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Crossing The Threshold
In 753 BC, after killing his twin brother Remus in a struggle for power, Romulus founded the city of Rome (naming it after himself) and declared himself king. Romulus had big plans for Rome. But the Roman population was limited. Women were needed to make babies. So Romulus organized a big festival and invited people from the surrounding villages including the Sabines. Apparently the Sabine women had some kind of je ne sais quoi as they were targeted by the Romans, abducted, and forced into marriage. Not wanting to live with their Forced Upon Husbands, the Sabine brides rebelled and had to be forcibly carried over the threshold of their new homes. This was the beginning of a tradition that continues today—that of a groom carrying his bride over the threshold of their new home.
When I arrived in Italy c. 40 years ago, it was the norm to say “Permesso?” (May I come in?) before entering someone’s home. Maybe it was a custom that started because, since entering someone’s home without permission was a crime, it was best to ask permission before crossing the threshold. Although a formality rarely practiced today, I continue to do so as a sign of respect.
Not all thresholds are physical. Some, such as threshold experiences, are in the mind. Like an epiphany, a threshold experience is a moment of sudden realization. Like a portal, it can take you from one reality to another.
Tomorrow we will be leaving our little Parian home. Departure makes me listless and sad. Hopefully, while lingering on the threshold before we close the door and lock it, I will try to convince myself that crossing the threshold is not the leaving behind of something but, instead, the promise of a new beginning.
Sometimes the only way to obliterate a boundary is to cross it.
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The Bench
Sometimes all it takes to be happy is to sit on a bench in front of the sea with the person you love.
From the Inside Looking Out
This is the view I have every morning when I drink my coffee. It makes me glow inside and gives the day a good start.
It’s a view with so many stories. There’s the little table where we have lunch when it isn’t hot and say “kalimera” to people walking by. Then there’s the white petunias that Rita gave me before she left because she knows I like flowers so much. And the airplane plant in the hanging basket is from a cutting Connie gave me the summer she was into propagation and rooting away. I love the orange of Angeliki’s trumpet vine but I like her apricot tree even more because every summer she climbs on the roof to pick the apricots to make jam (and gives us a jar!). We could never have a regular screen door otherwise Volver, our cat, couldn’t go in and out as he pleases. Sometimes he naps in one of the chairs after biting at the lemon grass or sits on the wall so that, if they happen to walk by, sight-seeing tourists can photograph him. There’s often a beach towel or two draped on the chairs indicating we’ve been to the beach. Everything I see is talking.
This view is a book of short stories just waiting to be read.
Above is a photo I took many many years ago on the island of Giglio (Tuscany). Seemingly incongruous, those three doors next to each other struck me as some kind of philosophical statement. Although each one was different in height, color, and design, their purpose was the same. Like people. Despite our divergences, we are all related. We are all equals.
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Related: What Does a Red Door Mean? The History, Origin and Meaning of Having a Red Front Door
Ride like the Wind
A few days ago we rented a scooter and went to Naoussa to eat fish. Like a senior’s version of Born to be Wild, we were just looking for adventure and whatever came our way. Happy, I wanted to immortalize the moment and, using my tired little Canon, starting clicking away (which wasn’t always easy especially on the curves).
There is no artistic merit in these fotos. Nevertheless, the aesthetics are there—the Aesthetics of Appreciation.
The current day political situation along with the worldwide inability to handle the pandemic fills me with negative vibes. Sometimes it’s a struggle to smile. To keep from wearing a perpetual frown, I must re-direct my focus. These fotos are a helpful reminder that I’m lucky and should know it.
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The Narrative Within 