Mr. Oud is a man of many hats. He’s hard to pin down and impossible to track. When you think you have him cornered, he’s already doubled back. My Oud is a man of many hats. Mr. Oud is a mystery demanding to be solved. For the questioning, the curious, and those waiting to evolve. He’ll be your silver fox or your golden silver Daddy, the one to make you cry out in ecstasy or exhaustion. Elusive, enigmatic, and ever-ready to eviscerate, Mr. Oud knows how to tease and tantalize, knows the power of leaving less, knows the heartbreaking tricks of desire – because he was their first victim. This doesn’t excuse his own behavior, it merely explains his transfixing predicament. Wanting and being wanted – and never the two shall mix. Mr. Oud leaves a presence more powerful than his actual physicality; proof of a power to thrill with ideas and mind-fucks. Unfathomably, his presence is often felt more when he is not around than when he is on the scene. It is then that memory and suggestion bring him into being – the only thing that remains is a hint of that tell-tale smoky scent, a resinous fragrance that follows in his every wake, the perfumed trail of his namesake, his signature, his essence ~ the lingering enchantment of Oud.
Wind-chimes hanging from a coral-bark maple tree sound their auditory twinkles in the warm breeze. Yes, the breeze is warm – a late-September aberration – and the pool is warm too. Sneaking in another pool day on a lazy Sunday, because we deserve it after this slow-to-start summer. The perfect pool song waited until this moment to present itself – the universe taking its time and placing things exactly where they belong at the precise moment they belong there.
As if the first cut wasn’t deep enough I dove in again ’cause I’m not into giving up Could’ve gotten the same rush from any lover’s touch Why get used to something new? ‘Cause no one breaks my heart like you
A Paramore kick continues this week, this time with the aptly-titled ‘Pool’ to save this beautifully-wrecked September. The sun is hot again, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t get into the pool as much as I should have this past August – maybe turning 50 took some of the youthful joy out of it – and I couldn’t tell you why. Well, fuck that, and fuck any notion of mature behavior at this stage of the game – I wouldn’t know where to begin!
When you kiss me, I wish we could see what happens next For a moment, I can forget what happens in my head If I doubt you, will you come through With a happy second chance, a happy ending But this time you don’t leave me sinking
I’m underwater No air in my lungs My eyes are open And I’m giving up You are the wave I could never tame If I survive I’ll dive back in
At first, I focus on these photos, on capturing this moment – because who knows if it will be the last pool day? – and then I put the phone down, cradling it into a plush towel before pushing off into the water and leaving worldly concerns somewhere in mid-air. Underwater, it’s thrilling – exhilarating – the way it always is when you’ve been out of water for a while. Smiling, I almost start giggling as I squint into the sunlight waving from the bottom of the pool.
As if the first blood didn’t thrill enough I went further out to see what else was left of us Never found the deep end of our little ocean Drain the fantasy of you Headfirst into shallow pools
And I wonder, is it better to get it over with? The illusion can shatter before we begin If you’re really sorry Happy second chance I think I could forgive This time you won’t leave me sinking
As much as I’ve been ready to embrace this fall, a brief return to summer is a gift that I will not forsake. I would do it all again without hesitation or doubt – no complaints, no regrets, no denial of joy and ecstasy – not when summer is always so fleeting. Beneath the surface of the water, I feel the body relaxing, the muscles easing out of their hunched tension – the kind of melting that only a pool in the summer can elicit.
I’m underwater No air in my lungs My eyes are open And I’m giving up You are the wave I could never tame If I survive I’ll dive back in
Dive back into Right back into Dive right back into you And now I know you Now I know you Now that I know you Dive right back into you
Snagging Madonna for her first purported podcast ever is no mean feat, so Jay Shetty earns this Dazzler of the Day for that alone. Add in all the other accomplishments and you have a fine choice for our first Dazzler of the fall season. Shetty is an accomplished author, podcast guru, and monk, who puts purpose and mindfulness into practical play – a boon for today’s world and those of us still searching. Check out his website here.
Holy shit how have we reached the last week of September? That stings, and maybe the beautiful stretch of warm weather we’ve had – payback for all those weekends of rain that started off the year – has tricked us into thinking it’s not such a late hour in the seasonal calendar. Alas, truth will out in the end. Here’s your weekly blog recap – our final one for September. When next we recap, the scary season will be upon us…
Where’s the accountability for all the wackos who caused such a panic over that ridiculous rapture? I’ve been told it’s unhelpful to be so condescending to moronic idiots, but giving credence and a voice to such fucking stupidity is a large part of why this country is where it’s at today.
It was a misty morning. The air was warm and thick with the residual heat and humidity of a long hot spell emanating from the earth, finally tempered by a welcome patch of rain from above. Tiny water particles floated in the air, not quite wanting or ready to land on the ground, entangling themselves in my wild bed-head of hair – silver droplets joining silver strands, waves upon waves upon waves. Next door the neighbor’s carpenter had the radio playing and ‘Time In A Bottle‘ came on – a musical memory of a memory. I paused to listen, unbothered by the water all around me – in the air, on the leaves, pooling on the ground. We needed the rain. The song ends and an old Commodores hit came on… so many sad people singing of sad times in a sad world…
Sail on down the line ’bout a half a mile or so And don’t really wanna know where you’re going Maybe once or twice you see Time after time I tried to To hold on to what we got, but now you’re going
And I don’t mind about the things you’re gonna say, Lord I gave all my money and my time I know it’s a shame But I’m giving you back your name
I listen for a bit and pause to inspect the patio plants. A pair of bamboo containers – the only way to contain any running bamboo, even in these inhospitable Zone 5 spots – has done well, and I make a mental note to attempt an overwintering in the garage come November. A banana tree, in an overwintered pot that I salvaged from last summer but won’t try to save again, has done rather poorly – only barely pushing out a flush of foliage rising barely a foot in height. A far cry from its typical 6-feet-high-in-a-single-season performance, and a reason to start with a new banana tree every year, if you want that sort of tropical vibe. This is the summer we wanted it, so of course it’s the summer it refused us.
It did, however, provide these late season scenes of beauty, accented and adorned by the rain, so I can’t be all mad. Contemplating this, and forcing my mind to broaden and take in a positive spin, I listen to the song still drifting in from the neighbors yard.
Yes, I’ll be on my way I won’t be back to stay I guess I’ll move along I’m looking for a good time
Sail on down the line Ain’t it funny how the time can go All my friends say they told me so But it doesn’t matter It was plain to see that a Small town boy like me Just wasn’t your cup of tea I was wishful thinking
Perhaps this was summer talking, saying goodbye with a wistful bit of bitterness. Perhaps it was a paramour, on the unrequited end of a one-sided romance. Perhaps it was just melodic defeat and resignation, the way we bottle our heartache and try to pour it into a song, a book, a painting – hoping for someone else to see it and connect, maybe even to heal. How best to make our hurt mean something more?
I gave you my heart And I tried to make you happy And you gave me nothing in return You know, it ain’t so hard to say Would you please just go away?
I’ve thrown away the blues I’m tired of being used I want everyone to know I’m looking for a good time Good time, yeah
My hair is a mess, matted and wiry from the gathering mist, but it doesn’t matter. Behind the fence, no one can see. Leaves of bamboo cradle raindrops, gently lowering them to the ground when their carriage becomes one drop too many – water joining water in the circle of nature’s ever-recycling wisdom. It will become part of the earth again, then perhaps part of a plant’s root system, then released from the leaves to become a part of water again – the most basically elemental process in a world that operates regardless of how sad our songs may be.
We recently had our first dinner party of the fall season, even if my intended outfit didn’t arrive until the next day. These are the conundrums of a privileged life. My second-choice outfit was a retread of something done years ago, but true style never ages. It’s not like Suzie or our Moms would even notice. ‘Tis the practice for holiday entertaining, such as it may be. We’ve graduated from the big house parties and only do smaller dinner or brunch scenes now – and it’s so much more pleasurable. Downsizing – it’s a good thing.
Tango music seemed a fitting intro to the dinner scene, so here’s a little taste:
It echoes our introductory fall post here. This is a more laid back vibe, fitting for a dinner. “Old-fashioned music” is what Skip would call it. And in so many ways, I’m genuinely old-fashioned. I can live with that. Enjoy this old-fashioned Sunday…
“Some people live as though they are already dead. There are people moving around us who are consumed by their past, terrified of their future, and stuck in their anger and jealousy. They are not alive; they are just walking corpses.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
Astrologers have said that the recent events in the heavens – solar and lunar eclipses, a new equinox – have created a tumultuous opportunity for growth, particularly for Virgos. I wasn’t fully aware of this, as I greeted the end of summer with a certain reticence, an emotional overload, and an overall wish that it just be over so we could get on with fall. It seems I’m tuned into such things even when I’m not, so I stumbled in wondering what the actual hell was going on in the world to make me feel so crazed. (Sadly this isn’t entirely foreign land to me.)
It is said that eclipses are times for letting go of things that no longer serve us well, and this recent one was especially about releasing those things that emotionally clutter and wear down our brain space. A good lesson and practice for any given day, made especially pertinent with the changing of seasons.
So it was that I found myself doing an early morning meditation on the first day of fall – not of intention or purpose, but of letting go.
Letting go of the icky feelings of resentment, anger, and hurt.
It’s a way of decluttering and re-organizing the head-space ~ an ideal exercise for this Virgo. It’s also a new direction as far as ease and comfort of living, and that’s always been part of the goal, hasn’t it?
Part of truly letting go is in acknowledging and examining what you are releasing, and that’s where this blog comes in handy. As one of the themes of this fall, letting go will involve getting things out of my system so I can truly be finished with them. A mental clean-up that feeds the soul of a Virgo, while claiming new territory, and new ways of moving through life. Are we ready for such a release? We shall see…
“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything – anger, anxiety, or possessions – we cannot be free.”
What is a cup of coffee or tea but a particular potion made to elicit some sort of feeling, some minor transformation, some bit of ease and comfort? What is a prayer or a meditation but a spell cast upon the purpose of our soul? What is a candle but a beacon of light from another world – a world of hope and dreams and fantasy, made no less real from its sole residence within our minds?
Behold the magnificent chrysanthemum – weighted with history, filled with tales, and present for so many seasonal changes. It’s played a part in various periods and forms of art, emblematic of more than could ever be even touched upon in such a trifling post like this. This particular plant carries the appropriate colors of the season – and by that I mean the season of fall and Taylor Swift. We won’t quite get that trifling, as there are more important matters for the mind. With that said, let us travel somewhere together. It’s Saturday morning – the time for escape – even if it’s just in our heads…
This is music for journeying, music to back the motions of travel, of planning and preparation – two favorite Virgo pastimes. While I feel myself wanting to slow down, I also feel a restlessness in the air, a need to take action and get away for the occasional weekend. Traveling has a wonderful way of making the weekend feel longer.
Planning for a trip produces similar euphoria, at least for my obsessively-organized ass – and it allows a quick weekend jaunt to exist for longer than its actual weekend length. We can plan and prepare and make the days leading up to an adventure just as exciting as the adventure itself – in some ways, those moments are more enchanting because they contain only the dreamy aspects of possibility and what might come, unburdened by the reality of what will be.
“To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself. When you are born a lotus flower, be a beautiful lotus flower, don’t try to be a magnolia flower. If you crave acceptance and recognition and try to change yourself to fit what other people want you to be, you will suffer all your life. True happiness and true power lie in understanding yourself, accepting yourself, having confidence in yourself.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
Lately I’ve been practicing my meditations in the morning, before the sun is even out, and it’s been good for setting an intention and tone for the day. The recent rainy stretch of weather has actually been a bit of a balm on this riotous Virgo heart – we definitely needed the rain – and it’s been helpful to start things off in a quiet and mindful manner. I see what all the early morning yoga fuss is about – though my body is not quite there to be so bendy quite so early in the day. One must work their way into a sling for anything to be safe these days.
“To dwell in the here and now does not mean you never think about the past or responsibly plan for the future. The idea is simply not to allow yourself to get lost in regrets about the past or worries about the future. If you are firmly grounded in the present moment, the past can be an object of inquiry, the object of your mindfulness and concentration. You can attain many insights by looking into the past. But you are still grounded in the present moment.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh
“We dream in our waking moments, and walk in our sleep.” ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
This time of the year always reminds me of ‘The Scarlet Letter’ by Nathaniel Hawthorne – the way the sun slants through the changing tree leaves, the way the earth, and its implacable stone and rock, still holds onto some of summer’s warmth. There’s magic and enchantment in the forest at this time – and when the forest is bordered by water, it’s even more entrancing. At some point every few weeks, I find my way to such a leafy scene – to find comfort in solitude, to be by myself, to re-connect with nature in the way that most Virgos need to be connected to the earth.
For this nearby expedition, I needed only to drive to Cohoes to find the waterfalls I’d been wanting to visit for years. Thanks to a severe drought, there was barely a trickle from the might and majesty they typically conjure, but I didn’t mind the quieter and more serene scene. There will be more than enough opportunities for thunderous downfalls and tumultuous waterfalls later this fall. Rain is already on the horizon, and winter is not as far as it seems.
“It contributes greatly towards a man’s moral and intellectual health, to be brought into the habits of companionship with individuals unlike himself, who care little for his pursuits, and whose sphere and abilities he must go out of himself to appreciate.” ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
When the foliage is still lush and the leaves haven’t yet been ripped from their precious perches, it feels safe on a sunny day. When the leaves start to turn, their coloring sets the sky on fire, matching the brightness of spring’s earliest chartreuse show. It is a beautiful point for reflection – the perfect place to pause in the madness of the current world. There are times when I wonder how I got here – to this specific space and place – and of all that I have lost and gained on that winding journey. I think back to my first forays into the forest behind my childhood home, the way the paths and the trees and the plants felt somehow more familiar than my own bedroom – the cozy comfort of a patch of moss, the hooded cloaks of a stand of May apples, the evocative hide-and-seek game of a clump of Jack-in-the-pulpits. This sort of beauty brings me back to those days, reminding me of our connection to such sacred spaces.
“But there is a fatality, a feeling so irresistible and inevitable that it has the force of doom, which almost invariably compels human beings to linger around and haunt, ghost-like, the spot where some great and marked event has given the colour to their lifetime; and, still the more irresistibly, the darker the tinge that saddens it.” ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
