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.

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