I’ve been in somewhat of a dream state this past ten days since I left Boston and landed in Tucson. I’ve been becoming one with my Squirrelbase, accumulating shipping supplies, Japanese puzzle erasers, beads. I have kept working at all times, but in a meditative way; I stocked my kitchen with intoxicants, fresh juices, I was kind to myself today when I realized that Monday had melted into Wednesday and I forgot to notice Tuesday, and I leave tomorrow morning for Dallas.
Miss Fish and Simon have been delightful; affectionate, friendly, interested. I saw Orangelina yesterday; I was feeling uncertain about her, so was happy to see her, if confused that she wasn’t in her Lurk. When I saw that she was molting (lizards shed several times a year) I realized that she was in No Mood and so I left some worms on the wall, and tried to leave her alone. For me, “leaving her alone” still involved walking by her spot about 100 times, just to soak her in.
In grief over the flooding of the Shock’s Phoenix house and yard last week, I decided to clean up my own chaotic yard (and my modest pile of plastic bins) from top to bottom; it was Bulky Item Pickup this week at my house and it seemed like a sign from the government, if not the Heavens, to get busy.
We had a lot of water from the recent Baja hurricane last week, and actually quite a few houses flooded (Tucson and Phoenix had over three inches of rain in one day last week). Even more flooding is expected again this week from Hurricane Odile, so it seemed more than time to tidy up the harbour, which is what my Back 40 will probably be by Thursday night. And better that the water go back there than collect in front. I made a pile of brush and bulky 2o feet long and 4 feet high; I sweated, swam, raked, I squirrelled in my data, made plans for how to pay all of the bills.
I meant to spend a week making metal; I want to. I do not seem to have done that. I’m not sure it was possible. But there is time for that later, and soon. Everything will see to itself, if I remain focused and keep working honestly and fully.
So. Instead of making profitable work to finance my project, I made a riverbed for the water that is expected tonight.
I widened the space in the path of the water’s choosing (it simply claimed my west driveway last time, and half of my back yard) to welcome it in and through the side yard, I raked out the channels, I made encouraging through-ways to the alley behind my house. We will see. There is certainly more that I could do, and it could be that I will pick up some sandbags today for the front door. And maybe dig a few more channels, when things get soft, and wet.
I am determinedly continuing in dream-time, remaining somewhat apart from the variety of disasters that could be at a variety of gates. I am in good shape but certainly many things could go awry.
My father used to tell me that most practical failures were simply failures of imagination. Of course things can and will tangle; my job is to imagine how they might, and learn to catch and release, better yet to avoid. Scaling is the best avoidance mechanism I know, but tricky to look directly at; it’s a deep current.
Systems management is a very practical martial art; although scale is the first constraint, it’s artificial. This is not secret knowledge but it is also not yet well understood. I read a few weeks ago that quantum theory has edged out a bit on that one, and come up with the idea that perhaps elemental particles have no scale default, programming, or constraint. That they assume scale, based on circumstance. I high-five them, from poolside. Yay science.
Lately my interest is in the edges of chaos, and how resultant resonances can be not only exploited, but how helpful bands of relative calm (with highly useful boundary areas where anything can be created) can be gently nudged into being by manipulation of chaos fields. Sometimes one must enter a field, or become one, to create the resonances, the bands, to do the work. The more interesting question is, “what is the work?” Then you move things around until the work happens.
Sometimes we just know a chaos field, and we can call it up, have it for tea, harvest the ripples. People do that with me, they involve with me, and then they are changed, and they take fruit from the field. They may not involve with me again, or they may seek me often, but as I am elemental, it hardly matters, I am everything, everywhere.
So are you.
Working with resonance and chaos at whatever scale is more like sailing than anything else, I think. I say this as someone who has never sailed, but my sense of it is that the larger the ship, the longer the response time, and so one must anticipate not only where the ball will be (as in baseball) but where everything is likely to be, and what it would do if it were free.
It’s a kind of N-body problem that I have built myself to be a computer to see. Not solve. There is no solve. Just to see. And once I see where the lines and sails and spaces are, I can, as Fuller said, forget the helm and simply be the trimtab, the tiny piece that, when cleverly moved, can move the entire system into a new trajectory, or create changes in scale. It’s the sort of thing that it helps to close one’s eyes to see properly; also, I have to be in a space where I can see past the edges of things.
To enforce down time, and help my sarx recharge, and to see past my eyes, I’ve been going to movies, going to see Larry. I had a massage, I will have another one. Those are things to do that freeze me; my mind fully engages and I am not multi-tasking.
A wonderful thing is that the books are beautiful. And so everything will be fine. The content that it was my job to create is created. Everything after that is just a practical arrangement of matter and energy, time and space, paper and boxes.
I don’t know if we will be in the middle of a flood when we ship. Bill says, as if it were possible, “keep the books on tables in case your house floods” and I laugh. It’s a truck full of books.
I could belay delivery until the rain stops, if necessary, and that’s really all I need to know. It will not rain forever. I must only keep adjusting my ship so that it is sailing true; I cannot sweat the weather, or the fate of trucks on roads, or gargoyles that might fall on my head while walking down a city street. Or make metal spool out of my hands, into art.
Before the books arrive, I’m flying to Texas this weekend to lead a workshop; the talented Dallas beaders are bringing me in to get nerdy and nerdy I am GOING TO GET. I’m certainly rested. I must be. I have no idea what will happen to me, but I can’t wait to find out.
photo from the Etsy thrift shop Sparkles and Sass.
I bought a couple of vintage glass birds this week, for a couple of reasons. One to replace one given away, a few more to have, so I can do things like give people little vintage blown glass clip-on birds. I cherish them, and their tails of soft feathers, or, like these two, of spun glass. Did you know that is what those soft, odd brushes are? Spun glass. The birds are not expensive; they are priced like bottles of wine. One imagines that a great one would spur the release of a Franklin, but good ones can be had for $10-$20, acceptable examples for $5-$10.
I found out the reason that my knee has been giving me shocks of pain; I’ve torn it, it’s minor, I can be fixed in ten minutes with a sharp knife. I thought about it for five minutes, and decided to do it next week, while I am still here with my beloved Knee Man. It might hurt a bit for a day or two, but the joy of supervising the mailing of the books (I have lots of clever, loving help) will distract me, not be a burden. My work is complete; the content is created, and the labels will be printed before I submit to his large, clever hands, his drugs to take my consciousness. I can lie on a pool float and it can still happen, and happen cleanly and cleverly. I have Sandy Tiss and A.J. Reardon on my team.
And what wonderful news, to hear “Structurally your knee is fantastic, you will live to be an old woman, running up hills,” instead of “You have a degenerative joint problem and your puppy days are over, my dear.”
Some things I need to think about for days, weeks, decades. For example, I don’t have even one tattoo at this time. I am still thinking. But that one, all I had to do was to imagine things for a few minutes, what a tiny tear might turn into with one wild dash across whatever, one wild swing from the rooftops, one mad jump off of a train. And I found I could not even fathom a world in which I did not swing, climb, jump or tumble off of or onto anything, if all I had to do was lay down once, and let that man fix me.
I am informed by sources that Bryan Ferry is making a “major announcement” on Tuesday (Doriot’s birthday) and the day the books come. I presume that he will be telling us that he is releasing his new album, and that the Major part (as Posh would say) is that he is finally changing out of that damned Louis Vuitton smoker.
It will be fun to see him again in just a few weeks; I like it that he has decided to play live as often as possible, both to stay relevant and to stay fit. It means that he is easy to find, and that any time I shop for a gown, I can credibly ask myself, I wonder if Ferry would like this?
Romance is delightful; people should not be such dullards about it, or make such heavy weather about it, or have such absurd expectations of others. All we have to do to take part in love is to open to it; it flows around us, like water, but would prefer to flow through us, like plasma, like light, like air, to fill us, to animate our cells.
And oddly, yet unsurprisingly, love reads exactly like music, which reads exactly like colour, and light, and the movement of water.
I feel very happy, very peaceful, and, most unusual… I feel slow.
That will end tomorrow, at around 5 pm, when I step off of an airplane into DALLAS.
I came into Dallas with the bright lights on my mind…