A Sisters Passage by Sue Spillane-Bramlette
What Dreams May Come…and Go
I don’t think I’m the only one in Sisters who’s forgotten why they came. Sometimes in the sheer dailyness of wake, eat, drive, work, wash car, buy food, send bills, take a shower, sleep…a dream can just get lost.
But when a newcomer caught me up short by oozing with enthusiasm about the place, I realized I had lost my first love.
There were photographs of the Tour de France all over his office. He was ruddy and trim himself—someone you could easily picture in spandex astride the banana seat of a ten speed passing through town.
I was there for physical therapy, but got a quick life-lesson along with it.
It was the Australian accent that gave this recent transplant’s status away. “Don’t you just love living here?” he asked, in rich Russell Crowesque.
“Oh, I guess it’s about as good a place to live as any other,” I muttered, but then I remembered my own enthusiasm upon arrival here three years ago…and the stirring smell of sage rising after rainfall.
Why is it that the first blushing dream of Sisters—of “getting out of the city” and “starting over fresh somewhere”— is so easy to forget? Why’s the rarity of a postcard-worthy sunset so effortless to sigh about and take for granted when viewed every day?
Why would it be too easy to drive away and talk about Sisters like a fascinating point-of-interest we’d once stopped in at…a place we “miss at times?”
Why does anyone forget how hard it was to get to where they always wanted to go—or what it was about it that they longed for, yet having now obtained, blithely neglect?
As more and more executives tumble—or jump— from uppermost rungs of ladders they’ve unwittingly ascended, as more bored spouses stroll out of decades-long marriages, as more angry kids scream “I hate you!” at the adults who, in their own eyes, have devoted themselves utterly to their welfare, one starts to wonder…
What is it that the heart wants? Tranquility, excitement, or both? Security, creative risk, or both? Remote wilderness trails, smooth highways, or both?
Both.
But both can never be embraced in the same moment. And living at the extreme end of one pole eventually feels somehow acutely unsatisfying. Satiated with the glory of God’s creation, we are most painfully aware of our thirst for something more…
Located in a paradise of sunshine, clean water, and exquisite landscapes, it’s odd that those of us who live in Sisters may sometimes need a dose of rain, sludge, and urban blight to keep our love of their exact opposites alive.
A weekend trip to anywhere else will usually do the trick. Somewhere on the drive home, when you spot your first llama farm and your nostrils fill with cedar woodsmoke, you’ll remember why you came.
“We fell in love with Sisters the first time we saw it,” a cyclist lunching at Pappandreas exhuberantly exclaims. “In fact, we’re thinking about moving here. It’s our absolute dream!”
Fear of Mirrors Sue Spillane-Bramlette
I looked into a mirror
And thought I saw the sun.
It was a rising light circle,
Illuminating dawn…
I looked into a mirror
And thought I saw the sea.
It was a raging ocean wave
That moved with power toward me…
I looked into a mirror,
A shadow I did see.
Reflections of an enemy?
No, no, but truly me…
And now I turn from mirrors,
and run toward the night
I see no waves, no shadows,
No circles, and no light…
But sometimes I am tempted
By mirrors as I go
And faces draw me nearer
That see a friend, a foe…
10.21.94
What do you see in the mirror?
I ask you with a smile
“A lark,” you say. “A sparrow.”
And so I stay awhile.
I look into the mirror
And see the form of one
Who stands behind me, smiling,
And says, “Well done. Well done.”
There is no fear of mirrors
Inside this loving frame.
And in that friend’s reflection
The foe is freed within.