Lately you remind me of the person Robert Hass describes in his poem “Time and Materials”: “someone falling down and getting up and running and falling and getting up.” I’m sending you my compassion for the times you fall down, and my admiration for the times you get up, and my excitement for the times you run. It has probably become clear to you by now that the falling down isn’t a shameful thing to be cursed, but rather is an instrumental part of the learning process that is teaching you marvelous secrets about getting back up and running.

Goodness I loves me some Rob Brezsny…  This is my life.  I always get up and run again just for the feel of the wind in my hair and beating of my heart.  Scraped knees heal.

Needing a creative disruption in my routine, I hiked into a forest I’d never visited. The late afternoon light was wan and the wind was chilly. In places, the trail narrowed to a scruffy rut barely big enough for me to walk on, leading me to wonder if I was reading my map wrong. Three times this happened, but always the wider path resumed. Were there bobcats here? When I spied a flash of fur in the distance, I wished I’d researched that subject before I’d come. Still I pressed on. Then I came upon a single segment of a wooden fence, inexplicable in this remote area. One end of its upper slat had come loose and fallen. Moved by a whimsical urge to insert order into the midst of my disorientation, I fixed the slat. My mood brightened, my anxiety dissipated, and the rest of my hike was filled with small epiphanies. Everything I just described, my fellow Cancerian, is an apt metaphor for your week ahead.

I would venture to say that yesterday I put a slat back into place.  It felt good.  Here’s to more slat fixin’ this week.  Woot!

Strictly speaking — going purely by the astrological omens — I conclude that you would generate amazing cosmic luck if you translated the Beatles’ song “Norwegian Wood” into Punjabi, wore shoes made of 18th-century velvet, or tried out for a Turkish volleyball team. I doubt you’ll get it together to pull off those exotic feats, however, so I’ll also provide some second-best suggestions. You won’t receive quite as much cosmic assistance from doing them, but you’ll still benefit considerably. Here are the back-ups: Begin planning where and when you’ll take a sacred vacation in 2010; meditate on who among your current allies is most likely to help you expand your world in the next 12 months; decide which of your four major goals is the least crucial to pursue; and do something dramatic to take yourself less seriously.

Well of course my fingers got all tingly when I read wear “shoes made out of 18th-century velvet.” So I’m going for the exotic feats.

Friday night was the home group gratitude potluck.  I wore my green embroidered tunic with black leggings and my bad-ass boots.  One totally cool guy, Bob, commented on how cool what I was wearing is.  My friend Susan proceeded to tell him that I probably did it all by hand and that I probably wove the belt.  I blushed and said she was right.  M came over 5 minutes later and asked me if I’d been visiting Sherwood Forest.  I’m telling you it’s really something else how grateful I am at the bullet I dodged.  Bob?  He’s in a relationship.  With a man.  So don’t go getting all excited.

But I’ve been working on the whole Punjabi, Norwegian Wood, be different in my own way thang quite a bit.  I’m sitting here at 50 and realize that it took me a dozen years to discover who I am in sobriety only to find that that changed dramatically with my 50th birthday and a year of getting hit upside the head with the Everything Is Changing stick.  A big stick.

I am becoming very clear on who my current allies are today. And they aren’t people like M who say “Did you just come out of Sherwood Forest” or the other M who said, “that coat looks like my bathrobe.” Gee, thanks. Didn’t know your bathrobe was black polar fleece with thistle enameled buttons, fitted at the waist with Edwardian sleeves but whatev.  That’s what you get hanging out with someone who complains about how old she  is at 44.  Where is that big stick when you need it?

My world is very small right now and I find I like it that way.  My sacred vacation will happen when I’ve finally paid off those who saved my ass this year.  When I go to 100% FTE. But I honestly expect that the most sacred vacation was this past year. I certainly wasn’t working and it certainly changed me spiritually.  What more could I ask for?  As long as my lesson wasn’t that I should ask for less so that it doesn’t hurt so fucking much.  That would be a mistake.

My major goals right now are to finish the little somethings for the covenfolk which I feel  is definitely crucial to pursue.  True love or at least Pretty Darned Good Love is worth the pursuit.  But I think I’ll leave off on the new career thing.  The best dramatic thing I can do to take myself less seriously is to keep wearing things like that green tunic.

My new favorite blog?  Style Scout. London street fashion for the rest of us.  Totally hip and nothing like the magazines.  There’s some wacky fun in there and it makes my little heart sing.  It’s all about the textiles don’t you know?

Oh! And the one crucial thing that is a major goal this year?  Yule cards.  Think I’m going to let them go this year.  I don’t have the energy and don’t want to spend my precious $ on two boxes of cards.

This will be a smooth, easy, and graceful week for you — if, that is, you get yourself out of the way and allow the universe to do its job. Can you do that? It doesn’t mean you should be passive or blank. On the contrary, in order for the cosmos to perform its magic, you should be on the lookout for what captivates your imagination and be primed to jump when life says “jump!” Be both relaxed and alert; receptive and excitable; surrendered to the truth and in intimate contact with your primal power. Then the song will sing itself. The dream will interpret itself. The beauty will reveal itself.

I love this, especially the bit about the song singing itself….  Indeed it should.  So I think I’ll let it.

Bit and pieces of life

• My brother went into a complete tailspin after threatening to sue me after reading my post where I said I didn’t want to play with him any more.  It got so bad that he was calling my parents every day in a complete tirade, made my mother cry.  That was that.  I wrote him and said something along the lines of “Dude, chill.  Breathe.  Go be happy.  We will never fix decades of problems overnight. I love you.”  He wrote back saying thanks and all has been quiet ever since.
• The job got a bit crazy last week.  It’s just always busy, co-worker behaving in very unprofessional ways (turns out this is normal, she is tolerated due to her longevity, historial knowledge, and mad skillz), that I got cranky.  After a weekend of self-examination I decided that while I’m grateful and am not ever leaving until there is something else of substance waiting for me, I will at some point move on.  Until then I am going to be militantly cheerful.
• Home life starting to swing again. After the episode of violence with Dad he calmed down eventually and things got pretty normal around here. No more blood sugar crises, no outburts, almost back to normal.  Until yesterday.  Now he’s all confused, his behavior is erratic if pleasant with grumpy face, he doesn’t know what the heck is going on.  Hose running outside with the front door wide open while he chats amiably with a neighbor as our precious and expensive resources just go off into the good and cool night.  Using the hose to flush the internal vacuum system.  Here we go again.  It’s never going to get better than this and I’m certain that the episodes will become more and more frequent.  Let’s hope they are not as extreme as they were that day since we are no longer trying to get him to stop driving.  He promised the cops and that’s a promise he’ll keep.
• Projects are easing back into my life. Knitted socks for Yule presents, a felted zipper pouch with embroidery (another Yule gift), a tarot bag for a vampire deck for Lewis who cuts my hair who I adore, and a reproduction Roumanian peasant blouse (white linen with red embroidery, seam details, and crocheted neckline and sleeve hem).  I want to make a black wool cloak as well as a black robe.  I have the later but it’s really just a loose long black dress/tunic.  Hekates night inspired me to do something for her for that night of the year and other occassions when it’s called for.  I actually have the fabric, brought it with me, one of the few things I did that showed a view into what I would need this year (or two).
• It’s dark at 5:10 now.  Wow. Yule approacheth and that doesn’t seem half weird right now.  I feel as though I’ve missed an entire year of my life.

Life is good.  Really good. Car is saved, bills are paid, family is well enough and the drama has declined, I feel like an adult again, kitty won’t come out from under the bed much which concerns me a bit but what can you do.

Keeping it simple.