{"id":20969,"date":"2015-09-06T18:31:58","date_gmt":"2015-09-06T23:31:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/?p=20969"},"modified":"2015-09-06T18:45:14","modified_gmt":"2015-09-06T23:45:14","slug":"it-has-already-begun","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/?p=20969","title":{"rendered":"It has already begun"},"content":{"rendered":"

My new life arrived a moment ago, a day ago, last week, sometime in this year, perhaps it was last summer during a New Orleans rainstorm – I don’t quite remember the exact moment, but it’s here. <\/p>\n

Last night, I went to a soiree – let’s call it that, although it was simply a gathering of writers, book store owners, journalists, and yes, Chris Rose. Ex-Times Picayuners. It was held in this hidden world atop a parking garage off St. Charles Avenue. You rode up the rickety elevator, pushed back the metal gate, and stepped onto marble floors and into a stage setting for a life I’ve imagined. Large glass door archways gave way to a stormy sky and the side terraces that were so large, my whole house would fit into one side, and then there were rooms and rooms of art, and hidden gardens and a photography studio, Butler’s pantry and a smoking and media room complete with three large screens. Red sheer silk covered sofas and chairs. An enormous ceramic wood stove oven stood majestically in an alcove. <\/p>\n

Where was I? <\/p>\n

I turned and spoke to the woman by my side who turns out to be nearly two decades older and yet she was ravishingly beautiful. During the course of our conversation, I asked her if she was seeing anybody because she said she was no longer with her sons’ father, she said “no, but I do have a few young lovers.” <\/p>\n

I didn’t want to step out of this dream. <\/p>\n

There was a cat with copper-colored fur and exaggerated gold eyes that occasionally showed up for an ankle rub down and the entire house smelled like Popeye’s fried chicken, which was on the menu. But the clincher was this – I had been imagining this bathroom that I had in a hotel I stayed at in Bali – one that I have always hoped to recreate – and then I walked into the bathroom of the master suite and there was my tub with the plate glass window looking onto a dreamy garden of statue and leaf. <\/p>\n

\"11999019_10205903993013568_4113984793319322421_n\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Uncanny, how this seems to happen so often in this new life, where images manifest from my imagination and people appear larger than life and encounters are more a puzzle piece from my own mystery than not. It’s as if Neil deGrasse Tyson were my spirit guide here in this multiverse.<\/p>\n

Neil deGrasse Tyson
\nAn informed opinion is never based on somebody else\u2019s opinion, lest you empower others to do your thinking for you.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

See, I have become, as the adages say, more of who I am and in that transformation, the interstitial veil that separates me from magic has grown thinner. I do see myself standing in a whirling planet able to hold myself stiller than inert matter, and yet I feel that tendrils and roots are growing out of me and connecting me with hidden dimensions. And yet, sometimes I spin. <\/p>\n

I left this gathering, and drove to my friend’s to sit on her porch and talk into the wee hours of the night. We wrestled with past and present relationships. Relationships it seems have been defined for us – our relationship to our current state, who we love, even the numbers of people we should be loving at any one time – and yet, it is discordant with our reality – these edicts and bylaws – the parts are greater than the sum as if the math doesn’t work anymore so now there are affinity groups instead of reality loops. <\/p>\n

To everything there is a Come to Jesus<\/em>, and this now, this moment I’m in is a time of being because I’ve arrived fully into this particular chapter of the story of my life. My feet have even grown half a shoe size as if I needed physical evidence. It’s as if I have burned myself in effigy. I’m birthing one of the many books I will write in my lifetime. I have the privilege of experiencing life through the eyes of a six year old child. I feel no tug of war between the the polarities of gravity and weightlessness – I welcome both even when they follow each other in rapid succession – the rush is exhilarating. Life Don’t Frighten Me At All. <\/p>\n

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My new life arrived a moment ago, a day ago, last week, sometime in this year, perhaps it was last summer during a New Orleans rainstorm – I don’t quite remember the exact moment, but it’s here. Last night, I went to a soiree – let’s call it that, although it was simply a gathering of writers, book store owners, journalists, and yes, Chris Rose. Ex-Times Picayuners. It was held in this hidden world atop… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20969","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-main"],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1kHSD-5sd","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20969","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=20969"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20969\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20976,"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20969\/revisions\/20976"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=20969"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=20969"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.dangermond.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=20969"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}