Lesson One

After Monday's post about stepping sideways off the pathway I've been keeping my eyes peeled. Paying attention....

And on today's walk I watched for clues. Messages from the Universe about what it is exactly that I'm supposed to be learning.

I kept my mind open. Loose. I engaged my senses....

I noticed robins in the rowan tree.

And snowdrifts etched by the wind into the diamond skyscrapers of miniature ice cities.

I heard the over-wintered leaves of an oak tree applauding my progress, the tinkle of a windchime caught up in the breeze, the 'cheeseburger!' call of chickadees, the trickle of snowmelt as it collected at the curb and laughed its way to the storm drain.

I smelled woodsmoke, perfumed dryer sheets, someone's barbecue, spring.

I felt moisture on my cheek and tasted road salt on the air.

And I discovered these on my path: a fancy paperclip and a silk maple leaf from someone's autumnal arrangement.

The message (as I interpret it):

"Lost your place? You'll find it in Nature."

Let the learning begin.
...

Renaissancey Ramblings

Mayfaire in the rain -- :)

Only two weekends of Fest left. I can't say I'm not sorry.... It takes so much out of me to do this for the entire Fest season, and I half wonder if it'd be any easier if I did the Circuit and made every weekend a Fest weekend. The thought gives me the shivers. I'm sure I could do it, but I doubt for very long.

 

Autumn is my favorite season of all, and by the time Fest is over for the year I've pretty much missed its highlights. My gardens have peaked, the leaves have turned, Indian Summer has left the building -- the works. I'm still in a sort of post-Fest recovery when my birthday comes and goes and Halloween appears. But I know if I didn't have Fest to do come August every year I'd miss it in spades. It's just that now that I'm older, it's more difficult for me to Do It All.

 

This year, Fest has been sweet and rather uneventful. And as usual, I've learned a lot. I've learned that framed art is a luxury few can afford in a crappy economy, and that my lifetime customers will purchase from me regardless. Some have even saved money to commission something special. Others have drawn during the year and are eager to show me their work because I've specifically asked them to.... Some new customers are now my friends and have already visited me multiple times. Why someone would pay the admission price just to see me and have a Scotch Egg is unimaginable, but there you have it.... Strangers have stopped in for a smile and a hug. Little kids have stopped by to tell me what books they've read since I asked them last. And some customers have even brought me books(!) because they know how much I love them, bless their hearts.... The people I meet and take the time to get to know -- no matter how difficult that is for me -- are some of the most amazing and heartwarming folks on the planet. But it took stepping out of my cocoon to learn that.

 

The remaining two weekends will be easily the busiest by far unless weather interrupts attendance. Barring that, I expect to be pulled thin and feeling especially apologetic. Friends and family often wait until the last minute to attend, and by then I barely have time to wave and acknowledge them let alone enjoy a proper visit, and I feel bad when I can't give everyone my undivided attention. But it is what it is....

 

And -- believe it or not -- I'm already planning for and looking forward to next season. :)

...

Night School

SCENE: The dark interior of an oceanside cave at low tide. A wooden boat appears in the shadows and rocks in the gentle surf there, impaled on stalagmites thrusting up through the gentle waves. Small white fish school at the edges of its wounds and struggle as if fighting for space. On closer inspection, these are human skulls shaped like fish: flattened and disk-like, with fins that flip and tremble. Their little jaws yammer and their little teeth nibble, silently eating away at the boat until nothing is left but its ribs. FADE TO BLACK....

When I told James about my dream the next morning, he listened with amusement before offering me his opinion. As usual, I was all ready to go somewhere scary with it, but his thoughts were that my subconscious was addressing my frustrating weight loss attempts. And that even though the weight's been 'falling off' me at the crazymaking amount of an ounce or two a week, those ounces are adding up in little bits. Or 'bites,' in this case.

Eh. Good enough. I'm sure if I'd thunk on it more I'd have come up with something 'deeper and disturbinger,' because deep and disturbing is just how I roll....

So fast-forward to a recent morning and a recent dream:

SCENE: Deep space as seen through the visor glass of an astronaut's helmet, accompanied by the sounds of human breathing. There's nothing but pinpoints of heavenly light for as far as the eye can see in any direction. Our main character is intently focused -- not on the beauty of the stars and galaxies, not on the peacefulness of the weightlessness and silence, not on the happy memories that fill their head and heart -- but on impending death. Will it be peaceful? Will it be painful? And just how alone can one person BE, anyway?? FADE TO BLACK....

James had already left for work and wasn't here to interpret this dream, but that's OK. I read it as this: Death comes for us all eventually, and no one accompanies us into the void. And so why spend what's left of Life focused on the inevitable when there's still peace to experience, and memories to make, and a whole dang universe of diamonds all around us?

...