Friday, June 26, 2009


So suddenly. So soon. SO sad.

Because whatever your opinions and thoughts of his foibles, his strangeness, his proclivities, his parental drama, his body issues, his face issues, his hair issues, his wives, his children, his siblings, his money, his decisions, his estate, his animals, his childishness, his politics, his hopes, his dreams, his re-inventions, his setbacks, his life ...

... there was always the music, the movement, the smile, the vision, the electric joy, and an unparalleled talent.

I hope you are moon-walking on the Moon.

Rest in Peace, Michael. Good peace.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Playing Tag with the Sun

It’s the first day of summer, and I am still waiting for the sun to take up its rightful residence.

Sure, she arrived with the Spring. She blazed to warm the earth. She politely yielded to the rains in respect all the things that needed growing, but then she seemed to forget to return. And, now she seems loathed to do so.

Rain, rain! Go away! Come again some other day!

Didn’t work.

April showers bring May flowers.

Yes, but what do May showers bring? And, June thunderstorms that shake the very earth?

Baby, can you stop the rain?

Apparently not.

Say - Can I PAY someone for a … sun-fluffy-cloud-blue-skies dance? Really.

Meanwhile …

It’s the Summer Solstice. That longest day with shortest night. That celebration of the triumph of all that is green and warm and full-out blooming mixed with the recognition that the power of the summer god must now begin to yield to the silver god of winter. Why are all the god chronicles so very, very neurotic?

Meanwhile …

The paranormal, metaphysical ones consider THIS solstice a special solstice (link here), complete with planetary vibrations heralding a new age, complete with connections to both the Mayan calendar and the Harmonic Convergence. There is the expectation of a rising wave of energy that can remove the things that have been clogging up your mind and soul. Have something you would really like to happen? Focus. Make plans now. If not now, when? But, isn’t that always so? Umm … what are you waiting for?

Meanwhile …

I am sick of hoping for the sun. I am sick of rushing out to bask in an hour of sunbeams. I usually love rain, but enough. So this afternoon I vowed to chase it. Yes, you have a solar system, a sky and a horizon. I only have a car and a will.

Silly me.

Tag! You’re it!

Blessed Solstice.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Dogs in Paradise

Once upon a time we adopted a beautiful dog, and named him Raistlin (after a thief in a fantasy novel, for crying out loud). His mother was a wire-haired terrier who conveniently went into heat while on a camping trip out west with her family. Biological imperative drove this well-behaved dog to escape into the wild woods, eluding her searchers until she found satisfaction with some wild dog. Raistlin looked like a white German Shepherd with wiry hair. He had gentle brown eyes, and flowed like wind through the grass when he ran. And, having inherited his mother's gift for escape, he ran frequently. Our neighborhood was his hunting ground, and he was king (let us not discuss the unfortunate incident with the Senator’s prize miniature rooster).

But, there came a time when Raistlin could no longer move without pain, and when my Mother saw that we could no longer ease his suffering, we had him put to sleep. Hot bitter tears, that night.

The next evening, my Mother dreamed of Raistlin running through a bright green field under a brilliant sky and shining sun. He ran as if he could fly. He ran with delight. He ran up to her to say: “All is well. I am well. Farewell.” And, then he was gone.

Yesterday, a good friend of my Mother’s wrote to say that she had to put down her beloved dog, Panda. Driving from the vet, she had a vision of Panda
“… running in an open field (like the one in our neighborhood where she liked to go). She was healthy, it was green, sunny and she was running toward me, almost smiling like she could do. Ears flapping, tail twirling … I told her to go to Jesus in Heaven. She looked peacefully at me, and then she was gone.”

Two stories, two visions, so similar that somewhere there must be endlessly green, sunlit fields beneath brilliant skies were all dogs run like the wind in paradise.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Sunday Walk/Drive-Bys

Geese vs. Cars in PA?
Geese always win.

May was a good month. Even the rain seemed filled with purpose.

But this June, the rain is driving and relentless. I've felt cloistered, cut off, submerged. Each time I thought the sun had returned for good, thunder rolled overhead, the lightening flashed and crashed, the skies opened, and the rained poured. Again.

But not today.

Today the clouds yielded, and the sun called. Time to be out.

All is overgrown green in Pennsylvania.

Or working hard to be.

We are as attached to our ruins as the brush and vines.

Not everything made it through the winter,

but for every naked tree, there are a thousand Goddesses of the green.

Random rabbit on the path,

competes with random corporate art,

competes with temporarily impotent clouds.

History is thick in Valley Forge,

with covered bridges

preserved log cabins

Monuments to George Washington

and his Revolutionary soldiers

And, just when I think the clouds are making a come-back,

the sun shines through with a last burst of light.

Happy Flag Day.