What I did on February 1

There are three perfectly good posts I've written tonight, and they can all wait because I'd rather give you the truth in my heart right now

My overflowing joyous pain-clotted leaky heart

It's been one of those days with a lot in it. 

Beginning in easy harmony with a dear longtime friend -- doubting my own judgement -- walking hard up the high hill, alone and pleased to work hard -- smelling the scent of roses in the stone-terraced gardens -- friendly chat with strangers -- being cross with myself -- finding a good cup of coffee -- getting irritated with beloved people -- finding a tactful way to be alone -- watching Aotearoa slip by beneath the plane -- nurturing the seed of a plan to see more -- maintaining discretion -- saying goodbye to three dear people, not knowing when I will see them again -- dreading that yet more choice and change will be upon me soon --  realising i can have my cake and eat it too -- messing around and wasting my own time -- driving far too fast to arrive on time -- hyperventilating with anxiety because nearly running out of fuel, having to stop to fill -- relieved to not be late anyway -- coming to a favourite place and finding myself quietly accepted -- enjoying my sewing project -- hating my sewing project -- enjoying it again -- feeding the kitten --  talking, listening, laughing, embracing, kissing -- sharing pain and fear and grief -- eating the delicious dinner -- enjoying a moment of pretending i belong to a family -- helping with a simple chore -- discovering new connections and ideas -- wishing that everything were different -- mocking my own self-pity -- finishing a project -- planning a next-time -- being peaceful -- seeing a shooting star -- knowing that despite all the difficulties: 

If you, dear reader, were part of this day, thank you for all you gave 

Memories for all time: #4, Giant Ladybirds. Ladybugs, actually

Somewhere near Sacramento, May 2006

We're driving the tiniest Dodge RV we could hire, and it's still plenty spacious for 2 adults - one of us is a 6-footer. Everything is bigger in the US. Of which more later.

Our start-point: San Francisco, our destination: Los Angeles. We're driving the famous Pacific Coast Highway, starting with a run up the Napa Valley and back down past Sacramento.

It was a wonderful trip. The Napa Valley section was my secret homage to Ursula K. Le Guin's not-quite-novel "Always coming home" which might be going to be set there. Without meaning to, we found ourselves driving past the great wind farm that had caught our eye from the air days earlier. The turbines are giant ballerinas, dancing a graceful slow twirl in the light air of evening.

Near the wind farm we found a "park" where we could camp, or rather, a permitted open area to park the Dodge and feed the shower with quarters. Not a tree in sight to break that constant breeze ruffling the endless acres of bleached wheat grass.

In the morning, eating breakfast at the massive concrete picnic table, I suddenly realise I am sharing the space with dozens of ladybirds. Or, since we're in America, Ladybugs. They deserve the capital letter because they are HUGE. Each one the size of my fingernail, more orangey than the l'birds at home, but unmistakably my ferocious, spotted totem insect.

Witchery

I've always considered myself to be a scientist. So it's a little strange that I also conduct weird and (until now) secret rituals including these:

The Vigil : watching progress or change as a way of participating to affect the outcome. Favourite is monitoring airport departure and arrival pages as my friends travel. To "see them safely there/home"

The Shrine : constructing arrangements of random, discovered objects. Outside the ballroom collecting fallen sequins, diamantés, hairpins and assembling them in a niche in the wall. Telling a story.

The Litany : composing and reciting speeches or conversations. Practice for communicating difficult topics, and for examining my own potential reactions.

The Revelation : wherein the truth is laid out plain by means of speech or letter - this is an example.

The Robe or Vestments : symbolic or significant clothes or shoes. Recalling a location, event or emotion.

The Amulet : jewellery worn to memorialise an event or invoke a special power. Current favorites are a series of astronomical objects photographed and printed on porcelain discs.

The Sacrifice : giving, destroying or disposing of an object as an imagined exchange for a desired outcome.

The Service : carrying out an activity for another as a gift or transfer of energy from me to them.

Crazy, superstitious stuff, for a scientist. But science has taught me that there is far more to the universe than we can yet describe, and even a cursory reading of history clearly shows that many of today's comfortable concepts were unthinkably strange until recently.  

I recently read some difficult physics showing that matter - that's EVERYTHING - is continuous. There is no separation between anything, including you and me. Or, as Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently put it:  "...the fundamental interconnectedness of everything..." That's a good motto for this mystic/scientist.

Memories for all time: #2, plane journeys

We'd been flying Auckland to Oamaru to visit grandparents as long as I could remember, at least once a year. A plane to Christchurch. A much smaller plane for the flight Christchurch to Oamaru - with a brief bounce at Timaru, if you can believe it. Grass runways at both these small airports.

The pilot stayed overnight at the only hotel, and flew back the next day. He (always a he!) was always a friend, and welcomed my small brother and me into the fascinating crammed cockpit for pre-flight inspection.

The little plane flew low and the South Island sky was always clear. We cherished our turns at the window seat and were utterly fascinated with the landscape - mysterious braided rivers, dry hills, endless straight roads, crawling cars and tractors, tiny cows and sheep. Later we would drive through that landscape - unbelted between the grown-ups on the front bench seat of Granddad's big blue Holden. To this day I cannot comprehend how anyone can be bored on a long car journey, or ignore the miracle of physics that lifts a machine into the sky.

Some early mornings on the return flight there were crates of tiny yellow day-old chicks in the rear of the cabin. Being ferried up to Christchurch to begin their miserable lives as battery hens, no doubt.  I can still hear their tiny peeping calls over the roar of the propellers.