Day 346

The evening flew by. They all have, lately. I seem to be moving forward, fast, while growing ever more aware that I'm approaching the end of this 365- day observation. I'm looking back too. I talked with Aubrey on the phone today. I miss her terribly, but I could hear the momentum and motivation in her voice, her fresh approach to the day. Change is good for us human types.

I'm spending more time on projects and less making poppets. In addition to a new something with the Neil, it looks like we'll be releasing a new "Strange" chapbook next year. I'm also chipping away at my own projects.

I hired a housekeeper.

The Untouchable Torti has taken residence in my back yard. With three kittens. Four cats inside, four cats outside. This will not do. Too many cats. The kittens are nearly old enough for spay and neuter. I don't know which are male or female. I can't get close enough. The cute little buggers become balls of teeth, claws and hisses if I get close.

Just what I needed.

This isn't much more than a laundry list. If I wait for eloquence, it may be another week before I write something. Spellcheck seems not to be functioning. Forgive me in advance then, for whatever I missed.

I'll say this---as I look back over the last 300 days or so I see a lot of stuff happening. A lot of things have changed, a lot of things haven't. The thing that's the most different is me. I didn't realize how different until I looked back. All in all, I'm going to say the days showed me what I was looking for, and a few things I didn't expect.

It will be good to finish this up and change gears a bit. In the meantime, we carry on, don't we?

Day 334

Again and I'm gone from here for days. I've been working and the work has been good. I'm still struggling to balance the long-term projects with the daily 'have-to' list. It's a process.

It seems it's time for the Neil Gaiman and me to make something. We talked over some possibilities the other day. I'm thinking you'd probably enjoy a new collaboration. I've got some ideas that have been pestering me to no end. I'll keep you posted.

I burned my finger on a poppet. Ask me how many times I've done that. I've decided that multi-tasking was invented by someone who hates women. Men can't do it. They're just not hard-wired that way. Man must focus on one thing at a time: Kill food. Mate. Shit.
Woman must not let the fire go out, the Neanderthal-ings toddle out of sight, the skins go unscraped, etc.
Multitasking is bad for the brain and causes burned fingers and cussing.

I'm obviously still thinking of early humans. I look at these bones on my shelf, waiting for paint and other thoughts to turn them into something else. Indeed bones must've been toys for early Earth children. Early humans were constantly in contact with Death. Death was everywhere. Present at all the events of everyday life. Welcomed and accepted as part of life.
Until, of course, religions were invented. But that's another post. It's eleven thirty and I don't even mean to be up. I'm waiting for laundry to pack for leaving tomorrow.

Currently, we play video games and watch cartoons and movies and Death is no longer welcome. In fact, its very existence is often denied. When we run out of lives, we earn more. We die over and over again. We have fewer reminders, generally speaking, as health care is better and people live longer. And are less often killed by bears. On the one hand, the information age brings us instant news of far away disasters. But that news is on screens just like the games and shows. It's not real. Does tragedy have to hit us in our own back yards for us to acknowledge Death? Have we un-friended Death?

If this is so, is there an underlying sociological movement behind this shunning of our once-beloved Grim?

It's what I'm thinking of tonight, waiting for laundry, which has just buzzed. I'm outta here for now. Hope you have a great weekend.
g'night

Day 329

It's 12:33 on a Sunday morning. Finally, I've ribboned the Royal.

And all that goes with...

g'night

Day 326

A little slow to get moving this morning. I woke with a familiar devil in my gut. Fortunately for me, I have tools at hand to banish it, at least to a corner. It will likely squat there for awhile, glaring at me and growling to get back in. It will stay in that corner until it evaporates from lack of attention. I'm a wizard. My tools are internal, summoned silently and instantaneously.

Except when they're not. Occasionally I dig into that other bag. Its tools are a little more cumbersome but just as effective and only a little slower. Music and work.

Technology is beautiful. Pandora and "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. If you haven't read these lyrics, or haven't in awhile, you might want to. No one loves this song more than me, and in the back of my mind I hear a soft protest against ripping the words away from the music. But doing so adds another layer. Reading is different from listening. Not better or worse, just different. Your brain knows this. So I read the lyrics, again. These words center me. They're in my bag of tools and might not fit yours.

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell,blue skies from pain.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,

year after year,

Running over the same old ground.

What have you found?

The same old fears.

But there they are. Powerful words for me. Find yours and keep them close. I pour a cup of coffee. I tie my apron. I'm going to work, happy to be wherever this is. Yup. I'm a wizard. And so are you.

I've tied my morning apron on about 7,480 times, so far.

Hope your day is good. Thanks for being here with me.

Day 322

Again off to the high desert, this time with Orion and his friend Ethan in tow. I can't convey the scents, the arresting height and breadth of the view or the feel of the crisp, cold air. But I can tell you at least, that the light was like silk. It touched every stone, every living thing with a gentle fluidity. I don't know that I captured any of that, but I brought some of it back with me. I can already feel this influence on my work and I'm look forward to watching it integrate itself into what I make in the next months. We'd hoped to catch the snow, but not this trip. Still, it was beautiful and supports the notion that to make good art, an artist must move things into her mind. It's a good notion and it rings true at every turn. I hope you enjoy these views. It will be interesting, likely, to recall them later on. I know if you've been following me here, you already have a sense of where this place is taking me. Thank you to Paul, for opening your home to us and guiding us through this amazing bit of Earth you know so well.

Day 317

I took some time for quiet. I looked around from a mountain. The mountain made me not much bigger than a mote, relatively.

I gave my attention to the wind, which took it playfully and carried it off to the clouds.

I studied the remains of things that once were very much alive and that now are art, shaped by time and the elements.

I studied them closely and found worlds there as large as the sky, full of detail, at least at this proximity.

Way up here, troubles have small voices. Up here, the invisible can be visible. It can fill our vision if we allow it.

All of this I took inside and, wrapped in the gracious hospitality of my good friend, I worked it in pencils, wood and clay.

It's sound and sane to embrace quiet. It allows things to fall silently into their places, where they make more sense.

It was a good place from which to approach Halloween. I came back down the hill and celebrated with children and candy, with greetings to others in masks. I celebrated also in a quiet inner place, where Halloween feels right and real.

Hope yours was good.