A few notes from Thursday
The dream shook me badly on a few different levels. It’s reality, it’s content…and, of course:
“Damn, maybe I really am crazy?”
The first sketch is my rendering of remembering finding an info sheet in the loft area of the geodesic dome that was the living room of my childhood home, it was just a sheet of paper that was in an old trunk of my parent’s old things. The picture was of two nuclear reactors and the mere sight of them terrified me, even though I didn’t know what they were.
(Of course, I remind myself…an intense survey of a small section of sky is not a new idea of mine. In the house on 7th Avenue in Portland, ten years ago, the closets were like small rooms, each of different dimensions and they each had a small diamond-shaped window. The closet in the green room was the perfect size for a twin mattress and I would lay in there and the window was like a little portal. I wanted then to take a picture out of that window, from the same perspective, every day…but, then I didn’t…for all the reasons that people don’t carry through with ideas…)
Well, this summer I went to the Basilica a couple of times because isn’t that what you are supposed to do when you feel as if some old sorrow is rising in you, go to pray? So, I went and it really is a beautiful and sacred space with lots of places to kneel and many faces old and familiar, gathered in colored glass and the floor is old stone, the ceiling arched and everything symbolic.
I went to try to feel something akin to clarity and I studied the faces and I sat and thought and the sadness was electric and, because I am a mother, I went to pray at the Virgin Mary and as I stood to leave, I caught sight of Fatima and I didn’t know who she was – other than a small statue…but, I stayed by her for almost an hour and I felt better, but no less compelled to look at clouds, when I left.
She wouldn’t. She just told me she was glad that I was enjoying the moon.
I don’t believe in impossibility anymore…not a bit…anything is possible.
Good or bad, simple truth: If I am to exist in this world, I have to believe myself…my belief in an impossible moon is not all I am, it is a quiet and steady current that runs under all the other other currents…all the daily static drowning.