Starry Night

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Wow! Now there's an original, pithy little maxim. But as trite as it may be, it pretty much describes what I'm feeling right now. I haven't met my own standard of performance level with my current gig after 4 shows, and I'm trying to not let it get me down, becuase it won't serve me well for what's to come. So I'm going through the usual, self-help affirmations about letting the past go (in this case the very recent past) and moving on. Every day is a brand new beginning. (And the clichés continue!)
But I really do have to think these things in order to undo my current frame of mind. The only way to eradicate my current disappointment is to establish a new, firm foundation by getting one good show under my belt, and building from there.
I'm actually quite surprised I'm confessing all this in a public forum. It goes against the mandate of my little web, and I'm not wont to spreading my personal little insecurities on-line. Like who cares anyway? But it's my little web and I'll wobble if I want to. I also like to believe that my simple solutions to ordinary problems might serve others. That's basically why I do this. I like to think my little web has some broader appeal than simply being an on-line journal. I've got a pen and paper journal for that kind of down and dirty complaining. But I digress...
A bumpy beginning does not mean the rest of the journey will be the same. I know I've mentioned a number of times that I believe the first day or time at anything sets a tone, and I still believe that, but I also believe that that none of that is set in stone. Then what purpose does a bumpy start serve? For little old, new-agey me it means I have to work a little harder and climb a little higher to overcome an unwelcome challenge. What I'm doing is challenging enough without the less-than-stellar start. But that's where things are and that's what I have to deal with.
So there you have it. I've laid my soul bare for all the world to see, and I'm declaring a brand new day and a brand new life starting now. That's a bit of a challenge for me, because in case you don't know or haven't noticed, I'm a tad superstitious. Being a magical thinker is one thing, but allowing superstitious hokum to derail me is entirely another. The Universe is offering me a chance to prove to myself that I can change that at anytime. And the time is now.
I'm turning lemons into lemonade and proving to myself that it's not over 'til it's over and the fat lady sings. I'm relying on the wisdom of hackneyed clichés to pull me through my own morass of self-imposed superstitious bilge. Just watch me. (Okay, so you can't literally do that. But please allow me just a little more worn-out rhetoric. I'm doing my best, so work with me here.)
Anyway, I needed to do this. Thanks for "listening." Maybe this little pep-talk to myself helped someone else out there who has the same flaky issues. I hope so.
- G. P.

Hot and Lazy

It's so hot right now that even sitting perfectly still makes me sweat. That's okay, too. I like sitting still, and if I have a really good reason, such as if I were moving and doing something, it might make me woozy, then all the more reason to sit and do nothing. Of course, writing on my little web, as I'm doing right now, isn't really doing nothing, but since I have nothing to say, I figure it's just about the same thing.
I can read, of course, and I have been. I've also been writing in my journal. But mostly I've been saving my energy for my work these days, which is doing a short summer theatre gig. I'm grateful, in a way, for the enervating, sweltering heat. It makes me too laid back and low key to be nervous. Anticipating the preview tonight brings butterflies to my stomach, but I'm too hot to shiver.
Which brings me to a serious question ... Why is it politically incorrect to suggest that cultures and countries in warmer climates are more laid back and less inclined to be rushing and pushing to get somewhere? I've mentioned that a couple of times in conversation and have been roundly chastised for it. How dare I make such sweeping generalizations? I'm not saying tropical cultures are lazy and less ambitious (although I don't think the latter is such a bad thing), I'm merely pointing out that Mother Nature rules, and always has, which is something I repeat over and over again in these blurbs of mine. Climate and geography have determined people's culture in so many ways, from the way we dress, to the buildings we occupy, to the things we do well or don't do at all. And much, much more. After all, necessity is the mother of invention, and the circumstances we live in determine what we need. (Let's face it, the Jamaican bobsled team in the 1988 Winter Olympics was an anomaly.)
Humans are shaped by where they live on this planet. Sure, we influence each other, but this earth of ours shaped us first, and continues to do so. She gets us to move house and home even if we don't want to, just as much as any oppressive political regime. Weather affects our moods on a daily basis, so why on earth shouldn't it affect an entire group of people's consciousness over thousands of years? My mood and behaviour right now have been caused almost entirely by the hot, sweltering weather. It makes me respect this earth and all her wonders more than ever.
Go ahead. I dare you. Go outside wherever you are and tell me that what's going on out there in terms of weather doesn't influence your mood in some small or large way. Of course it does. So think about this planet of ours and the myriad different moods and faces she's had over the millennia, and notice what a great tapestry of people's and cultures there are, and where they are, and how they are. That's the power of this earth. That's the power of Nature. How dare we try to conquer her.
Go with her flow. Live in harmony. And if that means being lazy and doing nothing on a hot summer's day, then all the more power to you.
- G.P.

Sweet Nothing

It's early in the evening, and I've spent all of my spare time today mostly doing nothing. "Nothing" consists of some quiet meditation, a little reading, eating something here, drinking something there and briefly browsing the web for some inspiration on how to do nothing - which entails visiting minimalist sites. All this, mind you, was only in my spare time. I'm currently living in a lovely, sleepy little town in my part of the world, rehearsing for a light dramatic piece of summer theatre. The cottage I'm living in for five weeks is perfect for one person. When I'm not at the theatre rehearsing for our 2 and a half week run which begins in 3 days, I spend most of my time doing nothing. And I love it.
I haven't listened to the radio, watched t.v. or read a newspaper since I arrived here. I guess that's a holdover from having been in foreign lands for a while before coming here, because I didn't do any of those things then either. The most engagement I have with media and the wired world at large is on my computer, surfing the web a little, writing the occasional little blurb here on my little web, as well as reading and writing emails.
I haven't felt this centred and balanced for a long, long time. Sure, I miss yoga - there are very few classes available to me here, and I'm not disciplined enough to practise on my own - but I'm hearing sounds and seeing sights that haven't been filtered and edited by technological wizardry. I don't really miss music, either, although last night when one of my fellow cast members drove me home, she had the fabulous songstress Adele's latest c.d. playing, and I daresay I had a rocking good listen for 5 minutes or so. But mostly I'm fine just being quiet, alone and still during my down time. But there's one slight problem...
This morning, before going to the theatre, my slow, easy time alone at my temporary home almost made me feel guilty. I felt as if I should be doing something besides being quiet and contemplative. I should have been producing something. I should have been active and engaged in a high speed, high-tech life. I felt so calm and centred, and somehow still managed to feel a residue of guilt for it. After all, couldn't I do everything I'd done, or not done, at least with the radio or stereo on? Maybe I should have caught up on the news. After all, I'm supposed to know what's going on so that I can have an opinion on it. And I must admit a couple of times in the last couple of weeks I've certainly felt out of the loop about certain headline making shenanigans by corrupt media moguls, but a couple of well-placed questions filled in the gaps quite quickly, at least enough to satisfy my waning curiosity in the affairs of the outside, material world.
So I'm okay. I'm presently ignorant of the nitty-gritty details of current events, but I'm okay. I'm sure I'm not harming anyone or anything more than usual, including myself. In fact, I believe I may be treading even more lightly on this beautiful, wondrous earth of ours than I would be if I were engaged in a loud, busy, urban life. During the day I'm being creative and getting paid to do what I love to do. The rest of the time I'm mostly minding my own business and letting the rest just be. So what's wrong with that? I'll tell you what. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Namaste.
- G.P.

ha ha ha

That's it. I've had it. No more.
The cyber sprites are at it again and have rendered the list of my fanatical followers invisible.
Okay you guys, you win.
I won't go on about this sordid little business anymore on this little web of mine.
But I will leave a lovely picture of an invisible butterfly for my fans to enjoy.
And a big fat raspberry to you.
So there.
- G.P.

Cyber Sprites

Okay. That's it. Just as I was finishing my last blurb mere minutes ago, and railing about how some unknown element of the Universe is laughing at me and how the list of my followers will probably appear back on my web to make me feel like an even bigger fool than I am, my entire blurb fell off the screen, (I have no idea why, I wasn't doing anything I don't normally do) and within moments a whole new screen came up with all my followers back in place, and all the technical problems I've been having with engineering my web for the last 5 months gone. (I won't even go there - but suffice it to say, the recent problems have made entering these blurbs a lot more difficult for me lately.) Anyway, my little web is working better than ever. I've got my followers back, and I feel a bigger fool than ever. But I don't mind. (If you just joined me now, dear reader, take a look at the previous 2 entries and you'll know whereof I speak.)
The upshot of all this is I've now figured out just what is laughing at me. It's technology. It always has, and I guess it always will. Damn those cyber-sprites. They'll get you every time.
- G. P.

The Last Laugh

Well well well. I know it can't just be me, but sometimes I feel as if it is...
The Universe is playing games with me again. But if I were to be rational about this, it isn't doing anything with me in particular at all, because the Universe just doesn't care. It's completely indifferent, I know. It doesn't have will or intention, but since I have to attribute the odd little occurrences and synchronicities in my life to something apart from chance, I'll just keep using the same vocabulary I always have in these little blurbs of mine to explain another one.
If you're reading this, dear followers, then perhaps you've read the previous yarn I wove into this little web of mine. It's about being alone and apart and facing my true self and how so many things in my life reflect that on the material level and how it all fits together in the expanding picture-puzzle that is my life. Whilst writing my last blurb I came upon a technical hitch which was announced to me by a window that popped up from the blog-people who rule the technical side of my web. I overcame that problem fairly quickly, and was deeply grateful that for that, otherwise it might have ruined my day, being the technopeasant that I am. The point is, when I returned to view my pretty little web, I noticed that all my followers had disappeared. When I scrolled down the right hand column where my legion of fans are listed - all nine of them, myself being one - there was a blank space. I discovered this little glitch just as I was writing about how certain events in the material world reflected my inner life as a person alone, as a spinster. If you glance back you will see that the words I used were about not sharing my life with anyone. Then lo and behold, the sweet, cute little space devoted to showing my fan base was a complete void. A black, blank nothing.
I know you good people are still out there, and maybe some of you still read my little web, but you know me well enough by now to know that I consider this to be significant, if only as a joke that some random vibe (yes, I, Gossamer Penwyche, am using the word random - after all, the Universe isn't complete without both cosmos* and chaos) intersected my little web and created a weird and wonderful illustration of what I'm always going on and on about.
I'm not unduly upset - except that, aesthetically speaking, I don't like that blank space there - but I can't help thinking that the laugh's on me. But just who or what is laughing?
Don't get me wrong. This is not a call to my friends and followers to sign up again to prove your loyalty. Please don't. Not necessary. I'm more secure than that. And for all I know, tomorrow I may log back onto my little web and find the list of you lovely people back in the vacant space, and feel even more foolish for having spent time weaving this thread into my web. But I can't help noticing this funny little fluke. And of course I had to share it.
See? I am still sharing my life.
Blessed be.
- G. P.
* cosmos - Gr. for order or beauty

Sleeping Alone

What exactly is a vacation? I never referred to my not-as-recent-anymore sojourn abroad as a vacation, because I associate a vacation with lying on a tropical beach or sitting on a dock and drinking beer. That wasn't the nature of my "vacation." But I guess I did vacate in one way or another.

So what did I vacate? My home? My mundane obligations and responsibilities? My home, for sure. But I certainly remained responsible. I had to. Getting around in a foreign land where you don't speak the language requires being very responsible. In fact, it's a lot easier for me to vacate at home with a glass of wine and some herbal refreshment, especially when I'm feeling over-burdened with the ordinary duties required to get through life. And it's a real no-brainer to point out that the more one indulges in that mode of vacating, the more one is vacant.

I'm going on about all this because the longer I was away from home, where everything is familiar and frequently ordinary, the more I became aware that I wasn't on what I consider to be a vacation at all. I came face to face with who I am on a daily basis, sometimes quite painfully.

When one is bleezed through substance abuse, that's a definite retreat from yourself. That's the exact opposite of looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing who you really are. And let's face it, people who go that route to vacate don't want to face themselves.

Okay. So I didn't go on a vacation. I went away. But the irony of all this is that the first week of my sojourn was actually a retreat. Yes, I went on a yoga retreat in a beautiful, bucolic part of the world and had signed myself up to share accommodations with a stranger for six nights. The stranger I'd been booked to share a capacious, zen-like room with was a fellow practitioner of yoga, and therefore it should have been easy to live amicably together. And it no doubt would have been if I didn't snore like a chain saw. (A friend and former co-habitator once described my snoring that way.) Anyway, the very fine lady I shared the very fine accommodations with the first night didn't get a wink of sleep. I don't think she would have said anything to me, because I know she didn't want to hurt my feelings, but I asked her the next morning how she slept, and she very wisely decided to tell me the truth. According to her I snore like a sailor. Sheesh.

Anyway, I could see she was genuinely exhausted from lack of sleep, and everyone else on the retreat noticed it too. She discreetly shared her dilemma with the director of the retreat, as well as a close confidant, and was quickly supplied a pair of ear plugs for the week. I caught wind of all this within a couple of hours, because we were a small, cloistered group of people, and I felt an unmistakable "vibe" going around the place, even though everyone was being so polite and treading lightly around me. But I'm sensitive enough to have caught on. Anyway, I ended up requesting a room of my own, at my own expense, so that my bleary-eyed roommate wouldn't go sleepless for the rest of the week. It was the right thing to do. The only problem was I felt so embarrassed, so humiliated. A circus freak.

So why am I telling this sad little story? Because this sorry little incident only confirmed what I've know for a very long time now - I'm meant to be alone and to sleep alone. I'm a spinster, and most of the time proud of it. (But I'm not too keen on the snoring stereotype.) Anyway, if that means in order to keep other people from sharing my life, my home, and my bed, that I must snore whilst I sleep, well then, so be it.

The only reason I'm able to publicly share this awkward confession is that it proves, at least to me, that everything happens for a reason. My raucous, night-time, nasal noises guarantee that I will never share my sleeping quarters with anyone ever again. That's not just happenstance to me. It fits the pattern of my life. It makes perfect sense.

Laugh or sneer if you want. It's who I am.

I faced these hard facts on a retreat. On a putative vacation. I learned that I can vacate my domicile, and even the mundane order of my ordinary life. I can retreat from the rest of the world, but not from myself.

So there it is. The woman I see in the mirror on a daily basis is a spinster who snores.

- G.P.