where distillation runs renegade
i’ve never understood ‘stores’ and how they get inventory.
i thought a store just sort of … you know … arrived.
but now i’m in the boiler room.
i’m finding it hugely interesting.
mary margaret o’hara and i are working on her collection and it won’t be open for awhile but some of the other collections are coming along. the ezra collection of cool and handy things is up. so is ‘clothes call’ where i’m putting fashion that i like. mostly cheap and cheerful.
comments welcome.
talking to a friend yesterday (93) and he almost couldn’t say the word ‘depression’ when talking about what many of his same-age friends go through. that is a problem. let’s start with calling it ‘spiritual darkness’. and look for and forward to the light. as i write this, two very deformed men are pushed into the cafe in wheelchairs. heads wobbling crazily, smiling. gosh, i feel like such a beginner.
picture speed-dating: seats are numbered 1 and 2. the 2’s move to a new seat at the ring of a bell so you are sitting opposite a new person every few minutes.
the topic tonight: match-making for people with and without money who might like to co-purchase a house together. talk fast!
imagine an older woman who owns her house, doesn’t want to go to elder residence, has too much space.
now picture a young family from guatemala or whitby. there is no way they could ever afford a house in todays market. a matchmaker (the vision is that of toronto’s leslie gaynor -(i only called her gloria once)) puts them together. smart contracts in place. boundaries important. woman has people nearby. family has home that they partially own. (not quite clear how this works).
team includes: realtor, legal advisor, finanacial advisor, mortgage broker (paid by bank).
and amazingly, once you’ve sat across someone for five minutes, you can’t go back to being strangers. i met two sisters i hope to stay in touch with.
it was an excellent night in rainy toronto.
what are you seeing around you?
if i can’t figure something out, i try to recall where i’ve seen that shape of energy movement in nature. if i can’t find it (leaving room for error, or sugar-fog) i think that perhaps it is ‘man-made’ and therefore not in order. strange? but that’s how my mind works.
which is what i’m doing now. trying to match this:
i am working on creating a small little course putting forward what i’ve learned about music, singing, recording, touring, the world, life, etc.
but as soon as i get past the word ‘touring’ the whole thing slithers out of my fingers. it crosses several panes of glass and settles into a shape i do not recognize. i figure i must be forcing something, then. my left brain interfering with a greater ‘order’. so i try to reduce it to as specific a topic as i can, forget any extrapolations to the greater view. then next thing that happens is i’m saying why this tiny thing is connected to the universe. and i’ve lost track again. overshot the trajectory. like a simultaneously expanding and contracting universe that i can’t get clear on.
option 1: keep trying from different angles until i know it (possibly) inside out
option 2: let it be and trust clarity will come
option 3: forget whole idea since it’s not flowing
do you recognize this? how do you deal with it?
if i can’t figure something out, i try to recall where i’ve seen that shape of energy movement in nature. if i can’t find it (leaving room for error, or sugar-fog) i think that perhaps it is ‘man-made’ and therefore not in order. strange? but that’s how my mind works.
which is what i’m doing now. trying to match this:
i am working on creating a small little course putting forward what i’ve learned about music, singing, recording, touring, the world, life, etc.
but as soon as i get past the word ‘touring’ the whole thing slithers out of my fingers. it crosses several panes of glass and settles into a shape i do not recognize. i figure i must be forcing something, then. my left brain interfering with a greater ‘order’. so i try to reduce it to as specific a topic as i can, forget any extrapolations to the greater view. then next thing that happens is i’m saying why this tiny thing is connected to the universe. and i’ve lost track again. overshot the trajectory. like a simultaneously expanding and contracting universe that i can’t get clear on.
option 1: keep trying from different angles until i know it (possibly) inside out
option 2: let it be and trust clarity will come
option 3: forget whole idea since it’s not flowing
do you recognize this? how do you deal with it?
i saw the most amazing video about three years ago. it was so good and so important that i couldn’t mention it. no one else did either. didn’t go viral. i don’t know why i didn’t fan it into flames by sharing.
last night i went online and googled ‘best-selling things to make money’. EVERYTHING is postured to making money. EVERYONE from rich to poor pouring the oxygen of desire onto whatever might turn into money. Not buying for the object or item, buying it for the profit beyond. not buying for the beauty of the software, but looking beyond for the prize. i can’t quite find the words but it is like everyone is focused on something that never stops. never is finished never is done. what if we had all we needed and could shut down the corner store and send the employees home where they had all they needed, too. are we advanced enough to just stand within the moment taking in and giving off the pleasure of it.
when someone sits calmly and IS oxygen to the flame of energy we call ‘money’ … what kind of person or situation is this. has anyone seen this? tell me.
less (relaxing)
more (less relaxing)
reductive (removes clutter)
adductive (may or may not cause paralysis)
amazement (like coffee)
judgement (like spiky sludge)
entitled (extremely common, modern disease)
humble (opposite of ‘entitled’)
true humility (as above)
i caught it in the net of my awareness like the yellow finch. it stayed calm. i held the net carefully, not to damage any feathers, to let it catch its breath, do WHATEVER it had to do, i knew not what.
murmurings of my father as he watched the rain from the kitchen. the same window where we watched a yellow finch the day he died.
