DON'T EAT THE CHICKEN BONES

My dog Padfoot will eat anything. Squirrel tails. Goose poop. It's his thing. Once, he came upon a half empty bag of mouse poison and chowed down. Fortunately, he also likes to share with me every treasure he has found,  which he did with the poison, and I was able to get him to the vet. And yesterday, he found one of his favorite treats, a chicken bone, sitting in the middle of the backyard. I'm pretty sure it was dropped by a squirrel as it traversed the phone line over head. Padfoot spotted it, ran for it, gave me a look, and chowed down. Before I got to him, at least half the bone was gone. Now, the bonus that goes with his odd snack choices is his delicate stomach. Without fail, after he eats his strange delicacies, he coughs, whines, and poops. A lot. Such was the case last night. First at two in the morning, then at three, and again at five, I had to let him out back to take care of things. I get annoyed, but I can't stay mad at him. He's my dog, and I love him. But it would be nice if he thought twice about eating anything and everything he thinks he should.

I have a bit of Padfoot in my, I suppose. I often do things spur of the moment, only to regret them later. Large fries with that burger. Run that yellow light. Hug an old friend, social distancing be damned. Instinct is a powerful thing, and sometimes, it kicks in before my brain, with is often off in the clouds, plotting out a scene I'm working on, can come back to this plain of existence. Sometimes, it's no big deal, and nothing happens. Sometimes, I get a hefty ticket from the local PD. Sometimes, I have to listen to the doctor tell me I have to lose weight, and stop eating crappy food. Never fun. But theres are all things I can handle, and have handled most of my life. Indeed, there was a time when I would often feel the urge to go streaking. This was in my late twenties, when I was still drinking, and usually at a late night party after a show. The mood would hit, the call to my instincts to take off all my clothes and run around the world in all my glory. I even once did this on a stretch of Broadway in NYC, for about thirty blocks. Of course,  being in New York City, nobody batted an eye, but I still marvel at the audacity of it. I suppose the big consequence from that would be my chances for assuming any form of elected office are pretty much null and void.

I don't regret the streaking, the speeding, or the eating. But I do regret the times I have not social distanced. The times I forgot to put on my mask right away. I wish more people felt the same. The numbers are getting scary again. Talk of opening schools where only a total of 14,000 children or so die. It's nuts. We all know this is serious. We all know people have died and are dying and will continue to die. And yet, we ignore social distancing when with friends. We try to sound like we believe it when we say it's inevitable that some folks die, but not that the economy goes under. We pretend as best we can that the clear skies and return of nature is not a minor miracle that makes us question our decisions in regards to the environment for the past century. 

We eat chicken bones.

Here's a song. It's The Bad Plus doing a cover of Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb

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.