Awoke this morning after an very odd dream to find a nice stream of drool down the side of my face and marking the clean, crisp pillow case in the shape of a question mark drawn by the shaky hand of a second grader with a crayon. Had that "slept with my mouth open" taste clinging to my tongue and throat so promptly brushed my teeth and splashed some water on my face and had a good laugh at my bed head hair. So strange to let that stuff grow on the top of my head now, after so many years of keeping it clipped and shorn. Pissed my morning wood away and padded through the house while the coffee maker started sending out its soothing snuffle and amazing aroma. Yes, this is morning. Familiar creak of hardwood floor, simple popping of my toes and back with a long and leisurely stretch sounding like muted fireworks. A yawn that would not be banished kept splitting my face and returning to the smile of the well rested.
Stepped outside into a cool mornings fog. A cathedral like hush held sway over the neighborhood. Each of the homes and large oaks swaddled in its comfortable cotton like embrace. Inside the house, my grandfather clock chimes the hours and reminds me of the passage of time. I simply stood and looked for a long while, then walked down around the way, carefully putting each of my neighbor's weighty Sunday paper on their doorstep next to their entrances. Not sure why I did that. Never have before, but today, it just seemed right.
Came back inside with a silly grin and poured myself some coffee, flipped disinterestedly through my own paper and grabbed the comics. Always the first thing I read. Decided to put a tee shirt on, bit of a chill and slapped down the hall to my office to reach out a bit into the world. It feels good on my nipples and chest. Computers sure are nifty, eh?
Yesterday. Lives are made of such days. Spent the morning and afternoon at Whiteman Air Force Base taking in all the aircraft, amazing flying and catching up with friends, old and new. The Thunderbirds were amazing and a good friend managed to get me tours and walk around of some amazing machines, including the B2 Bomber. Glad I remembered my military ID and smartcard. Took some great photos, sweated in the sun on the tarmac thinking back to all those hours I spent on the 'grinder' marching in formation and trick drill in boot camp. All too soon it was 4 pm and time for the drive back to the city. All was well till Blue Springs and the sky opened and hail and rain commenced. The car is a pit pitted for its efforts, but a quick call to my agent has Monday set up for an estimate of the damage. Could have been much worse I suppose. All too often my sense of order and control is assaulted when my possessions are damaged or tweaked in some manner. I believe I have always seen my cars as an extension of my person. I keep them clean, polished and in perfect working order. I try to do the same with my body. Guess it must be in my blood?
Last night was WaterFire, a beautiful and mysterious spectacle of music, performance, fire, dance and acrobats on the water at the Country Club Plaza. Sad to say, the evening was cut a bit short by the arrival of more storms, but I at least got another taste of the experience I love so well each year. It's arrival seems to usher in fall, and as those cloaked figures in the gondolas threw more aged oak on the blazing fires set in moving water, the sparks flying upward seemed to play and frolic saying, "Fall is here, be free, rise to the sky, this is your life." And then they winked out, only to be replaced by more, burning ever so brightly. The dense aroma of scented fire threw shadows in the wall of the canal while dancers, fire eaters and acrobats all seemed to rejoice in movement and the final ecstatic glory of the passing of summer. There is something primal and visceral with these arcane celebrations. The gathering of thousands, the passing swaying crowds, the expectant hush and wait. This is humanity, grouped once again around two elements we have harnessed the power of, but do not understand. Fire and water. Magic to some in years gone by, but oh so necessary for the lives we have built. All too often, we get so separated from our past that these simple traditions bring us back to those simpler times when living was about survival and our next thought was of food and those we loved.
After we left the Plaza my friends dragged me to a friends house, even though I was a bit beat. Upon arrival, I found a party and gathering of people in full swing. So many faces, friends from all over every circle of my life. So strange to think that all of these other humans all know me in some way and I them. What a rich and blessed life I have. Guys and girls from all walks of life, many faiths or none, orientations as different as eye color and finger length, young and older...all in one place, celebrating life. Too many hugs and much love to count or weigh. Some days my heart is too small to hold it in, so it spills over, like water on the cold lip of a merry fountain, onto others in a cheerful, splashing, messy way, with no thought of tomorrow.
As it should...
Thanks be.
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