I got out my good camera the other day. It takes a lot better photos than my phone.
Out at Delta Ponds there were willows and ducks and a group of around 25-30 herons flying all over the place. It was because of an eagle looming over their nests. They didn’t like that.
I’ve been trying to notice details lately in regular life.
Rain in my face.
Wet toes.
Daphne in the breeze.
Feeling my legs pedal my bike to and from farmer’s market.
Last night we sang along with Fleetwood Mac and B-52s because we knew most of the words, though we didn’t know each other that well. Me and the guy next to me would turn toward each other and holler: BANG BANG- ON THE DOOR BABY- I CAN’T HEAR YOU!
We sang between normal conversations with democrats at a small Irish pub over whiskey and Guinness where we learned stories and backstories.
I always liked Bring Me a Higher love, which I thought was Lindsey Buckingham who I called Lindsey Graham at first and everyone looked stricken so I quickly corrected. It was Steve Winwood.
We were doing a birthday party for a 21-year-old. The music was older than she was.
Sunday morning, I joined a yoga class with others on a concrete pub floor, on a mat, and we did chair and tree and eagle and twisted left and right and reached out and breathed in. We invited and affirmed each other.
We surrounded our instructor who was in the middle, on top of the table. My brother said it sounded Pagan and I guess it did. Maybe it was?
I planned to have a beer but instead drank a golden goddess kombucha by Elevate.
I was equal parts sore/ stretched/ relieved/ inspired/ and content for the moment.
A poet, Stanley Kunitz, said artists live in perpetual discontent.
My hips started as rusty metal underwater cables with barnacles, algae, and seaweed and finished as burnished abalone.
Keeping with this theme, I weeded outside while burning incense. After that I joined others to fly a kite in the park nearby. The kite flying was symbolic, for peace in Gaza. It was plenty windy and it felt unifying and better than not acting in a symbolic way for peace. The kite we had flew but it would only go so high no matter how much I ran with it. Still, it was in the air with the other kites.
I read a book about a person who dies of lung cancer and I put down the book when I could because I didn’t want her to die yet. You know it’s close so you try to stretch out their presence before the end. I had this experience once with my own mother and I remember trying to stretch time, to slow it down.
I think what I’ve been pondering is this thing that we talked about recently, which is we have three zones: comfort/stretch/panic. We don’t learn much in comfort. We do learn in stretch. We are too panicked in panic to absorb the lesson. I remember being in all these zones and assume to be in them again soon.
I watched a show about sperm whales last week and felt driven to carve one and print it.
Noticed