Posts Tagged ‘Sunrise’

The Disruption of Love

June 25, 2017

Astonishing this renaming of myself.

As the magic man comes to me.

Leading me.

Leaning into me.

Learning me this new language of passion.

Fledgling on this path of unknown sometimes I startle.

A deer in the woods.

A flock of starlings rise in my heart.

Murmurations of love painted across the sunset sky.

Your face in the light.

Center of my attention.

The planes of your cheekbones.

The shape of your eyes.

Curvature of your lips, the smiles dancing there

A minuet of Mozart.

Slain back, surrendered to you, all distance

Drops, shatters, soft, like petals falling from the shaking boughs

Of apple trees.

Caught and cradled.

Through sunrise.

Moonset.

Feathering kisses across my face

Summoning me into velvet darkness where

Stars splatter with spangles of bright desire.

Astonished by you.

Conjured,

I lay myself before you.

Heart splayed and open

Beating like the wings of the birds flashing against

That burgeoning dusk.

Creating patterns of mystery I never

Knew

Abided within me.

I rise then.

Kissed alive.

Anew.

Graced.

 

By you.

The Music In My Heart

February 14, 2016

Keeps me company in the ghettos of my soul.

Those dark places and spaces that I dare not always go, but how I long to illuminate them.

So, I tip toe, with a candle, can you see it, brass plate, a curled cup handle, the flicker of the flame, the shadows so much bigger than the fear and in I go.

I am listening to Mike Doughty’s Stellar Motel.

LOUD.

God damn.

How music can re-make me, burn me, find its way into the crevices of me and fill me with a new kind of lightness and joy.

I am full of joy.

I am in my joy bubble.

I can float, rather than wander lost, through these chambers, grateful and buoyant.

And yes.

There may be puddles of pain I drift across.

Skeins of shadows, slicks of sorrow, I will feel the pull and the longing to let it in and delve in it, or press past without looking too close.

Forgetting.

Tears.

Are just pain leaving the body.

Toxins that need to be released.

I let go of a lot today at school and it was just an amazing experience.

Extraordinary and cathartic.

I was overwhelmed and yet, I found a place, a boat made from the cup of my heart and the billowing sails of the psyche, the gossamer stronger, so much stronger than I am willing to consciously admit.

Yet.

I know.

I know so deep within me that I am capable of steering this small ship out into the grand and grandiose ocean.

I am taken care of while I do this exploration.

I got a spiritual solution for your desperate aim.

How amazing that?

I saw a way through.

A way to keep pushing and keeping on keeping on.

With flowers always in my hair.

With my heart always on my sleeve.

It needs the room to breathe.

There’s no need to go home when you are always at home in your heart.

I am always there, deep within the chasms, the spirals, a nautilus, a whispering echo of a kiss, sentimental and tinged with the dusky dried rose petals from bouquets of imaginary flowers.

I walk under canopies of plum blossoms, drifting like snow through the air, kisses from God scattered before like all the promises I made myself as a child not knowing how far flung those wishes would carry me.

Look.

Love.

How far we have come.

Buttercup.

My pink, baby bunny, my sweet serenade as I kneel, bowed head, naked at the foot of the bed, curls cascading down, vulnerable and tender and known and carried.

I will rise, cross the threshold, and then crawl, exhausted those last few inches, into the warm hand, the cup of love, the bowery of teal heart and pink ribboned adoration.

Change like the shifting night.

And this is change.

A change is coming.

I can wallow there or I can rise, rested, rise a reflection of lost light pooled and gathered in the heat of sleep, arisen, burn in the new sun, the ashes as soft as the flower petals.

Death of self.

Death of expectations.

Surrender.

Forgiveness.

Behold the heart of the beauty.

Behold the flowers crowning her hair.

The star light, the dead light, taken in, and re-ignited in the alchemy of love and yearn, to be turned back out into the world.

Hair up, head high.

Dancing skirts twirling out and the spotlight of God on me no longer a frightening thing.

Rather a place to rest.

To bask in the warmth rather than recoil from the field.

I grow forward.

I need not know what into.

Just that I do.

The desert dreams that haunt me collapse in this light, the urges and whims, the lies that brusk themselves against my lips as though to convince myself more than you that it will all be alright.

It will.

It will.

I press the poetry back agains the roof of my mouth.

Sometimes when you’re dreaming I’ll see a light.

The dark Marilyn.

The light jumping feet, bare foot against a screen of blue.

Joy, leap with me, toes curled underneath, tender and vulnerable to my gaze.

Am I there?

Am I here?

Do I need to orient myself to the pulling stars circling round another light, do I need to be raised up into this brightness, do I need to know why my heart carries me so?

No.

Not when my heart is my home.

Not when I am cavorted with, playful and joyous, shouting out in the song of myself, in the knowing that I go forth no ones woman but my own.

No ones woman.

Rather all Gods.

And therefor.

Mine.

All mine.

Sweetest heart, dearest one, longing and soft, I call to you and we will go in a field of daisies, marguerite, and dashed with the toppled heavy heads of sunflowers, their velvet leaves kissing our elbows, a soft remonstrance, your mouth on my skin, a remembering soaked in the blooded lost love from the press of my mothers chapped lips on my forehead in the light falling from the doorway.

I rise up.

This time.

I go toward the light.

I take the hand.

I let the nightgown fall down my legs and I stop shaving off pieces of me.

I build them back in.

I shine them back on.

I bedeck myself from the shift of vulnerability and innocence to the strength of better days and the promises, wishes catapulted from the billowy heads of dandelions and the soft sun soaked joy of warm grass under my bare feet.

I choose now.

I mix the memory.

I re-write the script and whisper softly.

Go, girl, go.

Fly away on the backs of geese at sunset drifting through the fog burning off from the rising sun.

Scatter the pain below you into the lake and let it all go.

Love.

Lovely.

Love.

Blessed with the crenellated masonry.

I choose to climb down the battlements.

I will live in the fray.

When the night is long.

The moon’s in the blue trees.

I will still choose to sing my song.

Love.

I love.

No matter what.

On fire, fraught and full, fallen on my own sword to die the many deaths and to let go again and again until the flowers fall behind and I stand.

And I will.

I will.

Stand.

First Full Day

August 18, 2014

In.

And it was a full day.

Ten and a half hour shift and this is the easy part.

The days, they are going to get longer, the mama and the papa are only getting busier.

Fortunate for me, I do happen to work with an incredible, smart, whimsical, and wonderful little boy.

He makes my heart just melt.

Today he told me out of the blue, with no prompting, “I love Poppins.”

My goodness.

Then, the topper, he leaned in and gave me a kiss.

Again, unprompted.

Sometimes I have to ask for a hug or a kiss or say, “I love you,” to get the “I love you too” back.

Not today.

This bodes quite well for the rest of our days out here.

He also is an extraordinary reader.

I mean, the kid loves books.

Thank you God.

I couldn’t be luckier to have a little one who is more than content to sit in my lap and snuggle and read books.

Of course, by the end of the event I may be more than a little tired of reading Richard Scarry’s Busy Town; Busy, Busy Town; What Do People Do All Day; Busy Town Airport; Busy Town Firestation; Cars, and Trucks, and Things That Go.

Fortunate for me, he has other books.

We just have not unpacked them yet.

There are still kinks to be worked out, but the camp is coming together.

I don’t have electricity in my trailer yet, it’s currently running on battery power, which means that when my computer dies, my blog will be done for the night.

Which is what happened last night.

The main trailer the family is in has A/C and electric so I can charge up my laptop and my phone during the day.

My day started at 6 a.m.

I did not want my day to start at 6 a.m.

However, the bladder called and I realized from lying in bed and just noting the color of the sky, that the sun was soon to come up and I would be remiss to not shoot some sunrise photographs before the space started to fill in with camps and people and you know, stuff.

So, I grabbed my camera and headed to the port-a-potty bank closest to the trailer and did my business, then out to the playa, empty, spacious, wide open.

A few cargo containers dotting the landscape and the spires heading out of the 9 o’clock keyhole.

Not another human in site.

Not a noise to be heard.

Just the sun coming up over the playa.

Blew my heart wide open just like that.

Sunrise

Sunrise

Oh ho!

The generator just kicked in.

Yay!

I have power.

I have music on my box.

I have a laptop that is charging.

Woot.

I shall actually be able to post my blog tonight instead of tomorrow in the early afternoon when the monkey is taking his nap.

He woke up pretty happy after his nap.

Two hours and fifteen minutes.

Who wouldn’t be happy after that kind of nap?

I could have used that kind of nap myself.

However, there was no napping in Who Ville today for me.

There may be tomorrow, we are figuring out a system that allows everyone to get access to the A/C during the day and sneak in nap time.

We all need it.

The parents are both out and about and busy and they are only going to get busier as the days to the event count down.

The catch is that the bunny rabbit happens to take his nap around 11a.m. or 11:30 a.m. and when he is down for two to three hours that means lunch time.

The time for lunch is noon to two p.m. with the other event staff that are here working at the Commissary, and it keeps very strict hours, you come three minutes past closing and you do not get in.

The worry was that one of us was going to miss lunch and/or napping ourselves, but it seems that we are going to be able to tag team it.

Today he went down at 11:15 a.m.

I sat with him for the first 45 minutes.

Then the papa and I headed to the Commissary while mama worked from her “office” on the couch, we headed back after a quick bite, I brought the monkey’s lunch containers with me and brought back a to go box.

Mom then went next and hit her lunch and her two p.m. meeting.

Upon returning the bunny and I headed over to my trailer–the Bambi–and worked on an “I Spy Sticker” book while he had a cup of milk and mom got a 45 minute nap snack with the papa.

It worked really well.

I, however, didn’t get a nap, tried to get the little guy to go down for a second nap, but he was not having it.

We went en famille to dinner and discussed the plan of attack for tomorrow, with some slight tweaking, we should all be able to eat lunch and catch a nap while he’s doing his nap.

That’s the hope anyway.

After dinner some friends dropped by and we went for a ride out to the playa to catch up and breathe and hug and sit under the twilight dusk and ramble at each other for a bit.

It was just the refresher I needed.

I headed back to my trailer with much joy and love in my heart and downloaded the photographs I took today.

I got some decent ones and I am happy to have technology that works.

I know it’s somewhat atypical of the event to have internet and such, but really, I would be remiss if I had to skip writing my blog and connecting with my peeps off playa.

Though I will say there will come a night when I don’t post or a day when I nap instead of write.

I have to do that too.

Rest.

And with that.

I am going to make a cup of tea.

The electric kettle is getting pulled out!

I am going to eat an apple in a camp chair and enjoy the stars and the deep quiet that is pre-event before there is no more pre-event to enjoy.

I am looking forward to seeing all my friends that are headed in, but I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit that these first few quiet nights are my favorite time to be here.

It’s not often that I am getting to ride out to the playa before it’s full of all things that burn.

Happy I got my chance tonight.

Much love to you from the 9 o’clock keyhole.

Mary Fucking Poppins out.

Out on the playa

Poppins on the playa

The Long Way Home

September 7, 2013

The excruciating wait for the dust storm to end.

It was six plus hours of solid white out yesterday.

The triple time it took to get to Reno.

The family car has been having some issues and for a while it was not moving more than twelve miles an hour.

The long start to get out of Reno tonight.

And last but not least, putting the baby down to bed.

Who is not used to the feel of his real bed, the cats mewling at the door for attention, the hustle and bustle to unload the truck, the car stayed in Reno and a truck pulled the trailer and us back to San Francisco.

I was not going to write my blog tonight.

I am tired.

But I am also wide awake, surged up with adrenalin and what’s next?!

There is another reason too, I am doing a load of laundry.

I have nothing clean left, I wore my last serviceable outfits today in Reno.

I am at the family’s home in Cole Valley and the extra-large, bulky load is going to take an hour to wash.  I want to be awake, even if that means that I am up until 2 a.m. to swap over the load so that I may have clean underpants to put on myself in the morning.

The family kindly is letting me stay tonight and as long as I need tomorrow.

I am accepting the offer with much gratitude.

I cannot do much else.

On one hand I have no home to go home to.

On the other, I have plenty, but the logistics of figuring it all out are so escaping my playafied brain that I cannot put it all together.

The focus, as far as I can see, is to catch up on my e-mails, write this blog, change over the laundry, sleep, and in the morning first thing, go to the phone repair place down the street and have them fix my phone.

If they can’t then I need to get a new one on the ASAP.

I can not not have a phone.

No bueno.

“Oh, are you going to be one of those people,” an old friend from pre-highschool days said to me with some disdain when I asked for her number to put into my new cell phone.

I am absolutely one of those people, I wasn’t at first, but I became so quickly, my schedule has always been jam-packed and I am not a person who is wont to go home and check her messages.

And I have messages.

The Mister left me a message, back on the 20th of August, he’s finally coming up for air.

I liked the sound of that and I would like to see him, if only to finally air out my own feelings.

Something to the extent of, are we actually going to kiss each other again, because I want to, quite bad.  And I know he is a damn busy man, but maybe we can try to make some time to meet up more than once every other month.

I need to get a hold of my friend whose in-law I am moving into, I need to get the keys and oh, you know, move in.

How, when, with what vehicle, fuck if I know, but it will happen.

I just need to place the phone call.

I will most likely leave my playa stuffs here in Cole Valley and go gather my things in East Oakland and then collect them all and bring them out to the Sunset.

I am, fingers crossed, thinking maybe I can do that on Sunday?

Then I can take Monday to get household stuff, of which I don’t have any, but I won’t need much, at least to get me started.

My friend said she had a blow up mattress, so that will suffice until I find a bed.

I also have to contact the family in the East Bay and see what is going on with them.

I am not prepared to do any nannying until I feel like Tuesday, and I don’t want to commute over there.  Then again, Tuesdays I have always worked here, in Cole Valley, maybe that’s what has to happen.

Too much logistics, can’t go that far out.

Just keeping it to the right here right now.

And the gratitude.

That we fucking made it out of the hellish white out storm.

I really thought at one point that there was not going to be a break in the weather and we were going to be trapped for another night on playa.  We would not have died, but I think we were all quite ready to leave.

Really ready.

The dad braved the winds and the dust, after being stranded on the way to the depot and not being able to find his way for over an hour, on a Cushman while he was making a trash run.  Then the storm got worse and we stayed sequestered in the trailer for lunch.

I had fortunately gotten up early and taken photographs of the last sunrise I am going to see in Black Rock City for some time.

Sunrise

Sunrise

Last Sunrise

Last Sunrise

Sunrise, Black Rock High Desert

Black Rock High Desert

Fortunate as I made my coffee, drank two big mugs, wrote my morning pages, and finished my packing up of the Airstream Bambi.  I was done and ready to leave by 8:30 a.m.

But first there was a trip to make to the Commissary for one more breakfast and to sit with the family and discuss how camp was going to get broke down and how to manage the baby’s nap and sleep schedule while this was happening.

A plan was laid, but like all best laid plans, it was for naught.

An act of God intervened.

Here is camp before the storm hit, lit in the soft glow of the sunrise.

Camp

Camp

On the left the family vehicle that was to provide such trouble getting us to Reno.

On the right, the Soccer Mom, which had to be dropped off to the mom’s assistant who was going to drive it to San Francisco.

Behind the family vehicle, their container, which was packed full and scheduled for pick up.

Then the Cushman which would be dropped off to Ranger HQ.

There was the Frontier Trailer to empty, clean, and transference of all family stuffs to the Bambi, which fingers crossed would be hitched to the BMW and then just in case, there was the Ford F-150, not pictured, that was on playa being used over at Heavy Machinery, but cleared for the family use if needed.

Boy was it needed.

That’s a lot of stuff to take care of, without a dust storm.

Home Base

Home Base

It was however, quite doable.

Everything was pretty much packed, sorted, and organized.

It was just a matter of logistics.

Imagine the entire family’s dismay, then, when the white out hit.

The baby was just getting up from his morning nap and the papa had been outside sorting and breaking down the camp.

Mama was having a last-minute sit down with her assistant to clarify some last issues and needs.

I was inside the Frontier organizing baby gear.

Then we got walloped.

Mom got back to camp, dad got stuck in the Cushman less than a 1/4 mile away, but as there was no visibility, it took him an hour to make it back to camp.

The awning on the trailer was ripped to shreds and spent the next six hours flapping and banging into the trailer which shook and was soon stuffed with the dust that was screaming through the air.

We holed up inside, ate a lunch, held our breaths, each thinking, this will pass soon, but as the hours dragged on and the conditions stayed the same, morale quickly sunk.

A nap was taken by the family, I plugged in my head phones to my lap top and watched a video, with an eye constantly pulled to the front, white and occasionally to the back, white out, window.

Around four hours in, the papa decided to get out there.

I have never seen a more determined person.

He sliced down the awning, rolled up the canvas and stashed it in the container, when the metal frame fell on him, I hopped up and braved the weather to help him secure it to the trailer.

Look at the two white poles supporting the awning in the above picture.

Now imagine that you cannot see a person standing across from you.

Complete white out.

The dust stung and slapped and within seconds I was coated.

I felt like I was hanging on for dear life.

Papa secured the metal frame on one side, we slowly swapped places, then he got the other side.

He shooed me back indoors, where I got one look at myself and saw what I will look like with gray hair.

I don’t know how it all got done, but it did, and the stuff was all transferred, the trailers packed, it was frantic and scary and frustrating and for a good part of it I just stood to the side holding the baby.

Then, the three vehicle caravan, the Bambi connected to the BMW, the Soccer Mom mini van leading the way, and me just behind, in the Ford truck, slowly making our way through the white out.

Took over an hour to get off playa.

Complete white out.

We all stayed connected via radio, in fact, because the BMW was acting up, we kept in radio contact the entire way to Reno.  I followed behind the Bambi, which at times was able to go the speed limit, but then for no particular reason, other than the dust having fucked up the electrical system of the car, it would slow to 20 mph, then 15, then 12.

Then the dad would pull over, let the system rest, and re-start the car.

A trip that typically takes under two hours, took more than four and a half.

You can surmise how tired we were pulling into the Pepper Mill after midnight.

It was a long day.

And I forgot my laptop in the truck after we had checked in.

I could barely get myself in and out of the shower, let alone write this blog.

In fact, I am going to wrap it up now.

It is late, the laundry, while not nearly done, there are three weeks worth of clothes to do, this load is almost ready for the dryer.

And this lady is ready for the bed.

It is way past my bedtime.

And there is much to do on the morrow.

So much.

 

 

 

 

 


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