Press.
Because of our wisdom,
We will travel far
For love.
All movement is a sign
Of thirst.
Most speaking really says,
“I am hungry to know you.”
Every desire of your body is holy;
Every desire of your body is
Holy.
—HAFIZ (trans. Ladinsky)
But he who is outside of society,
whether unsociable or self-sufficient,
is either a god or a beast.
—ARISTOTLE, Politics
Contents
Daredevils and Invisible Friends
Levitation Club and the End of the World
Prayers, Mantras, and How to Swear
Jack Kerouac Dreams Elizabeth Bennet
PART I
DAREDEVILS AND INVISIBLE FRIENDS
Racing trains was one of my favorite adventures. This was what we were doing on the day I first considered that my father might have problems with the law.
“Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine!”
My brother and I practiced counting as my father kept up with the train.
“I’ll push harder!” he shouted. He thrust his bearded chin forward, bugging out his eyes as he jammed the accelerator to the floor. His green truck heaved along the road, outstripping the train whose tracks, just below the line of trees, skirted the incline.
Almost instantly we left the red engine behind. As the road straightened, he came up on a few cars and swerved past them with shouts of “Old goat!” He shifted gears and kept accelerating, though the train was far behind. Then he braked, holding my brother and me in place with his right arm, the air forced from my lungs as he spun the wheel with his free hand. We pulled onto the crossing, though the warning lights on both posts were flashing and bells were ringing.
With the truck straddling the tracks, he switched the motor off. He relaxed in his seat, looking out the passenger window, straight along the railroad.
As if on a TV screen, the train appeared in the distance, plummeting toward us. The engine broke from the shadow of the trees. Sunlight struck its red paint, and my brother and I began to scream.
My father turned the ignition.
“Oh no! It’s not starting!” He was twisting the key but didn’t give the engine gas. We knew the ritual and shouted, “Give it gas!”
He gave it gas and the motor fired. The truck shook but didn’t move. The train engine was sounding its horn, filling up the tracks, its two narrow windows glaring down at us.
The truck’s tires screeched, and we lurched and shot onto the road.
The train rushed past behind us, its iron wheels thudding over the crossing.
“That was a close call!” my father shouted and laughed like a pirate. But my brother had gone pale and he turned to me, his eyes so wide that I saw just how close we’d come to being crushed. “We almost died,” he said.
I glanced from him to my father, whose wild bellowing filled the cab. My fear had passed, and the air I drew into my lungs felt more alive, charged with a sudden, mysterious joy. I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
✴
OUR YELLOW FARMHOUSE was on the narrow road that ran the center of the valley. An apple tree and a row of blueberry bushes separated our back porch from damp fields, and the only neighbor my age was Ian, a
