7 Sep 2009, 9:48pm
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the world is possibility

ooohhh. i had the whole day off today. tomorrow i have work, and then work again. i have a gig at the opera this month, as the child wrangler for la bohème. yes, that is actually what they call me. when i meet the kids’ parents they say, “are you the wrangler?” i think technically i am the “child coordinator.” basically my role is to worry about the kids (sixteen of ‘em) in the children’s chorus so no one else has to. yesterday they weren’t needed in the staging studio for a chunk of rehearsal, so we all hung out in the next room drawing with my markers (the ones i carry around in my bag with my mandala sketchbook) on whatever scraps of paper i could rustle up. it was fun. also, rehearsal for this show is amazing to watch. i have never (from this perspective) seen so many people on a stage at once. plus, the singing!

i got called up for the job. someone i worked with in the spring has worked at the opera in the past, and when they were looking for someone, she gave them my name. it seemed like a bad idea to say no to it. at cornerstone, people asked me whether i would do theatre work when i got home. “probably if something falls into my lap, i’ll take it, but i’m not gonna seek anything out,” i said. and, well. i guess i put something in motion, and it’s rolling rolling rolling…

last night a. and i watched ram dass: fierce grace, about (obviously) ram dass and his life and journey, and i was left with a nice peaceful sense that seemed easier to articulate last night than it does now… that life is what it needs to be. and que sera sera, et cetera et cetera.

wanted to write about what’s been in my life recently: the opera; dozens of fresh tomatoes from my mom’s garden; two pumpkins and a squash still sitting on my kitchen table waiting to be made into soup (or something); making dinner with my parents and my cousin sam

(who has moved to portland… “everyone and their mother is moving to portland!” i keep saying. which is only sort of true–my mother moved here almost a year ago, hah!–but it does feel like a dozen returning boomerangs, the way people come in and out of my life… is my hand in the air to catch them?? is this a useful analogy??)

; the tba festival and modern dance and beautiful bodies and long conversations about the accessibility and meaning of art with a., my artist partner; a barbecue with my friends at oz, where i lived for a summer once upon a time (4 years ago); strawberries and nutella wrapped in a waffle, from a food cart near mississippi that our neighbor took us to; rage and anger at the umpteenth asshole to yell at me on my bike; recurring pain in my left collarbone and right knee, the sites of my injuries over a year ago… still a lot of healing to do. ram dass says: “healing is not after all the same as curing. healing does not mean going back to the way things were before, but rather allowing what is now to move us closer to god.” i am not the same as i was. my relationship with a. is not the same as it was before we were hit (separately, four weeks apart) by cars. so be it.

i started to write an entry about the assholes a few days ago. a laundry list, a tantrum, an argument against a kyriarchical culture that allows men in noisy wasteful smog-spewing steel cage-weapons to humiliate women and separate themselves from the othered earth, or something like that. at the end of my draft, i wrote:

sitting in my parents’ living room with my mom and my cousin sam, eating blueberries from the bushes outside the front door. we’re talking about how good berries are here in oregon: blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, marionberries… and i say “well, the best strawberries i ever had were at the farmer’s market in eureka. oh my gosh, they were so good. and the farmer had just picked them the night before, i think he said, the moon was bright enough…”

and my mom says, “doesn’t that kind of make up for the assholes who yell at you on your bike?”

“you mean farmers who pick strawberries by moonlight?”


and you know what? it doesn’t. it can’t. but it does sort of make me feel a little more optimistic about things. the assholes aren’t humanity.

this also helps (thanks matt)–



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end of august  circles