Thursday, December 13, 2012

Climate Change

It seems my eyes have become heavy nimbus clouds, raining an ocean.  No other explanation for it.  Climate change.  I know it hasn't always been like this.  Probably a serious thing.  Or not.

A very competent professional once told me that a lot of people who cross that line into permanent insanity, or maybe severe depression, actually have some awareness of the point at which they gave up the fight and the hope.

That is actually useful information because I've often felt myself approaching the doorway to that room, but chose not to enter.  Not today.  That's what I tell myself. Not today.  The choice is still there.  To have choices is to have power.  Believing one is free to choose gives hope.

So, let it rain.  That's OK.  Just don't drown.  Some things can't be helped, but more often than not there are different ways to react to those things.  Choices.  Not like the best of the options leads to eternal bliss or riches, but any shred of power over one's predicament is better than nothing.

I still haven't picked up the practice harp.  I have a couple of Hohner Golden melodies, couple of Lee Oskars, and a couple of Bushman's which I have handy for practice.  Plus the amazing Susuki Easy Rider, a very cheap harmonica which, in this case has lasted a very long time and plays well.  It happens.  That's the one I have yet to bring back from its place in exile across the room.

I did go play with my mountain friends at K and L's last night.  These are nice people.  C and his wife, L2, (two different L names so we have L and L2) were there too.  We ended up singing Christmas songs, including 12 days of Christmas.  L had the words and she, L, and I rotated verses.

Mine were the three French Whores, lords a leaping, swans a swimming.  I know, French Horns, or is it Hens, is the proper thing.  Just how it worked out.  Perhaps wishful thinking.  Wasn't my idea.  I was told what to sing. I prefer the way we did it.

It would have been rude not to play in that situation, but I can't play at home right now.  And I am not going to any of the other usual things this week.  There is a request to play at some kind of party with the 12 string guy, so I may do that. I won't know anyone there and maybe some magic angel will be there to heal me.

Home alone is when the weather changes and I am in less control of it.  Most problems occur in or near the home.  That tells me that long distance travel is probably the best way to avoid trouble.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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