Woodsmoke

Ahhhhhhhhhh

I went out on an artist's date and found more than I could have hoped for. I started out grumpy this morning because a phone call had woken me up from a Neurontin-induced sleep and I coudln't fall back to sleep, no matter how drugged I still felt.

So I went to Ancora and wrote in my journal, listening to Chakra meditation music and the Celtic Twilight series (thanks, Brett). I have been neglecting my hand-written journal lately because of the pain I feel hand-writing. Literal pain, not emotional pain. The meds make my writing jagged and messy and my hand cramps up. But, miraculously, as if to be a clue to how the day would go, my hand loosened up and I was able to write freely.

Leaving Ancora, I decided to walk down Monroe St. despite all the noisy construction. I was going to go to an East Indian decorative shop...but found myself face to face with a Native American shop... different sort of Indian.

I entered and at once I felt a peace come over me. The woman behind the counter, a petite woman in her fifties, greeted me and we then talked for about fifteen minutes - about working in Madison, about writing, about the different neighborhoods and cafes. Then a customer came in asking for her special bracelet being held for her and I went on looking at things in the store.

These things - pots, blankets, throws, purses, jewelry, rugs, books, statues, gems, were all from the Southwest and at once I felt a sort of synchronicity take shape.
Wasn't I immersed in Natalie Goldberg - who talks about the Southwest so much it makes me yearn to return there? I found incense - perfect - from the Southwest. Pinon (where's that squiggly mark above the 'n' when you need it?), sage, cedar, pine...I found a variety pack and I quickly decided to buy it. I am thrilled that I did because as I type this, the pinon smoke is drifting over me like a blessing.

I *know* this smell. I've been to the Southwest ONCE and yet I have such a yearning - it rivals right up there with my yearning to return to England and Ireland.

So next I shall copy down a poem I wrote about my mother. I find I'm writing poems now where there's more of an ... acceptance of things. I don't know how long this peace will last, but I'll take it. I'll take it.

I'm going to New Mexico soon, people. I don't know what "soon" means in time... I can't go anywhere while Mom is sick...need to stay by her...but my inner spirit is saying... soon...soon...you will be among adobe and sunsets.