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Early December
Writing has kept its distance. I have been. Drawn toward an opposing force that may be my own soul. Yours, too.
Without knowing where or who, what words would do?
I came south. I am writing from Austin, Texas. We came a long way to get here. Danny Seltzer drove in a second van. To Evansville, Indiana we stopped to see Z at his humble homestead of rolling hills, mysti c mornings, and big skies. He is a blessed kind man of great soul. With goats, a pup and a cat to share his company. In the morning, we were gone.
And we were off to middle Tennessee. On the Buffalo river there is held a paradisiacal farm of cosmic proportions. Here is where, Jeremy, a dear friend and soul resides. 450 acres of freedom and conducive to creation, play, and celebration. We stayed and we played and we cooked and we spoke of god. What ever that mean.
We are ALL.
One. We just speak with different words or are distracted from our trueness. But, not here. Not now.
There are so many beautiful and realized beings here and there. Nonsense. It is neither here nor there. It IS.
We came with eggs and potatoes for days.
One night in Memphis and we were bliss'd to see Jeremy's sax blow heavens music vibrations into a bars smokey air accompanied by a fast paced bluegrass band. Or was it the other way around? Spin spin spin.
And here we are. In Arkansas. We came to Hot Springs only to find the warm healing waters locked down by resorts and spas.
So we went to the forest. Ouachita. It is here where Danny and I went separate ways. Without worry and without regret I drove on to Austin, Texas. Danny, I later found out, continued on through the Ouachita and on to Dallas where he was to catch a flight to Florida for a few days of family affairs.
Here am I am in Texas. For years I have had an aversion to Texas. but, some have said that Austin is good, but it is surrounded by Texas. So, something is valid in that. Austin has treated me well. I have been put up at the Pearl Co-op by a nice lady full or joy and excitement for life. Here, fire came to play and people picked up drums, guitars, shovel, spirited voice, shakers and a harmonica. In moments,I joined with a flute and a drum. And it was in the sand where beautiful souls danced with fire to an ancient drum beat. and to silence.
But, where is the music on the street? Why is it all behind the doors of commerce? Free it.
blah blah blah. Soon it will be written. I love you.
