losses

I get overly attached to people. When they have to move on I become disfunctionally distraught. Lately there's been a lot of people who've become dear to me, and I guess just by odds, I am losing a lot at once.

I'm feeling the loss of Elm Shakespeare, as this is the first summer in 5 years I'm not working for them. Wildfire brought me great new friends who are now spread across the east. And now, roller derby, true to its nature, has begun to take its toll on our numbers with injury and exhaustion. The news of girls leaving the league has especially gotten to me. We've struggled together, become intimately familiar with each other with close contact skating and 6 hours of practice a week plus endless meetings. And by captaining I've become intensely invested in their development. Losing any of them is losing family.

But with 45 girls and rougher times ahead, I'd better start getting used to it.

Really, I do apologize for continued grimness. I have confidence this blog will eventually get back to its original light hearted spirit. In fact I'm going to make a conscious effort from here on out to regain my sense of humor.

pruning

A new gardener often has difficulty pruning and thinning. You have to plant a lot of seeds, then pinch off some of the seedlings that sprout, so that the remaining seedlings have enough space and light to grow large and strong. You have to cut off some blooms if you want to eventually have a more bloom-filled plant. This is painful when you are a new gardener. Every seedling, every bloom is beautiful. How to choose? After you've been doing if for a long time, you've seen the benefits and it is not so uncomfortable. You get a feel for which should go and which should stay, even when they all look equally promising. It takes time to reach this level of expertise. Until then you have to do guess work and make yourself let some beautiful things go even if you can't stand it.

Rumi, caught

A BookCrossing book I released months ago in the Edgerton Park fountain, then blogged about, was just logged in as "caught" by an anonymous finder. The odds of that happening have been about as slim as balloon findings. The site says it was released 10 months ago. Have I really been blogging that long?

The mysterious finder seems to have lukewarm feelings about my choice, Chasing Rumi by Roger Housden, and suggests Landscape Painted with Tea by Milorad Pavic. That sounds marvelous. Chasing Rumi is the most personally synchronicity-filled book I've ever read. It was only a matter of time before it brought me a new clue to follow.

Another little miracle in an auspicious week.

wind, sand, waves, fire

Last Saturday evening: a seaside bungalow, a good and lovingly made dinner, a gift of a ring with a white mother of pearl heart.

A walk to the water, a hula hoop, a can of fuel hidden in a kitty litter bucket, yellow police tape, major crime scene unit, a suspicious death.

A dark abandoned beach, stars, barefeet, and fire where waves, sand and wind meet.

An audience of dear and rarely seen friends: Grace Lin, Anna Alter, and Libby Koponen. I spin and it's different, a connection happens that hasn't before. Maybe even the "affinity which links and draws together the elements of the world."

I attribute it to the fire retreat I've just had, the sea, and the love and enthusiasm of the people who watched.

34th year, so far

I really haven't stopped working or chasing wild geese, but I've lost my appetite for talking about it. So I'll just post some pictures.

Getting the next book, Chiru, into sketch form finally.

















Co-captaining a roller derby league, working towards a debut bout in December, working the press.













Gathering wood and learning new dances and fire arts on a retreat with my fire family.


















And unphotographable but unforgettable: seeing Cirque du Soleil's Corteo in NYC, body guarding Jay Jay the Jet Plane at the New England Air Museum, hearing I get to do a new puppet show for Puppetsweat.