(Artwork by Jan Brett)
“I knew that it was not appropriate behaviour. It made me look shifty and nervous, or like I didn’t really want to be there. During dinner, while we shared wine, and as we chatted in the lounge with whisky. I kept looking to the window. Casually running my hand through my hair, making my cigarette paper sizzle as I tried to inhale and hide my agitation, and wandering to the window. Fingering the curtains. I tried to focus on my company, but you see it is more visible after dark, with a greater attachment to the second story of the apartment. It reflects the streetlights you see, and the small blue bulbs that flash over the fish n chippie on the corner.
It also reflects me. It’s the spinning and floating you see. We are not mutually exclusive now. The moon threw me a lifeline and I spin and turn and float and shine with her. She has become my satellite. I know it’s just my cast of mind. I wanted a way out, a way out. I can get above if I take that lifeline and if I let her spin me about.”
What spins you about? What keeps you grounded? I’m wanting both right now, to stand on the earth, here by my garden, but to also let go of gravity and move closer to the future, to those satellites orbiting out of reach. Perhaps it’s just the matter of reach. How to extend. Or how to be patient. Or just to launch.
My cast of mind is my daily lifeline. It’s operating in concert with my heart. And my mind says to be mindful and my heart says to be open and brave, and the pair of them are colluding to create a future. There are futures, bright satellites circling. Which one will I tether to?
I’m very fond of la Luna, the changing face, the dance with the tide, the pathways lit on the ocean. Some give the moon a bad rap, charging it with representing falsehood and leading astray.
I think there’s room to be led astray, to stray to a different path. Who knows what satellites you’ll encounter or launch and what futures this may bring?
What is your second story moon? What calls to you and gets you spinning and floating? Will you fly too close to the sun on a paper wing, or be drawn to the subtlety of the moon?
I’m just going to lay and watch a little longer. There are satellites circling and lifelines snaking toward me. I may just surprise myself with what I choose to catch or with what catches me.
The Owl and the Pussy Cat
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are!’
Pussy said to the Owl, ‘You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?’
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
‘Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?’ Said the Piggy, ‘I will.’
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.