You never know from whence old loves bound

It’s my place of comfort. And they’re my friends.

It’s: the library. And they’re: books.

The day’s perfect moment occurs in the local library, my place of worship.

I’ve scoured the shelves for a story I’ve been yearning to reread. One of my childhood whose character is my first “bookly” love, twin flame, companion and girlfriend: Pippi Longstocking.

None’s to be found.

I’ve checked the library’s computer. There are copies but it’ll take several days for transfers from other branches.

I “compromise” with another book altogether.

Still. Like trying to satisfy a craving for ice cream with frozen yogurt. Doesn’t work. You may TRICK yourself into believing otherwise.

But the heart wants what it wants. Needs what it needs.

I need Pippi for a reason. The rest of the story in a moment.

“Compromise” book in hand, I keep searching for Pippi — just in case it got misshelved.

“Can I help you find something?” A lady librarian in the young reader’s section queries.

“I can’t believe you don’t have any copies of Pippi Longstocking!” I respond with unedited incredulousness.

She checks. Confirms.

Then coincidences roll in.

Paraphrasing:

“Funny you mention it,” she says kindly.

“We just checked out our one copy today. We have three other copies that just today we removed from circulation. They’re to be replaced due to wear. The spines are cracking for their popularity.”

“How long will that take?”

“A few weeks.”

“Oh no, that won’t do.”

She steps to the rolling cart full of books behind the desk. Pulls forth a hardcover — love me some hardcovers! — edition of Pippi Longstocking — one with the cracking spine that’s earmarked for replacement

Instructs her coworker to alter its status “available for checkout” in the computer. And she hands me the book.

Such joy! I behold in my hands the golden scepter. I’m touched. Moved. Happy. Hugged.

Just then, I confide a secret to the kind lady librarian. Which is the rest of the story for you readers.

“I’ve just lost my mother.”

Grief is its own force. The most discombobulating disruptive disorienting power that life will give you. Give any human being.

It’s the other side of life. How could it be anything less?

“So,” I share with the librarian, “in my grief, I’ve rediscovered my love of the library and of books. Specifically ones I read in childhood.

{waves hello to the beloved Pippi Longstocking}

“They are my comfort.”

My soul – and sole – comfort.

The kind lady librarian listens. Doesn’t really grasp about grief, its power, the things it makes you need and not need, want and not want. The way grief gives the simplest things great meaning and makes intolerable the noise, the clutter, the stupidities of people and life.

Her time will come. As will yours if it hasn’t already. The loss of one parent, then the second, those losses change you in ways you can’t possibly imagine or predict or prepare for. No matter what your mind tells you.

“I’ll take great care of the book.” I assure the librarian, holding it tenderly as if it were a little animal, a kitten. She knows; she can see.

I thank her profusely for the book and we part ways for today.

The day’s perfect moment, you see, is about more than perfection. It’s about synchronicity.

As well as the enthusiastic and eccentric Pippi, who bounds now into my life as she did way back then, effervescently, eternally.

Advertisement

I’m not a crazy lady. Or a Deadhead. Just look like one.

If whatever’s happening New Year’s Eve prognosticates the tone for the coming year, as it has for years, I’m in for a lively* 2015!

*a conservative way of saying wild

Let’s just say my new year’s eve was more like a 25-year-old’s than, well, someone’s much older. 😉 Perhaps it’s the spirit of youthfulness that joy imparts.

Perhaps it was, in part, the two pints of porter plus the rye whiskey from a flask tucked into my inner coat pocket that I made sure to sip away from the patrolling eyes of the cops on Whiskey Row/Courthouse Square enlivened by partiers and the boot drop.

I think it’s the joy and the abandonment to it fueled in small part by the porters & whiskey! A helluva night!

Not often I find myself hikin’ it a mile or so across town at 3:30 in the morning … in the snow … in 21-degree weather! Or ever. Just how things unfolded.

Fortunately that main street was cleared of snow & ice. Mostly. Fortunately I didn’t slip and fall. Wasn’t dawdling either! Interspersed even a little light jogging. That inclination to stay warm and get home will fuel a girl.

Quite the sight I must’ve been too! This little thing all bundled up in two jackets — one white and one brown — and two scarves — one white, one red — and a striped purple & turquoise rabbit hair beanie bookin’ it down Gurley Street deep into the night!

Oh! And let’s not overlook the white balloon! Wrapped around my wrist, trailing. A balloon I’d picked up off a downtown street at the boot drop a few hours earlier.

I looked like a crazy lady. Or a Grateful Dead groupie racing to the tour bus.

I can only say that it’s a good thing I live in a town that while being very conservative has its quirks and eccentrics. I might be one of ’em. Okay, I am.

Yet there’s such a good spirit in this town. A natural match. An affinity. For me. Not for all. I make that clear to locals and out-of-towners. Prescott, Arizona, is not for everyone. It’s for me, however, absolutely. Joyfully!

Had a cop passed and spotted this ruffian-looking woman with a white balloon dashing down the street in the middle of the night — and believe me, I was spottable on a street largely emptied of pedestrians and vehicles! — he might’ve pulled over to inquire about my business in that late hour.  Or why was I hastening so?

It didn’t happen. If it had, I had a perfectly sound explanation. I was on my way home — I was prepared to state an address if needed — from some strange event. Something totally unexpected, something you couldn’t have seen coming but if ya had you’d take it on anyhow ’cause it was just that spontaneous & fun in a weird way.

Makes for a memorable New Year’s! And a good story, untold & unseen save out there in the ethers.

Happy 2015 to me! I may wanna grasp the seat of my pants. Looks like a ride! A joyful exuberant year. One that if I play my cards smartly — therein lies the ticket — I could accomplish inroads and gains that’ll be lasting and are necessary to creating the foundation of my life that’s much needed, sorely so, and overdue.

I won’t address the alternative, the consequences of if I don’t play those cards smartly. My eyes are on what’s ahead — that big bright light that’s ahead like a spotlight.

I prefer to choose positivity over negativity in thought. Promise over same ol’ same ol’ patterns that have outlived their usefulness, no longer serve, ones that I’m already shedding and will continue to drop into Life’s Bucket of Bye-Bye.

I hope a good new year’s was had by all. They can’t all be good. I know that; I know it well. So if yours was one of those “less-than-good,” I wish for you blessings and guidance and protection from the divine and powers that are to get you where you need to be. Even if it’s as simple as “not here.” ‘Cause I’ve been there too. In significant, meaningful, all-encompassing ways.

明けましておめでとう

Akemashita omedetto!

Happy New Year!

May 2015 be bright and blessed.

 

As the (calendar) page turns: contemplations

A candle burns in every window — three.

The studio’s sparkling clean. Spaces are cleared of outdated papers and tidy. Everything’s put back in its place.

My 18 books (I can’t allow myself the luxury of books, I move too much!) are now unpacked and set alongside the printer on their temporary (box) table.

Dishes are washed and put away. The trash is ready to be taken out. I’m really big about emptying the residence of trash before New Year’s! Superstitious almost!

Along those same lines, I’ve deleted old emails from the computer.

Small colored Christmas lights illuminate one wall, the one I most often face with the stereo and vision board there.

To bid farewell to 2014 and welcome in the new, I burned frankincense and myrrh. Not before wrapping plastic bags around the two smoke detectors! These ceilings are rather low and the detectors quite sensitive!

Even a blackened piece of toast would set it off the kitchen’s detector, a mere few steps away from the stove! Rather than climb up to yank the thing off every time a pan smoked a little too much, I sealed it inside a tightly-wound plastic bag. Illegal I know but no more beeping! {The bedroom detector meanwhile I leave uncovered just in case …}

Anyways, it’s early still. Only 6.30 in the evening. A few hours before I hoof the several blocks to Whiskey Row. The snow’s stopped, not the cold! It’s like 25 degrees now headed to a low of 19. I’ll need that drink in me to keep me warm!

I have a dream. A passion. Things I dearly and deeply desire in 2015. I daresay that at the top of the list with a few others is more hours at the radio station!

There, I said it! Wrote it!

I loooove where I work. It’s a long story (and not an entirely happy one) how I got there. Now that I’m there some five months and growing, I yearn for more — indeed would love more! I desire many more hours than the 11 per week I currently have. I’m very very grateful for those hours.

It’s about joy, really.

I’m joyful when I’m there during my two shifts. I’ll take as many hours as they’ll give me and need me for! I’ll take learning many more skills, new duties and responsibilities! I’ll embrace them!

My vision board done at the Dec. 22 new moon stars a number of life areas, including, yes, this passion. It reads – quote – Many more hours in radio!  In letters of various colors and sizes cut from magazines.

With around six hours left in 2014 (here in the Mountain Time zone), I wanted to put that out there. And that I’m not looking back and bemoaning the ill fortunes  {and there have been some} or fucked-up residences {oh have there been those!} of 2014.

As I do look back in these closing hours, I do so with gratitude more than anything. I’m so very grateful for so much. Arizona. Prescott. Especially Prescott! The community. The friends I’ve made. The connections I’ve experienced.

The incredible cheerfulness and goodwill and generosity that define this town.  The two healers (M. & S.) assisting me with serious health issues. The YMCA and its FABULOUS pool!

Every person who has touched me while I’m out and about, including strangers. Especially strangers! The many random acts of kindness that I’ve received and that I’ve given. I totally believe — correction, KNOW — that small acts of kindness multiply and multiply and spread the joy and the light.

I’m grateful to no longer have roommates and after three moves in seven months to land in a little space of my own that I love (noisy upstairs neighbors notwithstanding) with a fantastic view of the sky and treetops and buildings in the town I just love love love! And for an affordable rent! How fortunate and blessed am I!

I just know that for me 2015 will bring more good … more upswing … more blessings and things for which I’m so grateful and more joy!

I’ll be asked by the universe / Spirit / life cycle to make smart decisions. To be on my toes and alert to opportunities and to grab them when they flow my way! Not all opportunities are good. Not all opportunities are to be taken. I’ll continue to rely heavily if not exclusively on my intuition and inner knowingness as things arise. I know I’m being asked to do so and will do so and welcome doing so!

Such as my closing sentiments.

A candle burns in every window – three.

The studio is spotless and cleansed with frankincense and myrrh.

The space is ready for 2015. And I’m ready! Ready for being in and spreading:

Joy!

Joy!

Joy!