-Everything is Cool -
Thoughts on the strangeness of the heart.
"I was walking down the road
Just looking at my shoes
When God sent me an angel
Just to chase away my blues
I saw a hundred thousand blackbirds
Just flying through the sky
And they seemed to form a teardrop
From a black haired angel's eye"
- John Prine -
The stars looked like fantastic childhood glitter paint smeared wildly across a pitch black summer sky. In the distance a thunderstorm occasionally lit up the horizon and the night felt cool and charged with strange energy. I sat on the tailgate of my pickup and the whiskey was slowly taking the edge off my weary soul. On the grassy hill behind me the cows were quietly grazing, their calves within safe distance while the jackal called restlessly into all that blackness. I could see my father's house in the valley, the lights on in the kitchen. I've been here so many times before. In times of happiness, loss, loneliness, desire and just plain madness. It's my home. I know every tree, every rock to go around, every fence post. This place, especially at night, is a place where I come to dream, let my imagination run free.
As the Vredefort Dome night engulfed me, my mind started wandering. I imagined red wine and a fire, carefully made out of damp wood after heavy rains. I could feel the sting of the smoke in my eyes as I slowly added little twigs of Acasia until the flames were dancing and sending it's sparks skyward. I picked up my guitar and adjusted the tuners until the chords felt right. Through the flames, I imagined a girl. Sitting with her legs crossed on a chair, her elegant fingers gripping a glass of Shiraz. Her hair wild and curly, softly touching her perfect shoulders. Her face and cheekbones bathed in the golden light. She was wild and free and her stories were of wild adventures in far off places. Even though I wanted her I knew I could never hold her and I felt a strange gratitude in the knowledge that I could be blessed with the all the wild beauty of creation right in front of me and resist the selfishly human desire to keep it all to myself.
I've been on the road for the better part of November traveling the dirt roads and the small towns of the high desert hiking, writing and just taking a break from the mad rush of the city I'm temporarily calling home. I chased the sunset on abandoned roads and I have done a lot of thinking. Another year is winding down and while everyone seems to be reflecting on a another complex year filled with political and pandemic induced changes, loss and paranoia,the human condition remains the same. Falling that feels like flying. Trying to kill the time that ends up killing us.
I'm finishing this as I'm sitting on top of a hill in the Dome looking out at a magnificent pale blue sky dotted with beautiful cumulus clouds. I've got a lonesome feeling that seems to induce a defeated sigh every time I allow it to take hold. I thought I had the stomach, that I could play by the rules but I don't know. For now I'll draw the smiles inside and pull the old Gibson close. Leonard Cohen territory...
"..And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind"
JB