The Unclad Soul

I Want a Cottage by the Ocean I love the city with its array of delights, its offerings of culture, its libraries and theaters, its parks and plazas, its lights and music But I am weary of the city, with its loud presence and its oppressive anonymity, its   hemmed in freeways and the misery of endless construction I want a cottage by the ocean, where the air is clean, where seagulls fly and the aura is gentle; where the sun rises and sets on a clear horizon— a misty shimmering line   low   in the sky that invites dreams, and prompts secrets, and asks me to wonder I want distance from the acrimony in our cities, from the rage and the fury in traffic, from the numbing of noise and nonsense I want to feel things, kisses and love and the holding of hands, long embraces and deep conversations— the joy of connection I want to be close to the earth, to the forces of life; I want to hear the songs o...

“When I got home I mixed a stiff one and stood by the open window in the living room and sipped it and listened to the groundswell of traffic on Laurel Canyon Boulevard and looked at the glare of the big angry city hanging over the shoulder of the hills through which the boulevard had been cut. Far off the banshee wail of police or fire sirens rose and fell, never for very long completely silent. Out there in the night of a thousand crimes, people were dying, being maimed, cut by flying glass, crushed against steering wheels or under heavy tires. People were being beaten, robbed, strangled, raped, and murdered. People were hungry, sick; bored, desperate with loneliness or remorse or fear; angry, cruel, feverish, shaken by sobs. A city no worse than others, a city rich and vigorous and full of pride, a city lost and beaten and full of emptiness. It all depends on where you sit and what your private score is.” ~ Excerpt from Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye

“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”  ~ Rumi, Persian Poet/Mystic

For a long time I have been taken with Whitney Houston’s 2009 video of her song, “I Look to You.” I often return to it for some kind of connection which I’m really not sure of.  I think it must be her vulnerability. Or mine. And there is something that feels so fragile about her in this one. I feel compassion when I watch it. The video has a simple setting. She begins in shadows sitting in a chair. As the song opens soft light reveals her in a flowing silk dress. Her head is bowed. Her features troubled. And though her face is luminous, there is weariness in her eyes. She sings, “As I lay me down/Heaven hear me now/I’m lost without a cause/After giving it my all/Winter storms have come/And darkened my sun/After all that I’ve been through/Who on earth can I turn to?/I look to you” The most awarded female performer of all time, according to Guinness World Records, she nevertheless often lived a life tormented by inner urges she could not control, by an injured soul that ...