Longwalker, Seventeen Years Later ...

Back when we were kids, there was an album we used to listen to all the time. It was by one of our heroes, Jon Anderson, and it was called Toltec. I didn't understand it fully at the time, but the album was deeply laced with the wisdom of Native American shamanism.

Like I said, we used to listen to it all the time, studying every morsel, gleaning whatever we could from the spoken word bits by a medicine man named Longwalker. For kids in their early twenties, who knew nothing, but who knew they needed a way out, music like this was a revelation.

Fast forward seventeen years, and Elizabeth put the first movement of the record on our old boom box as she was getting ready for bed. We're still together. Bug is in the next room. And as I'm listening to Longwalker, it hit me like a ton of rocks ...

I've actually become that medicine woman.

For a while now, I've been so down on shamanism and kirtan, so down on anything that smelled even vaguely of New Age. Even after The Lady's admonition last week that "I am not a secular humanist," I've had a hard time actually being proud / comfortable with what I do.

But hearing this music, it all came rushing back. The sense of discovery, and wonder, and mystery. I could remember being young, and wanting to know everything. I'm not the same person anymore, especially these days, but hearing Jon and Longwalker, I was proud of who I've become, for the first time in a long time.

I suppose that's a start.

The rest of today was movement mixed with the standard sturm und drang. We had family pancake breakfast. E and I each had study time. I got some dates in here transcribed. (July 15-20, if you're interested.) I talked to BA a few times. E and I drove out to the Palisades, then later took Walk #2 around the neighborhood.

The AC downstairs is still not working, so I am getting ready to sleep up here yet again. Maybe that's good, though, being immersed in this mad sanctuary, this Womb. Maybe I'll dream of other worlds again. Maybe somewhere, somehow, Jon & Longwalker would be proud of me, that I found my way here all these years later.

It's going to be a looooong 55 days until the Equinox. But maybe, just maybe, this is the first tentative movement of a red and golden wing, buried beneath a pile of ash ...

Walk #1 ...

Ever since last night's drive, when E and I started talking about the phoenix, and she referred to this summer malaise as my "ash-y period", I've had two questions rattling around in my head :

"What will I regenerate into come Autumn?"
"What do I have to do now to bring her into existence?"

And so, after a very, very low day, which featured a nearly three hour hopelessness filled afternoon nap, I took a shower, listened to an hour of my secret happy place piano music, and E and I went for a mile long walk in the dark.

For years and years, walking has always been a thing for us, a sanctuary. The fact that it has helped us lose weight in the past is a fine fringe benefit. So we got out there, one foot in front of the other. No promises to do it every day. Yet. But it feels like something began this evening.

On an unrelated note, I would be remiss as family historian of The Year of Unknowable Things if I didn't mention that Bug spent the entire day shamanically redoing her entire bedroom space. New bed. New sacred space. New lighting. All cleaned up. It's immaculate.

Now it's 1am and I'm up here in the tundra, dreaming of possible futures, of orreries and chess boards and Irish clifftops, and pondering the One Thing I can do to help us get there ...

Good night.

I Took The Night Off ...

All week, I had been planning on skipping tonight's kirtan. It was the monthly superjam gig, which has become particularly unpalatable to me on several levels. (No air conditioning, having to split time / money with a percussive interloper.) So I picked E up from work, after a super depressive day, and we went for a ride.

Seven Lakes was so very still. And there was actually a breeze on the mountain. Moments of grace have been few and far between, as you know. Each miracle that sneaks through, when the humidity breaks and we find a quiet spot, is treasured fully, before I trap it in amber, a salve of remembrance when all else fails.

I'm so glad I didn't go to that stupid gig.
Good night.

Some Time With "Dad" ...

After writing that last entry, the rest of the morning and early afternoon were quiet. E had school, and then I took her to work. We were more than a little worried about money, but it all worked out. Then before I knew it, it was time to go to Jason's.

I was there for over three hours. Working on his computer. Trading him a Stravinsky box set for a Charles Lloyd album. (Like baseball cards for 21st century grown ups.) And of course talking. Talking about all the things. Like you do, when you're us.

Our last few sessions have been subpar, and actually, our money problems mean that I have to reduce seeing him to once a month. But today, at least, we had our "A" game, talking honestly and openly about my depression, the situation at the 'Seed, family stuff, etc.

We're going to make a point to spend social time together, to keep the heart connection strong during this time of belt tightening. He specifically mentioned that he wanted to crash an evening around The Table with dear Nancy, and that he wanted to try The Cake! We'll have to see if we can arrange that ...

All for now. Good night.

Reconstructing, But First, Wednesday ...

Why yes, as a matter of fact, I have indeed disappeared for 11 days yet again. Thanks for asking.

This depression, which I euphemistically refer to as the summer malaise, is making even basic functioning difficult most days. Is it any wonder I can't bring myself to write? How many different ways can you bear to hear about my midday naps, about going to my beautiful places but not finding beauty. Nothing feels right, tastes right, smells right.

But I promised myself back at Imbolc that I would document The Year of Unknowable Things. So when this happens, this writing stoppage, I go back and retcon, reconstruct, and try to remind myself (and share with you, patient reader) what it was like to live those days, and maybe glean some clues on how to get myself out of this seemingly endless fog.

Before I do that, though, here are a few thoughts on yesterday :

It was Wednesday, so even though E was still recovering from her cold, and I was in the thick of mine, we got up and got moving. We were gentle and slow and lazy about it, but we honored the Wednesday energy. The drive down to the sea was nice, though when we got to Avon it was considerably more crowded than we even thought it would be. So we shifted plans a bit.

One of things that's keeping me going is watching E thrive with her new college career. She is so engaged, so committed, and consequently so very inspired. She learns about something in class, and then she wants to get in the car and go to the place (if possible) and learn more, poke around, feel the energy. Today's focus was the Hindenburg disaster.

Who knew that there was a tiny museum in an old church in Lakehurst, just up the block from where the disaster occurred, staffed by old lady volunteers, that contained all sorts of memorabilia, as well as actual pieces of the destroyed airship? E did, apparently. So we went and looked around and asked questions and she got a button and we drove across the way to where the airfield was / is.

There's a park / neighborhood now, and what appear to be blimp hangars, and the clouds were beginning to settle in, so we thought it might be time to try Avon again. We wound through a bunch of shore towns, stopped for a few minutes at Point Pleasant, before arriving back at Happy Cove a little before 5pm. On the plus side, we didn't have to pay. On the minus, there were still quite a few people ...

We set up our tent. E swam while I sat in our uncomfortable new chair (which was cheap and actually ended up breaking) and my mind went to all sorts of dark places. I couldn't breathe, literally and figuratively, and we ended up leaving after only two hours. E had her own worries, about money stuff primarily, so our drive home was mostly quiet, with music playing to at least lighten the mood.

We did make two brief stops, though, that inspired and lifted us, that made dreams and hope feel like something that might be possible again someday. Funnily enough, both stops were staring at the same thing, from different distances, from different angles ...

Oh, city of possibilities! Oh sunset and mystery clouds and miraculous July breeze! First from the lookout at Hudson Highlands, then up to Weehawken, we remembered that The Year of Unknowable Things is only half over (Imbolc to Imbolc) and that the last time we stood at Weehawken, just a few months ago, it was E who was feeling hopeless, and look what has changed for her!

So I said a prayer, with the mighty Hudson herself as my wishing well. I sent it off into the breeze, and up to the stars that I knew were up there, somewhere above the mystery clouds and the glare cast off by that miraculous jewel. The depression is not gone. Far from it. Even now, as I write this on Thursday morning, I feel flat and anxious and very very small. But I remember last night. It was real.

And Autumn and Winter are coming ...

Flame Shift #75 ...

I slept up here. I ate up here. I barely left here. It didn't make up for missing the first three hours of Flame Shift #75, but it did make for a potent space, and order was restored.

I remembered what The Lady said, about being Irish first and foremost, even as I was getting inspired by the work of Alejandro Jodorowsky. She can be very persuasive.

When she got home from work, Bug came up for an "authorized" visit, and we worked on a new website, that if we do it right, will form the basis for several other new project sites. Stay tuned ...

Even after the Shift ended at 830, I stayed up there. It didn't make up for missing the first three hours, but I honestly just didn't want to leave. So I didn't. And She didn't make me.

Outer Life Interrupts ...

I really do wish I had ben able to stay home and ground today. Yesterday's revelations were so seismic that I needed more time to let them take root. But my outer life interrupted things, as it has a habit of doing.

We had our July shamanic healing circle this evening at the 'Seed. I figured everyone would be at the beach. Imagine my surprise when we had 18 people show up! Even in the summer, people clearly need healing.

Kate was away studying in the Southwest. Kelli was delivering a baby. Which left, Bug, B and myself, which was a strange team. So strange, in fact, that I had to step in and make my debut on the crystal bowls. I did fine, but dear god, my shoulder!

Story and sigil wise, I was on my "A" game. I made connections, protected the space, and managed to have B contradict me several times, as is his way. By the time it was over, it felt like the end of something, allowing for the hopeful emergence of something new.

The toughest part of the evening was having to start my Flame Shift partway into the ceremony. I literally had to watch the clock and light the Flame between bowls. Madness! The Lady was not happy. Neither was I. Moving forward, I will not book dates that conflict like this.

Now I'm home, and fed, and trying to find the thread from yesterday, from the Lighthouse, from Her. She is strangely quiet for a Shift. I guess I'm going to have to work my way back to her grace. I'll do what I must.

Good night.

Standing Outside The Lighthouse ...

After writing that last entry, something surprising happened.

I heard The Lady in my head. This doesn't happen as much as it used to, for reasons I'm sure I don't need to explain. But I heard her, loud and clear. "Put on our music. Don't ask questions. Just put it on. See what it does to you."

I happened to be neatening files, and the video folder was opened in front of me, so I put on Planxty's 2004 reunion concert. The four elder statesmen of traditional Irish music. Donal Lunny. Andy Irvine. Liam O'Flynn. Christy Moore.

I am not going to intellectualize what happened. But I cried, more than once, especially whenever the uillieann pipes were featured. I felt that old longing, for the cliffs of Donegal. For home. The Lady was very present, and quietly nodding.

I was up 'til after 2am, and slept until nearly 10, which is a more nocturnal window than I can remember in a long while. There was a reason for this, of course.

I spent a good part of the time (if you can call it that) outside my Lighthouse. The lights were off, and She was waiting for me at the edge of the cliff. We stood quietly for a long while (if you can all it that) before She spoke :

"You make a terrible secular humanist, you know. Why are you turning your back on Me? On magick? On your power? You're getting dangerously close to a point of no return."

Needless to say, Her words really shook me. She continued :

"Whatever else you do, whatever paths you walk, you are mine, first and foremost. You are Eire born, and that informs your art, your studies, down to your very cells. Forget that, and you forget everything."

No, really. Go ahead. Tell me more about how far I've fallen.

"You've noticed, I'm sure, that we're not going inside your Lighthouse. That's because it is unavailable to you. It's regenerated, and can only be entered by the person you will become. This will take time."

We stood for awhile longer. As I was feeling myself begin to wake, She said :

"I have not lost faith in you, my daughter, though I daresay you have lost some faith in Me. The truth of it is, I cannot stop you if you stray. We are co-creators. But I would prefer it, very much, if you stayed. We still have so much to do."

As her last words were still ringing in my ears, I started to open my eyes, back in my bedroom, as far away from Donegal as I could possibly be. But She got her message across. And I had a lot of work to do.

I told Bug all of this over breakfast, then with the exception of a family meal around 5pm, I spent the entire rest of the day up here, cleaning The Womb in Her name, trying to understand how I've fallen so far, and what it will take to climb back up.

It's regenerated, and can only be entered by the person you will become.

Well, who's that supposed to be, then? Guess I'll have to find out.

Canceled, Due To Excessive Heat ...

Obviously, one never wants one's loved ones to be sick, but when E got up this morning and declared herself to be taking a very rare sick day from the 'Bucks, I was so very happy to have a day of gentle companionship.

In communicating again with my Freehold kirtan contact, I learned that the performance space had no air conditioning. A second floor studio, at the end of a 90+ degree day, and he's telling me that it'll be fine with a couple of fans ...

I tried to wriggle out of it, but he wouldn't bite, so I hung my head, cursed myself for not asking the question last night before accepting the gig, and resigned myself to being a professional. Ohhhh, how the dread built as the day wore on.

Just after my shower, but before I got my makeup on, I got a text that the gig was canceled. DUE TO EXCESSIVE HEAT. I could barely contain my glee. Immediately the day shifted, and things became ever so slightly possible again.

E and I sat and read / studied together. (She's doing marvelous, while I am in danger of flunking out of the course of study I've been with since February.) Bug ran some errands and got home late, and our attempt at eating dinner all together was thwarted by rotten steak ums, but even so, I WAS NOT IN FREEHOLD PLAYING KIRTAN.

Lesson learned.

Slightly Out Of Reach ...

After yesterday's diversions, everything just felt slightly out of reach today. I wasn't as bottom of the barrel low as I've been, which is good, but in a way it was almost more frustrating. I would feel a bit of inspiration, but then not have the energy to follow up on it. Argh.

E was at school all morning, then worked from 2-1030pm. Bug got home from work around 4, and we hung out a bit, and then in a fit of near unprecedented foolishness, I accepted a freelance kirtan gig tomorrow night in Freehold. 'Cause fuck knows I need to be putting myself through that right now ...

I spent the next few hours berating myself, then when E got home we watched some Game of Thrones, and now it's time for bed, where I will undoubtedly berate myself some more in my dreams. Argh.

The Day Which Must Be Honored ...

I woke up with nothing. But it was Wednesday. And that must be honored.

E stuck with me. Bless her sweet heart. All damn day, in the car with a depressed person, and she stuck with me. Protecting the silence when necessary. Actually making me laugh here and there. And just talking, languidly, in that way that only people who know each other for decades, and who don't have to put on a show, can.

After breakfast, we drove out route 80, over the river, over the mountains, and did the scenic drive for the third time in three months. I'm not getting tired of it, particularly the bends in the road, between the stream and the rock walls. We got out and stretched our legs, and a dragonfly flew past me at the edge of the water. Grace.

We ended up crossing back over to the Jersey side, so E could seek out some Lindbergh scavenger hunt stuff, after being inspired from yesterday's class. We went to the state police museum on route 29, which had some artifacts (and where we found a $20 in the parking lot!!) and drove around Hopewell a bit until we found the entrance to the old estate, which is now a juvenile detention center.

After deciding against going to see a dumb movie, we grabbed a light snack and headed back to New Hope, but not before discovering a totally new park / canal crossing, hidden in plain sight these last dozen plus years. We will return there in the Autumn and have a picnic. Oh, how different life will be then ...

Parking in town was a bit tough, as there was a show at the playhouse, so we parked far and walked along the exceedingly humid canal, which was a mistake, before landing at Farley's, where I got my first Borges book, and spent time with my pal Butter. Before it got dark, we started for home, stopping at Stewart's for french fries and at the Flemington courthouse so E could complete her Lindbergh trifecta.

We've been home since about 10pm. We watched a Game of Thrones episode. And now she is asleep and I am up here, and though I already feel the malaise creeping back in, I am still filled with gratitude, for the steadfast tradition of Wednesdays, which is honored no matter what, and for E, who is filling her life with stimuli and is taking care of me better than she has in our entire lives.

Mercy.

At Least The AC Got Fixed ...

Nevertheless, with E at school from 8 - 12, then again from 6 - 930, I was lonely and depleted and slept a lot. You've got to be as sick of these entries as I am. Oh Year of Unknowable Things! When will you let me dream again?!?

The End of an Era ...

E had her triumphant final class tonight, as teacher of gentle & restorative yoga at the 'Seed. She had eight students, and her longest standing regular, Judy (who was actually a student of Jyoti's back in the day) said some lovely things at the end of class, and she rode off into the proverbial sunset. Nothing else to prove. A nearly four year journey, from when she decided to join the training program to walking away, head held high. I am so very proud of her.

I wish I had as heart warming a story to tell about myself, but the central AC was out again, so once again, I hid up here, and once again I did very little of consequence.

Steamy Sunday Never Got Un-Steamy ...

Just after I wrote that last entry, I found out that one of our favorite tee vee actors, Cory Monteith from Glee, was found dead yesterday. He was only 31 years old, and apparently had a history of drug problems. So so sad to hear stories like this. I've enjoyed his character, Finn Hudson, very much, and will miss hearing him sing.

The rest of the day, unfortunately, did not have anything to lift the mood. The central air stopped working. Yes, during the heat wave. Mercifully, my window units up here are working fine, so I basically hid up here all day. I wish I could tell you I was productive. But I wasn't. And now the air mattress is blown up, and I will sleep up here as well.

Good night.

A Steamy Sunday Morning In The Womb ...

It's a little before 730 in the morning. Steamy Sunday. I didn't sleep last night. A bit here, a bit there. Up here on the couch. Downstairs in bed. Nightmares. Heat. Soreness. An hour here. 30 minutes there. Up and down the stairs. A ghost.

About an hour ago, I gave up, declared myself awake, and came up here for good. I finished The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which was a perfect, floaty way to begin a day that never really ended. It reaffirmed things I think I know, about mystery, and about my aversion to answers.

I'm sitting here, in a small, rare moment of grace. I know I'm a writer. A poet. An illuminator but never an explainer. That's my job. It's what I'm best at. (Though some might disagree.) It's what I like doing best. (Which no one can disagree with, because they're not me.)

I don't mind that I'm good at making music. Not at all. I like making music. But it's so flashy, what I can do, that it shines it's own klieg light (as Nancy would say) on the subtler, mysterious, can't-quite-put-one's-finger-on-it nature of my poetic imagination.

I'm not quitting music. I'm not quitting the outer life completely. Fuck knows, I just signed up for another 12 months of being everyone's favorite charismatic new age nutter. But just acknowledging which part of myself, which job I like better. feels important. It opens the door for further change.

As for yesterday : it was nothing, really. Bug and I had two talk-y meals together (one of which was all about keeping Luna Station alive, yet again). I canceled on Julia, regrettably, as I knew I didn't have the heart and stardust to have one of our marvelous evenings in the city. E went down to her birth family, for a foolish reunion thing, and came back in not the best shape. So we went for a ride to Greenwood Lake in the dark, and I got the new Sara Bareilles record and at least we moved around a bit and loved together. Which is about as much as I can ask for right now.

Another Night, Another Show ...

Even when I have energy, even when every moment isn't a struggle to stay awake & focused & even remotely positive, a show night has a tendency to dominate the landscape of the entire day. I can't put myself in that floaty poetic space. I can't travel anywhere too far or interesting. As you might expect, I don't like these sorts of limitations.

E and I had a quiet, gentle morning before I took her to work. I went and got my nails done. (Tardis blue this week!) Spent the afternoon in The Womb doing mostly nothing. Before I knew it, it was 4pm, and I had to get ready to go to Jason's. (We rescheduled from yesterday to at least consolidate my schedule.) I wish I had more to tell him.

Sure, we talked about the renewal of the program at the 'Seed. (He was pleased, of course.) Sure, we talked about ballet, and his upcoming trip to Belize in January. But I had nothing for him. Maybe it's because it's summer and I am depleted. Or maybe as our relationship has changed to a more father / daughter thing, paying him $50 every two weeks to sit and talk is coming to a close ...

I went straight from Jason's to my gig at the Shala. Decent size crowd. Played well. Made a few bucks. BA came up and sang the Chalisa to end the evening. All in all a fine show. But just like with Jason, it felt tired. I felt tired. I always feel tired. I'm not making any proclamations. But my outer life is not making me happy. I wonder where that dissatisfaction will lead me.

E and J were asleep when I got home a little before 10pm. So I ate alone, and came up here, and I'm surprised I'm still awake. Time to remedy that, then.

Another Year ...

So.

I committed this evening to another year of running shamanic ceremonies at the 'Seed. To say I have complicated feelings about this would be an understatement.

Why did I do this? I didn't do it for me.

I did it for my teacher, and for my teammates, and for the people who come, because shamanically speaking, being the caretaker of a lineage means there always has to be a Baggins under the hill in Bag End.

Other than this, today was uneventful. I read and slept and read some more and slept some more and yesterday with E and the birds felt a bit like a dream.

Tomorrow is busy. Too busy. I should go to bed, then. Feh. Good night.

A Fragile, Tender, Beautiful Wednesday ...

Do you see that smile? That sweet little Hobbit, with the birds all over her? That's an angel.

Nearly 21 years, we've been in the trenches. (Yes, we're older than we look.) We met when we were kids. We know every damn thing about each other. We drive each other bat shit crazy.

And we would be completely lost without each other.

Though today was Wednesday, day of celebration and adventure, I didn't feel any better than I've been feeling. Same slowness. Same lack of motivation. Same will it ever be cold again hopelessness.

But Rosie Cotton there (or Goldberry, possibly) put me in the car, bought me a tasty breakfast, drove me along Henry Hudson Drive & The Merritt, up to Norwalk CT, walked me through the too-busy aquarium and drove me through the lovely-though-too-humid marshes, never got tired of me when my mood remained flat, took me to PPP, bought me a grilled cheese sandwich and a book about ballet (the one thing that seems to make me happy these days) and then we sat through a dopey blow 'em up movie. Which sometimes you just have to do.  : )

Even the ride home was heart filled, driving past the bright lights of the Palisades Fair, listening to a few songs from Rent, and reflecting on our day.

We are human. We can't always be there for each other. (And I don't just mean E & I.) Sometimes we don't get what we want or need. But somedays, we do, & the person sitting next to us, holding space for us, is quite simply the most important person in the world. Today was that day. And E was that person.

It's still summer. There is no relief in sight. But today I was loved. So very loved. And I am grateful.

PS - Here are a few other pictures from CT, for those who enjoy such things ...

Whoa Is Me, Summer ...

You've got to be as tired of these whoa is me, summer entries as I am. So I will spare you tonight. I read a ton. I wrote some. We started watching Game of Thrones. To stave off the dreaded nap, E and I went out for pretzels. That's pretty much it.

She did have her first official day of classes, though, and thrived in all three, utterly. That's waaaaay cooler than anything I'm doing.

Tomorrow is Wednesday. At least I'll be shuffling around.

The Vice Grip of the Second Week of July ...

The summer malaise had me in its vice grip all day. More napping. Very little energy. Like a gas tank running on fumes. And it's only the second week of July.

I did read a fair amount on physics today. And filled in the June hole on this blog (from the 10th to the 17th, with some snazzy pics, for those who enjoy such things ... ). The gaping wound of May entries still needs to be dealt with, but I will get it done. T.Y.o.U.K. must be documented.

Speaking of unknowable things, who would have imagined, back on Imbolc, that E would have begun college today?!? And legal studies, to boot?!?!? Orientation was this morning, and classes begin tomorrow morning. She's going to shine like a star, and I am taking on the unfamiliar but rather lovely wind beneath her wings role.

In and around all that, we watched the final three Doctor Who episodes until the big 50th anniversary in November. 42 episodes of this incarnation (102 overall, since 2005) of the madman in the blue box. It took me forever to warm to him, and he's still not the Tenth Doctor, but I'm going to miss him.

And now, to try and get some rest. I'm quietly stressed out, and my shoulders and chest hurt, and I constantly have to remind myself that worrying about my heart only makes it worse.

I'm going to see if I can get lost in a story, and then drift off.

Good night.

A Hot, Humid, Hope-Deficient Day ...

I am always grateful to wake up from one of my parallel world dreams.

A) Because travelling like that is just very cool.
B) Because getting lost in the space between worlds would suck.
C) Because sometimes I get material for my poetry.

Today I will add D) Because it was by far the most interesting thing that happened on this hot, humid, hope-deficient summer day.

Sweet christ on a comet, I dragged and dragged and dragged today. I am not one who suffers from boredom. There is far too much to do and see and learn and be. Yet there I was, around 2pm, forlornly wondering how I was going to fill the 10 or so hours until bed. I had zero energy, and the chance for happiness and / or inspiration was in short supply.

Parallel worlds are great, but sometimes returning to this one is a letdown.

E was feeling similar things downstairs, while trying to wrap up her first draft before starting school tomorrow. So we got dressed, went out for a short ride, just to get the molecules moving, came home & watched The Doctor, then in a perverse fit of pique, went to Avon at the tail end of the holiday weekend. There were still too many Muggles, even at 830pm, but even so, it was beautiful ...

We lingered in Happy Cove for a bit, walked along the shoreline and got wetter than we'd planned, walked along the boardwalk and were glad to finally see the signature Avon lights lit for the first time, then drove home lazily. We watched yet another episode of The Doctor, and now here I am, ready to fall asleep again.

And you can't stop me.
Wake me after Labor Day.
Good night.

The Summer Doors Are Closed - Day One ...

Day One of the Summer Doors Are Closed era has come and gone, and I am not ashamed to say that I did very little. Bug and I had a lovely, productive breakfast discussion, about passion and efficiency and surviving the coming months. (I earned a dime!)

I slept most of the afternoon away, and when I wasn't I was studying / writing / reading. This is probably how it's going to be for awhile. I'm sorry in advance if these entries are on the boring side. I'll at least try to keep them short, until my inner life gets more interesting.

Good night.

Clearing The Decks ...

On the surface, I took E to work, went and got my eyebrows done, had a quiet afternoon, and had a partial gig with BA this evening. But underneath the surface, I made decisions, about how to protect myself the rest of this summer.

Effective immediately, the barn doors are closed. I've started clearing my schedule in a rather drastic way, canceling everything I can (gigs, socializing, etc) and consolidating everything I can't. I am going to attempt to only leave the house once a week.

This seems very possible, and very healthy. The summer malaise has hit harder than I remember it hitting in recent years. This is not depression, it is circumstantial. But it is powerfully crippling nonetheless. All I want to do is sleep until September ...

So don't ask much of me. Don't expect me to want to go anywhere. If you want to see me, you're going to have to come up here, and even then I might say no. I have a good life, and lots of work to do, but I need to make things more possible. And so I have.

Nothing To See Here ...

About the best thing I can say about this fourth of July was that at least we didn't fight about going to see fireworks. We just watched them on tee vee and marveled at how many awful songs Usher had in a row. (The Sam Cooke tune made the night, though ... )

The rest of the day was meh. Bug and I had an extra breakfast together, as she was off work. I pissed away the afternoon, then E and I went for a short drive before sunset. Yeah ... this day was pretty much a non-starter. Feh.

Beauty Holds The Muggles At Bay ...

Originally we were going to pitch our tent in Happy Cove and make a day of it. But the humidity actually increased since yesterday, and there was a band of storms scheduled to roll in mid afternoon (and roll in they did) so we changed course and spent the day at the Cloisters & Met.

Of course, more than half of the Cloisters is outside, so the humidity was still an issue, but once we got to the Met, things were climate controlled, mercifully. We walked a good chunk of it, visiting old friends and making a few new ones. 100+ visits, and it never fails to lift my spirits.

Leaving a little before closing, we circled around a bit in the vicinity of 3rd Avenue, so E could get sushi and I could get Papaya King. We headed back towards home intending to stop and see a blow-'em-up movie, but the Muggles were swarming on 4th of July Eve, so we came home.

I will take a fair amount of pleasure hiding away from them these next few days. The summer malaise is claiming me, faster than usual this year, and I am smart enough to know that crowds + heat + me do not mix. I'll celebrate my own independence up here in The Womb, then.

Good night.

My Day As Caretaker ...

As I mentioned at the end of that last entry, I spent a good chunk of today tending to BA, who was in a bad way. Though she clearly loved her dog, his death is tied up in some deeper, murkier waters, and I wasn't sure how best to hold the space for her.

So I just drove. We took her car, and I brought her on some of my usual roads, until finally we settled at the Palisades. She desperately wanted to play music outside, so despite the heat and considerable humidity, my poor drum and I acquiesced.

In any other season, it would have been heavenly. But at the beginning of July, with her choking back tears as she sang, it was kind of hellish. We attracted a bit of attention, as you might expect, but were mostly left alone to play our four songs.

We were both pretty hungry after that, both of us having not eaten since breakfast, so we zigged around through rush hour traffic and ended up at the PQ, which was its usual tasty, cozy self. I got her talking a bit about other things, and when we were done she dropped me off and that was that.

She seemed to appreciate me spending the day with her, and said I held the space "beautifully", but I couldn't shake the feeling of how out of my depth I was. I'm a fixer, a doer, a problem solver. Sitting quietly while someone wails and says crazed things is not a strength of mine.

But it's done, and I'm drained, and now it's time for bed.

Flame Shift #74 ...

These summer Flame Shifts are always a challenge, as the second day is loooooong and always has the flabby bit in the middle, where I want to have a nap. But I am not complaining. The longer I do this work, the deeper I go, the closer I get to Her, the more strength & encouragement I feel to grow and change and reinvent myself.

It rained all day. I listened to, and watched, more Stravinsky (including my ballet Muse Ekaterina dancing The Firebird). I read more of The Ocean At The End Of The Lane, which lead to these musings on my other blog. I studied that secret thing I am studying. I had a lovely lunch up here in The Womb with E, and spent a little time with J as well, before they went out for the evening.

BA's dog was being put down, and she invited a bunch of people over for support. I was on Shift, and couldn't go, but the truth is I would not have gone anyway. That is not my arena, and she knows it. Like The Doctor said in an episode we watched recently, I don't do endings. Maybe that makes me a lousy shamanic practitioner. But I know my own limits.

When they got home, proud of BA and frustrated with some of the other attendees in equal measure, E and I went for a short walk in the humidity right after I closed down my Shift. It was nearly dark, and we decided to visit our old stream a few blocks from the house. Imagine our surprise and joy when we discovered the path through the little wood inundated with hundreds of fireflies!

It was like something out of a fairy story, a threshold place of the highest quality, full of myth and magic and the feeling that anything was possible. We walked through the fireflies, asking permission from the guardians of the little wood as we always do before entering, and stood on the bridge over the stream and sang the secret stream song. It was undoubtedly THE moment of the summer.

Now everyone is asleep, and I need to be as well, ahead of what is sure to be a difficult day tomorrow, as I take my turn tending to BA, all by myself ...

A Visit To The Primordial Forest ...

Waking up from an uncommonly vivid & busy night of sleep, thanks in part I'm sure to my repeated listenings of The Firebird, I knew that as much as I wanted to double dip in the rainbow pool, I needed to honour this lingering stillness & skip the big Pride parade in the city.

After an intentionally slow morning, E and I went for one of our rides, out to Greenwood Lake & out some back road I'd never been on before, through what well and truly felt like an ancient forest. So lush and green and still, and nary a soul in sight. It was heavenly.

After a couple of Sabrett hot dogs, and a bit of trespassing on an Amish commune to get that final shot, it was time to come back home, to prepare for Flame Shift #74, which I have been on since around 830pm. And wouldn't you know it, it's still quiet, and The Lady seems to like it that way.