Hard times require furious dancing ~~ Alice Walker
I danced last night for the first time in months. I mean, really danced ~~ an outside band, leaping flames and teepee shadows amidst a fair share of drunks and stoners. It was only a matter of time. I'd taken to getting into my truck, sliding my favorite cd into the player and heading down a gravel road, as if on a trial run. A fav tune hit and I pulled over, cranked it up, jumped from the truck and danced in the road. My girlfriends know this about me. They've joined me. Even in the rain.
I wonder if this jailbreak of energy is what forced the phone to ring at 6:00 a.m.; Sandra from Thailand. Renee emailed her new poem from Dolores, CO; Em departed from a Mexico beach, on her way home to AZ. I miss my spirit sisters.
I feel doily-delicate on this pewter gray day. I'm not sure why I'm in Montana. Wolves and owls. Retreat on the Fisher River. The nesting nuthatch outside the window. I grow as attached to landscape and wild critters as I do humans. May be more. My soul plopped down and here I am.
Meanwhile, girlfriend ghosts materialize through a ringing phone and my email inbox. Johanna in Boise. Babette in Cortez. Susan in Santa Fe. Carole in Kaslo. What does it mean when Facebook becomes the conduit for community? There's no replacement for flesh. I can not smoke a cigar and grin into the eyes of Babette.