Quiet house.
Long day of too much firing - cerebral. Also some peaceful empty mind. This helped.
After a movie, overcome by the need to write, I grabbed big index cards from the door pocket of my car, across the passenger seat. Hebrew transliterations would be subsumed for the Muse.
She hadn't been over in a while. It was like a lover, demanding, "Now!"
So I wrote as I drove, and thought about how I could feed her more often, if she would be descending on me with such appetite. But like many things passionate, it was fun and engaging and well, tempered by common sense (just enough) and that lovely familiarity of knowing each other well.
The cornfield I hastily sought out was actually both corn and beans. It took me a couple of hours to notice the distinction. I didn't actually look much. I was busy. Tending her. Just had to be out there in the middle. Not even bothered by cars going by, or one runner, who thumped by, bare chested, red shorts.
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| if you do take this road, go slow :) |
I just needed the sun and some wind, the embrace of soil and farm smells. I think there were 5 cards. Filled them up. Found leaking (tears) came along at one card, one thought - accompanied by that sense of Grace.
Sitting still was good. As was losing my dependence on bodies of water for thoughtful meandering and romantic interludes. (Used to be my M.O.)
Muse stayed for a long time. Lingering. Even the rain drops and phone call didn't chase her right away.
Maybe that's what's nice about dusk. It reminds me of her. Also of the perks - the essentialness even - of time without distractions.
Thinking of setting a begging bowl out. Full with offering? Or empty with potential? Both?
Can a bowl be both empty and full?
Well look there - my very own koan. How nice. See? She is hanging around. "Ha!" she says. "You thought I had gone for - " Well, yes, maybe for a long time.
Contemplating field of dreams. And sleeping outside. Under the full moon.
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