Returning from the moon.

Everything's changed. I once read that because cells in our body constantly die and get replaced by new ones, that roughly every seven years we are COMPLETELY new. That is, we have no cells remaining from more than seven years prior. I'm not sure of the truth of that (what about brain cells, I thought they didn't ever get replaced?) but I feel like it's a good metaphor for personal lives as well. People change and their friends turn over, they change jobs, have kids, lose them in custody fights, go berserk and end up drunk on a corner or in some hospital. They find a job they actually like, or meet someone who makes them feel optimistic again, or decide it's all an act on everyone's part and cynically cyclical and nothing will ever change. Or they get increasingly sophisticated and ironic until they can't even keep track of whether they are sincere and serious anymore. But somehow, over the years, we replace ourselves completely. Family is supposed to always be there. They're supposed to be the backbone that keep you sane through all the change. But we're losing that as a society. I hardly speak to any of my family.

It's enough to make a person feel really lost and disconnected in this big world. I mean, who will even read what I am writing now? Anyone at all? Why then do I do it? I suppose I don't have much choice in a practical sense - I write or it builds up in my head and threatens to overwhelm me. Getting it out is therapeutic. And it's cool to create things and see them in front of you. Feels like you're leaving some little bit of yourself out there. Maybe you won't be totally forgotten after all. Ah, who am I kidding. I'm barely remembered as it is, and I'm pretty sure I'm alive.

So I scan old photos and think about what I want to "do" and I write and write, and I wonder if those "geek" cameras really make you a better photographer, and what are the merits of art. I just want a family of my own again, eventually, something I can take care of and participate in and feel good about. It doesn't have to be declared as such, I just need some sort of belonging again. All the little comforts and routines and acquaintances I once had have rolled over, like the clock and the calendar at the first breath of the new year. I want to do whatever it takes to reach that place and feel meaningful. I want to give back and do my share, make someone else feel good too, feel secure but not smothered (probably need to work on this one...:S) and still feel free to be independent and pursue her own goals. I've always thought of it like a partnership, she and I against the world, not in an aggressive way but more like brothers in arms...except like, er...a guy and a girl instead of two dudes. I envy the couples of the past who stayed together their whole lives and maintained a comforting normalcy in the home even as they explored Nature with their artsy eyes.

And it's not all just about human relationships. I need to work on improving my relationship with nature as well. We spend so much time indoor and in cities that we'd might as well be on the moon. We were meant to wander in the woods chasing butterflies, catching a faint hint of rosemary as dappled sunlight rained over our faces and shoulders. As kids we climbed along fallen logs and pulled ripe cherries off generous trees. It was all in balance then. We didn't think about meaning and motivation. We were all little Zen masters. I just want a taste of that spontenaity and inner satisfaction back.