Back to one, Part 2

Out of the blue, I was invited to opening night of the play Heartless. What a gift! A big thank you to my friend who brought me!

Once again I was captivated by Lois Smith. Think of a great game, football, basketball, the final seconds, and you are waiting and watching to see how it turns out. The most crucial time is sometimes played out in slow motion. Like Marilyn Monroe in the Misfits, her character needs a breath of fresh air after tension arises inside a home and she whirls herself to the outdoors  and performs an interpretive dance partnering with a tree. Arthur Miller wrote a great part for a serious actress. You can't hold onto mercury, it needs to be free.


Lois Smith , a great actress,  allows you to look into her character , Mabel's eyes to see where the dance leads. I found myself following her eyes during a prolonged silence. In tandem and ease she carried us and our curiousity with her searching eyes. Where better to search than with the crone?


 Seeking the Crone for the pulse of life. elderly people; male and female, can comfort us with  their knowing presence in times of great uncertainty. They possess the gem of  perspective gained from years of living.  They teach us to seek refuge not of the past , but of giving us faith in the future. That is dignity.


The end of life, the beginning of life. The circle begins again anew. Here in the Autumn Equinox,  2012, passing through once again. This time listening to sha la la means I love you, Barry White original version, again and again...replay.


Back to One,  at this time means organizing my muses. searching my DNA, listening. Bathing in tears of amrita. Jumping into the present leaping  like a frog then rolling down Cedar Hill.  Screaming like a Beatle as a rise to my feet aligning with calm even if it is the middle of a storm. Trusting the changes that pulse within this mother earth, sending love with each footstep that contacts her, fast, slow, determined and soft, whatever the pace, tempo and rhythm,  Sweet corn that will soon sleep into spring, thus renewing itself with the help of Farmer Joe,  and Father Winter. Your bosom of  darkness cold vast and comforting, set the tone for a long winter's sleep that will strengthen our blood. Shakespeare will be one of my guides this winter, along with living actors from this day , we will gather  to speak the Bard's language aloud with resonance and clarity.

Amber waves of grain live on shine in the sunlight.

Thank you Amtrak, train of transport, highball it back to that city by the bay, New York City.