the huge sky, ablaze with stars

Tucson is unspeakably beautiful.

This morning, up with Miss Fish, the sky is still dark.

Jupiter, bright as a 747, is setting with Orion in the west, and the beautiful triangle under Sirius, in Canus Major, is shining low in the southwestern sky. Venus has risen in the East, bringing with her the glittering white Spica and the planet Saturn. The Big Dipper dances in the northeast, over the canyon.

I feel so completely at peace; just two more things to do, complete the book and mail it.

I love having a physical spot now that I can triangulate with myself and my mother. Actual points in time and space are important for creatures like us; we can posit other ways of thinking but our homing systems, the metal in our blood, it has basic ideas about where Home is.

Now, forever, another important piece of me is in that space in that canyon in this land on this Earth and nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever change that.

I asked Bri to put me there, too, if she’s my shepherd, and she said that she would, and that seemed to be that.

See how lovely things are looking!

It’s like arranging music, or balancing rocks at the beach. If you get it in one of the ways that is just right, everything takes a shuddering breath and becomes weightless, cohesive, alive.

Sometimes, we find things or maneuvers or ways of being that either have never been given a name or that have a wrong name. It is amazing (but true) that are still elemental states like this unnamed in beadwork. I’m sure that ancient people had gone over this shiznit and sorted it all out, but now we have to do it over, as human recording systems are just now turning out things like shiny Beadwork Project Books and Japanese factories are just now (yes 1980 is seconds ago in the timeframe of humans and beadwork) giving us precision cylinder beads.

I think of the taxonomic battle as a noble one; my friend Clark Chapman and I share this somewhat annoying but deeply useful trait. If a thing has a wrong name, or no name, we are intensely uncomfortable. His little battle was the classification of asteroids. As I have no field, I take my battles where I find them, always digging around, trying to find the subtexts of things to see if there is a yet-unnamed or un-noticed pattern to the routines and jobs and motions that people do every day, without in most cases stopping to think about why, God, why?

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