November 2, 2024
Cooler morning than one is used to. I don’t want to admit that not having Internet showed me how much of my time I allow it to waste. When it returns-- if it returns, which now seems unlikely-- I must vow not to fall asleep in front of the TV every single night, not to scroll through videos until the time allotted for creation has been spent. Painted well yesterday, then, flipping idly through computer files, came across “Old UNCA” and a file for poems I must have significantly revised while at work. Began to revise, and saved six poems from the ash bin of my past. Sitting on the porch at night, as I have done five nights in a row now, I opened to several revelations, some so secret (and so lovely) I’m not ready to set them down in words. I did recognize how much of my time I spend fighting, often with people who are not there, with imagined opponents whom I might not ever encounter, with people who are dead and their issues therefore moot. It has always been the case, but I’ve thought of it as the background noise of anybody’s mind. Perhaps it isn’t. As I sat in darkness with a drink in my hand, I realized I couldn’t stop it. One argument with the imagined CEO of Spectrum melted into one with a police officer I saw in a video, and that into one with an editor years ago, and that into this and that into this. There was end. I couldn’t control it. In desperation I cried out, stood and made a gesture as though hurling something physically from my body. I sensed it striking the bricks at my feet, vanishing as a shadow. I called it Satan, but I am of a Theistic and Mythopoeic frame of mind, and so I would. In any case, the next hour was the freest hour of recent remembrance. No argument, no setting out of grievance, no putting the record straight, but clarity like water flowing from sheer rock. A little animal, maybe an opossum, maybe a clumsy cat, scurried by the end of the driveway. The first night on the porch I had wondered if I had done what God wanted in any degree, and if I had not, how did I, searching always and diligently, manage to miss the admonition? I saw last night that the distraction of my life had been interrupted to show that what I did in the effusiveness of youth, what I still do with green vigor when I’m not frustrated or distracted– create– is valued, and the Power arranged things (however irritatingly) to renew my attention while there’s still time left. Yes, it is what I wanted. It is what I intended. I have conspired to get you back.
It’s odd, but perhaps an emblem of the times, that when the Lord God shakes the curtain I believe one moment and doubt the next. At ten it was a Visitation, at eleven an upheaval of my own mind. Perhaps that’s the dynamic that moves us forward. But finally I doubt that these thoughts, the apparitions, are intrinsic. “Mind” does not work that way. The dazzling moments are so surprising, so foreign, that you know they arise from a place totally elsewhere.
I let my coffee get cold.
Visitation by two exquisitely elegant veeries. Not sure I’d seen one that close before.
Dug, planted, mulched the fern garden that I ordered in an extravagant moment. Also another small stand of bloodroot. Except for half a bag of silvery purple crocus, all the plants ordered (and which have arrived) are in the ground.
I was told to expect a Spectrum engineer today between 2 and 3. I gave up and 3:20 and went upstairs. At 4:45 a technician showed up, saying he’d gotten the assignment ten minutes earlier. As service had come back on spontaneously (or something) at about 1:45 I decided to eschew recrimination. The engineer was from New York, brought here to address the various emergencies. He shared my disgust with everything related to his company’s executive system.
Internet lasted two hours, then went off again.