Blessed BE

Two nights ago I dreamed that an alcoholic lover was shut in a dark room in a corner in a basement of an old farm house. I entered the house in jail break fashion and was stopped by a decrepit, lanky man in work clothes who said I couldn't go down there and I was to leave him alone to die. I told him to F O, pushed by him and made my way down the dark wooden steps to his locked room. Outside the door was a lit waiting room akin to one you'd see in a modern Dr's office; little children were playing. There were no adults. I took a seat outside his door.

The next night Carole dreamed that she and I were in a warehouse in a small town hanging out with Leonard Cohen. We were talking the night away having the time of our lives. (We've been listening to the 2-cd set of his concert for days). The only conversation she could remember that morning was that he said, "You choose your drama."

Indeed. We. Do.

I love the way our dreams play off of one another. We used to do this when we both lived in Boulder; and later when I moved to the San Luis Valley and she would visit. True Sisters, We.

And our time together comes to an end. She says I can't leave until after Thanksgiving. That's next Monday here in Canada. And in case I don't get the point, she and Chris have my hitch. Tomorrow she and I will take a day and bird watch, go to her favorite Pub and a near-by winery. Friday we will take the three sweet turkeys from the pen, chop off their heads and pluck away. Hens Tilly and Tilly (because we can't tell them apart) for the freezer, Ted for Monday's dinner.

Friends ask me of my plans. It is hard to pin me down. My life is more of an unfolding these days than a linear set of dates. Boise, Mancos until Thanksgiving, winter in Tucson, Bisbee and Kino Bay, Mexico. All possibilities. What matters is that I have an introduction drafted to a new book and will begin to send it out. I have laid the ground work for further marketing of my photos (pro shots on flickr; friend shots on Picasa); and I will have a draft of a publishable essay done by the time I depart. I have been working long days.

What matters...are my friends; my daughter. Those who love me. Especially at this time of limbo. My mood swings are great. Life might be described as breaths between chasms. As another sister, Emilie, reminded me: the 15 years with Tom was a quarter of my life. It's going to take time.

Interesting, that dream. I was aggressive and true to task until I arrived at the door, where I sat and waited for him to come into the light. As Leonard Cohen sings: "Waiting for a miracle to come."

Wisdom is knowing when to wait and when to act. The old moon crescent hangs in this morning's dawn sky; reminds me that every day begins anew; every moon wanes, dies and is reborn.