Really, with all of the strange and sadly balanced acts of that weekend, falling back into the Klamath River is the only thing I remember without trying... not the walking away from the crowd in the 110 plus heat to splash into the water, nor the playing with Gary in the shallows before I walked out to the middle.
It's just the leaning back, the surrender that revisits me. that resonates.
I am still amazed by the feeling of awe and confusion that reigns... I am amazed that I can retain the feeling of wonder and pure wondering at where those words could have come from - they so literally came to me,
Something good this way Comes
as I was falling out of that blazingly hot blue sky into the startling cold of the river,
and I still don't know why.
I hadn't seen any reference to
Something Wicked this way Comes recently, and I certainly hadn't been thinking it... I was making the best of the saddest of times - Marley was not newly dead by then, but this camping party of sobbing song and celebration scrubbed the loss all fresh and spanking new again... add to that Steve's lazily wicked bad mood and heavy drinking to sleep with at night and I guess
really
there wasn't anywhere else to land on that crazy heat-stroking mirage of a day but with the hope of something good coming on the wings of spreading my arms out wide in escape from the fire and
grief
underwater.
To let go, fall back with such a conscious intention
without intending to,
was such an act of sanity,
I think I am still waiting to feel the weight lifted off of me by the clarity of the moment.
Why does that still make me so sad? WAS there something more I was supposed to get from that moment? I feel
yes
I am still to fulfill, to find, to feel the
something good
and I still don't know the way.
or the this.
or even the good.
It feels like lazy and wicked is all I can seem to muster. all I know.
wicked. No, that's not quite right.
not wicked evil. wicked frustrated, wicked fed the fuck up with suffering. wicked cornered.
I feel like I need to be helicoptered to a safe place, like a moose or bear that has been foraging too closely to a village. I've gotten a taste for food I don't have to chase and now I'm dangerous.
Just strap that pulley around my belly, drug me up enough so I won't struggle during the trip, and drop me off in a valley of my own.
I promise I'll leave your garbage alone.
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Reagan~ I wrote a lot in the email with the wackadoos, you didn't get that?? Now today, I wrote you agan, and Mailer-Daemon sent them back :( Bad Daemon!!
Do you have another email addy?? You really should just give in and get a myspace account~ quite a few of our Ashland friends are on there, right at hand, as close as a finger-stroke or two... :) It would be fun to have you on there, and easy to keep in regular communication... that is, *IN ADDITION* to a regular email address... the one you have is not allowing my mail!!! >X((
Why am I having such a hard time communicating with you???!! aaarrrgghhh!!!
Perhaps the wicked mama bear just needs to rage a little,... just perhaps... no one should be asked to be perfection-incarnate in every miniscule moment of her life!
Please get another address!! Man, we have too much to say to not enjoy the curious situation U&I find ourselves in... 5 years of living in each others' laps and 5 years of nothing at all, save the odd walks down memory lane, speculation and rumour... Maybe we had just run out of stories that the other hadn't yet heard, and we were impelled to part and create some more~ so we could tell each other more stories! :D
The pics you sent are amazing... I wish you could read my email, so many questions answered... there's much more to come... !
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