I first drafted this Oct. 27, 2012, revisited Oct.12, 2013, Oct. 30, 2015, Jan. 12, 2016.
Since drafting my thought has evolved on time and dimensionality quite a bit, much of it culminating recently. I did not revise any of the below to reflect that yet, as 1 - it hasn’t synthesized for me yet, 2 - My reason for posting this has more to do at the moment with the dynamics of living and working together as humans in our larger world, ideas and directions on where we perhaps should be moving towards in terms of resources, value, supporting one another in generative abundance, doing civilization, etc ... So, aside from enjoying, do me a solid and suspend on the time/dimensionality a bit - maybe turn it around in your head and let me know your perspectives? Temporality is a fascinating beast of startling beauty ...
Also: I love you, what stories we weave together.
Collectively Stewarding Abundance
Enjoy, with love
See, the thing you have to understand about the fourth dimension", she begins to explain, "is that its much more than just time - in fact, time is to the fourth dimension as movement is to the third - its simple the visible interaction within its fabric. The fourth is the dimension of cause and effect, action and reaction, push and pull, give and take. Time is the surface upon which this is visible to us. Therefore, time is manipulable, there is no such thing as a paradox in time travel - if you change something, it simply nudges the decision branch you're part of in a slightly different direction than the one you came from, as you move in time, you move along potentialities/probabiliies/realities - The question is not paradox, the question is - can you return to your own line of potentiality? …"
At some point her fascinating rambling begins to register less to me, as I register more of her smell, the movement of her hair, the way she uses her entire upper body in her conversational gesturing. I'm hooked. The girl is definitely out of her gourd, but its my type of squash.
"Aaand I've lost you." She laughs. “Where? Please do interrupt - I really get going on some subjects."
"No, its ok - thats why we're here, so you can tell me more about this. But, do you mind if we walk and talk? I'm getting a bit fidgety sitting still, and its so nice out."
She grins. "Of course! Thats perfect actually, I was hoping you might have that inclination. There’s a storm front blowing in, so I need to go and check up on my building sites anyhow, and I can show you a more practical view of the fourth dimension that way."
So I clear and scrape the dishes and she settles up the bill. I'm setting the dishes onto the washrack when the chef taps me on the shoulder as he opens the cooler. "Learn well, she knows her stuff." and there he pauses, digging through the shelf looking for something that is not a carrot, leek or egg which are all that I can see him rummaging unsatisfiededly through. "But be careful - she's wild, breaks men more often than the other way around."
"Oh, thanks, but I'm just here about time-engineering …" I begin, and then stop as he smirks at me.
"uh-huh." He says disbelievingly. "Well, I've been her most common three-squares-and-coffee-a-day for some time now, so please excuse me if I feel I know the look on your face from experience. That may have been all you were after before, but not now. Just know, she's not very good at seeing it, or responding to it."
"Well, thank you for that. I'll keep it in mind." I say, and then hastily depart the kitchen. She is just gathering up her clutter of things from the table, so I join her, grabbing my jacket and leading the way out onto the street.
She stops for a moment, lost in thought, starts and glances around and then gestures me south. "We're going to visit my sites in order of progress. That way you can see the work progress along a trajectory. And, if we don't finish in the time we have, we can just start with the next house in order next time, and so on."
The grange we had met at was on a pedestrian street, with its wooden decking and slight sway of the supporting water below. We turned the corner onto a common traffic street - brick paved, the occasional bike passing through those on feet. Many food carts - I stop briefly at one selling mango.
"PreparadoVerdeSaltGracias." I strung my words together as I handed the coin to the old man and he handed back a small paper sack of green mango strips, dashing salt and giving a feeble squeeze to the half lime in is hand as he did. Walking away from the cart, we were both almost bowled over by three boys racing and chasing each other down the streets, worn canvas sacks of mangos bouncing against their hips. Looking back, I watched as my coin was mingled with others paid by the old man in exchange for the foraged mangos. Sacks emptied, the boys dashed off again to climb more trees with the inexhaustible energy of boyhood.
"So, what do you think of Veniqueno?" she asks, using the longer of the slang terms for Little, or Pequeno, Venice. Once, this area had been known as Little Havana, and before that LIttle River (what?) and before that, and before that … but, here I was, in my head again - instead of responding to the brilliant gorgeous woman at my side.
"It's impressive. I've visited so many of the historic American Cores - from those that failed to transition to those that transitioned fairly well - but ViQue, its thriving like only the better historic European Centers manage to." She gives me a surprisedly appreciative and assessing look.
"Most people don't see that of ViQ, (male name). But I agree. What shapes that opinion for you?"
"Oh, absolutely. Just … stop me if I get going. I have that same tendency with certain subjects as well." She smiles. Wonderful.
"Most places in America, focus, still, after everything we’ve come through, on the aggregate. I can guess at the reasons for that, but will not for the moment. What that seems to lead to is an ongoing struggle with moving beyond to a thriving local scale functionality."
(….. continue)
---
Second day at post-wanderchat dinner she flirts casually and invites him up to her place. He begins to acquiesce and then thinks back to what the chef says, and stops.
"Hey. So, I like you. I like you in a serious way it seems and I don't want to get caught up and hopeful in a casual fling, I'd rather just keep it friendly if thats all you're offering. You don't have to answer now, or ever, but I think I'll pass on that coffee for tonight either way." He finishes with what he hopes is a warm smile.
She frowns momentarily and then looks at him with an appraising look on her face, one side of her mouth slightly scrunched up. "Okay." Her face relaxes back into its normal smile, and she tiptoes up to place a light kiss on his forehead before continuing with the half hug and a peck on each cheek which was custom here.
"Meet me at the 14th St ferry terminal for sunrise," she says, as she lets herself into the front gate of her building.
(Towards the end of the third visit)
We're riding the ferry across the bay towards Miami proper, and she is seated next to me, face turned into the wind, watching the scene pass by. The sun is setting and the sky is glorious. Miami, from my short experience, has the most consistently beautiful skies Ive ever seen. Not necessarily the most spectacularly beautiful, that is saved for places above (pick an altitude) where the sky is more wide open and dominated by different cloud formations. But Miami, so far, has always delivered. Towering clouds which began their lives over the everglades are now marching stately out towards the ocean, lit from behind by the setting sun. The wind, which was pleasant in town, now carries with it a a damp chill which the ferry passengers are sluggishly responding to.
She pulls a light sweater out of her bag and over her head in one continuous action which I don't fully comprehend. Still staring out at the bay she edges into me, huddling against the growing wind. I can't help but heat slightly at her touch. It's been a good day, and I'm feeling hopeful for an answer that realistically may never come.
The ferry slows as the engine sounds and vibrations intensify. The boat is swinging in sideways, and people are gathering along the railing to debark. The lights of the city are just twinkling on as the sun makes its way completely below the horizon.
"I know a great place for fresh fish near here, you game?" she asks.
Of course I am, and it has nothing to do with the fish. "Well, I've never really been a fish for fish' sake person - an occasional hankering for Sushi is usually the closest I come. But, if you help me order, I'm game." Is my best attempt at downplaying my willingness.
