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Lachlan MacLearn: Blog

#18 - Harvest stored, coals banked...

Posted on December 8, 2012 with 0 comments

"If on a Winter's Night" is spinning on the CD player. Just set up the window candles. The night is foggy and damp, following a rainy Dec. day. I am hunkered down, and slowly working my music space back into recording shape following Sweet Nothin' Cafe #11, a writers-in-the-round show with Jon Butcher and Fly Amero. I feel like I'm on the cusp of things - all levels. I'd build a fire in the fireplace, but it's not cold enough, yet. Just a restless soul, on this birthday eve, seeking portent in the humblest of characters, places and events. Allegorical ambiguity deluxe - as foggy as this night.

While doing this Samsaric back float, I have enough energy to see all I need to accomplish, but not enough psychic energy to do it all. This suggests the proper course is to 'let go', and not force it. What would be the point. The little digital clock on my windows screen reports 5:58pm, and I'm already tired.

Tomorrow, I will meet someone I hope will become a friend. Little wheel spin and spin - big wheel turn around around.

I have pushed and pushed, these last two decades. The last ten years, in particular, have been a stoned Custer flux, offering only occasional glimmers of anything I'd characterize as actually 'promising'. They say you make your own luck. I think that's probably a tad simplistic in the light of six full rail cars of empirical evidence to the contrary.

And yet, for the tiredness I feel, and the bumpy road I see stretching behind me, I still expect my last two remaining life dreams to manifest perfectly. For, to anticipate anything else would make getting out of bed on my birthday certainly pointless, if not impossible. So roll on, big river...