dress-up

I almost forgot that it's Halloween. Considering how much I like to play dress-up, it's a bit of a shame that I'm not doing anything tonight - no costumes. But really, I don't care a bit. Last year I was in Japan on Halloween. A few times I saw some Halloween decorations in store windows in the trendier districts, but that was the extent of it. I don't get very excited over holidays anymore. Even Christmas - which used to be a big thing for me - has lost its sparkle. Why don't they make Labour Day a proper holiday? That, to me, is the real New Year. I don't give a hoot about January 1st. That's just the start of really crappy weather. I'd like to celebrate the New Year at the beginning of September, and then the Winter Solstice, cause it's beautiful, (and also my nephew's birthday), then coming of Spring, and then mid-summer. Costumes could be worn at all four events. When I was a little girl, I played a witch many times at Halloween. Once, I got to be a clown with this great costume that somebody made for me. Boy, what a great suit. I was a princess several times, a ghost, Medusa and many other witch-variations, the Sky, and... I think that's it. Maybe I was a cat once.
Speaking of cats, the Mouse Gut diagnosis was incorrect, and Charles is still at the vet, awaiting blood test results. It feels weird without having my buddy here. He's more social than some humans I know.
Well, Happy Halloween. I hope nobody blows off any fingers with firecrackers tonight - I was always afraid of that when I was a kid.

..

the good earth

What a gorgeous morning... the grass outside is all fuzzy and wet and shiny, like a deer's coat. The ocean is kind of glowing with warm mist, and the sun is coming in sideways through trees and making long streaking shadows across the yard. Maple trees are amber, and the pines are blue-grey and look moist and heavy. I wasn't expecting sunshine this morning... the weather forecast had shown pictures of dark rainclouds for 7 consecutive days. I like that nobody can predict these little pockets of relief, and the sudden rainbows that appear in a dark sky, and the patches of deep blue opening up like big eyes. I like that we really are so hopelessly out of control when it comes to our environment.
I grabbed a book off the shelf this morning, and am happy with my random choice. Pearl S. Buck, "The Good Earth." Beautiful so far. I'm on a bit of a historical/period fiction kind of roll... I find it so much more interesting than reading about a book set in the present. I watched "There Will Be Blood" last night - and it was an interesting follow up to "East of Eden." Same country, same era, but a very different scene. Stunning film - disturbing in the best kind of way. Greed and emptiness, regret and pride.
I'm really glad I remembered to start the meditation back up. I've tried to practice mindfulness in the car, sitting here and there, walking, but without the anchor of having a sitting practice in the morning, I don't find it very effective. My cushion, my meditation bench, act like a trigger to my body - it's a physical cue to bring the attention in to the breath. And right away I feel the weight of whatever's on my chest, am suddenly aware of it underneath the nattering thoughts. Even if all I do for the whole 30 minutes is notice I've gone off into planning and thinking, and bring my attention back, over and over again, I know it's doing something good for me. Even when I fall asleep. Ha ha.
So I'm off to do that now, and then I'll go outside and maybe will be more present because of it. We'll see. I really want to smell that air today.

..

Mouse Gut

I finished the Steinbeck and am sad... it was so good. What should I read next? How can I follow up "East of Eden"? Any suggestions, friends?
My Charlie-cat is staying overnight at the vet, on an IV. Has a high fever. It sounds quite likely that it's not serious though. The vet said it's probably what they call, "Mouse Gut." Which I think is kind of funny and sums it all up. That cat is definitely hunting things all the time. Not funny to see him suffering though. Get better, Charles!
Oddly enough, my stomach is off too. I don't have a fever, and I didn't eat a mouse, so maybe it's sympathetic pain. Spent many hours on the memory work, and that was good. It's such an attention-focuser. After a while I noticed that my whole body was getting so loose. I don't seem to get a sore back anymore when I play the piano - unless I'm sight-reading or composing, and not paying any attention to my body. That Alexander work really has helped. I haven't felt this comfortable at the piano in a long time, and my technique felt really sharp because of it. What a great feeling - it made me want to bash through some Mozart and Bach, which I did. (And then realized that my technique wasn't really so sharp after all.) But anyhow - the fluidity and pleasure of improvising around little ideas, and around Mozart and around my own songs - left me feeling really really good. Refreshed. Ahh!

..

good bait

My cat is sick. It's oddly unsettling when pets turn unwell. Funny that we take for granted their health and happiness. Guess it's cause they don't complain all the time like humans do. Poor ol' Charlie. Taking him to the vet in a bit.
The rest of the day: practicing. I've been pleasantly surprised at how the memorization process is going. Maybe all that poetry-memorizing was a good primer. It's actually a huge relief to play without the music in front of me. So much easier to sing at the same time. And of course, I love having a deadline, and the sense of purpose that comes with it.
I'm really excited, because one of my favourite bands in the world is going to open for me at my CD release. Wee-ooo! I was cackling to myself pretty good whilst writing up the event invite. Mwa ha ha ha! Such spectacular bait...
And just you wait to see how purdy the CD cover is gonna look!

..

Declaration

Well, I've been humbled. Here it is, the plain old truth:
If I don't practice with every spare second I've got, I might as well throw in the towel. I've got so much work ahead of me, it's frightening. No more messing around. No more idling. I have to become so bulletproof as a performer that no situation in a live show can throw me. So that I'll be worthy of the musicians I want to play with, and deserve to rise to the level I aspire to. There just is no way around it. I need to memorize all of my music, even if it kills me. And then be able to play it, at the drop of a hat, anywhere, for anyone. This is my challenge: 3 upcoming shows. Nov 17th, Dec. 2nd and Dec 11th. 60% memorized for the 1st one, 80% for the second one, 100% for the third. By God, until Dec 11th, I must live and breathe my music.

Is this too much? No, I don't think so. I have been playing music with some people that just clobber and shame me with their dazzling ability and dedication. I can't deny it - a huge part of me is always motivated by wanting to win the respect and admiration of the people that I look up to. I wrestle with that a lot - trying to be clear about my intentions. Do I want this because I want it for myself, or do I want it so that I can feel accepted and somehow special? It's almost impossible to separate those strands. But I know that unless I push myself, I feel unfulfilled and unworthy as a human being. That never stops or changes. But the feelings of inadequacy do seem to be getting better. That is, I am no longer so convinced of my "just-can't-do-it-ness". Maybe I can do it. But I've got to light a fire under my ass.

On another note: I lost my journal. I don't know how or when. I take it everywhere with me, so it could be anywhere. What a gross feeling. I don't really care if it gets read by someone. It's just that it's like a piece of my history - gone. So many notes, lyrics, ideas, lists, drafts of letters, phone numbers, doodles, rants and raves. Ack... journal - come back to me! We weren't finished, you and I!

Okay - you know what I'll be doing tonight. And forever after if you don't hear from me again.

..

big ideas in the bathtub

Awake at 5 again. Weird. A couple weeks ago I would have set my alarm for 6:30, and if I didn't I could easily have slept 10 hours each night. This waking up at 5 thing is something that happens to me in the summer. There's only one explanation: the blue light.
Ha! I really didn't have any faith in the thing when I bought it. (I'm talking about the SAD therapy lights that blast special blue-sky-like-rays at you.) But the day after I started using it, the lingering morning sleepiness just was gone. I woke up and jumped out of bed. Hmm.
So, whilst in the tub and drinking tea, my mind started throwing out big ideas. Now that the Hawaii big idea is reality, I need another idea to work on. I've just booked 2 shows and hopefully will have a 3rd, bigger show, confirmed soon. (This is for Nov/Dec.) Somehow the prospect of nobody coming to these shows doesn't bother me much. It just needs to be done, audience or no audience, before I go away. So the next challenge, obviously, is to book a tour. I think it will be something like Toronto/Guelph/Ottawa/Montreal/Quebec City. I like it over in those parts. I think it has to be late April/May. And somehow I have to find the money for travel, accommodation, food, and wages for the band. I've been acting lately as though money is no object, and it's catching up to me. Money really gets in the way of implementing big ideas. So that means it's time to start writing grants, and perhaps planning some fundraising events.
Hmm... sorry, this is boring blog material- I'm just thinking out loud...
Obviously, the bigger the crowds, the more cash for the band... I'm going to have to put myself out there and ask some people I know with big followings to let me open for them. I'll have to be shameless. Maybe Leonard Cohen will write me back and suggest it... ha ha.
Whoo-ee. I've got to watch every penny I spend... I've made the nerdiest excel spreadsheet with a detailed budget and I cannot stray. The money has been flying out in terrifying quantities in every direction. Travel and CD production alone is breaking me. And I've got a band to pay for next month, and a designer whom I've commissioned to make me a performance costume (hee hee), a web designer and photographer, and let's not forget therapy etc etc. Maybe I should do a penny-drive? But somehow I'm not worried. I've got that feeling of whooshing possibilities and I know that when that happens, things have a way of working out.
And you know what I think is helping me feel terrific? Steinbeck's East of Eden. I'm nearly done, and I wish it was 5 times longer. It is absolutely heart-rending reading. So, so, rich, and in the subtlest, clean and simple way. It has this potency that moves me - I am just totally caught in the profundity of it. It stays with me all day - this feeling of being involved in something worthwhile.

..

early one morning

Awake at 5:30 this morning, but in a good way. It's only 7, and my day is well underway. Have done laundry, cooked lunch, written some emails, and made some art. I love this feeling. I am unabashedly a morning person. Have just enough time to finish making a new envelope - this time for a friend. I'm oddly cheerful, considering it's pitch black outside and I'll be heading out for my 2-hour commute in the rain soon. Did I mention the rubber boots? I bought them when I went up to stay at the Ashram. They're heavy-duty camo boots from Canadian Tire. I never needed to use them, so they've just been a home for spiders... until yesterday! Why did I suffer so many rainy days in sodden runners? What was I thinking? I'm indomitable in these boots. So here's the uniform for the next 2 months: Knee-length rain slicker. Peak-cap toque. Rubber boots. Woolen wrist warmers. There's a great feeling of independence and security when you're well-equipped for the elements. And I've gotta say, with all due respect to long-johns, that there's nothing like a decent layer of body fat to keep you warm. Thank you, peanut butter cookie.
..

Who wants A major anyways?

I am obsessed with counterpoint right now. Ack! Believe you me, it's not likely to win me too many fans in the pop music world. But what can I do? Both hands want to play running lines, and my ears want that big jumble of notes jumping off each other and forming split-second harmonies. It's all too easy to fall into the rut of left-hand accompaniment, right-hand melodies. And all too easy to place melodies in the treble register. Gotta switch it up! Our ears are getting laaazy. I've been writing a fair bit these days, with multiple pieces on the go. That feels good, feels right to work that way - I improvise, and exercise the fingers for a bit on one piece, make some notes, and when I cease to feel inspired, move on to another piece. Maybe this is not the most productive method... things come together patchily and slowly. But it's fun. Hoo boy, it's so difficult to not write the same thing in different ways, over and over. I find myself in the same keys, searching for the same kinds of dissonance, the same colours. I've got to cut myself off from the ol' B minor. (God bless it, the most haunting of keys.) Trying to work with A major - ugh. Or worse, F major. But who wants it? A is so bright. F is so comfortable.
Some big forward-steps for me - booked 2 shows and have rehearsals lined up. Won't go into it now, but this side of the music biz is hard for me. (Ah well, what side isn't?) But the CD is being mastered as we speak, and the cover design is practically finished - and looks gorgeous - and all I have left to do is take it in to the manufacturing company and get it pressed. Whoo-ee. Planning some kind of 3rd show, an unofficial CD release, for December. And then it's Christmas, and then Hawaii, and Manta Rays.

..

battlecry

Haha - take THAT, Inbox, you ol' bastard!
Bring it on - let the emails pour in - I'm not afraid - I can respond to anything. I can bat them back with a flick of my tail! Let the letters come from the tax people - let the facebook messages from old high school acquaintances roll in with the awkward questions and insinuations and demands for reply.... Hit reply, type like the devil, hit send, move to resolved. Done!
I'm TCB Woman today. Swatting down bullshit tedium like flies. And when the pile of corpses is stacked and burning, I will retire to my fresh-made bed and read Steinbeck, uninterrupted, for the rest of the day.

..

Orpheus VII

After following the stream for several days, the rabbit finally found himself emerging from the lowland meadows. He felt safer in these hills; he had once lived in this region, years ago, and it was pleasingly unchanged. He made for the home of an old friend, humming as he followed his memory through the purple heather and clumps of thyme. Rounding the last bend, he arrived at the little dwelling, and tapped lightly on the hollow bark of an old tree stump. 


Moments later, he was comfortably installed on soft cushions of hay, with dishes of carrots and turnips laid out before him. The pints of plummy ale went down easily and the rabbit's cheeks took on a rosy hue as the tumbling conversation of long-parted friends gradually relaxed its pace.
Orpheus stretched and sighed. “Ah, dear friend, it really has been too long. But I feel there's something you're not telling me. How are you really?"
“Ah, well enough, I suppose. Yes, I suppose...”
“Marvin- I am not convinced.”
“Well, you remember how things were when you left. We didn't know it then, but I think that was the beginning of the end for us. They’ve been digging and building non-stop, devil-driven, ever since.”
“What do you mean? Things look just the same as –“
“Yes, yes, I know,” Marvin's voice was sharp and bitter. “That’s their favourite line of defense. Nobody can see the difference. Well, the earth knows, the Gods know, and it won’t be long before there’s nothing but hollow ground beneath our feet.”
“Building underground? But they can't possibly -” Orpheus stopped himself at the look on his friend's face. He suddenly noticed the whitening hairs around his nose, the thinning quills on his back. “Marvin... this is terrible.”
“Yes, it is. They’re greedy, greedy and blind. Dining rooms, bed lofts, entertainment rooms – it’s completely ruined our community. Nobody gathers outside to watch the stars anymore.”
Orpheus shook his head sadly. “I just can't believe it.”
Marvin looked at him silently for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I wish you had stayed. You might have had some influence. Maybe if you'd shown them your plans, made them see.”
Orpheus looked at him in disbelief. "My plans?"
"Yes, your plans. Your blueprints- your bloody blueprints!"
"My dear Hedgehog, you have lost your mind. Nobody here has ever shown the slightest interest in, or even tolerance for, my ideas. That's WHY I left."
"But we could have fought them, convinced them... We didn't stand a chance without an Architect on our side."
Orpheus pulled on his long ears and rubbed his eyes. "Marvin, look... I don't want to argue with you. I can't carry the blame of this."
With a bristle of quills, the hedgehog tossed the rest of his ale down his throat and wiped his mouth with a grunt. "I'm not blaming you, Orpheus. But we need an Architect."

..

Orpheus VI

It was mid-day when Orpheus came out into the long meadows that stretched away behind the wood. He looked around warily, and crept along, staying close to the ground. His ears were keen and told him it was safe, but he stayed low all the same. Something in Eda's voice had stirred fear in him. He looked up now and again, into the cloud-streaked sky, wary even of the small birds circling above him. Finally the tall grass gave way to a thicket of brambles along the edge of a stream. Orpheus was able to follow the banks, under cover, till nightfall. Then, in the safety of darkness, he bathed in the stream and allowed himself a few hours of rest. He found himself thinking about Eda, and then Isadora and Rata, Briedit and Fantilee, Jeid, Susto and Meeren. He was no spring bunny anymore. He had been through a gauntlet of doomed romances. Never with a rabbit - no, there were very few rabbits left in the West - and maybe that was the problem. He shook his head and looked up at the great map of stars, rubbing his tired feet. "Are you there?" he whispered at the night.

..

The Boulder

Good things are on the roll. I've finished booking my trip this morning, and let me just say that I am basking in that most warming feeling, gratitude. I am so grateful for whatever amazing alignment of planets and molecular cosmic catalysts brought me all this goodness. January 3rd, I'll be off to Maui for two weeks. Then 17 days on Kauai, and then a month on the Big Island. Found 3 great places to stay - each with a kitchenette, balcony, private bath and high-speed internet. All near fantastic beaches, on the sunniest parts of the islands. You can hate me for a few moments, I won't mind. You can come visit.
Writing lots of music - or at least, conceiving of lots of music. In a phase of adoration/love for my piano, nodding off with my forehead on the music stand, fingers on the keys. Learning so much just from exploring. The best thing my best music teacher ever taught me was that the piano can teach me anything I need to know. After all these years it's still a complete mystery, still a total wonder. I wander around the keys, searchingly, and stumble into chords that startle me and surprise me. With 10 fingers on 88 keys, the pathways are so limitless, that it's frightening. So much music is written on the front lawn, inside the fence. Doesn't even look beyond the perimeter of the yard, let alone walk out into the forest. Hmm. Hrr. I wanna go out there! The forest is huge and humbling!
But making music, being a musician, maybe even trying to grow as a human being, is like pushing a boulder. You've got to just heave-ho to get it to go anywhere, and then once it's moving, it's a little easier. And every now and again you'll come to a downhill, maybe a long one, and you can just run alongside the boulder and whoop and holler. But when it finally rolls to a stop, you have to heave-ho once again. Sometimes you get to a hill - going UP. And then you lie down on the ground and gnash your teeth and beat your fists and maybe walk away from the damned thing. But you can't forget about it, and you keep coming back and trying to push it on your own. And one day you do it. Maybe it takes a bunch of friends to help you push it up the bloody hill, maybe you just get a surge of superman strength. But you do it, and then you get some nice flats again or a lovely downhill. It's always this way. The boulder doesn't get smaller or lighter. It's your companion for life, so you love it.

..

Orpheus V

Eda nudged Orpheus awake with her long soft snout. Her blue eyes smiled at him. "Breakfast, lovey." He looked at her through a haze of dissolving dreams, confused for a moment. Then he remembered where he was and smiled back, nodding sleepily. He felt pinched and worn, but was glad for morning. He lay still for a few more minutes, watching Eda as she returned to the fire. Lovely Eda. He had known her for many years now, had always loved her, and it was not so long ago that his heart had finally matured and stopped hoping to one day win her. She was a bear - powerful, dangerous, strong-willed - and he was just a rabbit. Manley was a mighty animal, fierce but kind; Orpheus had accepted him as Eda's rightful mate and that was that. They were beautiful to behold together this morning, rich coats glinting in the early sun. With a sigh, he hopped over to a mossy seat beside them and accepted a deep bowl of berries and honey.

"I wish you would stay a few days, Orpheus," Eda said quietly, once the food was cleared. "You look exhausted."

"Oh - thank you. It's very kind of you. You're both so kind... But I am anxious to reach the valley by the new moon."

"We've been hearing strange things," Manley grumbled. "Disturbing things - not just about the marshes anymore. The gatekeepers are growing very restless."

"Yes, I am not surprised."

"Oh, I know you're clever as anything, Orph, and fast, but -" Eda's black eyes flashed with concern. "But you'll be so vulnerable out there. We should ask Hopkins to go with you."

"No. Thank you. But no." Orpheus' ears twitched several times, but his voice was controlled. "I must go alone. I will be safe."

..

Orpheus IV

It was black and starry when Orpheus suddenly woke. The bears were snoring softly, and everything was still. He shivered, soaked in sweat, and waited for his heart to slow. He had been dreaming about the Mountains. They were crumbling down upon him, and all the little huts were on fire. Closing his eyes, he remembered standing at the edge of a huge canyon, a mile deep. There was a wire stretched across - a mile long - and he had to cross this canyon, paw-over-paw, by dangling over the precipice. Someone was pushing him and he was arguing, "No, I'm just going to jump." Then, with a devastating sound, the highest Mountain peak had broken off, and slowly tumbled down towards them. In terror he had fled and found himself alone in the burning village.
Orpheus stood and changed out of his sodden robes. He wrapped himself in his cloak, took out his mirror, and placed it over his heart. He waited, holding the image of the shattering cliffs in his mind. Nothing happened. He looked in the mirror; his anxious face looked back at him. With a heavy sigh of relief, he lay back down and attempted sleep.

..

to sit or not to sit

I am a big fan of routines. I mean, the helpful, good ones. Basically, practice. But, this brings us to the difficult issue of Choice. There are only so many hours in the day, and it's really not sufficient time! But I realized today, with a bang, how much I need to reinstate a meditation practice. I used to sit for 30 minutes every morning, and it helped me a lot, with everything in my life. I remember feeling that it was the only thing I had ever discovered that could actually improve my life, and that I would never stop doing it, no matter what. Whoops.
You know what, though? It wasn't an accident. I got really mad at Mindfulness, and Metta, and all that beautiful stuff, simply because I duped myself. I was in a really depressingly flat relationship with a very kind person I couldn't bear to hurt. And I used the unattachment and wanting/not-wanting teachings to trick myself into thinking that it was just my ego-mind that was grasping at something 'better'... looking for the greener grass. When I finally left the guy, I went through this period of total rage - I was just so, so angry for being locked up for so long. Furious at myself and all of that peacefulness-acceptance-unconditional-love stuff. I wanted to rip myself to shreds, tear off all my niceness and softness and step into an iron tank and blow everything up GRARRR!
Hence, "Peace is Every Step" and "A Path with Heart" and all their gentle friends got chucked into a bin and gathered dust for a long time, while I started looking for a good way to hurt myself real bad. Or something like that. Grow some spikes that would keep the puppy dogs away from me. Or something like that.
So, well, I've lost my spikes now and am all covered up in soft cushy flesh again. And that rage comes back when I find myself getting caught in that cycle of shame and disgust about my weight, and I feel so trapped because I know I can't start starving myself again. I know I need to somehow learn to respect nature and the human body it's letting me borrow for this lifetime.
Anyhow, it's time to get back to the meditation and all that brilliant simple wisdom. But not passively this time. I've got to look for my Buddhist warrior.

..

Orpheus III

Some days later, badly in need of food and rest, Orpheus reached the edge of a wood. There was no light beneath the trees and the path was vague. He hesitated, and looked around carefully. He knew that somewhere, a gatekeeper was watching him from the darkness. Slowly, he removed his cloak and lay down on the grass, pressing his nose to the cold earth. He raised his white tail and waved it back and forth, back and forth, until he heard a soft rustle in the leaves. Without raising his head, he said, "Silver trumpet, leaf of my heart, Bellmaster of the ancient ponds, 3-9-16-8-trout-in-the-stream Birchbeak."
"Stand up, Orpheus. We know your kin. They told us you were coming."

Stretched out on a bed of leaves, pipe resting in one paw, he listened to the crackling fire and hearty voices with deepening contentment. Manley caught his eye and pointed at the steaming pot on the grill. Shaking his head, Orpheus gave his bulging stomach a pat and grinned. The bear chuckled softly and turned his attention back to his jug of ale and his tambourine, picking up the thread of music here and there, as it suited him. The ragged voice of Hopkins the Kodiak carried the lilting song, and told them tales of the Easterly East. The air was thick with pipe smoke and the smell of steaming fur. And as the laughter and murmuring thrum chased away all the creaking sounds of the night, Orpheus let his eyelids droop until the trees above him seemed to bend down and shoo him off to sleep.

..

Dear envelope,

...

.

Orpheus II

Though he was tired, it felt better to be moving. Sleep was sometimes deep and empty, sometimes cruel and tinged with dreams that followed him like a string of weary ghosts through the day. His heart always woke first, full to bursting, tugging his mind awake. Where these dreams came from, or why they made visits to such distant pasts, he did not know. He was heavy with shame and a sad kind of desperation, made worse by the knowledge that he should have grown beyond these fragile states long ago. They plucked at him and chided him and accused him of so many things. They sat on his chest and pushed long thin pins into his heart.
Orpheus pulled back his warm cloak and stretched his ears into the night. He aimed them at the distant peaks of the North. He closed his eyes and leaned forward and imagined he could hear some calm voice from a mountaintop murmur something like reassurance. Some lines of ancient verses came softly into his mind and he strode onward more quickly, reciting them to the listening darkness.

..

Orpheus and the Domestication of the Animal Kingdom

The moon was bright, and so was the one star still visible in the sky. He tucked his long rabbit ears under the warm hood and kept moving, whiskers outstretched and quivering in the air, collecting dew. There was enough light to see shadows, enough light to see the glint of eyes peering at him from bushes. His thick coat kept him warm enough, though it was nearly winter. For many hours he followed the empty roads heading North towards the Mountains. They were distant and fading, but he tried not to think about the great span that lay between him and the Elders. Many seasons would pass before he would rest again.

..

The Elders

I'm not complaining, cause it was worth it, but Baby gave me a cold. There's something so frightening and torturous about being on a full airplane when you're sick. I kept closing my eyes and slipping into a half-dream state where I believed I was in my bed at home, and then opening my eyes a few seconds later to the horrible shock of that tiny cramped cabin.

Back into my other reality now, rain and routine. Wishing I could go back to TO next weekend, counting pennies and scrutinizing credit lines. Humm....
I discovered this amazingly fun game with the baby; I'd hold him so he could stand on the bed, and then I'd count to three really slowly... and on three, let go, so he'd fall gently back onto the cushions. He just laughed and laughed, shrieking and giggling and so unfadingly joyful. I can't really describe how much love I feel for this little nephew of mine. Maybe it's my age and my maternal instincts... but I feel this intense protectiveness and affection that makes me aware of a brutal, raging, murderous demon inside me that lives to defend that sweet new life of his. Weird to realize that I'm a killer.

Wanting to write, wanting to write more than I can write on a blog. Guess that's where my songwriting has to come in. There is no intimacy on the internet. I can lay out some thoughts and some feelings, but there is nothing here that would pain me to have read aloud to a roomful of people. What about the things that I can't even let myself put into words? They have to just sit inside melodies and harmonies until someone cuts them open and pulls out their meaning. Which... never happens. And even if it did, what would be the language for acknowledging it? I don't know what I'm saying, but maybe that's the point. Where does intimacy live? And who doesn't look for it, blindly and without any sense of direction?

I finished the first book of Kristin Lavransdatter and was so moved. Moved like the poor Danish poet. I was so oddly troubled that Kristin did not end up in joyful triumph, even though she got what she had fought for. This is not a contemporary concept. You do not see movies where star-crossed lovers overcome all obstacles to be together, but end up burning with regret on their wedding day. And yet, it made so much sense - all those layers of guilt and despair from the destruction she caused in her stubbornness, all the hopeful illusions and hot-headed passion followed by the starkness of reality... Dammit, maybe this is why we're supposed to listen to our Elders, and be guided by their wisdom. Too bad we don't have councils of elders anymore.

..

Baby

It's nice to be away from home and to get a longing for the ocean. There are certain things I like about Toronto, but being landlocked is not one of them. Here's what I do like: houses with character, with small but tended yards, big oak and maple trees, a shimmery blue sky and well- worn road underfoot. Streets full of interest and personality, one hole in the wall after another of cool, creative wares; open looks of curiosity from people. A feeling of bustling-ness, lots of brick, lots of small touches of beauty, and (at least in the stretch of W. Queen W.) lots of babies. We ate fish & chips in the park the other day. (Don't remember the last time I had fish & chips - was definitely a little girl, probably on Crescent Beach with my Grandma.) Baby was cooing and reaching for ketchup, his whole being focused on getting and squishing and smearing that ketchup over us all. Tree and birds' chorus about us. Happy people lying on the grass everywhere, sun-smitten. Later, in a playground - Baby's rapt exploration of every inch of wood & metal, delight in other children, big 6-toothed grin going down the slide. Back at the house, following baby up and down and all around, him crawling like a steam-engine, peek a boo-ing to distract him from everything he wants to put in his mouth. Big brown deep wise solemn eyes, skin like powdered silk, and strong tiny hands.

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In Olden Times

I am in Toronto now and things are good. I could write a lot about this baby - he is just a lighthouse. My bro and his wife are the kind of people I look up to in the world, so I know the baby has the parents he deserves, and vice versa.

Having some nice quiet time, too, with my book and my journal. I am reading this Medieval trilogy by Sigrid Undset called "Kristin Lavransdatter". It's set in 14th century Norway - was a Nobel Prize winner back in the 20s when it was written. I mentioned this book to my brother and he said, "Oh, wasn't that the Norwegian Epic in 'The Danish Poet?' " If you haven't seen this animated film, you should. It's oddly moving. It's about a Danish Poet who is so touched by "Kristin Lavransdatter" that he writes to Sigrud Undset and asks if he can come see her 'for inspiration'. And she writes back and welcomes him. So off he goes. I watched this film a long time ago, and of course the literary references meant nothing to me then. I love these kinds of little coincidences that suddenly make remote things feel close and personal, and meant for one's own eyes/ears. And of course my last name is Danish. I love that The Danish Poet wrote Sigrid Undset a letter. In the doc I was watching on Darwin, he wrote letters to all the people he looked up to, with copies of his first major work.

I'm not comparing myself to Darwin.

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stealing away

...and one of the hardest things about not having control over people is when you want to help someone, and they don't want your help.

Been thinking about Darwin - watched some doc on him the other day - and evolution. I wonder when humans, as a whole, will realize that everything changes, and we usually can't guess how or when. That we are totally out of control, even though we feel in control.
What will happen then? Will we grow wings and take to the skies? I will for sure - it's happened in my dreams often enough. Oh man, I love those flying dreams.

I wonder, from an evolutionary standpoint, why we have such a capacity for emotions. But I shouldn't be stumbling into philosophy when I'm falling asleep at the computer. My thoughts are not walking in straight lines.

Tomorrow getting up bright and early to fly to TO to visit my gorgeous baby nephew. Not taking my laptop and that feels goooood.

Will finish off this list of 120 bands - so far I have reviewed 2/3rds of them... found a few gems and lots of garbage. From now on I'm going to buy an album a week and review it. For listening practice. To soothe my impatience at this endless snail-swift process of getting the album out.
Mastering Oct 25th, then finally the pressing.

May not blog from TO. All I want to do is squeeze a baby!

rue the day

Oh infuriating humans - can you please be people?! Have some consideration for others, for the love of God!

It's so frustrating when your best intentions are out there, hovering in the air, and the recipients just ignore them, or bat them away.
You can shape your life, you can carve your path, but you can't do it by making people give you what you want. That's the only rule in this game. You can use whatever methods you can dream up, but you can't control people.
I've been reflecting on this because it's so easy to blame other people for setbacks. Somebody doesn't return an email, or a phone call, somebody has forgotten that they promised such-and-such, somebody else has changed their mind, somebody else again has given a false impression, etc. It is utterly impossible to rely on other people to move you forward.
It's a tough lesson to learn. As a sensitive person who worries too much about what others think, it's hard not to take even small disappointments personally.
The instinct is to give. But every now and again there's this whiplash of wanting to get something back. Which defeats the whole purpose of selfless giving, turns it into the beginnings of manipulation. I can feel this tug and it does not feel good. It's a whiny, weak, greedy voice. And it makes me irritable to feel it there, because I know it's a set-up. I know how futile it is to expect people to change and I know that the only thing in this entire universe that I have control over is my own attitude and outlook on life. But it really is a hard lesson to learn.

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long brown path

Spider season.
A few days ago I got in my car and was surprised to see an enormous spider web just inside the passenger window. There was no spider in the web. The windows had not been open. I left it undisturbed - it was really beautiful. But it seemed odd; so much effort for such limitied prey.
Yesterday the spider web was gone. Not a trace of silk left.
(??)

I like spiders. (Apologies to sister, who will not appreciate this blog.) I can handle them being around me. I don't mind them being on me if they are small and innocuous. But the tougher-looking ones can spook me pretty good, in a way that makes me laugh. Why do they have that effect on humans? Now and again I pick something up off the floor and a big thick-legged critter will come shooting out and I'll shout "whooaoaaahhooo" and hop around involuntarily for a second. Pure knee-jerk reaction. Same with big flying buzzing things. But once the reflex adrenaline has ebbed, I can cope no problem. Factoid: Elephants are afraid of mice for real. They've done studies; it's no myth.
Another factoid: spiders do not bite people in bed at night. People love to blame weird bites on spiders, but spiders eat bugs, not people.

(Thanks to zigotica and gatussobeto from flickr for pics.)

I have written 15 letters now, and that exhausts my list for the time being. So many of the people who have really influenced me are dead - looooong dead. I'll finish the last 3 envelopes and then I'll have to start on my next project, which is to get myself acquainted with this *%@^$*!& software for recording into my laptop. I've gotta get with the 21st century, friends. It's time. Too much reliance on other people for tech help.

And to balance the modernity: Will start new poem. I've got 3 Rilke, 4 Cummings, 3 Wordsword & 3 Keats memorized now. Want something really long - an epic challenge. I've got an addiction on my hands. I think I'll tackle Whitman's "Song of the Open Road." Thanks, SB, for putting me on to Walt.

This is Part I of XVII:

AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever
I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)

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Lava

Been having a lot of dreams about Hawaii.

Doing lots of research. Think I'll be staying on the Big Island: tons of intense nature, uncrowded, and places to stay right in the jungle.

You can watch lava flowing into the ocean, and go caving under the volcanoes. (Thanks to Michele F from Flickr, whoever you are, for letting me snatch this picture.) Lots of hikes through volcanic wastelands and jungle. The leeward side of the island is totally protected by the volcanoes, so there's a whole string of sheltered, calm coves with crystalline water, white sand beaches; apparently spectacular snorkeling and lots of dolphins and turtles.

The island is too big to not have a car; this is a problem - I wanted to get around on foot or bicycle. After some asking around, I think I'll buy a used scooter when I get there, and then sell it when I leave.

The place I'm thinking of staying is on a coffee plantation. They supply unlimited fresh coffee, fruit and macadamia nuts.

I woke up grumpy but am feeling much more cheerful now. The sun has also just started to rise, which is a relief. I hate waking up in the dark. Glad I'll have bright early morning crispness to walk to the ferry in.

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