March 28, The first portion of this fortnight was a pleasure, first in Hallandale with the Family Raby, then kayaking with members of that family on a large lake not far from Kashi Ashram and Ma Jaya, where we spent the weekend. On the lake multiple alligators (including a ten-footer) made themselves known, and overhead flew one bald eagle of the couple breeding there, and at least a couple dozen ospreys of the one hundred nesting pairs along that lakeshore. At the ashram itself, the most darling baby great horned owl, perching on a tin roof, fed and carefully watched over by its impressive parents.

Pleasure mutated into pain on Saturday March 25, when the life of Robert Beer's elder daughter Carrina ended at age 23 during a scuba dive. It was eerie that Robert's close friend Bhaskar had also died in water, a mere six weeks before; it was remarkable to contemplate that that placid element on which we had paddled so easily earlier in the week had now impersonally claimed yet another personable victim.

I first met Carrina almost two decades ago, on the lovely lonely windswept Scottish coast where the Beers then resided. She & younger sister Rosia were even then inseparable, twin-like; I fell in love with both instantly. Of the two Carrina was slighter, frailer; and there was something ineffably otherworldly about her, something angelic. Over the ensuing years with Carrina I always enjoyed her company a bit more each time we met, and always looked forward with heightened excitement to my next visit with her. She was truly a remarkable young woman whom I loved her well; all of us who loved her miss her terribly.

Just after her passing Robert sent out a small poem, provenance unknown, that describes her perfectly:

The conditions of a solitary bird are five.
The first, that it flies to the highest point,
The second, that it always aims its beak towards the heavens,
The third, that it does not hunger for company, not even of its own kind,
The fourth, that it has no specific colour,
The fifth, that it sings very softly.

Rest peacefully, little bird ...

March 14, 2006 The first half of March slid by as I tried after re-entering Texas to catch up with all that awaited me there: pent-up snail mail, emails accumulated over weeks of e-neglect, repairs to various household items, and the inevitable federal tax return. The ongoing South Texas drought prevented even a single bluebonnet from raising its head above the parched ground behind my mother's house; and while we did see a few of the state flower along roads and in fields, the contrast between 2006 & 2005, when these members of the lupine family literally carpeted every square inch of the relatively manicured portion of the garden floor, was noticeably stark.

For scene change the maternal unit & I headed east, where the fleshpots of Houston beckoned us. We shopped, supped in the Chinese vegetarian restaurants, watched movies (Mrs. Henderson Presents particularly delighted me; and I enjoyed Johnny Depp's admirable performance in The Libertine, though this partly-based-on-the-life-of-noted-Restoration-erotic-poet John Wilmot was to my eye needlessly dark), and (as usual) visited Museum of Natural Science, which this trip offered three excellent exhibits. Dinosaurs provided measured consideration of how, and how fast, T. rex actually moved; Treasures of Ur proffered the unforgettable Ram in a Thicket and Royal Lyre (created perhaps 3000 years ago, in the latter half of a civilization that began a mind-boggling 4000 years earlier); and Body Worlds, the "traveling anatomy show" of Prof. Gunther von Hagens, provided dramatically posed plasticized cadavers. While I had seen an earlier version of that fascinating show years ago in London, this was my sister & mother's first look at it; we were all three impressed. There is always value in being reminded of one's fundamental mortality, the one thing that we can all rely on. That reminder was itself worth the visit!

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