The morning I was checking out of the hospital after my surgery in February, my daughter was taking a picture out of the window of my room. I asked her what she was looking at and she said "the labyrinth, didn't you see it?" I didn't walk close enough to the window before that to see the view below where I stayed. I was glad I didn't miss it, one of my favorite themes! As we were leaving, I said I felt good enough to walk out on my own, without the use of a wheel chair, so the nurse insisted on accompanying me. I said that was good, because it is not easy to find my way out of a hospital, much like walking through a maze. A maze is different than a labyrinth, designed with a different purpose in mind.
At Full-Circle Book Store, I also came across a book on the subject of labyrinths written by three local authors. "Oklahoma Labyrinths - a path to inner peace," by Gail Peck, Linda Yeingst and Phyllis Pennington covers information about labyrinths in Oklahoma, some of the history behind labyrinths and the spiritual and cultural aspects of a labyrinth. It even includes a photo of the labyrinth I saw from my window. Looks very interesting!
(Picture my daughter took of the view of the Labyrinth from my room)
I just had one of my wishes answered, to see a friend I had known many years ago. We had a close relationship for a short time when I was fifteen years old, but since he was eighteen at the time, my family didn't approve and we stopped seeing each other. He was Native American Indian, Cherokee, and he had been adopted by a family after he was "found abandoned in the forest" literally, as a baby. I met him the first time when I went with his brother and his family to church. His brother and I were friends, went to school together and we were both born on the same day in the same year at the same hospital!
My friend's brother, John, who had been adopted, also looked like John Kay (above), the lead singer of Steppenwolf. My friend John and I were both troubled teens, and he had a protective, big brother sense about him. He would walk miles to my house to see me, even with an injured leg. He was also very wild, did a lot of crazy things that got him into trouble sometimes, but was a very kind, honest and thoughtful person. My aunt who I lived with at the time was not favorable about my interest in him and wouldn't allow me to keep seeing him, so we eventually stopped seeing each other. Since then, I wondered about him from time to time and how he was doing. I remember the last time John and I were at my mother's house together, we heard the news on the television that Jim Morrison had just died.
John was on my mind recently again, because during a recent trip to Tulsa I saw an interesting Persian rug shop on my way back from a bookstore on Cherry Street. My daughter and I thought we might find a "magic carpet" there so we stopped inside. After looking around we saw a carpet hanging above a doorway in the back of the store that was an antique rug with beautiful designs. I asked about the price and it was around $2,200! It was a small and valuable antique, but it also seemed like the magic carpet we were hoping to find. I wish I had taken a picture, but the store owner seemed very protective, his arms folded like Aladin as if to keep us from getting too close.
After we left, I was thinking of the song by Steppenwolf, "Magic Carpet Ride," so my friend John came to mind again and because we were driving through so many different Native American territories along the way home. Also, since I had searched for Native American Indian moccasins for my friend's baby shower recently, and making friends with a couple of shop owners I met who are Cherokee and Osage.
Then, this weekend I was at a friend's house with a gathering of people I have known for many years. One couple I have seen within the group of friends, but I hadn't gotten to know them personally. The husband, Gary, started to share with the group that his brother was having serious health problems, and as he started to describe a dream he had about his brother, that his brother was adopted and was a full-blood Native American Indian, John immediately came to my mind. Of course, I also thought that would be impossible. As I listened to him begin to describe his brother's condition, I said, excuse me Gary, what is your brother's name? He told me, and it was my friend John! I shouted, "NO WAY!!" He asked, "Why, do you know him?" We started talking after that and Gary was John's older brother who I hadn't met because he was ten years older than John and was not living at home when I knew his family.
John had some serious health issues recently and almost died of liver failure two times. He also broke his previously injured leg (he stepped into a hole at a party and fell) and it became infected and his leg had to be amputated just below the knee. His brother and wife were happy to get me in touch with John and he contacted me for a visit. I got to see him today and it was so great to find out that although it has been many years, except for his health problems, he is still exactly the same! Another bizarre twist to the story is that his roommate that he is helping, a biker with a Harley, was a drummer for Steppenwolf! He is going to be playing with a band in a concert later this month and John invited me to go.
I just wanted to say I haven't been able to post or comment lately due to a surgery I had a week ago on Monday. Fortunately, everything went really well. One of my biggest concerns was being too cold in the hospital, but everyone kept asking me if I wanted a warm blanket, so I always said yes. They kept piling them on me and I didn't even need to ask for one.
When I got out of surgery and woke up in the recovery area, I had to wait a couple of hours for a room to be ready to stay over night. I felt really good compared to the other patients around me who were moaning and in various degrees of pain. When the nurse went to let my sister know why it would be a while before I got a room, I asked if she could bring back my book and glasses so I could read "Bird by Bird" while i waited. My sister and daughter were shocked that I was feeling well enough already to want to read! I opened the book and started reading in the recovery room, beginning randomly at the pages on "the shitty first draft," which reminded me of our last short story reviews in class, ha. I also realized I had a new insight on how a "shitty first draft" might feel, although that was soon after my own hospital meds wore off.
Some things in life can be a bitch, but sometimes you just have to bend over and "take it like a man." I'm not sure if my version is in line with the original interpretation of the quote "take it like a man," but it seems appropriate to me at this time. If you've ever been there, you know what I mean.
I know it's a far cry from the joyful beginnings and baby moccasins I wrote about previously, but that shows how life can change in an instant from one extreme to another without giving notice. It reminds me of the time I played my daughter's video game and was getting into it when I was ambushed by zombies. I thought I was putting up a good fight when suddenly, I was looking at the rafters. I thought, "this can't be good." It's a view I didn't want to know from the obvious position of being flat on my virtual back.
I am also reminded of the feeling I have when I avoid going through a certain neighborhood or area, thinking if I try to walk this way I may not come out the other side in one piece. Now suddenly I find myself on that block with a new address metaphorically and all I can do is get radical about it. Sure, I like the refined, delicate and peachy-cream world when life is going my way, but then, I also like Picasso and really good art is sometimes produced through difficult times.
I can't help but think of Pearl, the little female pig we had to dissect in biology class and feeling that I too had been on that end of the scalpel and didn't want to have to be there again. But then, also like Picasso and William Burroughs there is nothing like a good cut up artist to find out what is really "happening" and what is "now" in the universe, and all we have is now. I have a unique chance to have a glimpse of life from a new perspective and I intend to attack it in a radical way and get everything out of it I can!!
One of the joyful new beginnings so far in January was the baby shower today for Moriyah. "Mori" is due on January 21st! Cassie and Michael, a Jewish couple who are Reiki teachers, as well as friends and comrades in many areas are expecting their son in two weeks. When my daughter Ariele and I asked what they might like for the shower they expressed that they would like to find some baby moccasins for Moriyah.
I had a pair of tan or brownish leather moccasins in mind when I was looking for some this week, but there were none to be found "in all the land," except by internet order. It has been a few years since I searched for baby items, but I thought it wouldn't be difficult to find baby moccasins, especially since we live in Oklahoma which was once Indian Territory! With no time for ordering online, I continued the search until high-noon this morning, just in time for the shower. I even thought of making a pair, but with time running out, I continued the search. Going by suggestions from previous shops I visited, one specialty shop owner suggested a place in downtown Edmond called, "Simply Southwest" (at 1 North Broadway, Edmond, OK) only about one mile/minute from my home.
My week-long search had led me to this store (trading post) which I have passed many times, but I hadn't been inside before. The previous shop where I stopped suggested I check with them and the owner even called ahead to check for me and see if they had any baby moccasins. They said they did have one pair of baby moccasins in their store so I went in, surprised to see that the moccasins were in the display case along with all the other southwestern-style jewelry... I say other jewelry because the moccasins were just as much jewelry with bead work and were truly a work of art - a national treasure, not only for the Osage Nation but our own.
The owner explained that the moccasins were authentic Osage Indian moccasins, hand-stitched by a local Osage artist from tender deer skin hide and traditional Osage bead work. If I had to choose a gift "fit" for the newborn baby of a tribal chief, or for the baby Jesus even, these are the moccasins I would choose, the moccasins of a true shaman, ready to be a wind-walker or to dance among the stars.
The shop was full of beautiful art from various tribes, Hopi Kachina Dolls, intricate Navajo pottery, woven blankets and silversmith jewelry with turquoise, as well as many other southwestern works of jewelry and art. After talking with the shop owner, I learned that she also is an Osage. We parted with the moccasins and a gift she gave us of a book written by another local Osage author, a science-fiction writer, who had just been in the shop. She gave us the book and seemed satisfied that the moccasins would be appreciated and become a treasure to their new owners for generations to come.
With the New Year beginning just after the recent Total Lunar Eclipse on December 21st, which occurred on the Winter Solstice for the first time in 372 years (beginning just 14 hours after the total lunar eclipse), I am more aware than usual this year of the idea of new beginnings after witnessing such a beautiful event in nature. It's true, the promise of spring is on its way, former things are passing away and new things are soon taking their place. But it's difficult to tell during the darkest, or longest night of winter what has died and what will survive, or revive, and I can't help but feel a primitive sense of disarray.
Sully Erna: Avalon
What does the tarnished moon of a Total Lunar Eclipse have to do with the New Year? The word "sully" provides a clue. Sully means 'to soil, stain, or tarnish; to mar the luster of; to defile, or sully the reputation of.' It can also mean 'to become sullied, stained or tarnished.' The moon goes through a tarnishing phase during the total lunar eclipse, which was even more dramatic from where I observed it this time, with dark clouds also moving over the eclipse making it even more hidden, obscure and diminished.
In one description, tarnish was 'to diminish or destroy the purity of.' You could even say the moon was 'dead to rights, in the very act of committing a crime, offense, or mistake; (caught) red-handed.' The moon also became 'a type of copy, having been used or rejected.' The moon was 'out of play - a dead ball,' so to speak. The moon even appeared to be tarnished, showing an oxidized rust color. Not only did its color change, it began 'to grow dull, discolored and lose its luster,' 'to become hidden and obscure,' to 'deaden' (or just 'dead').
The moon was temporarily cut off from its direct source of light, its life, bereft, unresponsive, unplugged, 'completely killed' in the dead of winter, in the dead of night, in the period of greatest darkness and coldness. Fortunately, it also became "undeadened" or just, "undead" when it 'passed out' of Earth's shadow, and looked even more brilliant than before against the blackened-inky night sky.
More 'dead' references:
Not having a potential different from that of Earth; free from any electric connection to a source of potential difference and from electric charge; Law: deprived of civil rights so that one is in the state of civil death, esp. deprived of the rights of property; not fruitful; unproductive: dead capital; without resonance; anechoic: dead sound; a dead wall surface of a recording studio; flat rather than glossy, bright, or brilliant; tasteless or flat, as a beverage: a dead soft drink; infertile; barren: dead land; without resilience or bounce: a dead tennis ball; put out; extinguished: a dead cigarette; sudden or abrupt, as the complete stoppage of an action; complete; absolute: dead silence; The plan was a dead loss; lacking the customary activity; dull; inactive; without vitality, spirit, enthusiasm, or the like: a dead party; (as language): no longer in use as a sole means of oral communication among a people: Latin is a dead language; utterly tired; exhausted: The moon felt dead from the five-hour trip; not moving or circulating; stagnant; stale: dead water; dead air; no longer functioning, operating, or productive: a dead motor; a dead battery; no longer current or prevalent, as in effect, significance, or practice; obsolete: a dead law; a dead controversy; (of an emotion) no longer felt; ended; extinguished: a dead passion; dead affections; incapable of being emotionally moved; unresponsive; lacking sensitivity of feeling; insensitive; bereft of sensation; numb; resembling death; deathlike; not endowed with life; inanimate: dead stones; no longer living; deprived of life...
these descriptions, along with any number of additional experiences of what it is like to be diminished or 'dead' in some way whether from rejection, reproach, shame, blame, failure, or other types of loss give an idea of what it is like to be tarnished.
This New Year 2011, like the moon's response to being diminished, shows the potential for all the dead things that were lost or diminished to revive, and like the moon that passed its test, to become 'undead'. Whether its finances, productivity, dreams, or just from being exhausted, the New Year can also be full of new life. With such a dramatic display of nature, I look forward to what the New Year might bring in, or back - and on the brighter side, the conjunction of Jupiter and Uranus will be the brightest shining objects in the Southeastern night sky on January 3rd-5th, that is, unless the moon is near!
Did you ever feel something approaching that has gotten into your head and its momentum is moving so fast but it seems to be going in slow motion like a car crash and there is nothing you can do to slow it down or change it but sit at the intersection and take it all in as you see it happen and say "muther......-uuuuckkkkerrrrr" until the moment of impact when it all collides? (inhales.......... deep sigh......) That's how I've felt about this new year taking over... I wasn't that aware of its approach, but I tremble at the intensity as I see it happening and I feel in awe all at the same time. I feel clipped by it somehow, but not in the direct path, and hope to hang back and survive, enough to come away with a little DIY ethic, some extra cash and maybe a new tattoo.
I chose this song to express the feeling because I had a dream that a friend of mine was playing this song on stage with Fugazi for a fundraiser at a beach in CA. I hadn't listened to this song in several years until I heard it again in my dream.
