Ah, sweet Joy! Come once again and place your hands upon my face and look deeply into my eyes, that I might know you as my own, and I as your own. The sad king of Dream knows of my contentment only as a possibility. When the words all fade away into your voice, and the visions all fade into the lines upon your palm. The Bookeeper can only walk his path, knowing all things. I walk knowing nothing but that my feet are upheld by the earth, that my body is strong, my mind expansive, my heart fit to burst, cut through my flesh with curled tendrils of life and flower upon my chest. It is that youth Delight to whom I give my hand, flowers held lightly that balloon and float into the sky, and she laughs and begins to fly with those weightless blossoms, knowing not that her feet have left the ground. I close my eyes and feel that same sense of freedom of the earth, my soul lifting toward it's Maker to give Him a big hug before running back to the party and the adventure. Hand in hand, we dance, and it is enough, and it is everything. In this moment, it will never end, and there is nothing else I need.

This is where I wish I could be right now. Not in this building particularly, though I loved my room. I walked into it while it had an empty desk, two empty closets, and a white-sheeted bed. But at this campus, with these green lawns, and those mist-enshrouded trees and this style of architecture...i.e. Kenyon College. I posted the rest of my pictures on Facebook, random pictures of friends, etc.

Perhaps I didn't mention...I went back for Chamber Singer's reunion, which coincided with the class reunions for '02, '97, '92, etc. as far back as people are still alive. And I can honestly say that it changed my life. Again. It reminded me that in my quest to combine fun and morality and intellectual pursuits, I am not alone. Because I was reminded that I went to a school full of people who pursue the arts with as much passion as they pursue their friendships, people who know that we have to have fun with whatever we are doing in life, not despite it. Catching up with old friends and making new friends was the best part of the weekend, but it doesn't begin to tell you why it was so amazing.

Imagine, if you can, a group of people (Chamber Singers) who assume that you are their friend, without having laid eyes on you before. A group of people committed to art so much that they took time out of their other pursuits and careers (of which they are varied) to come back together for choral performance. And not just to sing, but to sing amazing music, and sing it really well! It was a group of people who did not hesitate to raise their hands and say, "Yes I am interested in going to South Africa in four years after our next reunion" (more than 80% of the people present). It was a group of people who did not hesitate to pursue fun activities for the hour break in between two morning rehearsals (a break in between breakfast and lunch, during which I hit the new olympic sized pool for laps and diving), to play games with strangers, to trust those strangers explicitly, to give them rides for food or airport trips, to introduce them to their friends.

When Lara met me, she was amazed that I was so welcoming of her, a stranger, into my world. She didn't know anyone was like that. I am not unique in this regard. My school creates people with that quality. It has done so for many many years, and it will continue to do so. I had forgotten. I will not forget again. Just as Lara raised the standard for those who may have liked me, because she went to all of my dance venues with me, so too has my trip to Ohio and the friends I made raised the standards for those whom I meet. Because friends invite each other into their lives. It's not always possible, especially when people are far apart. I can't meet Hilary's friends without going to Ohio Weslayan, or meet Phil's church group without going to Anaheim, California, or go rock climbing with Dan without going to University of Colorado. But those invitations stand. North Carolina, Vermont, DC, Jersey, California, Colorado, Ohio, St. Louis, Chicago, NYC, Toronto. All these places and more have a welcome place for me. Because I'm a Chamber Singer. Because I went to Kenyon. Because I have friends all over.

And, if you will, imagine a place where the trees and grass and plants have every shade of non-aquatic green, where the gardens and lawns bloom with amazing and unexpected flowers, where the trees have personalities, and this kingdom sits atop a hill, with a river at its base. And this kingdom combines the best of facilities for literature and science with breathtaking gothic architecture, with gravel paths and ancient stoneworks. All of this is surrounded by forests and farmlands for miles. The summers are mild. The winters are mild. The fall and spring are colorful and last the longest. There is mist in the mornings and sometimes at midnight. Snow rarely lasts more than four days. There is no want for shade on sunny days. And it is populated by fun, interesting, intelligent people dying for something to do...so they make their own fun, using their minds and their bodies. Everyone loves music. Everyone loves to read. Everyone loves to party. I want to live there. No, seriously.

During our activities, we had a "capital campaign kickoff", i.e. an evening of videos and presentations and speeches designed to make alumni want to give money to the school. It made me want to get another undergraduate degree from Kenyon [laughs]. It also made me want to teach there. I think, for the first time, I've actually looked at teaching English (and dancing, of course) as a serious possibility for Now and not Some Distant Future. Now What I would need to do to be able to teach at Kenyon, I'm not sure, but I think I'll need a masters degree. And a teaching certification wouldn't be a bad idea. I have no idea. I'm still insane and on fire, so my brain hasn't started working on this equation yet.

I'm back in Sarasota. I just finished performing at a friend's daughter's Quincenera (sweet 15th), and I'm dying to get back to learning swing dancing, starting tomorrow in fact. I realized that as much as I like hanging out with a lot of people, they just have no time for it. No, they make no time for it. I'm trying too hard, to my own detriment. My writing, my artistic projects, my dancing. All of these still need to happen. And they will and are. Oh, you have no idea how much more open to the sound of the wind I am, having returned from Ohio, or the color of rain, or the feel of the hands of the ocean. I am so open to life right now. It's wonderful! But, for now, I need to sleep. Au revoir, blogger. Until again.