…and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

One of the stated purposes for coming up here (that I stated to myself) was to do some soul-searching and reconnecting with the person I think I am or  who I thought myself to be or even who I want myself to be.   It’s not come easy in the last 2-and-a-half weeks…there’ve been openings to attend, there’s been work to help friends with, there’s been a teeny tiny house to set up and a job to find and learn.  There’s been a lot of sleep and a lot of crappy weather.   The weekly influx of close friends began this week.  The “season” started….and on and on.

So the fleeting moments of self-connection and self-awareness are few and far between.  But cherished nonetheless.

And so it happened tonight that I was hit with a full-on, body-blocking, face-check realization of just how much this move and this place and my life and my friends and  the inner-connectivity of Cape and Atlanta people and what’s happening around me mean to me.

Joel’s space on Commerical St. is an amalgamation art gallery/retail/real estate office.  It is the product of a year or two of dreaming and planning, a hard 6-weeks of physical labor and a fucking big roll of the dice financially.  This hybrid space stands alone in Provincetown, where art galleries, kchotchke stores and real estate offices are a dime-a-dozen.   His partners Meg and Maureen are seasoned, local, jack-of-all-tradeswomen.  That they’ve lucked upon each other is remarkable.

That this venture brought streaming tears of joy to my eyes is no less outstanding.

I am having problems describing tonight, their opening.  I pretty much “worked it,” cleaning, restocking, making the bar.  I did it unasked, unprompted and totally voluntarily.  2 hours of my work to help the dreams of dear friends launch successfully is no skin off my back.  That’s one of the beautiful things about Life On The Vortex….that, what ever you put out — emotionally or physically — comes immediately right back to you.   There’s none of the anonymity of the big city.  This is a crazy small town and the oats you sow are solely yours to reap.

And so it was tonight.

The first deluge of tears came while reading the artists’ statements displayed around the space.  There were Atlanta and Ptown friends’ works.   Those written statements illustrated to me the connections that create the  very fiber of my life:  the values and humor and ethics and aesthetics that bond my world and those in it.  So, in the intense dusk sunlight, amid laughter and music and beauty, I wept for  the first time.

And I wept again on my bike, on the way home, listening to the happy noise on the street and the silence, catching glimpses into well-lit homes and thinking of the joy and modesty of Marc and Evan, who, afraid to detract from the  Opening celebration, kept their engagement — their life commitment made this very afternoon — to themselves.

Rarely do I become overwhelmed by emotion.  It’s just not who I am and just not something I’m programmed to do.   I feel things deeply, but those feelings are mine and they’re intensely personal and not something I’m quick to share.  And when, tonight, I took Joel’s hands and said, “I’m sorry, but I need to sneak out.  This is too much for me,” he said, “I know, just when I think I couldn’t be any happier, something like this happens.”

And so it is with Provincetown.   A swirling vortex, somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean, where people smile, doors are unlocked, status is the rustiest bike and it matters not your worth or your job or the nameplate on your car.

And Love is so palatable you can taste it.  And well you should.

2 Comments on “…and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true”

  1. bob says:

    big hug to you, mister

    that was lovely

  2. ebk says:

    finally getting around to reading this per your recent fb prompt/note. goodness i miss you! and im so, so very happy for you. xoxo ebk

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