a birthday today, Kris'. He's sleeping with a sweet baby. the baby has tantrums a lot these days. he throws himself around and claws with his nails. half-proud I am, and half-worried. he's really a sweet one, though.
laurence, atwood, munro, plath, maracle, erdrich, gunn, lightning woman. reading the women who have ties with womanhood. self-aware, aware of life. inspires a girl see through better and less-habitual eyes. adds shades and spirit fabric to everything surrounding and inner. behind, beyond, meta-, within, super, and perhaps. I love the women, the musicians, poets, composers, knitters-of-webs, the long line of us, actually, the great lovely circle of us, or spiral. we have the blink, the understanding, the almost-smile, the totally Mona-Lisa thing, the blood, like a female coyote, but with essence of brown mama bear, hummingbird, and others.
recording music soon. can't wait. so many ideas, so many projects. technological Kris is preparing the earth to sing on, to drum on, to play on. I have no idea about Scope, wires, connections, mechanics, that stuff. admiration.
Corvus Mae is keeping herself warm under folded wings, aching to caw. waiting. change of season now to ducks fly moon from the brown bear time. Dreamt of bear two nights ago, crow more nights ago. Bear was beautiful, slow, grace incarnate. something to be revered. glossy and dark. the western spirit. I felt her and watched her in her silence and became silent too. the one time I was close to Bear, Kris and I were in our '71 VW van, somewhere in the mountains, camping across Canada. 2006. night time. bear slowly ambles looking for food. beauty, amazement, reverence. came toward us so we started up the van and eventually drove off, feeling that we saw the most beautiful creature. we ate rice cakes and dodged mosquitos in the black. headlights illuminating specks of winged things, we silent with bear songs.
cougar sighting at the park in town. cool.
love,
me
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