all I can do is laugh.

I have come down from the beautiful windcall retreat, where I was up a mountain in an isolated cabin with no human sounds around me, very little Internet, no phone signal, and nothing to do but write, read, sleep, eat, write. heal. make cheese. pet goats. do yoga. write.

now I am a bit stunned by the human experience.

little things like trying to use my phone – which has really too many options on it to focus on just a call. or thinking about how to provide myself with sustenance and transportation. I used to be very good at these things, but I keep laughing as I realize how far I have come from those overly independent days, and how much I have been cared for.

I learned a special term from a friend recently – ‘c.r.a.f.t.’, meaning: can’t remember a fucking thing. used at moments where something I’m sure I know is not within reach, such as:
ex 1. how do i text on this? craft.
ex 2. what is my address so I can mail home this piece of art I made? craft.

isn’t that nice? works best with a shrug, smile, and slight shake of the head.

in addition to my thought priorities having changed, my sensual experience of the world is completely shifted.

I am now in Oakland and I cannot believe the sound of it, the sounds of the city. the sounds of cars and trucks and motorcycles rushing by each other on the highway, and planes and helicopters, and the breathless speed of it all, the sounds of ambulances or police cars or maybe fire trucks rushing to save or disrupt someone’s life, the sounds of tiny lawns and streetbound trees being mowed and whacked, the vacuums and fighting, the eye popping laughter sounds of stylish teenagers with rainbow hi-top fades and candy colored clothing, the sounds of people folded on top of each other in layers and layers.

loves, it’s been an hour.

so now the next level of work begins, finding the sound of my self, my clear self, in the cacophony of other people. learning to write and create and think and be while in the real world.

I have had a tendency to get overwhelmed, pressing my idealism up against the hard edges of reality and capitalism. talking too fast, interrupting this already full world, to try and respond before i know my response, because the bad is so fast and time is so short…isn’t it?

but, breathing, I keep accumulating more tools for focused listening, and learning. and time is expanding. and my idealism, my love and my belief in love as the pathway forward in every single instance, it’s only deepened in my time away and alone.

the energy of all this living and doing is titillating on some levels – I feel excited, to see people I love and have been dreaming about, to learn what has happened in the world of my familiars.

mostly I feel amused by this busy world taking itself so seriously, and by myself navigating it so effortfully.

now, to find my way to a birthday party for one of my favorite human beings. this should be fun.