I couldn’t find this pic by in my collection – even though I’d posted it to Kenaram several months ago. Today, I felt like I needed to find it and started getting a little anxious that it might be gone, gone, gone, for good.
I scrolled back through Kenaram’s feed, growing more desperate that I’d never recover it. (I’d been searching for a good minute. I was about to give up.) I paused, took a breath, “Just help me find it, buddy.”
THE VERY NEXT CLICK, with angel sparkles, no less! Kenaram added them back when I posted it to his page, but I hadn’t known that. I felt like he and Jeffrey jumped out of those digital winks on the screen!
I’m starting to feel him for himself, feel his absence, feel in general. I went numb when I heard the news, I think, then sank into a cranky gut-punch depression.
I broke down in the kitchen of Mama Pam, who called an Equinox gathering at her place last night. It was an amazing, COLD first night of Spring. Powerful. A safe place.
The wind has howled for a month. Last night was wild. I felt Kenaram and Jeffrey in manic air, living such as they did with madness and abandon, parts of nature, changing and moving, not to be forgotten. And that bright, BIG full moon has been speaking all week. Everyone’s been talking about this moon!
Pam’s the only woman I know who can pray to the Mother without sounding idiotic or pretentious, like stupid shit hippy chicks say or that thing triflin’ bitches do to alert other women of their their position as head goddess. I’d rather a man piss on his territory than a woman play that social-climbing, pecking order bullshit.
But Pam, when she calls forth energy, opens an Incantation, for real! She’s an Energy Worker, period, with nothing to prove, just doing her thing. We had pot luck. She read a passage about the stars and the season. We talked about our group collaborative artpiece memoriam for our dear friend Ray who passed – god, what? Five years ago?
And she closed with a Benediction. That woman is pure Power. And she’s so goddamned funny! Just a character from head to toe. She’s this Nebraska country girl, with the thickest accent. And she’s like me, playing with persona, weaving in and out of exxagerations of herself and other mannerisms, like performance art. Play, truly! She’s so fun. I love her!
I needed last night. It’s been since Ray’s memorial that our whole group was together.
We got home early and I climbed in the hot tub. (My Fibromyalgia! Fucking forget it. As kind as 2018 was, 2019 is that rotten. Worst ever, and it won’t. let. up. A break! Please!)
We have wind chimes of every type and variety in our backyard. Even the low, sonorous chimes sang – the deep ones that take gale winds to move. I heard my brothers chanting, making noise, as they did in life, getting my attention.
“We’re just here.”
Thanks for the sparkles, Kenaram. I saw you! I feel you. Damn. You’re not here, for real.