Still House. A moment of silence, just the dryer I hear in the backyard. Everyone has left the hive for an instant and I have moments to write.

Date:   10/6/2005 4:10:20 PM ( 19 y ago)

The house is still for a moment
where I am staying in L.A.
This is the first day I have had a chance
to write a bit, and it has been hit and miss all day.

Just got up from a nap.
I would like to catch the magical events
of the last two days, working in the spirit,
listening, being a spirit person embodied.

Right now, I am listening to Alma,
the housekeeper making sounds of cleanup.
She comes in a couple times a month or more to tidy
up this World on Thursdays.

I wake up feeling a longing
and the contrast that expresses as lonliness inside me.
Here Sarina can put out an email one day
and then have a house full of people the next time
in midweek partying till midnight.

Her Community Life is so very rich
and I am part of it whenever I come up here.

IT is touch and go, the dance, the
intensity of experiencing the multitasking
and weaving of all the mundane that asks
to happen intermixed with Seed Dreams to make
things a bit better.

I am writing for fifteen minutes and then Charlotte
needs to use the computer, and so I give it up.
Normally, I could seclude myself writing on my own
computer, but that house has recently gone wireless.
I cannot get on line at will. I enjoy writing here.
It makes me feel less alone as if someone, even in
this virtual reality is also included in my solidary existence.

Charlotte is smelling toxins in the kitchen from cleaning
products and asks my support to help the household go
non-toxic as a New Year Resolution.

There is a watermelon elegantly and artistically cut with
words that say Shana Tovah--Happy New Year. I take time
to put it in a purple plastic bin that has the makings of
a worm family house.

It would be nice to leave that here as something new
for the kids who come to study in the little school house
on the property, a converted garage the city is asking to be
returned to semi-garage status.

Underneath all that happens here there is a foundation
of spirit and touch and someone stroking my hair with a brush--
I forgot mine at home--and so Charlotte rubs Sapote Oil in my hair and
comments on the natural swirls and colics. We eat dinner
one night and I am being fed, and there is a hand on my belly
at the table, kinda naturally sitting there.


We trade massage, and she points out a little Ouchy spot on her
body where she says do not touch. I pick her some aloe and she welcomes this.

IT is nice to be the appreciated Enchanted Gardener come to visit,
and I feel the feelings of contrast between this life and the life
that is often normal to me--one more akin
to feeling like I am on the outside of life looking in.

IT is a strange, very strange existence hard to put it all together
or explain, how in certain circumstances I can turn in an instant,
tap in, and turn in an instant into the Enchanted Magician,
and then go back to the daily existence where isolation can seem
the rule more than the exception.

I realize I have chosen this Life.
I live so frequently in the Imaginative worlds
where many do not go. This is my rich inner life
that at times percolates out and down to enchant others.

These inner worlds they are apart of this world
but so few of us take time to see how they connect.

This is time consuming to do so, and I do it.
I live here in the inner worlds, and ever so often
someone Taps the Holy Well of Water that I am.
The Waters that run deep pour out.

Things are not what they seem or appear,
and yet I am grateful for moments to be able to help
Alter what is here--this box of Walled off life.
I too succumb.

your eg



 

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