Some days are Einstein-less. Today for example, I am packing up and going back to New York City, after a week end in the country. I spent last night reading, and was disappointed to see the whole world war two wrapped up in a few pages. From the scientists fleeing the nazi's it went straight to the bomb being made after Albert wrote to Roosevelt and urged him to have people invent it. I somehow imagined there would be references in there to loss of kin, or friends, but it seems that either did not happen, or the biographer did not feel it was pertinent to the book. Instead, I watched him rambling down the street in Princeton with no socks on, and coming up with incorrect theories on unification of the universe. And believe it or not, the United States considered him a possible communist. What dopes. Governments are all alike really. The Germans threw him out for being Jewish. And the United States wouldn't let him help make the Nuke even though he suggested they make one, because he had been against war. It is so ironic isn't it? That the man who discovered it all and helped the USA would be left out of the final act because they didn't trust him.
Today is without Einstein. I have packed my book and am about to carry my bags to the car. Last night, in my sleep, a woman bent down to say to me, "It's time you went back to your own people." I thought she meant that I was on another planet. Or perhaps just sequestered away somewhere. When I woke up, I remembered her being sort of grudgingly nice... as if she was being nice to me inspite of herself. I think she also told me I had to be friends with her even if I did not want to be. Perhaps she is that shut-away part of myself who has stopped trying to reach out to the world. Perhaps that self is saying it is time to try again.
Or maybe not.
Einstein said he could not stop trying to figure out the unity of all. He said he might never be able to, but that did not prevent him from trying. It was the seeking for truth that was so precious, he said, not so much attaining it. This is what I feel, too. I have looked high and I have looked low. I have slipped through hells gates and risen to the heights of heaven, and I wander always through Middgard, eyeing the bridges and tunnels and listening to the singing of the birds. It is in humans, and in nature. It is in the painted sky and the vast earth we live on. It is hidden in letters and numbers and places obscure. It is in the languages of the world, and sometimes it is right there before us, shining, and sometimes it is concealed by the great veil... that female covering that hides her beloved secret.
