The Big Sigil Keeps On Working ...

This morning, in the span of about an hour, I found out that the Idirlion ad on Coilhouse.net went live, and then got a response from Terri Windling that she's going to feature The Womb as part of the On Your Desk series on her blog sometime next week.  It seems more eyes may be about to be on me.  I suppose I should be on my best behavior.

Riiiiiight.

After working frantically to get everything spiffy on the Idirlion website and Twiiter account, then stopping for a bite at the Preakness Restaurant, we didn't get down to Avon 'til around 7, which was fine in a way, because most of the people have left by then.  It took a while to create a vibe, but once we did, the colors at sunset more than made up for the delay.

Ahhhhhhh.

A Mostly Gentle Tuesday ...

I was very tired when I got up this morning.  It felt like I must've had a very active night of dreaming, but I didn't remember any of it, which is weird for me.

E and I had a gentle day, connecting in the morning over her questions about the yoga sutras, and in the afternoon during a ride up Skyline Drive, around Erskine Lake, past the reservoir and over the one lane bridge.

The evening featured another abysmally slow shift at the 'Seed, din and a game of Yahtzee and, of course, two more episodes of Glee.  Kurt's coming out scene was hard to watch, but also uplifting at the same time.

Before I forget again, I got hired yesterday to do a six day retreat with Bhagavan Das up in New Hampshire in October.  A week at a retreat center ... New England in the heart of Autumn ... yeah, that sounds like quite the posh gig.

All for now.  Good night.

Glee ...

Occasionally, just occasionally, I LOVE being Icarus!  If I hadn't changed, I don't think I would have fallen so hard for Glee this evening.

E and J have been talking about this show for a long while now.  Mr Shu, Kurt (especially Kurt) and "That's what you missed on Glee" have become household names / phrases around here, yet I never knew exactly what they were going on about.

Dear god, when those kids sing ... I feel my heart growing three sizes, like the damn Grinch.  I start to remember how much I love music, and how much I want to play and sing.  I really don't understand people who are down on this show, or who don't want their music on it.  

It doesn't matter that it's full of teenage drama.  It doesn't matter that there is auto tune all over the place.  There something going on under the surface that is real, that is opening up things in me.  When that happens, wherever it comes from, you go with it.  Always.

Since getting into Gaga recently, I've started to understand that the pOp initiative was even more than I thought it was when I first stumbled upon My Chem over the winter.  Wearing a mask isn't always a bad thing.  In fact, there is a lot of power in choosing how we want to present ourselves to the world.

There's something going on here, and pOp music is a catalyst.  Fuck pretension.  Use the big energy, the grand gesture, hold it close to your heart and reflect it out and do some good.  Drop the hipster pose, don't be afraid to cry and above all else, just SING.

Instead of Graduation, A Garden ...

I know I do this a lot, but it's hard not to use repeating events in my life to measure how much things have changed.  Today was SSYTT graduation.  Of course, considering the situation with The Muse, I did not attend.  Last year I did attend, another version of me anyway, cheering on E and That Dear Boy.  Bill and Jason were still around.  I barely knew Amy.  I hadn't worked a single day at the 'Seed.

It only took one year, one damn year, for that huge arc to occur : starting working there, becoming friends with The Muse, getting more involved with the shamanic program, playing drums with said Muse and stepping into a leadership role, falling in love with and then promptly losing her, creating The Institute, and now on the cusp of leaving.  From TL to I.Q., from wholeness to heartbreak.  All in one year.  525,600 minutes indeed.

I needed to get my head out of this dichotomy.  Luckily, E was open to a bit of wandering this afternoon.  We drove along some of my favorite Central Jersey roads (what I refer to as Dr. Lisa territory) and wound up at a place called the Leonard J Buck Garden.  It was hot and buggy, but so green, so beautiful : the trees and the manicured paths and the bridges over streams.  We both love places like this.

To refresh, we continued our drive and ended up down at Bridgewater Mall for the second time in as many weeks.  After initially picking the wrong table, we found the right spot, in a bright corner of the food court surrounded by glass, and made another wonderful little circle.  My energy is so heavy, all the time (as these recents posts illustrate, I'm sure) yet my Anam Cara persists.  Bless her.

Since getting home, it's been a quiet evening, mostly just finishing up season three of The Doctor.  A nice break point.  I'll finish up when I get home in September.  Speaking of break points, I think I'll head to bed.  Good night interwebs.  Good night old versions of me.  Good night, all of you whom I love.  Sleep peacefully.  Dream of beautiful things.

No Shape, No Form ...

I was pretty disappointed yesterday when I Reggie canceled the gig that Lisa and I were supposed to do at Yoga Basin.  I was looking forward to seeing and playing with Lisa one more time before leaving, and the nice little crowd we drew last month encouraged me that we'd do even better this time.  But alas, Reg didn't want to compete with the events all over Asbury for gay pride week, so there you go.

Of course, for me selfishly his meant no ride down to the sea, no music making, and really no focus whatsoever for the day.  Bug and I did go to the library in the afternoon, and I did reconnect with some of the old Francesca Lia Block books I used to love, but that was the extent of the day's movement.  E was exhausted after work, so we didn't go for groceries or for a ride or anything.

It's closing in on 1am, and I've been up here all night, since dinner.  There was a vibe floating around the periphery, but it never really solidified.  Time for bed, then, methinks.

A Public Day ...

I had been dreading telling Amy about my upcoming trip.  I'm not sure why.  She has been nothing but supportive, and a steadfast friend, for the better part of a year now, as my life continues to take dizzying turns that would scare many people away.  Even so, I was not looking forward to saying the words, "I'm going to England and Ireland for two months."  Obviously, I did have to tell her, and this morning, I did.

Over tea and brioche in Montclair (we are soooooo Stuff White People Like!) we spoke about the website redesign (she LOVED what we came up with) and about The Institute and when I had to tell her that Brian would be doing the June event solo, I couldn't put it off any longer.  I didn't even get to finish my sentence, when she broke out in a big smile, hugged me and said she was so so glad I was doing this.

She's been present for the whole Mary saga, good and bad.  She was a firm supporter of my last incarnation, and when I regenerated into Icarus!, she was right there still.  She's woo woo enough to understand my power, and can see why me going to those places to heal myself makes sense.  Most importantly, she is fine with E working the desk while I'm away, and holding my job for me until I return.

Leaving Montclair around 130, I felt a bit lighter, like a big block had been lifted, at least in my mind.  When I got to the 'Bucks a little after 2, E was happy to hear that things had gone so well.  I spent some time talking with Katherine and Eddie, and Lisa and Amy called on the phone (Amy just had to tell me again how much she loved the site and how happy she was for me).  Like I said, it was quite the public Icarus! sort of day.

By the time E got out at 430, I was feeling a bit overexposed, so after a quick trip to WalMart (where I picked up the first season of Smallville for $15) we went home for a quiet evening.  After dinner, we watched more Who, featuring the clever and lovely Sally Sparrow and the always marvelous Derek Jacobi, before my cold started acting up.  Now I am cranky.  Now it is time for bed.

Flame Shift #37 ...

I seem to be coming down with another pesky cold, so I'll keep this brief.

Flame Shift #37 was about sitting with my vulnerabilities, and about understanding that the public and private Icarus will have to co-exist in a different way when I'm traveling.

I started the day in a sweat, waking up from a terrible dream involving my parents (the first in a very long time).  I spoke to Amy in the afternoon.  I continued my book organization project.

E covered for me at the 'Seed (since I couldn't leave The Womb) and actually got her job back, teaching Gentle and Restorative.  I am so so happy for her.

We were going to go walk Packanack when my Shift was done, but this cold put the brakes on that.  I think I'll get some rest, then, and hope that these entries get better soon.

A Short Avon Day ...

I'm about four hours into Flame Shift #37 and the energy is not great in the house.  Summer Shifts tend to be rather difficult for me, which should surprise no one.  A quick run down of the day, then, so I can get some rest.

I woke up with the deep depression from last entry still hanging heavily around my neck.  I really, REALLY wanted to go back to my old life.  E was eventually able to help me ground, and we got on with the day, but the feeling never quite left me.

It would not have been my preference to go to Avon early on such a hot, summery day, but knowing that my Flame Shift was looming, and that we'd have to leave by 6pm, we got on with it.  I still can't believe all the people milling about.

I got a pair of shorts (which say Exit 98 on them, and which are so hysterically NOT ME) so we could walk along the edge of the water, which was a highlight.  Then I fiddled with my iPad for a bit while E had a profound experience on the jetty with a crab ...

The ride home was uneventful, stopping at The Windmill and Cake, Bake & Roll, before hitting the Parkway and getting home for the 823pm Shift bell.  Alright.  This entry is boring.  Maybe tomorrow's will have more in it.  Good night.

In A Deep Hole ...

It's a little after 2am, and I am in a deep hole, and I don't want to spread it all over you, gentle reader.  We watched more of The Doctor tonight, two episodes called Human Nature / The Family of Blood.  The choice The Doctor / John Smith had to make underlined why I identify so deeply with the character.  I cried along with him.  I understood his pain.  At its best, the show is not about space ships and time travel and aliens and the like.  It's about love and loss, about loneliness.  I've never seen a fictional character that mirrors my own experiences so deeply.

Today was uneventful.  E and I had a nice breakfast and talked about similar things to what Bug and I talked about yesterday.  (So hard, they both have to work, to keep up with how fast I change.)  She wanted to work on the awful bill basket, and I wanted motion, so I left early for work and spent an hour at B&N, picking up a book on American's in Paris that has been on my radar for a week or two.  Work was its usual slow, depressing Tuesday self, and afterwards I stopped for a few groceries before coming home.  We talked about the big DC Comics news over dinner before sitting to watch The Doctor ...

Alright.  Enough.  Bed.

On Magic and Artifice ...

"I live halfway between fantasy and reality at all times because I choose to, and anyone can choose that, and I believe that everyone has something so magical about themselves, and why, as a society, are we so afraid of magic?  Why is magic synonymous with artifice?  Why is the fantastic synonymous with a lie?  If art is a lie, then I will tell that lie every day until it's fucking true."

- Lady Gaga, on Magic and Artifice

That bit, right there, is why I have become a Gaga fan.  The idea that it's possible to take the things that I do, magick and shamanism and walking between the worlds, and jiggle it a little and apply it to pOp, to the grand gesture, to glitter and dancing and bright lights and still change the world ... that is POWER.  Say what you will about Ms. Germanotta, but I chose to say bravo!

Today was a quiet day, my second day or rest after the kiratn beating.  I slept late again (and had an interesting dream where I was explaining The Mysteries to Nicole) before having a long breakfast chat with Bug about my ongoing changes.  I then spent a few hours up in The Icebox, organizing some books and reading the Gaga / Stephen Fry interview in the Financial Times, referenced above.

The heart of the day ended up being the five hours that Bug and I spent redesigning the Starseed website.  Obviously nothing is working yet.  This is just a flat image, done in Photoshop, and there is still much designing and coding yet to be done before our September launch, but honestly ... we hit it out of the park, and far surpassed anything we've ever designed.  What do you think?

After doing work like that, it always feels like playing with the house's money, so to speak, so we enjoyed a quiet evening afterward, with E in the garden before late dinner and then a couple of episodes of The Doctor.  Now it's time for bed, and I think about youth and age, about deep space, and about masks, always masks.  How do I make this one I wear work for me ... ?

Once Again, Above The Mighty ...

It's super late, and super deliciously icebox cold up here, and I should go to bed, but first, here are today's top stories.

With the central air finally fixed (oh, did I not mention that yesterday amidst all the bowing?!?) and my entire body exhausted, I slept until almost 11, which I never ever ever do anymore.  I felt bad accepting E's offer to cover the desk at the 'Seed for me, as it ended up being a real energy suck for her, but it was the right thing for me, as I was able to hold onto to the sweet vibe from yesterday.

After a late breakfast, we decided to take a Memorial Day ride, but not before stopping in at the 'Bucks and chatting a bit with a few of the boys that E works with.  Eventually, we made our way to the Thruway and up to Poughkeepsie, so we could walk over the Mighty Hudson, which I wanted to make sure I did before leaving.  That river is one of the things I'll miss the most when I'm gone.

It was a hot day, especially in the Standard Icarus! Outfit, but once we got out over the water, there was a breeze and we made a T.A.Z.  The shot above is from where we stood, facing South, for about an hour.  Always so much magick at the Mighty.  So many years we've been going there, and it never fails to provide.  Dear Mister Cole and Mister Durand and Mister Seeger all knew that truth so well.

Sadly, the breeze did not follow us off of the bridge, so though we had a lovely coda of a drive down to New Paltz, we did not get out and walk the hill.  (Besides, not going to the Inquiring Minds Bookstore would've been waaaaaay too difficult.)  So we headed home contentedly and got back around 9, and it's been as quiet and gentle as it gets around here ever since.  Not a bad way to spend a Sunday.

Off to bed, then.  Good night.

Bhagavan Das Part Deux ...

When I was asked to play drums for Bhagavan Das back on New Year's Day, life was so very, very different.  The Solstice Salon had only been a few weeks before.  My Muse was there cheering me on, settling me down when I was nervous, like she used to do.  I was months from even having the thought of becoming Icarus.  Just under five months ago ... might as well be a parallel earth.

Today, at Yoga Basin in Asbury park, I was given the chance to do it all again, in this new life.  After the success of the last gig, I was a known quantity to Kali and Mr. Das, and they were much warmer towards me.  (Not that they were nasty of lousy or anything last time, mind you, but now we weren't strangers anymore.)   It made for a really great vibe, and the music was that much stronger because of it.

Reggie had a great setup for this event.  That room of hers sounds amazing, which I already knew from playing there with Lisa, and we had a production assistant and I had my own dressing room and the whole bit.  Even though these people are becoming good friends of mine, they treated me the same as they treated Kali and Baba, which is to say, pretty much like rock stars.  It was quite nice, as you might imagine.

The afternoon workshop was considerably longer and more intense than the one we did in Montclair in January.  Maybe it was because he was more comfortable with me, but there was A LOT more singing and playing, in addition to that kick ass chakra balancing meditation, which was just as cool the second time around.  What was supposed to be 2 - 5pm went 'til almost 6, and I was quite beat up, with half of the proceedings yet before us.

As is my way in this sort of environment, I needed to get off site for a little while, just to remove myself from the very heavy energy that the faithful create during his performances.  Many of the people who come have very physical experiences (arms waving, eyes rolling back, etc) and while I feel like I have the best seat in the house, seven hours of this uninterrupted would be a bit much.

So out I went to the streets of Asbury Park.  It was Memorial Day Weekend, of course, so it was fairly busy, but I got a table at Old Man Raffertys pretty quickly.  Eating alone is odd, as is the attention I get from waitresses, but public Icarus just smiles and rolls with it.  What is a little harder to just roll with is the attention I get from the faithful.

Mr. Das is not just a singer to these folks.  He is a guru, passing on secret knowledge.  Though it's not my path, I feel the power coming off of him and it is quite impressive, make no mistake.  I guess what happens is a bit of guilt by association, for lack of a better phrase.  Three or four times on my break, I ran into people on the streets, and every one of them started bowing at me ...

The question is, how do you allow these people to have their experience, their trip, while basically saying "Ixnay the owingbay!!!"  My solution was to play it cool, to gently tell them, "No no no, I'm just a kid from Jersey, just like you.  There's no reason to bow.  Let's hug instead!"  They didn't seem entirely convinced, but they did stop bowing, and I was able to have nice little conversations with everyone I met, though they did still have a bit of that starry look in their eyes.

Since the food at Rafferty's was not as agreeable as the wait staff, I stumbled into a deli right on Mattison  for a quick sandwich and soda.  The two guys who ran the place were almost as flirty as the Rafferty's girls, which basically tells me that my Jack Harkness powers are working.  They made me a special bacon and egg on a bagel even though they were on their dinner menu.  Yeah.  That'll do just fine.

I was running a little late getting back, and I must have been quite a sight walking into a yoga studio / organic juice bar with my can of coke and bottle of ibuprofen.  Getting through the growing throng to my dressing room was a bit of a challenge as well, but Jeff took care of me and got me settled in.  I did shake hands and have a few more hugs (and one more bow) from people who were at the Montclair gig, and they all recognized me, despite my quite different appearance.

The evening portion was a full house, and the energy was hot, and once again he went deep and long and well over the projected three hours.  About an hour in, every bone in my body started screaming at me.  My hands and arms, of course, but also my back and my knees and my neck and, honest to god, even my ass was hurting.  The gig went spectacularly well, yet again, but it was a real challenge to not let on how much pain I was in.

When we were finished, Kali, Baba and I shared a few more hugs, and they asked for my email address, so we can have direct contact in the future.  They also said they wanted to pay me this time, which I thought was a very kind gesture.  It'll be a pleasure to see them again and play together one more time, three weeks from tomorrow at Starseed.

After talking to a few more of the faithful, and getting gushed on by Reggie, I made my way back onto the street around 11pm.  Walking to the car, I was just bombarded by music from every direction.  What a great music town Asbury is becoming again!  Right across from where I was parked, at a place called The Trinity and The Pope, a band was playing a heavy rock version of Seal's "Crazy" that was so awesome I had to stand in the door and listen.  Daaaaaamn.

I drove down to Avon and called home while I walked along the mostly deserted boardwalk.  To have the place to myself, especially after Wednesday, was such a gift, and it really helped ground me in my own magick and tradition after a day spent visiting elsewhere.  I was tired, and the drive home felt long, but I was happy, and felt like things are continuing to proceed according to plan.

"Shut Up Icky!" ...

I was sitting in Starbucks yet again this afternoon, when one of E's more outgoing co-workers uttered the title of this entry.  For some reason, known only to her, this girl uses Shut Up interchangeably with Hello.  Strange, to be sure, but oddly validating, as this means that after E's recent explaining of our situation, I am now (insert C3PO voice) a part of the tribe.

It should be noted, also, that Nicole here is not the first person to shorten my serious mythological name to Icky.  That honor goes to Reggie at Yoga Basin, and to my knowledge the two of them have no knowledge of each other's existence.  Dear god ... are more people going to figure out that Icarus shortens to Icky???  So much for my serious, dashing public persona ...

: )

I hadn't been planning on going back to Starbucks, since I was just there yesterday, but there was some rather noisy landlord activity going on in the basement all morning (yet the central air is STILL not fixed) and it made me feel more jumpy and vulnerable than I have since the heyday of the parent problems.  I was just grateful to have somewhere to go.

After spending the afternoon at the 'Bucks (during which I had a long chat with Bug and watched about half a dozen Ray Kurzweil videos about The Singularity and related topics) my heart rate still hadn't slowed down, so E and I went for a ride, which ended up surprisingly but not surprisingly at Seven Lakes Drive / Bear Mountain / Perkins Drive.

Motion is still the only thing that helps me, like rocking a baby when it cries or something.  Being in beautiful places is helpful as well, as long as there is motion involved in getting there.  Sometimes, in places like that, I wish I could stay forever, but of course, one must come down off the mountain and face whatever is at the bottom.  Lousy, but true.

The vibe in the house was very tense, again, when we got home a little after nine.  Rather than immortalizing it, I'll just say that I REALLY hope things with this whole landlord / AC problem get fixed soon ...

A Few Words From The Icebox ...

I am sealed in the front room of The Womb (the one with the drums) with the door closed and the little window AC unit making a blessed racket.  Though I am about two feet too big for the loveseat I have in here, I will be sleeping on it tonight, sore neck be damned.  I just can't deal with another damn night suffering down in the sauna.

Not a whole lot has happened since that last entry this afternoon.  I had my session with Jason, which was particularly validating.  In the evening, my shift at the desk at the 'Seed continued to be its recent suffocating self.  When I got home, we put in the AC and ate something and I had a shower and this entry is boring and I think I'll stop now.

On The Cusp ...

It is Thursday afternoon and I am at Starbucks and my mind is exploding and I feel on the cusp of a breakthrough of some sort, but I don't know if I have words for it.  I wonder if this is similar to what my dear N has been feeling on her 20th Path ...

Before I go on, a few words on those pics above.

Yesterday was a very difficult Avon day, as the heat and bright sun and proximity to Memorial Day meant that there were HUNDREDS of people milling about my sanctuary, doing the summer things that regular folk enjoy.  I always knew this would happen, but experiencing it was devastating.

Thank the stars for the silly little Swan Lake paddle boat ride!  The darkness was ready to consume me, and I was dragging my Anam Cara with me, when the miracle presented itself.  We started talking again, and laughing again, and the light kept the darkness at bay, at least for a little longer.

Before you knew it we were back along the sea, eating, reading, watching the sky turn the right shade of blue for a while before the pinks and purples began their song.  Most of the interlopers went home by that time, and I could almost pretend that Happy Cove was mine again.

Unfortunately, the air conditioner situation at home meant coming home to a third straight night of suffocating heat and humidity.  (At least for this Fire Spirit, anyway!)  Since I'm barely sleeping, it was easy to get up and bring E to work, paving the way for these last few interesting hours.

I've started reading The Invisibles again, and as with all good works, I'm seeing new things, new resonances, in light of how my life has changed.  This is example #1 of not having the words.  When I read this story, and I see myself in the different characters, I just know what I feel.

I am more than this intense sadness.  I am more than this all encompassing darkness.  I can use these things, but not in the context of how things are.  If I am to have any future at all at Starseed, I need to remove myself for awhile.  Mercifully, June 23rd is coming up, rapidly.

If I am to ever feel comfortable again, I will need to address our living situation when I return.  The status quo with the landlords, with the nosy neighbors, with everything feeling broken and dirty and so terribly small, is simply not sustainable.  New Year's Eve will be seven years.  It's time for a change.

I finally got around to downloading that amazing Tarot HD app for the iPad.  Taking a Chaos approach, I just started throwing cards.  No ceremony.  No fuss.  Just throw and react.  The first spread was a four elements thing.  The second was past present future.  The third, not surprisingly, was a Celtic Cross.

It's strange, but despite the non tactile nature of the whole enterprise, I felt closer to the cards than I have in years.  I'm feeling like I want to dance with them, in ways I've never managed to.  All that being said, I admit to being a little freaked out by the 9 of Swords showing up as the last card ...

So much more I want to say, most pointedly about shapeshifting and my deep gut feeling that I am not done with TL yet, but the words are not quite there, and I have to get to Jason's anyway.  More tonight, then.

Wisconsin & Paris ...

It's late, and it's about 80 degrees up here in The Womb.  I am wide awake and I want to read every book in here all at once.  Some nights are like that.

Today was extraordinarily bipolar.  After easing into the day with E, I had my monthly doctor appointment.  After discovering that both my weight and my blood pressure are through the roof (which should surprise no one) my doctor and I had another in a long line of deeply insightful talks.  I was able to talk freely about my work and my regeneration and everything.  What a marvelous ally she is!

Neither E nor I wanted to go home, so we drove down to Bridgewater Mall, where I hadn't been in years, and walked around a bit before having a bite to eat.  (During the walking, we stopped at Bridget's Irish Cottage, and it hit me like a ton of rocks ... I'M ACTUALLY GOING THERE!)  After we finished our lunch, we got into my second big discussion in as many hours.  Some days are like that.

I'm not really sure how to encapsulate what we talked about.  It was so big and so so personal.  But basically, it came down to reassuring each other that no matter how much things are changing, we will always be home for each other.  (The title of this entry is how she described herself and I, respectively, at one point in the discussion.  It's better than my other title, "A Life In Food Courts"!)

Neither one of us wanted to close the circle, but I had to get to work, and in fact ended up squeaking in the door with only about ten minutes to spare.  Normally Tuesdays are Muse free, but I suppose she is cramming to make her class quota before graduation.  Once again, she would not come down to sign in, and once again it hurt me deeply.  At that point, I couldn't even bring myself to go upstairs and count the class in.  It's time to go.  It's really time to go.

After I got home around 9, and after sharing my despair with the Lovelies (ain't you lucky you get to be around the private Icarus???) Bug went to bed with yet another migraine, and E and I totally phoned it in and had popcorn for dinner while watching National Treasure.  I truly do not feel guilty one damn bit.  Some nights are like that.

A bit of The Invisibles, then bed.  Maybe.

I Wish I Could Tell You ...

I wish I could tell you that the peaceful vibe from the Healing Circle followed me into today.  I wish I could tell you that I was as connected to my dear, dear Lovelies as I was yesterday, when I was able to put my sadness aside and be present for them.  I wish I could tell you about all the great things I accomplished today on my day off.

But then I would be lying.

A Tender Gift ...

The story of how difficult it has been for me to perform my shamanic duties these last few months has been well documented.  If this had been a third straight back breaker, I think I would have refrained from torturing you all with the details.  Mercifully, it was anything but a back breaker.

There was such a gentle, nurturing energy threaded through tonight's Healing Circle.  With eleven participants (plus the four team members) it was a perfect size for an intimate gathering; neither too big nor too small.  Even getting a late start setting up (due to SSYTT running late) didn't derail things.

Jason, Brian, Kelli and myself all seemed to have our "A" games, dishing out the healing modalities while allowing ourselves (mostly) to drink up the reciprocal healing vibe coming off the tribe as a whole.  It goes without saying that it was by far the best of the three ceremonies since my Muse and That Dear Boy left.

It's been so so difficult, doing this work without them.  Never do I miss them more then on Circle days.  As I always do, I brought my love for them into the work, and held the space, in the hopes that we might all work our magick together again one day.  That hope gets dimmer every day, but I always keep it close to my heart, nonetheless.

Now, of course, it is my turn to leave for a little while.  I will miss the rest of the Team, of course, but honestly, I am so worn out from my heartbreak and my changes that three months off will be very good for me.  Especially with the excitement that was generated tonight when we talked about the Institute, I want to be at my best come September.

So this is the memory I will take with me on my pilgrimage : of a peaceful, cozy circle, of the kind souls who chose to spend an evening with us, of a shamanic team finding its groove, despite absences that can never really be filled.  When I tell my story to the new friends I make, I will be able to explain to them, "This is why I do this ... "

Thank you, My Lady, for this tender, much needed gift.

Soul Rejuvenation In The Tomb ...

I'm down in The Tomb, 3/4 of the way through a slower than usual Sunday, reconnecting with an old love : 60's soul music.  It started with Ben E. King, then started moving around through Solomon Burke, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett, Aretha, Otis, Sam & Dave, Booker T, etc.  It went backwards and forwards a bit, touching on Doo Wop, Motown, and a few things from the 70's as well.

I think this is related to the singing thing I've been feeling lately.  These are all songs for singing, and the topic is often love, which terrifies me, of course.  I'm finding a strange comfort in them this morning, though.  I feel oddly detached from the fact that she is right upstairs, that she tore my scab off again.  I'm just hearing kindred spirits in these voices.  What else is there to sing about, anyway, really?

Last night's sunset at Sandy Hook Bay was as beautiful as it was tense.  If I had written last night, I would have gotten into specifics.  This morning, with this music playing, with so much still to do tonight, I don't want to revisit those feelings.  I'd rather just bake some bread, play some chess, and sing the future into being.

One month from tomorrow.  I just have to get to one month from tomorrow ...

A Rare Afternoon at the Bookstore ...

I'm actually writing this on my Pad, but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to get it into Blogger, since there doesn't seem to be a dedicated Blogger app.  Oh well, I'll worry about that later.

It's so interesting, the things that get your attention sometimes.  I'm sitting here on the upper floor of the big Barnes & Noble in Paramus reading the new issue of Vanity Fair.  Katy Perry is the cover feature, and there are articles on Prada's new Venice digs, the New York City Ballet, Blenheim Palace, a few political things, a few celebrity things.  It kind of feels like Rolling Stone with a shiny gold finish on it.

Why am I reading this?  Why is this interesting to me today?  Is this just another manifestation of getting comfortable in the Icarus costume?  Probably.  Does Icarus seem to have fancier tastes (despite the still limited food palette)?  It seems so.  So I read these things and think about my James Bond future (minus the killing, of course) and wonder what how these kinds of new preoccupations will manifest.

On a more normal note, whatever that means anymore, I'm also sitting here with the long awaited fifth book in Neil Peart's fascinating series of travel memoirs, Far & Away, and the new Everyman Library selection of Emily Dickinson's letter that I mentioned the other day.  This is the third time in three days I've come across references to baking bread.  (This article in particular has me thinking of it as a spiritual act.  Must explore this further.)

I would be remiss if I didn't mention my dear Lovelies, out having their dance performance at the little Fun Fair.  They both looked great in their outfits this morning, and I wish I could be there to be proud of them.  On a related note, the PBT had a wonderful gathering last night, 'til the wee hours as always.  It was nice to find that I could still be me in that setting, even though "me" is such a slippery proposition these days.

Enough for now.  Back to Vanity Fair.  Sheeeesh!