It is going to be 4 degrees tonight. Today, it barely got above a balmy 21. Of course, it will steadily rise back into the forties by the end of the week. I spent a large part of my day wandering around wearing: 2 pairs of socks, 3 layers of pants (2 long underwear and jeans), 4 shirts, a winter jacket, a knee length leather jacket over that, a hat, gloves and wrap around glasses. The bus, needless to say, could only get me within a mile and a half of where I was going. It was 11 degrees when I left the house.
For whatever reason, whenever it dips below 15 I suddenly have an appointment before 11am. Which means I get the full brunt of the cold. If it is above 15, I never have a reason to leave the house till noon or later when it has warmed up even more. I think the Angels are messing with me.
The mad kitten is in full happy hibernation. I have yet to figure out how she knows that when I enter the house with three identical plastic shopping bags, that one of them is filled with toys for her. She merrily attacked me last night and had removed all the feathers from all the toys I got on clearance at PetCo in about an hour. Then she snacked and passed out again until the morning.
Once again, I was struck at my skewed vision of what I am doing in my life right now. Once again, I was berating myself for not working on a poem that I need to write (on a deadline) and once again, I finally noticed that the thing I have been caught up with is actually a….poem. I am slowly learning to validate and recognize that I seem to have shifted in my life from someone who writes poetry often, to someone for whom poetry is in everything I do. In this case, I am creating a custom hypnosis script and when I got to the main part – it is a poem. When I write for Grace – it is a poem. When I write poetry for myself – it is a poem. When I do some of the other things that are becoming my “business” in life…they are all rooted in poetry that I have to write for them. It is interesting this transition. Interesting too how hard it is for me to recognize the poems.
I am having bird issues again. The other night I was walking back from downtown along one of the oldest streets in Providence, the sun was just going down so it was kind of that strange half-light where everything stands out sharply – but the detail is hard to see. I heard this sound, like a rushing and then the familiar caws. Looking up I saw hundreds of crows flying in a circular pattern over the Jencks House on Benefit Street. The Jencks house was built in 1774 and the Jencks in question are purported to be a part of the group of first patriots in the nation, the ones who burned the HSS Gaspee. The murder of crows filled the three largest trees around the house and they alternated landing and then taking off and flying in a circular pattern over the property and taking up roost again. I stopped and watched them for a bit. There is something about these massive murders of crows that fits Providence so well. After all, they are – cross-culturally, seen as the Divine Messengers of Providence. What I did not know is that they are considered to be solar animals and represent the creative principal. I have an interest in crows because if you remember, it was around the same time last year I saw the thousand crows streaming over the city. Things like that kind of stick in your mind.
Then walking downtown the next day, a flock of hundreds of pigeons came up behind me and flew over me thickly – I mean they were arranged in a block from a foot off the ground to about 12 feet above. They landed and refused to move when I was trying to walk through. So, I walked in the gutter while they did their thing.
There is something uniquely striking about a large amount of birds. Some of the most striking internal memories I have all stem from my encounters with mass amounts of birds. The thousands of starlings I saw lining the wires as I drove out of Providence so many years ago. The hundreds of swans I surprised in a lagoon once.
Something about them that moves me out of the present and into a kind of space between. The space where the stories live that become poems that have now become life. Funny, how the act of writing used to involve all these special preparations and was so separate from the rest of my life. If I was writing, it meant I was withdrawing from whatever was around me to find that silence, that sacred space. And now? I think my life is evolving to become that space and there is no withdrawing, no special ritual, no separation.
If you went looking for the Sunday Sermon for Grace Independent you probably witnessed it steadily shifting further and further into the day before finally coming to rest on Monday night at 9pm. That is temporary. I have a commitment on Sunday for the next few weeks that will keep me wandering around in the cold, wearing everything I own and encountering large amounts of birds. I am starting a new bi-weekly broadcast on the Grace Independent channel called “Healing Grace.” It will be a ½ hour – 40 minute show that simply examines all the different methods and means of healing – physically, spiritually, emotionally and mentally. I’ll cover alternative and mainstream therapies, clinical studies and anecdotal accounts. Given my own experiences and the work I am getting deeper into doing, I have learned the importance of becoming informed.
Now…off for coffee, to harass MK and maybe…get some work done. It will probably have meter and feet but I will call it work and bemoan my lack of writing poetry still.
c.2012. Cassandra Tribe. All Rights Reserved.