Popcorn

Steve is making me popcorn because I asked nicely. But I didn’t really. But he let me try again. I have been feisty. Last night, I locked all of the windows and doors and I had a nightmare that when I got out of the hospital, and I bailed Steve out of Jail, the world was conspiring against me and I got a whole new completely different person named Steve (my partner). In 2007 I had a psychotic experience where there were 14 Steves, and they were born like a litter to a woman in a small town on a farm in the midwest somewhere. I got to know each one individually as they changed before me one by one. At more sober moments, I have criticized him in my mind and thought that he might have 14 personalities, but he doesn’t. He does not have multi-personality disorder, this is just me projecting my psychological tendencies onto the person I hang out with the most. 

It is overcast, and the smoke that has been covering the Seattle area for over a week is starting to subside. I noticed that the sun turned from red to yellow much earlier the other the day, and the moon is no longer as bright of a pink-orange. I think it has been pretty trippy, though I have not been following closely where the fires are burning and who is being evacuated. I am sure it is living hell for many people. I have been praying for rain, and there was a rumor of this in the forecast but still nothing; still, there is a slight coolish moisture in the air.

How do these two rants relate? Only that it is hard to make sense of any of it these days. I am having fantasies of the whole world reading my book when really it is just several dozen people. I get no report from my publishing company, but I am hoping the news will come soon (they are slightly difficult to communicate with). But I have faith, as we all should have, and my second book is ready to start the editing and moving forward to publishing process at any time. I have been waiting for myself to breathe through the rage and trauma that has been coming up for me this July and August; this “crazy” summer.

I went for the most amazing spiritual and beautiful swim beneath the cliffs at Watmough Bay, a sacred cove on Lopez Island, WA that has been turned into a park over these last thirty years or so. The cliffs extend up on the left side if you are looking out to Mount Baker, and though the water is cold, it is bearable and very refreshing. I swam out a ways, and then floated there, looking up at the snags and the rocks and madrona in a timeless goddess like spiritual trance. My good friends were visiting from Seattle for Eid al-Adha and they watched as I navigated the chilly waters.

I am grateful to Reed and Aaron for their visit, their gifts, our shared meals and times around the fire. I am grateful for my recent cleaning escapade where I mowed the lawn, cleaned the floors and finished up a few loads of laundry and put it away. I am grateful for my friend and lover Steve who sits around and checks in with me, walks the dogs, does the dishes, and meditates on his book with a comforting presence. He is always there for me to share my writing and my fears with.

So there it is, I have a bowl of popcorn to get to.