Big Birds Were Flying Across the Sky

I'm noticing today how my thoughts don't really give any information about what's coming next. I'm tuned in to the planning nature of thought. Not like it's a problem, but I'm just seeing how thoughts say one thing and actual life either presents that or something completely different. It must be different. We can't think out exact future, can we?

Well, what about that time at the Dead show at Richfield? Spring 1994, I think, and I had played in my head the image of me being in the section where I preferred to sit, up on the side, Jerry's side; and he (at the time Hugh) would find me. Like I saw happen in Atlanta that night when we were on the Barrel of Monkeys and at a very bright and jammy moment, here came Sean, Jackie's boyfriend. In the whole giant Omni, and she said, "I knew you'd find me." She sort of has that vision. And in Richfield it worked out much the same way, right there on Jerry's side. I turned around and there he was. The only show we spent together. At least the only time we saw Jerry together.

They played this could be the last time . . . and I knew that Jerry was one before Hugh. See when I say that I'm okay, they look at me kinda strange below.

Last night I went to my friend Donna's 50th birthday party. One thing that is so clear to me is there's really no such thing as age, at least not in the way I'd thought. We talked about junior high, about outfits worn in 1989, travel in Greece: other lifetimes. And we were there, Donna's hair curled up in a super-hip flip do, and all her friends were there, reading odes of great devotion and playing music, many duets.

We played Willin' and most everyone sang along. Now that was really cool. I stumbled and fumbled through it and was nervous as I always get, but the group was so receptive and merry (and probably a little drunk) and happy to be there together, everyone clapped when we were finished.

Thank you so much to the Meandering to a Ramble blog that had me writing the word willin' . . . that had me move more deeply into the song. Thanks to youtube for turning me on to that great live video of Lowell and the band and for also having instructional videos that actually taught me how to play the song. Thanks to Todd Doerr for handing me this guitar and saying, "It's time," those many many lives ago in San Francisco. Thanks to Scott Grantham for helping me play it in a higher key.

Heh heh this sounds like my Oscar speech.

If you want to bake a Carin from scratch, first you have to create the Universe.

And while we're at it, I hear it's Neil's birthday today. Let us pranam. 




And while we're bowing, let us touch the lotus feet of our Joni, her birthday being just a few days ago.

Great people were born in November. Yep, that's you.

xx

It Makes No Difference, Rick Danko 1997

Dare I try to play this one? I bow to the memory and living presence of Rick Danko!

I want to write more and must journey at the moment.

Much love. Back to ya soon.

xo

Nothing comes of thinking, but I do have impulses to move. To go where no one knows me and maybe linger there. With new people or by myself or both. I don't know. Is it the fall air, at last arrived in Austin, that calls me away? Is it a day with a friend, pleasant enough, but by the end of the day, I don't want to talk with anyone anymore. I don't want to step into an already-known relationship.

Some trees, the longing for the color changes from my home state that I leave, again and again. But fall in love with at this time of year. It's a northern seduction, distracting you from the agony of the death of summer, the on-going winter, right around the corner that will linger and linger.

We don't have that here in Texas. I don't even really know where I am. It's cooler in my apartment right now than it has been in months. I want to put my pajamas on. I feel tired.

Will I someday . . . what? What goes on the end of that question, when turning back to see if there's even an I here to ask about?

View of My Lap

I love how that title sounds kinda dirty, but when you look, well, it's all blanket and laptop love. 

I felt like I should put a picture in here, so I took one of the view from where I'm sitting (minus the hand that was holding the camera).

The mind is quiet today, curious, happy.

I went to see Francis the Healer again for the first time in, as it turns out, at least two years. He looked a little older, a few pounds heavier, perhaps, and I was really glad to be there. The first thing he said to me is, "You look like you've grown since the last time I saw you." Emphatically and like a little girl, as I lay on the table, I said, "I have grown!"

My days are just so trippy, and I can't tell what begets anything else. Oh wow, I just saw that I was sort of looking for causality. Well, that's interesting. Some thoughts are becoming more and more apparent when they had been very subtle.

And all of this experience is passing.

I submitted poems to a literary magazine yesterday. I feel to share one of them here with you now, but I don't think I'm supposed to, now that it's gone to the magazine. Oh I don't know how these things work. I'm gonna share some of it. Let me go get it . . .

{footsteps walking down a hallway, a wooden floor . . .

                                                                                    . . .  now coming back}


poem excerpt, from "Like Thoreau":

May I have time to rest?

How else am I liberated to write &

write & write?

Like Thoreau,

I need benefactors.

I cannot hide anymore

in the world of the punch card.

I love my poems, even if I do still slip into the obvious sometimes. I sent them off unedited, a typo in the one that I think is best.

* * * * * computer crashes * * * * * 

Well! I didn't realize this was still here . . . I re-wrote most of this post, but just found this. I'm going with this one. There's something to be said for the original.

xx

Worry Makes Less and Less Sense

I used to feel twinges of comparison. I guess I could say that sometimes I still feel them, as I just did, which spawned this writing, but it passed very quickly.

I used to compare myself a lot to others and the way they were living their lives. In fact, the other day one of my friends told me that she doesn't like to go on Facebook because she always comes away feeling like her life is small and boring.

I'm sitting on my living room couch. My friend's birthday party going on in the back yard is kicking up to a ruckus, somewhat to my disappointment, as I'm a slut for my peace and quiet.

Anyway, moments ago I saw something on-line . . . a post by a musician friend describing what sounds like his glamorous life. And I felt this envy or comparison come up, like a subtle voice that says, Why aren't you living that life? You should be doing more. You're lazy, a loser, a fat kid on the couch.

It was a sweet little flicker, though, because I saw it come up, and I checked in with the veracity of those statements, and they just fell away.

Yes, I'm sitting here on my couch. But I don't feel the need or wish for anything other than this. That is, this is the life that's unfolding for me, and I don't wish for something different.

Even when I'm feeling stress, I wish I didn't have the feeling of stress, or I might wish for something to solve it, but my sense of a future is so blank, I can't look that far ahead to worry. It's as if worry makes less and less sense to me.

And still there are thoughts that come through . . . thoughts that threaten, that insist on worry, on fear, on strategizing, and though I suffer when they come through, ultimately they, too, pass, and life continues to go on.

And even when the worry comes, when the conflicted mind comes, as Mooji reminds us here, that, too, is seen, even as the peace is seen. And life continues to unfold beyond my mental comprehension.





It is a mysterious time for me. Will this relaxation settle more and more? It seems like the only way it can go. That is, the unfolding is inevitable. I don't see how I could go back to living from my thoughts. It doesn't make any logical sense, and I suppose it's simply the sense that I am a separate self with a sense of doership and responsibility to manage and control life that feeds the worry. I'm very curious right now. And grateful to my teachers.

Entertaining Myself

Thanks to last week's post when I thought I was moving house (whew! glad I got clear about not to do that just now!), I developed a new love for the song Willin', as played live below by Little Feat c. 1976. I've spent the days since then learning to play the song on guitar, and I'm downright proud of myself.

I'd looked at the chords written out before and in not being able to make sense of their apparent over-my-head-ness, I gave up pretty quickly. But thanks to the joys of YouTube (that also helped me fix my toilet all by myself today), and some patience, and a sprinkle of desire to be bad ass for knowing how, I've learned to play Willin',

I'm still not totally sure on how to sing the verses over the chords, but I also feel that they are too low for me, so I've asked a few of my male music buddies to help me out. I think Chris Cage is a great bet. He has that perfect story-telling way of singing that makes the verses of this song what they are.

And now I want everyone to pay attention and talk about how charming my doodle is and how cool of a chick I am for learning Willin' and  . . .  what? . . . you say the boyz are all busy watching Monday Night Football? Oh well. I am entertaining myself.

xx

freedom from an office

This time of my life feels like a groundless quickening.

I realized recently that even when we have situations that appear to be stable, they aren't necessarily. Change comes on its own timetable.

I feel fortunate, like the super scary time has passed for now, but knowing the reality of anicca, impermanence, steady times come and go. Upheaval comes and goes.

I see in the story of Carin that there has been a desire and a movement toward living life in the style that works for me, but there were some thoughts that simply felt it was not possible. That there had to be a windfall or a steady job. As I read over this now, it's funny that I wrote that the thoughts felt.

I just heard Mooji say, "Leave room for some surprise."

And so the steady job removes itself and it was a big and sudden surprise, and it's had me see the direction of this compass.

The night before I was told that I was likely to lose my job, I'd made a list of qualities I wanted in my life. Actually, I'd titled it What I Want from the Airstream Life, as I'd become restless at work and wanted to focus my intention. Here's the list:

freedom
spontanaety
natural sleep cycle
beautiful places
beautiful new friends
new places & locations
creativity
creative inspiration
rest
physical health & wellness
freedom from an office (ALH) [those are the initials of the hospital where I'd been working]
pay, for what I do naturally
complete leap of faith
peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace

And I'd say I have it all, really. A few days ago I moved my bedroom around and I didn't plug my clock back in. It's one of my favorite things about this change: sleeping and waking up when I want. Natural sleep cycle.

Interestingly, I find that I don't sleep quite as much as I have in the past. That is, I have been sleeping under 8 hours a night, and I'm not missing the extra 30 - 90 minutes that was my preference and natural cycle before. And this, too, will not last in this design. I cannot predict any of my behavior or patterns or anything.

Perhaps because I'm seeing more and more that it isn't "me" in the way I've always thought of myself, who is actually guiding things. I - as Carin - am not in charge. There isn't really any such thing as a Carin anyway. Surely I am not those letters on the screen.

And if I were, they couldn't be making decisions and driving my life.

I feel comfortable in the groundless feeling. It seems as if life has been giving me feedback the last few days that I can actually go with my instincts, live a simple and flexible life, live comfortably, get paid to do things that are fun for me, and just stay relaxed and unscheduled enough to enjoy the gentle unfoldment of life. Until it doesn't seem gentle anymore, says memory of recent angst.

I wouldn't say that I'm angst free at present. Nor would I say that I have an official mental trust in what's coming, for how could I know anything beyond now? It's impossible. I wouldn't call it hopeful nor even encouraged. I might call it peaceful or spacious, but neither of those quite says it. I just am. Living.