A WALK IN THE STARS

We got away for a few days. Away from the news, from the Mask Wars, from Memes and Madness and My God Where Are We Going, and it was numinous. We drove to the mountains, to a higher ground, to friends who like to take long hikes every day, to meals with no phones out, mornings that are quiet and remind you the world is much larger than you are. Sharing music and stories and observations. Being alive in this life. So much of our existence right now if full of strife, of change, of sorrow, of rage. And rightly so. We are living in a time of flux greater than anything any of us, no matter how old, have ever seen. Maybe if you were over five during World War II you have seen something this transformative. But other than that, this is it. And change is pretty much the only sure thing there is in this universe. But it is not something we are accustomed to, at least not here in the USA. And so we have managed, I have managed, to forget some of the basic tenets of life. Or if not forget, pushed to the side. We have done a lot to keep present. We walk every morning. We cook meals together, and garden, play games and do puzzles. And those are wonderful. Truly. But we have been giving too much energy to the dark side, to despair and worry, to that nut job in the Oval Office, to uninformed joggers who sneer as they sweat and huff past us on the street, no mask in sight.

And that is no good.

On this particular journey of love, we traveled to Crested Butte, high in the Rockies. I think I love the mountainous areas of this state the best. Maybe it's because my first experience with Colorado was a backpacking trip I took in high school through the San Juan chain. Or because my first acting job was at the Diamond Circle Theatre in Durango. Or because every summer when I was growing up I would go to Camp Chawankee on Shaver Lake high in the Sierra Nevada. Or maybe my spirit guides are mountains spirits, and are strongest when I am high above sea level, with peaks surrounding me, eagles over head, and wild flowers spread over alpine meadows. Whatever the cause, mountains and their towns full of quirky, cranky, colorful people feed my soul. I think we all have places like that, areas that for whatever reason calm our nerves, energize our bodies, and expand our consciousness. I think we all need that right now. We need to buckle up, stretch out, eat good food, have long walks with dear friends, exchange ideas and favorite books, and do whatever we need to prepare for what's to come. We must be strong and joyous, resolved and exuberant. We must remind ourselves of what we are living for, how magic and precious this world is.

I took a walk the last night up there, alone. I had just read the latest draft of a screenplay I've been working on to my friends. I  the script, there are a few mentions of stars in the summer sky. I've always been partial to them. To constellations and planets, the the Milky Way and the Moon herself. So I took a stroll, and visited some of my oldest friends. Scorpio and Cassiopeia, Jupiter and Saturn, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, and Draco. It was like I had seen them yesterday. Which is always how it goes with true friends. Months or even years can go by, you run into each other, and it's like no time at all has passed, and you pick up right where you left off. They kindly sent their loving magic into my soul, as they always do, and listened to me actively.

'Twas needed and appreciated.

Here's a song. It's Have You Seen the Stars Tonight by Paul Kantner with David Crosby.