Sunday, May 31, 2020


I survived the typhoon.  This is not my photograph.  It was sent by my travel/art friend.  Last night, we were damn near washed away.  I have no idea how much rain we got, but it was enough to scare me.  Water was running down the slope of my driveway making deep pools near my house where deep pools have never formed in the many, many years I've lived here.  I ran around looking for any possible leaks.  I don't remember seeing rain like this here before.  Maybe I am now living in a vortex, because I've been looking around at the news for any reports.  I have found nothing.  This morning, I can see the results.  I am going to need to make some repairs to the granite driveway.  I'll need to take other precautions for the future, too.

I'm not going to opine about anything today.  Everyone knows what's going on.  Everyone has a take on what it means.  Everyone has longing for a more stable world.  Maybe some even wish for Oz, but unlike Dorothy's voyage, there is no going home.  Thank you Mr. Wolfe.

I stopped by the old studio on my walk yesterday and talked to my artist friend.  He showed me the new work he is doing in glass.  Being inside his studio and looking at his work gave me longing.  It has been five years, I said, since I left this place.  Wow, he said, really?  Yes.  I haven't done any work since.

When I came home, I started clearing out a work space, a small one in the garage, where I might begin doing some of the messy stuff I used to do.  I need to get some lighting for it today.  It is possible that I might actually do something with my time other than sit and stare.  I think it is time to stop my grieving.  Sure, people will say not knowing that from which I've been suffering, not the depth nor the breadth, not the woof nor the weave.  But if you think your lives have changed dramatically, well, I'll tell you that I've suffered more.  I've learned, though, from countless documentaries and stories not to call myself a "victim" but to say "survivor."  That seems to embolden those who feel disenfranchised.

I am kidding, though, about that last part.  It is a joke.  I am neither one of those things.  Your life hinges on the decisions you make.  It is important not to characterize them as good or bad decisions.  Nobody says, "Today, I think I'll make a bad decision."  You do what you think will work at the time and later find out the consequences.  "Oops," you might say, "I shouldn't have sold the heroin/shot that man/killed that dog/stolen the car. . . ."  But you did it because you thought you were making the right choice.  You might say, "I chose to be standing here at the time the thing blew up and blinded me."  Choice.  If you hadn't kissed that boy or girl in the fifth grade, you would have been someplace else.  Butterfly wings and weather, etc.  Every moment of our lives we are making decisions.  Change any of them and your path is slightly altered.  It is hard, but we choose to be where we are at any given moment.

That'll be $100.  I've decided to be a Life Coach.  I think I'm cut out for it.  Let me help you through your pain.  You are not a victim.  You are a survivor.

Now I have to go tend to the choice I made when I bought this house.  The results of that, I mean.

1 comment:

  1. April 24: Eastertide: Enough Heartbreak, Heartache & Rejection, Let's talk about Love = Art = Life = God: Mise En Abyme

    “One must strain off what was personal and accidental in all these impressions and so reach the pure fluid, the essential oil of truth.”

    Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

    The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

    Jean Cocteau

    Have I drawn you in?

    These letters strung together
    stacks of jeweled bracelets
    slipping from my wrist
    into your mouth -

    your lips and tongue
    twist and suck
    out the marrow.

    Do they taste milkysweet?
    Feel cold & smooth
    between your teeth?

    From the breast drips these gems,
    star sapphires, tigers eyes, rubies lashed
    with diamonds,
    I beseech the dead, the living,
    those in between, ghosts, spirits, witches & muse

    for you –

    Dear Reader

    in this,
    our communioned quest
    for Beauty and her fraternal twin
    Truth – sleeping cabochons
    in different rooms.

    Let us make inquiry with Emily:

    He questioned softly why I failed?
    "For beauty," I replied.
    "And I for truth,--the two are one;
    We brethren are," he said.

    'And so, as kinsmen met a night
    we talked between the rooms
    until the moss had reached our lips
    and covered up our names.

    --Emily Dickinson

    How unmodern this particular bangle,
    more antique.

    “I believe a total unwillingness to cooperate
    is what is necessary to be an artist”
    Joni Mitchell

    “If I can
    if he were
    as he was
    when the world began
    and I were as I was
    and am”

    On this side of Eden.

    Old habits die hard. I have some nerve don't I - shoving poems onto the blog of a Man of Achievement such as yourself.

    I'm supposed to stop coming here. I'm supposed to refrain from my crush's social pages -- I suppose I'm just a bad addict.

    I shall endeavor.