I know my last post was sunny and thankful and optimistic, so now that the other shoe has dropped I'm feeling a little discombobulated. Not much sleep for the past few days, and what sleep I did get was marked by disturbing and nightmarish dreams. Worries about loved ones, both human and animal, are in the spotlight at the moment, and that's where my focus is...well...focused.
When times get tough, I find it hard to shut down for routine maintenance, like sleep, for instance. So I sit up late at night and early in the morning, trying to make sense of it all, and fight the tendency to give myself over to needless worry and worst-case scenarios.
I just wish fervently that I could heal all the wounds with a soothing, golden light...and who's to say it can't happen? Sending it out to all of you. You know who you are.
The best summer days offer up a combination of delights:
Berry pie for breakfast on the deck in my pajamas.
A mid morning walk with the knuckleheads in the sunshine under a cloudless, impossibly blue sky.
A surprise visit from a dear friend, who always makes my husband smile.
Afternoon in my studio, drawing while sprawled in a comfy chair found for free on the street last weekend, and the new french doors flung open to the patio built with my own two hands.
A day for which I cast my gratitude to the Universe.
Every week, San Diego Momma chooses a subject for us all to write about. As usual, I'm late...(and I've been told more than once that I operate in an alternative time zone known as "Russell Mean Time")
Anyway, this week's prompt is: INTROSPECTION
1. Who are you? 2. Where are you from? 3. Where are you going?
Here goes:
Who am I? I am a conduit, channelling a constantly flowing stream of creative juices. At times a raging torrent pours out, flooding the entire vicinity with ink, paint, fabric, dirt, thread, clay, paper or wood. (Sometimes all at the same time) I feel almost out of control, like I've just gotten on a roller coaster, and the ride ain't gonna be over till it's over. It's a bit like childbirth, actually. A force of nature takes control, and there's no stopping until I've given birth to a brand new being.
Sometimes the flow is gentler, more manageable. The juices swirl around and pool, making a sort of creative stew that can be thought about and worked on over a period of time.
Occasionally, the flow dries up completely, leaving me parched and yearning for a small sip. I set about building a dam to collect whatever small drops may be trickling out so I can feel alive again.
Where am I from? I think I might possibly be from another planet. One where it's not uncommon to admit to channelling a creative force, or any other force of nature, and speak the language of artists. I don't even know how many times someone has said to me "Earth to Jane!"
Where am I going? Forward. Into the future. I'll be the one carrying the fancy flag. You want to come?
I'm holed up at the county courthouse this week. Serving as a juror. Not allowed to talk about the case, but I'll say this: I spent the day with 12 of my peers listening to testimony by an expert witness who looked just like this:
A few weeks ago I visited an old friend out in Hood River with my sister in law, Martha and niece, Lily. Kim and Martha and I worked together over 20 years ago in San Francisco, and they hadn't seen each other for many years, so Kim invited us to her place for a girl's night out.
Adventurous gals that we are, Kim led us on a trek to a place at the base of Mt. Adams to sky watch. We left Hood River at sunset, and arrived at this place in the pitch-blackness of a summer evening. After signing in by the light of a flashlight held by an acolyte of the UFO movement, we were asked if we had brought digital cameras. When we told him we had, he went on to tell us that there was plenty of "orb activity" happening that evening, and that digital cameras were especially good at capturing images of the orbs. This explained all the flashing lights and excited whispers in the meadow we were walking toward. A girl appeared out of the darkness on the path in front of us, holding out her digital camera to show us some orbs she had just photographed.
Here's a video taken with an infrared camera. The orbs seem much less like dust particles when seen in motion.
We lay down our blankets and looked up at the amazing night sky spread out above us like a glittering light show, the milky way stretched across from horizon to horizon. Our hosts sat on the edge of the clearing in patio chairs, using laser pointers to track the "ships" moving through the sky in trajectories that looked suspiciously like those of satellites.
At one point a guy came in from the other side of the meadow, claiming he'd been knocked to the ground by an invisible force several times as he made his way back to the group. You never know...maybe bigfoot has cosmic connections, too.
We heard stories of fairy sightings the night before (apparently we'd "just missed them"), as well as an incident involving a seemingly 200 foot tall alien being stepping out of a light-filled cave on the side of the mountain. "No shit?", we said. He told us that they couldn't have been that huge - the aliens were just projecting a giant holographic image to "mess with us." He did say they had a videotape of it, though. We were too busy wondering what the hell we'd gotten ourselves into to think about asking to see it.
After a couple of hours of tracking alien ships star gazing, we packed up the blankets, re-engaged our skepticism and headed back to civilization.
Last night at about 2am, the door to our bedroom was flung open, and chaos entered our dream state. No, it wasn't our resident ghost (more on that another time), it was one of the cats bringing us a little gift. A squealing, freaked out, live little gift.
I jumped nimbly fell groggily out of bed and crawled over to see what it was he had in his mouth. It sounded like a mouse, but in the dark and without my glasses, who could tell? I turned on the light and by this time Dave was awake (sort of) and peering over the end of the bed, trying to figure out what was going on. I picked up Chubbsie (whatever it was, was still in his mouth), and tried to figure out what he'd caught. Of course, at that moment, he decided to drop it. I dropped him, and ordered him to get it, not wanting to chase whatever it was around the house all night. He just crouched on the floor by it, watching. I got my glasses and took a look at the dark little thing lying on the floor squealing. Dave, still half asleep, kept asking me: "What is it?" Then offered up the opinion that it was some inanimate object. One that made noises. It turned out to be a small bat. I gathered it up in an apothecary jar from the bathroom and checked to see if it was still breathing. The poor critter was panting heavily, so I took it out to the backyard and dropped it in the ivy on the fence, all the while apologizing profusely to the little guy... I sure hope he recovered.
Mr. Chubbs has been hanging out on the porch roof at night, where it's cool and dark and breezy. He slips out through the open window in the front bedroom and contentedly sprawls out on the roof. Little did we know he has a secret agenda. I've got to hand it to him, though. You've got to be pretty fast to catch a bat.
