Cynthia is a Californian blogger whose blog called Still Amazed is a literary masterpiece compared to my writings. Still Amazed isn’t exclusively a Van blog but she does have four Van mentions. It shows the Van influence on all kinds of people, even on those who don’t consider themselves Vanatics in any way. Her last Van reference is a little spooky.
The Art of Being Ten Now and Then (April 4, 2012)
Sometimes it’s best to let the day take you where it will, relinquish control or the illusion of it, and just see where you go. On this particular day, we first detoured over to Jeanne’s house to see her new chickens.
Then we walked up a steep hill, buffeted about by boisterous winds, leaning up against them laughing sometimes, and descended into a neighbouring canyon. We were a motley crew: Lori, Carey, Ryan, Margaret, and myself, not to mention Badger, who maintained his boundless enthusiasm even while he may have been questioning our good sense.
At one point we came to a clearing and sat on a wooden platform eating licorice, which was the only snack anyone had thought to bring. Badger stretched out in the warm sun to snooze, and we talked and sometimes fell silent, sipping the few remaining drops of water we’d carried, enjoying the sunshine, surrounded by springtime…there was something almost mystical about being there. It stoned me, as Van Morrison put it.
In fact, I suddenly felt like I was in a Van Morrison song. Half a mile from the county fair…hands full of fishing rod…saw a man from across the road with the sunshine in his eyes…that song. And I know it’s a song that’s full of rain, while we were awash in wind and sunlight, but it was the same feeling…being with friends in the outdoors, having an adventure, the brightness and intensity of everything, feeling uncontained by my usual self. Maybe I was ten years old for a minute. Or no age at all. Time stood still, and the world surprised me…and it stoned me to my soul, as the man said.
I even said it out loud: “I feel like I’m in a Van Morrison song.” And then, the most bizarre thing: we discovered that someone had carved the name “Van Morrison” into the wood. Isn’t that weird? And carved alongside Van’s name was a hilariously random series of words. I can’t remember them all, but they included s####ing, penis, and butt. We read them out loud, laughing like the 10-year old boy who I imagined had inscribed them. But Van Morrison? Who can explain his name in this collection?