Audio only

 

[Audio only, of Julia and Amy; Perseid watching, Emigration Canyon, August 13, 2016].

[The following is the comment I left on a friend’s blog; writing it made me cry for I’m trying to finish/revise a blog about an emotionally-intense evening spent with a vulnerable neighbor I barely know, in which the song “Tiny Dancer” played a part, and making this comment on my friend’s post helped me understand the bigger message behind that evening and other seemingly-unrelated events; so I’m mashing three events–the evening spent with my neighbor and in-progress blog, my comment on my friends blog, and a middle of the night jaunt with my daughters and a friend searching for comets–together in this Facebook-post equivalent of a “mini-blog” because there’s a synchronicity here that seems important, for I now understand the significance of “Tiny Dancer”; Tiny Dancer is actually the dreamer in us all; the astronaut who doesn’t let her wonder at the sky falter even when she knows she won’t ever experience it in the way she most desires, and the synchronicity of it brings me full-circle to where I myself am staring in awe at the magic of an unknown and beautiful universe].

“So on the very day I read this, my daughters, one of their friends and I headed up one of the canyons after they got off work to watch the Perseids; we thought there’d be no one there at that time and place but it was packed, and we had to search for a parking spot.  Everyone had the same idea, some people even brought their little ones, whose voices carried through the air along with the low sound of radios, and the laughter of adults.  We laid on top of the car–hood, back and roof–and snuggled under blankets (naturally, the air is colder the higher up you go so we needed them) and, at one point, I was sleepy and knew my eyes would be closing soon, so I set my iPhone up to videotape the sky, thinking how cool it would be if it recorded a meteor while I rested.  But it didn’t; instead it got 4 minutes of magic when my daughter was pointing out planets and constellations, the excitement in her voice so powerful for, even though she is too short to live her dream of becoming an astronaut, she still lives it every time she looks at the dark sky and feels the pull of the Universe.

I hope you had some magic in your trip too.  Wee voices, comets, dark skies and dreams, whether lived or imagined.”

 

[Maybe returning to this mini-mashup-blog will assist me in putting the larger blog into words suitable to a universe filled with emotional evenings perhaps whose sole purpose is to guide us to revelatory experiences].

6 thoughts on “Audio only

  1. alsoknownas says:

    “Looking down into the infinite cosmic abyss”.

    Well, of course your daughters would speak this way.

    This is a touching revelation, and I’m glad to see you are working through it, seeing the connections evolve and still searching for the common thread.
    You’ll get there.

    My guess is that when you do, you’ll see you’ve been there the whole time.
    The Sufi teaching is that we can choose to look outward to the universe and we will see ourselves. The option is to look inward at ourselves, so that we can see the universe.

    1. Amy Palleson says:

      Afternoon! It is odd how the Universe works its magic, and even odder how human beings manage to miss so much of it. Of course, I mean myself, for you’ll naturally end up being right: when I get to where I’m going, I’ll see I’ve been there the whole time.

      Such is the nature of being human and seeing within the limitations of the 5 senses and the emotional depth of only the here and now.

      Thanks as always for your comment, aka. After reading them, I’m always left with more than what I started.

  2. alsoknownas says:

    You’re quite welcome. I’d just like to encourage you in this pursuit.

    Up late playing 1950’s country classics with an old friend who is trying to get me to start a band again after decades. There’s a large interest in old time music in the area. We have connections of course, so I’ll consider “opening act” status with 5 or 6 tune sets, but not more. It’s a firm “maybe”, my goal being that simplicity will need to be key to the endeavor.
    I awoke feeling a bit out of time, wondering if it made sense to chase that comet again, and decided that too much deciding felt more like indecision, my head spinning with the conundrum, so the thought I left you here was wandering about and I needed a place to set it.

    …and good afternoon to you too.

    1. Amy Palleson says:

      Well, it’s my view that every event that occurs in your life is really your own soul trying to tell you something, maybe to share your indecision with a blogger friend so she can inform you that without music, she would have succumbed to incredible darkness. Music is good medicine and, if you have a gift, then perhaps your soul is trying to tell you to share it.

  3. alsoknownas says:

    Common thread Amy.
    Pulled out of the darkness by music as well in early life. It was a safe retreat, a place to travel without leaving. I hesitate to think the temptations I would have tried without knowing that I could get away as far as I wanted with music and my own dreams.

    Dreams and synchronicity were central to your posting.

    I don’t believe anyone else has spoken to me of music as medicine, but I like that a lot. You know I have sticky fingers, so I may just have to take it later.
    Thank you. 😉

    …and venture in strength as well.

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