Second Anniversary

 Tuesday the 23rd was our second anniversary, which doesn't seem possible, because it can't possibly be two years already, and it also seems that we've known each other forever. Janet's love and support is such an extraordinary blessing.

We were hoping to go back to J.Morgan's, where we had our first date, and which is our usual special event location, but since the flood they can't seem to get back in business with any regularity. Still, Sarducci's is a worthy backup.

A pictur5e that our dear friend Marcelle sent along on our anniversary. I think we both deserve to be this happy.

Pensar em Deus

 Pensar em Deus e desobedecer a Deus,

Porque Deus quis que o nao conhecessemos,

Por isso se nos nao mostrou . . .

To think about God is to disobey God,

Since God wanted us not to know him,

Which is why he didn't reveal himself to us . . .

Let's be simple and calm,

Like the trees and streams,

And God will love us, making us 

Us even as the trees are trees 

And the streams are streams, 

And will give us greenness in the spring, which is its season,

And a river to go to when we end . . .

And he'll give us nothing more, since to give us more would make us less us.

Alberto Caeiro (Fernando Pessoa)

Fernando Pessoa is perpetually surprising, and not simply because he often spoke through his heteronyms. Of his three main poetic heteronyms, Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, and Alvaro de Campos, it is Caeiro who holds a special place. In fact, the other heteronyms, including Pessoa, referred to Caeiro as "the master." His is the more pastural vision, but also the most spiritual. The line, "To think about God is to disobey God," has quickly become one of my all-time favorite literary expressions (and I suspect will find its way onto my tombstone, probably in the original Portuguese). In a way, it reminds me of one of my favorite lines from the the Qur'an: "Remember your Lord humbly and in awe." That line, from the end of the seventh surah, expresses a simpler and quieter view of how one should address the divine. If anything, Pessoa's poetic admonition is even more stripped down. God is beyond rational thought, and can't be limited by it. 

Igreja de Sao Roque

 And here's another picture from last summer. On our last full day in Lisbon Janet had run off to catch up with a friend, leaving me to explore. I don't know how many pictures of beautiful churches or temples or mosques I've posted on this blog, but, nevertheless, here's another one. This was also just up the hill from our usual haunts in the Baixa Chiado.

Sao Roque is the patron saint of dogs, invalids, falsely accused people, and bachelors, among other things, so he seems generally to be a good fit for me.

I especially love the unique ceiling.

Penso Mas Nao Existo

 And this is just up the hill from the scene captured in the last post. Clearly, I need to spend time at a place with the title Penso Ms Nao Existo (I think but I don't exist).

Although, truthfully, for me, it might be more appropriate to stay at a place entitled Existo Mas Nao Penso.

Hotel Borges Chiado and Environs

 This is actually a picture that I snapped last summer (at this exact moment last year we were in Portugal - sigh). This is the front of the Hotel Borges Chiado, where we've taken to staying on our trips to Lisbon. The hotel itself is pretty solid, although the main reason is, as they say, location location location. It's right in the heart of the Baixa Chiado, which means that it's right down the hill from the Briarro Alto. Consequently, it cane be touristy, but there's also a real happy buzz there, complete with nice places to grab a meal and two great bookstores.

To the right is the Café Benard, where I would usually sit and write in the morning, milking lattes and snacks before Janet would come down and join me for lunch. Further up the hill on the left is the Café Brasileira, one of Poessoa's favorite haunts (of which I've already raved about much too often on this blog).

Magnum White Chocolate

 Some posts are rather important and thought-provoking (although never mine) and some fall more on the silly side of the spectrum. This definitely qualifies as one of the latter (even more than my usual nonsensical ramblings). One of our constant complaints, and by that I mean my constant complaints, is why it seems to be impossible to get Magnum White Chocolate ice cream bars in the US. They seem to be in every freezer in Portugal, which is another reason why I should move there, obviously.

I've changed my mind, this is of vital significance.

The Precarious Life

 If one day I become financially secure, so that I can freely write and publish, I know I'll miss this precarious life in which I hardly write and don't publish at all. I'll miss it not only because it will be a life, however mediocre, that I'll never have again, but also because every sort of life has a special quality and particular pleasure, and when we take up another life, even a better one, that particular pleasure isn't as good, that special quality is less special, until they fade away, and there's something missing.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 180

Now, will I miss this "precarious life in which I hardly write and don't publish at all"? To be fair, I have been writing a lot, every day, even if only a paragraph or two, but certainly not as much as I need to write. However, I'm certainly not publishing anything, although my goal would be to start sending around the Epics book in the fall (inshallah). However, will I miss this life, "however mediocre"? On the most basic level, yes, because I won't be teaching anymore, and teaching is something I truly love and maybe the only thing at which I've ever been any good. I did point out recently that the time I spent in my little apartment on the last trip felt like what I want retirement to be: writing in the morning and then having the afternoon to explore a beautiful and interesting world. I suppose we do mourn every passing age, if it was not a particularly interesting or important one, simply because it won't come again, and it means that we're coming closer and closer to death. Beyond that, is there something about this specific life that I would miss? I'll have to brood on that one.