sleepless in Seattle
Though it's 5:00 am, and I've been up all night, I find myself unable to sleep, and rather introspective about what comes next. Today will be my last full day in Seattle. Then we head South to spend a week in California, and then begin the great trek East, where I will return to Asheville. Asheville means a lot of things to me. Most of all, it is the people, the community. Connections that run very deep. An incredible creative family. And it means the mountains. The environment, so lush and fecundant. It means familiarity. It means home.
My time here has been unique in my life. We arrived in Seattle around Fall Equinox. We're leaving around the Solstice. It's been an Autumn of internalization, but internalizing with another. Ilsa and I have very much taken this time as an opportunity to become a family. We have gotten to share a home, to do a sort of test run on our life together. It's been a very positive experience. We've proven to be very good at living together. We work well, and we give each other enough space. At the same time, it's been an isolated experiment; we have not had the influences of jobs, friends, or external projects (except in very marginal ways). Asheville is ripe with these things (well, not jobs, but friends and projects). Actually, I'm really looking forward to living there with her. I think this time has been crucial; I feel very confident in our stability, our happiness, and our ability to not get pulled out of ourselves in the immersive chaos that is Asheville. And I'm seriously looking forward to having a bigger place, one where the music room can be its own room, without annoying neighbors.
My summary of this journey is as follows: We departed as summer began. We visited the Grand Canyon on Summer Solstice, and were reminded of the vastness and infinity of creation. This was the first passage; the immersion into beauty.
Then we were purified in the desert. This consisted of forty days and nights in Las Vegas. My demons came out of me and made themselves known. The greatest of these was Anger, and his face was that of a bitter old man. But the desert is always a place of vision. I saw visions there. The vision of Lucifer (Luxor), the all-seeing eye in the pyramid. This was the second passage; the trial by fire.
Then there was the release into ash and water, the crystal clear waters of Mt. Shasta, the holy mountain. First by ash, then cold water, then hot water, and finally by the sheer, all-consuming waters of love in the redwood trees. This was the closure of the third passage.
On a morning, as the sun began to shine into the room of our loving, and we had only that very night accepted the perfection of all that had happened to us, a call came in. It was the call of Chaos, in the disguise of the agents of order (the Las Vegas police; surely sorcerers of chaos if ever such beings were). And chaos ensued. After a whirlwind of planes, car adventures, covert operations, medieval pageantry, an Italian villa, mead drinking, short celebratory gatherings, floods and deluge, mud, lots of mud, strange surroundings, moving through cities at the dark of night, freaking out on the highway, vampire tales, car fires, and one very long night in a Wal-Mart parking lot, we were finally prepared for the true bastion of choatic experimentation: Burning Man. The burning of the Man and the temple marked the culmination of our journey into Chaos. This was the fourth and final passage of our journey.
What followed was a phase of introspection, of taking these experiences into hibernation, and as Fall Equinox heralded the dying of the sun and the changing of the colors of the trees, it meant for us a time to go into a sort of cocoon. It has been a wonderful period of gestation. I can't say I've gotten a damn thing done. I've saved no money. I've completed no musical works. At best, I've completed watching every episode ever made of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (at seven seasons, no small task, I'll add). I've not gotten into shape, nor mastered the art of tantric sex. But I have spent three months in the bliss of my lover's arms, living, dancing, creating day to day. My most estensive creative acts have been meals I've prepared. I played a set of music at a coffeehouse. I drank some good coffee, for that matter. I went to a couple of outstanding parties, as well as a couple of not-so-outstanding ones. I've made a couple of friends. But most importantly, I've laid a foundation with Ilsa for the rest of our lives. And the value of this can not be overstated.
There is much work ahead. This very moment is the calm before a storm. What lays beyond is a great deal of work that will lead me down a trajectory into the future. I am ready. I am prepared. I am happier and stronger and freer than I have ever been in my life. The future is very exciting.
PanDoor
My time here has been unique in my life. We arrived in Seattle around Fall Equinox. We're leaving around the Solstice. It's been an Autumn of internalization, but internalizing with another. Ilsa and I have very much taken this time as an opportunity to become a family. We have gotten to share a home, to do a sort of test run on our life together. It's been a very positive experience. We've proven to be very good at living together. We work well, and we give each other enough space. At the same time, it's been an isolated experiment; we have not had the influences of jobs, friends, or external projects (except in very marginal ways). Asheville is ripe with these things (well, not jobs, but friends and projects). Actually, I'm really looking forward to living there with her. I think this time has been crucial; I feel very confident in our stability, our happiness, and our ability to not get pulled out of ourselves in the immersive chaos that is Asheville. And I'm seriously looking forward to having a bigger place, one where the music room can be its own room, without annoying neighbors.
My summary of this journey is as follows: We departed as summer began. We visited the Grand Canyon on Summer Solstice, and were reminded of the vastness and infinity of creation. This was the first passage; the immersion into beauty.
Then we were purified in the desert. This consisted of forty days and nights in Las Vegas. My demons came out of me and made themselves known. The greatest of these was Anger, and his face was that of a bitter old man. But the desert is always a place of vision. I saw visions there. The vision of Lucifer (Luxor), the all-seeing eye in the pyramid. This was the second passage; the trial by fire.
Then there was the release into ash and water, the crystal clear waters of Mt. Shasta, the holy mountain. First by ash, then cold water, then hot water, and finally by the sheer, all-consuming waters of love in the redwood trees. This was the closure of the third passage.
On a morning, as the sun began to shine into the room of our loving, and we had only that very night accepted the perfection of all that had happened to us, a call came in. It was the call of Chaos, in the disguise of the agents of order (the Las Vegas police; surely sorcerers of chaos if ever such beings were). And chaos ensued. After a whirlwind of planes, car adventures, covert operations, medieval pageantry, an Italian villa, mead drinking, short celebratory gatherings, floods and deluge, mud, lots of mud, strange surroundings, moving through cities at the dark of night, freaking out on the highway, vampire tales, car fires, and one very long night in a Wal-Mart parking lot, we were finally prepared for the true bastion of choatic experimentation: Burning Man. The burning of the Man and the temple marked the culmination of our journey into Chaos. This was the fourth and final passage of our journey.
What followed was a phase of introspection, of taking these experiences into hibernation, and as Fall Equinox heralded the dying of the sun and the changing of the colors of the trees, it meant for us a time to go into a sort of cocoon. It has been a wonderful period of gestation. I can't say I've gotten a damn thing done. I've saved no money. I've completed no musical works. At best, I've completed watching every episode ever made of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (at seven seasons, no small task, I'll add). I've not gotten into shape, nor mastered the art of tantric sex. But I have spent three months in the bliss of my lover's arms, living, dancing, creating day to day. My most estensive creative acts have been meals I've prepared. I played a set of music at a coffeehouse. I drank some good coffee, for that matter. I went to a couple of outstanding parties, as well as a couple of not-so-outstanding ones. I've made a couple of friends. But most importantly, I've laid a foundation with Ilsa for the rest of our lives. And the value of this can not be overstated.
There is much work ahead. This very moment is the calm before a storm. What lays beyond is a great deal of work that will lead me down a trajectory into the future. I am ready. I am prepared. I am happier and stronger and freer than I have ever been in my life. The future is very exciting.
PanDoor
posted by PanDoor at 5:22 AM
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