underbellies of clouds

I am caretaker to one of the world's most affectionate and needy cats. He is a charmer. And, true to his kind, he is continually getting in the way. Cute, huh? A sitting lap is a sitting lap to Charles, whether or not you're doing anything with your hands or legs.

I feel a bit lumpish right now - have been sitting at that keyboard all day. Didn't even get up to go for a walk. I'm looking outside at the black wetness - hmm. Fresh air and blood circulation would be good, but Oh the unappealingness of it.

Bloody fantastic day of practice, however. A half-dozen unfinished songs are suddenly coming into focus. One after another - lyrics suddenly attaching themselves to melodies, tempo and time signatures snapping into place. Such a good feeling, to finally fit the key pieces into the puzzle. Some of which I've poured over for ages on countless occasions, not knowing how they might fit together. I always get myself into a big paper-mess when I'm doing work like this. All the scraps of paper with disjointed ideas, open notebooks of lyrics, manuscript everywhere. I went looking through some old journals for more words, an exercise I must remember not to repeat anytime soon. Blech. My journal from last year is just depressingly full of garbage. Just the worst kind of toxic waste. Ugh, so grim. I think I'll stick with the pages I filled up in Hawaii... even though it might put me at risk, one of these days, of writing a happy song. Heh heh.

Speaking of Hawaii: I listened to a TED talk by Elizabeth Lindsay today, on the knowledge of our elders. She was talking about the Polynesians, who first discovered the islands of Hawaii.
"These mariners sailed 3 million square miles across the Pacific without the use of instruments. They could synthesize patterns in nature using the rising and setting of stars, the sequence and direction of waves, the flight pattern of certain birds. Even the slightest hint of colour on the underbelly of a cloud would inform them, and help them navigate with the keenest accuracy."
She spoke about her mentor, a master Polynesian navigator, lying down in the hull of the canoe, using his whole body to feel the shifting currents and direction of the waves.

I've been thinking a lot about the loss of ancient wisdom these days. There are subtleties that I feel have been disappearing, even just over the course of my 29 years. I can't elaborate much; it's just a sense of communication and sensitivity fading. A sense of integrity sort of being leeched out of every form of culture. I know it's not hopeless and it's much more complex than I could ever hope to understand. But it does make me feel the extreme importance of living in an awareness of the earth. And I don't just mean a 'let's recycle and ride bikes' kind of awareness, but a relationship with the ground underfoot, all that grows out of it, and all that lives because of it. I don't think that you can connect to life, and love the Earth, without being outside. A lot.

I am so excited for the warmer days ahead.

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