

.peter

Location:Neverland

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

And That's How it Happened




Dearest Wendy,

Trusting my last letter reached you i am sending on another quick note with Tink. It is my hope that she will carry with it good fortune (and not a little pixie dust) so that you and i may enjoy an outing today in the Neverland (of Trumansburg ;)

i wished to tell you about Alice White and how she came to be in my head. You see it has been so very long that my mind has been been caught up in logic and reason; so caught up, in fact, that there has been little room for fancy, whimsy, passion, or epiphany. i have learned to consider myself quite a smart boy, full of knowledge and wisdom to impart. In reality, however, i have, as T.S. Elliot put it, lost wisdom in knowledge and knowledge in information.
i was looking for reason to everything—reducing everything to mathematics. If A then B. The truth is, however, that sometimes if A then Q, and for the truly inspired if A then sometimes €.
Do you know what i mean?
All of my efforts at logic and reason ruled out the greatest reason that we do anything: because in our hearts we know it to be right.
Sometimes there is no answer to why, but our heart beats loudly, Do it!
i often wondered why i had so easily found you, my dearest of companions, and yet could not so easily find any other direction in my life.
You have seen me struggle over it.
You have seen me ponder, reason, and frustrate.
You have been patient throughout and gently, the other day, drew my attention to my obsessions and how they came to be, and then there it was clear as day: in all my going-ons i had begun to let my brain lead the way, and brains are terrible drivers.
When i happened upon your goodness my heart had been conducting me for a long time. No reason. No logic. Just a feeling that each choice was a great one; the right one. And so there you were, and i knew immediately (and forever) that i wanted to fly with you at my side. i barely knew you, but my heart knew enough.
This is the instinct that carried me for so long. It never failed me. Then logic came along and betrayed me, promising greatness and power. Well, i have now seen greatness and power and i choose to give it back. i choose to trust my heart once more and the fancy that convinced your Ladyship to come with me to this Neverland.
Will you fly with me again?


So this is how Alice White came to be. My brain had quieted down and my heart was now driving. Gerret (our youngest lost boy), the other day, brought me a project he had made: half an egg carton full of bottle caps and a cork. (You remember it?) Well, the cork caught my eye. It was a smoothed and straight cork, unlike any i had known, with a kangaroo stamped down the side, and it bore the name Alice White. That's it. Just that. Something about it caught my eye and i couldn't let it go. i really had no idea what was happening at first, there was just this unique fancy i took to the cork and i removed it from the project and handled it compulsively.
Then it happened—a voice just jumped into my head and it said, "Whether or not it all happened in her head is less important than whether or not she can take you there too." it was a funny experience, one i had not known for quite some time. It was the discovery of a character and a story. It was just this line, but i knew it was a man and i knew he was talking about Alice White. What's more, i knew that Alice White was to be Alice of Wonderland and that Wonderland was precisely where this gentlemen was curious to go.
Isn't it strange and delightful how that happens?
i shall write this short story—this interview of Alice White of Wonderland—and we shall see where it goes (down the rabbit hole, likely) and yours shall be the first eyes and the first heart to read it.

Well Wendy i must be off. i shall find you later and we shall go hunting for pirates (or whatever there is to be hunted in Trumansburg).

.peter


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Neverland

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Autumn is Burning

Wendy!

i woke this morning to one bright star and couldn't help but feel like she was watching me from those billions of miles away. She was out and brilliant at a time when all, save the very bravest, stars have begun to hide from their big brother, and so i felt she must have been there for me, braving the threats of an imminent dawn to wish me well today. All around her the black of night was retreating against an oncoming shade of deep blue and her friends and family had disappeared for the day—yet there she was, still holding on and shining bright (was there belligerence in her presence? A little kick back against a bigger, brighter star closer to me?). i feel the well wishes of this new day and, were i to wear one, i would tip my hat to my star this morning and say "Thank you, ma'am, for your courtesy today."
It looks to be a glorious day.




Could an Autumn day be other than glorious? The world is alive with fire every fall.
All summer long we hear of fire destroying homes; fire burning up hundreds of thousands of acres; fire claiming lives; fire as this horrific force. Then Autumn happens and fire suddenly becomes a magic of the season. It lights up the trees; burns every leaf and we bury ourselves in it. Right now Autumn is burning, and we couldn't be happier.
i can only hope that the warmth and color of the trees holds out for our drive down to Owego. i am thrilled at the thought of speeding down through the belly of those hills and the world ablaze all around us.
And the smell of that burning! The ripe scent of apples. Of crisp fall grass. Of leaves in the air. Of dew and deer and everything Autumn!
i love this season of the year and you in it. May this be the year of the greatest leaf pile our home has ever known, and us (all five) flying through the air toward it.




Did you notice the tree with a query the other day? The one with the question mark for a crown? I am curious to know what he was wondering. Do trees wonder? I know they don't wander, but do they wonder (and if they do wander i perhaps don't wish to know about it—i may never sleep soundly again) (wait, i never sleep soundly anyways). Trees are, afterall, alive right? In some measure isn't every living thing sentient? And so wouldn't that allow for some measure of thought? This particular tree seemed quite heavy with its thought.
As humans we are what we eat, they say, so perhaps a tree is what they think? No, that doesn't make any sense unless the tree was thinking about a question mark.
i will imagine that, given the sparseness of the trees needles and the yellowing of a few patches (not browning as is often the case with pines), we were dealing with a tree quite heavy with thoughts on the burning of Autumn and the stubbornness of his coniferous family. i mean it did seem quite possible that this tree was trying to burn off its needles as a Maple might its leaves. It was a pine tree bent on celebrating the season and wondering why it was typically left out.
Or maybe it wasn't even trying. Maybe the tree was so absorbed with its thoughts and questions about the Autumn burning that its crown bent into a reflective punctuation and its body began to defy natural order and burn on its own.
Perhaps.
How awfully odd is nature sometimes.

What a glorious thing to be alive.

from peter

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Location:Neverland