I took my brother and sister in law to the airport this morning and then came home to sleep. That is pretty much all I did. I did also go to pottery for about an hour to glaze a piece but then came home to sleep more.

I have felt really out of it and out of touch. I think I am struggling but I don’t know how to make it better and I don’t know how to ask for help since I don’t know what is up with me. I just feel sad and tense.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

A lot has happened the last few weeks and unfortunately I have been traveling, busy, out of connection, or too tired to keep up. This is a quick snapshot of each day since my last entry.

Day 67

My parents and I arrived to San Francisco, my brother picked us up. We had time to grab dinner with my brother’s soon to be mother-in-law and go to bed after.

Day 68

Woke up and grabbed breakfast with my brother, his fiancee and her mom and grandma. We spent the entire day together, driving around SF and exploring Muir Woods. In the late afternoon, we split up and my parents and I grabbed dinner together, walked along the beach, found the Ocean Calling exhibition, took a Waymo, did some light shopping and headed back to my brother’s house.

Day 69

My parents and I left SF early in the morning and headed straight to Pinnacles National Park. We did a fun hike through a cave and stamped our National Park Passports. We drove 4ish hours to visit my uncle and hang out with him for a few days.

Day 70

Hung out with my uncle and helped him with some repairs that he wasn’t able to do by himself. It felt like such special time for my dad and for him. I am really glad we planned for extra time for them to see each other.

Day 71

Another full day with my uncle. We grocery shopped, cooked, and my dad and uncle taught me a new card game. They used to play it when they were kids all of the time. It was so much fun!

Day 72

We said our goodbyes early in the morning and headed to Lake Tahoe. It was mostly a driving day, but we were super excited to arrive since my oldest brother, his wife and the boys were already there. Everyone else arrived later that evening… (I couldn’t wait to see him again).

Day 73

The wedding was at sunrise. I probably could have prepared better, but it felt really hard to plan for this one. It turned out beautiful, there were a few mistakes but there is nothing I can do about it now. We grabbed breakfast as a group and then attempted to have a beach day, but Tahoe was very busy. It was a beautiful day so we could not blame people for wanting to be out and about. I had so much fun driving around with him and the entire weekend I couldn’t help but think of TS’s lyrics “our secret moments in a crowded room”. No one even knows what I am talking about, and maybe it is all in my head. It is hard to tell if he feels the same way. However, other people could tell and feel it too so maybe I am not delusional.

Anyhoo, after the failed beach attempt, we headed back for naps and reset for evening plans which included dinner and painting session. The Reno wildfires caused a power outage for hours so we ended up painting in the dark, it feels like such a special memory now.

Day 74

I woke up feeling sad because most of the group was leaving tonight. When we arose, my brother with the kids had already left, her family had already left, and so we were left with a handful of people around. We still had fun though! We all jumped into the lake, watched a movie, and then played cards. He also left tonight, but my sister in law claimed he stuck around longer just to hang out with me for longer. I don’t know when I will see him again, but I need to get home and at least partially sort my life out a little.

Still no update on my situation, I am getting antsy.

Day 75

My brother, sister in law and I went off to do a wedding photo shoot around the lake. We rented bikes and took some photos, then we ran some errands and ended with a hike to their favorite spot at Tahoe. We were wildly unprepared food-wise and ended up hangry, but this caused us to find the best pizza in Tahoe. We are hitting the road tomorrow for what I like to call Vacation Pt. 2.

Day 76

The power was out again at Tahoe, so we were unable to leave with coffee from our new favorite place. We did get to pack up and hit the road though (coffee-less). First stop was Nevada, we went to Costco for dinner and experienced a beautiful sunset – thanks to the wildfires.

Day 77

Hit the road bright and early to get to Craters of the Moon NMP. It was so incredible! It feels so out of place to be honest, but it was a very worthwhile spot. I would love to go back and do the caves, but we could not since my parents and I had been in another cave already and didn’t have different shoes or clothes. From there, we continued heading towards Montana to have a very unique experience. We arrived to our lodge and checked in. Walked up to the room and set our stuff down when all of a sudden a bat flew out from who knows where. We were in awe and also super scared, my sil, mom and I made our way out of the room while my brother and dad tried ushering the bat outside using blankets and sheets. Eventually it flew out and we all took a breath. What a night.

Day 78

Yellowstone and Grant Tetons! Wow! What a full packed day of hiking, geyser watching, and bisons.

Day 79

Woke up at the “ass crack of dawn” to try to catch some wildlife in the wild. My mom and I actually caught the view of a wolf standing still near the road. It felt so surreal, but I was sad other people didn’t catch it. We turned around to try to find it again but it was long gone. Later we grabbed coffee from the “Sexy Goat Coffee” truck and continued onwards towards South Dakota, but going first through Beartooth Pass. The US is so incredibly beautiful. We made it to Mt. Rushmore just after the lighting ceremony. It felt weird being there especially with all the controversy and division in the country happening right now.

Day 80

80 days out of work!!!

We spent this beautiful, hot morning at Badlands NP and did a couple of short hikes and stopped at the viewpoints. Such breathtaking landscape and more wildlife. We saw many prairie dogs, but also found a coyote walking around. He seemed hot and hungry.

Day 81

The last day of vacation was entirely filled with driving home. We arrived at 8am in the morning after driving all through the night. I knew it would be weird to get home and not see my dog there, but it was the most unsettling feeling I have ever felt. I have had so much guilt leaving my other dog home alone (with a sitter, of course) during this hard transition. I can’t even imagine what he was feeling after losing his friend and then me taking off for two weeks. It was such a relief to see him and take care of him. I showed him so much love right away. Home at last.

Thank you for your message. I am currently out of office with no set return date. I will get back to you when the time is right.

O amor é cego. Apenas 4 horas e 23 minutos antes do meu pai morrer é que eu caí em mim e percebi que o estava a perder.

Tenho pensado cada vez mais nesse facto, pela primeira vez refleti sobre o significado da expressão “o amor é cego”. Há pelo menos 48h horas o estado dele tinha-se deteriorado significativamente. Contudo há 56 horas apenas um parâmetro analítico estava fora dos valores de referência sem que o estado mental dele se alterasse, sem que o corpo dele se alterasse, sem que outros parâmetros se alterassem. Olhando para trás gostava de ter dado mais atenção a esse único parâmetro, em vez de aceitar que todo o quadro pós cirúrgico dele justificava esse resultado, afinal ele não tinha febre, não tinha leucocitose nem outra alteração. Reconheço que mesmo que tivesse dado mais atenção a esse parâmetro não mudaria o desfecho do meu pai, no máximo, pensaria que estava, de alguma forma, a apaziguar a minha consciência, sabendo que não tinha deixado escapar nada.

Nas 48h anteriores à morte dele notei outra coisa: tive que ir esvaziar o urinol apenas uma vez. Isso causou-me estranheza mas optei por lhe pedir apenas que bebesse mais água. Eu penso que nesse dia ele entrou em falência renal. Não tenho provas, não tenho autópsia, apenas estes pequenos fragmentos dos últimos momentos que vão surgindo com maior precisão.

Até à madrugada da sua morte eu acreditei piamente que o quadro dele seria tratado. Ele ficaria limitado, ficaria dependente, isso consegui prever e aceitei, abracei o tema com a certeza que estava disposta a ajudá-lo e cuidar dele com todas as minhas forças, mas eu não consegui ver mais além, não consegui ver que estávamos a chegar ao final desta estrada.

O amor é cego. Aprendi que o amor precisa ser cego para nos fazer lutar com todas as nossas forças por quem amamos, precisamos dessa cegueira para acreditar com toda alma que conseguimos ir mais além e salvar aqueles que nos são preciosos mesmo quando é humanamente impossível.

Successfully finished the "fourth trimester".

Welp, we made it. The “fourth trimester” has come to a close. Those who have had children understand that the first real milestone (after regaining the lost birth weight) is getting through the first three months.

I feel like we've lived so much life in just 90 days. Our entire worlds have been flipped upsidedown, but in a good way. Physical and emotional challenges have been accompanied by laughter and joy.

Our baby girl's personality is starting to grow. She's smiling now, and it absolutely melts me every time. She's also starting to “talk” (babble) and does so with so much volume it's almost like she's trying to join Lorena and me in our conversations. It cracks me up.

She's an absolute joy and brings an entirely new meaning to my life.

#personal

It is an old and almost respectable error to presume that distance is measured in miles. I have no doubt that cartographers have committed this error for centuries. It served them well, I’m sure, because their concern is only with places that agree to be mapped. Where point A and point B can be drawn on paper the same way a box can be drawn to indicate a kitchen table, a bed, or a nation-state.

But some points innately evade mapping because their geometry exceeds that of things like tables, forests, skyscrapers, and planets. There’s a particular class of place that exists that is altogether different, and whose property it is to share no border with any other place we commonly call a place. None, whatsoever. These places cannot be near or far, since nearness and farness presuppose contiguity, shared relativity, and material coherence in kind. They cannot be near. Nor can they be far. As such, one does not travel to them. One is admitted only at certain times and places. Willingly or not, by virtue of their personal constitution and circumstances alone. It’s a strange sort of proclivity of their doors whose locks demand a very unique, immaterial key.

I know of such a place, though it is one of many. I feel I’m obliged to phrase my statements here very carefully, because I did not arrive at it and I have never departed from it, and yet I know it as one knows a childhood bedroom: by the particular way the light falls on a summer’s evening, by the air that holds the smell of the sea and wildflowers in the way of the gentlest lingering aromas that fade but are not forgotten. Any sensible person knows that one cannot remember a place never visited. This is a fact I cannot dispute. I can only report that the memories exist, complete in every detail because they are lived experience; however, I might struggle to point to them in an atlas book or on an astronomical map. Perhaps memory is a composite of experiences both within and without, between and betwixt. Perhaps we remember things on behalf of others. Dearest memories of our dearest others.

There are somatic signs. I know them precisely. On an ordinary August evening as the sun lazily creeps behind the western mountains, the room around me falls away. No, that’s not quite right. Rather, it fades like sand in an hourglass, revealing another shared household entirely. The duality defies the clocks on my bedside table, analog and digital. Was it only a few seconds or a few hours? I shut my eyes, hoping to retain the dimming light of that other household’s light for just a moment longer, so that I may imprint it permanently onto my memory, knowing the grief will linger whether I’m successful or not.

Grief is the word. It is precise, in the same way one grieves the dead. The etiquette is ancient and generous, with its rituals and ceremonies. For the mourner of a household that sits empty, waiting for its owners to return, in a country absent from any and every known atlas, there are few if any salves for the emptiness that follows. I have looked. That absence is suggestive. A negative is also a datum. Proof that some experiences remain undocumented because a reasonable person decides not to report them. I, however, am predisposed to be less reasonable and so I continue to pen these pages.

Other writers long before me have attempted the same. Writings that obliquely touch the corners of my growing pages. Hints of lands undiscovered and filled with visceral detail that defy even the most imaginative of people, and confound the most learned. Most accounts are treated as fiction, but I doubt that is what the authors meant when they scratched ink across the paper in the dead of night with only a dim oil lamp and a handful of brief, uncanny memories to guide their hand. I suppose there’s a sort of solace in that, too. At least, I’d like to think so. Not as a validation or even a kind of consolation. Rather, as an asynchronous companion who says: This is what happened to me. If you’re reading this from wherever and whenever you are, did it happen to you too?

Sometimes knowing that certain individuals hold the same address, one that appears on no register, and that neither of them renounces it. The owners hold the deed, and only the house knows their names.

Whatever the ontology, and I no longer believe the question will resolve itself, my practice is simple. I wait, however impatiently, since patience assumes a legible schedule, and I lack the access and faculties to read the astronomical geometries that would name the date, time, and place. No, I wait in the manner of a man who keeps a lamp in the window because the lamp is the portion of the nature and substance that belongs to him. Promises can be figurative. Lamps are literal. And mine is lit in the direction of the place I cannot yet go.

I suspect there are others like me, scattered across the world and throughout human history, who are also custodians of at least one such place. The distances and coordinates may differ — an ocean, a death, a fenceless border, a wall without beginning or end — but the space of longing is universal, and the Nation of Exiles issues no passports and takes no census. Somewhere, without any material proof of citizenship, we manage to keep a lamp burning. A reminder of a home close and far away, and the warmth and love that waits to rekindle there.

#Intermundia #Anomalology

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By D. Bowman Nomina Numina is a journal of reflections, moments, and meaning-making between worlds. Reply by email.