The departed

I've been out of touch for a few days while I entertained my delightful loft guests, The Asian and her husband. We've been up to the wee hours of the morning evey night for the last three nights, eaten too much, exercised just right (if you count my swims) and slept too little.

They are on the road to Seattle now, followed by who knows where. They literally seem to be traveling by the seat of their pants -- not knowing exactly where they are going or when until they depart. The Asian kept knocking herself for procrastinating, but I personally admire this kind of travel. I think it is the best kind of trip you can have, so long as you see things you want see and do things you like to do along the way.

While here, I made sure they got good views of Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens by taking them right after their arrival to watch the sunset from atop Council Crest. We drank lemonade cooled by a load of frozen raspberries (picked myself last season) and spiked with a touch of rum.

This is an interesting thing I learned from spending time with my aunt and uncle in Kona. When I visited them there, they always ensured I saw the sunset on my first evening's arrival. They'd take me to the beach -- even if I'd just stepped off the plane -- and we'd sit in the sand, drink a beer or a glass of wine, and watch the sun drop below the horizon.

This was a way of saying, "There's always a moment for aloha." ... Please know you are welcome. You are our guest. Relax. This is the sunset. Isn't it nice?

It's a form of hospitality I learned from my aunt long ago. I had some interesting talks this weekend with The Asian, particularly around culture and hospitality, and I think I'll write about them at length later.

In the meantime, I'm tired. It's not that we did so much. In the end, it's good I ensured they saw Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens, because those were two of the places I thought I might take them during our visit. But as it turned out, they needed to do laundry. And having stayed up so late each night, I wanted to chill out and visit with them more than I wanted to drive to look at the volcano. (Perhaps they will hit it on their way back through.)

One day, we went to look at my college and then visited Powell's City of Books instead. The other, I took them to the lake, where we all went for a good swim, then D went fishing for a few hours -- while I read a book, chatted with The Asian and then swam by myself for a while again near sunset. The Asian and I saw a bald eagle take his perch above the lake. We had endless conversations, which were stimulating to me.

When they left this afternoon, it was like the power had been turned off to my place. I missed them instantly. But I was also fine with seeing them on their way, as the late nights (despite sleeping late into the mornings) have left me a bit tired. I need a full and normal night's sleep so I will be in good shape for tomorrow night. I have my final sessions with clients this week, and I really need not to be mentally tired. My brain needs a night to recover from the stimulation.

Where they head from Seattle is anyone's guess. They asked me about the Olympic Peninsula and about taking a ferry to Canada. They don't have to be home for another few weeks, and they seem prepared to arrive home at the last possible moment. I imagine they'll see a lot on their journey. I wish them safe traveling and good health.

...

Another type of departure altogether

Ingmar Bergman died on Monday.

Watching his Scenes from a Marriage in Couples Therapy was one of the best film highlights for me in a long, long time. It was intense, psychologically challenging and austerely filmed to artfully strip the relationship down to its unambiguous ambiguity. Really powerful.

Not his only work to admire, either. Think of Fanny and Alexander.

The man was a master filmmaker who cast a fearless lens on the human psyche. Hurt to watch sometimes, but isn't it just like life to be that way?