Convergence

About a month ago I had an amazing experience with a blue swallow. I was walking through a park, feeling a tad sorry for myself and wondering what Life had in store for me, when this beautiful little bird decided to come play with me. It circled and circled me over fifty times--I'm not kidding. It just dove and wove around me, in circle after circle; even when I stopped for a while and closed my eyes and bowed my head up toward the sky (during which the bird flew off) it shortly returned when I started walking again. This was a direct message from the Universe, God, whatever you want to call Her. At that moment, I felt so in touch and so in tune, and I knew exactly what the message was: "Everything's okay, Nathan, Life is converging the way it's supposed to. Good things are on their way." What I didn't realize was that some bad things were going to happen over this past month, too; not that I thought I'd be skipping jump rope and singing "Kumbaya" for 30 days in a row or anything, but I wasn't prepared for some of the shockers that were in store for me. It's been quite a draining month. Quite an exhilirating one, too. I feel I've been reincarnated about a dozen times. Or maybe this incarnation just has had twelve layers of skin to pierce through.

So many beautiful things, moments, wrapped up with the stark-dark-oddly beautiful-in-their-sadness ones, too: Watching the hot air balloons light up against the night sky in Bend, the balloons filling up and rippling as dusk settled in. Receiving amazing postcards and letters from Karin, and enjoying my talks with her about Veronica Mars. My mom getting here (HERE!) and being home to greet her in the wee hours of a Friday morning, to hug her and Jordan and Ollie, to walk to the top of Multnomah Falls with Mom and Jordan and look down over the waterfall to the tiny people below. My mom and I have had SSSOOO much fun settling in together, despite some evident exhaustion on both our parts. We've lugged around furniture, unpacked boxes, run errands.....Kevin did an amazing job painting the rooms in the house, and it just feels splashy and vibrant. But, yes, there's been the sad parts too....I had a falling out & misunderstanding with a couple acquaintances, and this has wounded me (and them too, I'm sure). And there was a brief moment where Mom almost didn't solidify the deal on the house, and we were going to be back to Square #1 (felt like Square #Infinity). Like all things, good and bad, that moment passed. Lots of my yucky dark stuff has been internal Nathan dilemmas: questions and doubts about my writing (some major ones this time), doubts about my purpose here as Nathan Do-Gooder, and those insecure parts where I keep thinking, "Mom's here, but it's not going to last, something's going to go wrong." One other thing I must mention: I talked to my cousin Molly on Friday, and I found out that a (young) relative of ours had passed away a couple months ago, and that it could be drug-related. It was so strange to talk to Molly and hear about "John." When I relayed the message to my mother, this wave of sadness crept over us; I could feel it wafting around us on our back patio that night. We've lost touch with many of our relatives due to the fallout between Mom and C, and we realized that back when my mom saw C at the funeral, he didn't even bother to mention that this had happened, so that we could express our sympathies, send a card, anything. Molly had lots of positive news to relay too, about marriages and pregnancies and adoptions.....even these were a bit strange to hear about, but only because I feel disconnected from so many of my aunts and uncles and cousins. Another cousin whom I adore, Lisa, sent me some photographs of Becky's "wedding weekend" and I couldn't believe how much kids had grown up, how much my aunts and uncles had aged. C looked so old and different--it was hard to recognize him in some of the photographs. Strange feeling, indeed.

It feels like the last month has really started to come full circle (kind of like the swallow's circles). Feeling much better about my writings. I've decided to let go of some of the pain of failed relationships. I'm embracing the air in my house, with Mom's furniture and magical touch there, just catching glimpses of her and Ollie walking and playing and breathing and living. God and I have chilled on some Nirvana-Davenport and she's taken my hand lately and said, "Look, honey, either shit or get off the pot. Trust in Me or don't. Quit pulling this wishy-washy razz-ma-tazz." So I'm learning to trust, to meet Her halfway. And I still manage to get mischievous twinkles in my eyes and pinch her hand and say back, "Listen, Sister, I'll agree to try harder--but you need to stop all these Diva tendencies from time to time, put on a pot of coffee, start explaining yourself, and then start showing me a few more traces that you've been cleaning Soul-House."

It was hard to say goodbye to Mom on Friday when she flew off to Scotland for Kristin's wedding. But I realized I'd trained myself that saying goodbye at airports meant for the long haul, for long chunks of time, and now--in this new phase of my family's Life--she's only going to be gone for a couple weeks, and then she'll return Home. To me. Good ol' Mom. Earth Mother.

Jennifer and I had a magical day yesterday at the Oregon Country Fair. I was dropped inside a fairie tale book, but with more nudity and blunts. The woods whispered around us as we ate, danced to tribal music, walked through the Free Bookstore, watched Faeries and Demons on stilts and Fawns and Cleopatra and every other Elven creature you could think of. It was so freeing for me to see so many women topless, and heck, I sure loved all the men without their shirts on! I think I spent a third of the day just staring at chest hair and nipples and abdomens. Yum. Jennifer and I took a break under this woven-branch structure, and ended up talking with this woman, Kat, who was helping her brother work the water supplies at the fair. The three of us got into an intense talk about spirituality, meeting kindred souls, and letting go of old molds & skins. When we stood up to leave, she hugged us, stood back and said, "Now you both aren't faerie spirits, are you? I feel something about you two. Am I going to walk down the row, turn around, and you'll both have vanished?" Jennifer and I smiled, then Kat said: "But maybe I'm the spirit, and you'll turn around and I'll have vanished." I made sure not to look back as we walked away; I wanted to keep the mystery of it all.

A final note, my friends: Jennifer and I started the day with Rob Brezny's inspirational speech. Mr. Brezny writes a syndicated horoscope, and whenever I read them in the Willamette Weekly I feel like he's reached inside me (inside all Capricorns) and really touched on what our experience is/was/will be. Some people would have laughed or joked about Mr. Brezny's approach to his speech--it was, after all, very New-Age-y, and he led chants, and phrased things in some "cheesy" (but highly accurate) ways. I like that he was just being himself, without walls, without barriers to hide all the pure things he wants and needs to say. He had everyone write on purple index cards what one of our biggest fears is. He then collected them and said that next Monday he was going to have a huge fire in a cauldron and burn all our fears and send us the best possible love and energy and bliss to send our fears scurrying. I liked when he had us blow "world kisses," and when he talked about Pronoia (the idea of "positive news" and focusing on good energy to make us all whole), and--finally--when he had us say a prayer together, but instead of clasping our hands we held them wide, like we were cupping the sky. He said that people used to pray with clasped hands because, as slaves, they'd been shackled and forced to pray that way. (I never knew this fact.) He said we were welcome to pray any way we wanted, but most of us held our arms wide. It felt silly, and wonderful, and heavy, and freeing.

I returned home after dropping off Jennifer to the peace of my house, and to Ollie, and to a renewed sense of faith and hope. I love you, Mom, and can't wait for further adventures. I went to bed with Calm.