In the earliest hours of the morning, this morning, I tossed and turned on Carrie’s gray couch. Up and left, I spotted the southern cross, that great big hemispheric reminder of mine. I turned on my back to the window, tasted the dryness of my mouth, and managed to fall back into a light sleep.

Lazily, I swung my feet over the side of the sofa, pressed much of my weight into my toes, walked across creaky floors into the guest bath. I tried not to wake Chris. Evie, who fell asleep between my knees, now growled at me from Chris’s bed — her great protector. 

I grabbed my toiletries bag and ventured onto the lawn. Three of the four of us know this lawn well, have poured love into its shade of green. The sun had been up for some time. It was already 7 past 7. I brushed my teeth nearby those fallen frangipanis — do you still remember those? Those ones gathered and then scattered in blessings for little miss Indigo?

I like to brush my teeth outside like I did yesterday morning, Sunday morning. I must stand in the sun and red dirt and I must pass a zebra and a donkey to get there, to the basins with running water for my tongue scraper. Did you remember your towel? 

This morning, I rolled out a mat that’s not mine, straight onto grass because we forgot the quilted blanket at the stage — do you remember the paper thorns just outside the blanket, on its perimeter?Like a moat of forgettable and precise significance?

This morning I breathed because I knew breath was what I needed. 

How remarkable.

I breathed because the trees told me on Saturday, just after Mikey’s set, they beckoned, “come, sit, breathe, rest. We have answers but they are not easy.” 

Savannah asked for floss on Saturday morning and her toothbrush on Friday night — which was really just early Saturday morning, if we’re honest. And in the same honest measure, I’ll let you know that I may not have touched my teeth at all if it weren’t for her invitation.

The circle must close and only at that landing point can you know your uncertainties. There are the ways you are and there are the ways you are not but to know exactly the way you are requires the discomfort of trying. And finding out.

You must try and try and try.

Be ready to be lonely. Alone and lonely both. What you see and hear and record is yours only — inherent in that is loneliness and also profound connection. Notice where you wander in the spaces in between. Render a strategy for your escape — how will you integrate moments of peace, of quiet, of contemplation, of breath into your day? 

Watch birds smoke cigarettes listen to trees take off your boots for just a moment 

We camped beneath a mango tree. It hung much lower than the one in my Sethi’s garden and we ran a string of lights across the lowest branch. I say “we” but I had nothing much to do with the slithering the bulbs; I tried to fasten the solar panel end. My technique was promptly corrected. 

I am someone who was trained to know my role — as in, not get in the way contribute wherever most useful and efficient help the team win the title get the family to the airport and don’t speak without thinking about what you have to say

You have to want to win more than you want to be right 

I struggle, at this juncture, to know what kind of work might be the right kind of work — this question stays between my teeth. I ruminate and ruminate on the question of right work. I create resistance, paddling upright in a sea of unanswerable questions.

Clearly, this morning, I see in the leaves how I am a shape-shifter. I see my strength is my discernment. I quickly forgive myself for not knowing much about cars or breakdowns on the highway, just before the toll heading back into town. I fill the bottles with water. I wonder, momentarily, “am I being arrogant?” as I avoid small-talk, avert my eyes and sway away sway to music instead. I wonder, then, “how do I feel?” And maybe, “what is my role?”

The question then arises, “who do I serve in this role of mine?” 

And then, “how can I serve the greatest number of Us in this role of mine?”

I very well know people whose persistent and overwhelming and exhausting goal in conversation is to sell themselves to their listener. 

I commune with people who allow conversation to weave away from and back to their point or someone else’s. It could take many hours and a few joints and a candle may nearly fall but people will leave fed and hopefully, if we’re lucky, arrive home safely, their point having either been made or left upwards floating.

Until You Know Better

Make friends who will make you brush and floss. Make friends who will laugh at you when you stand before the captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign, prompting the flight attendant to announce your transgression and politely request you return to your seat; when you sit and then, 9 seconds later, see and hear the fasten seatbelt sign light switch off.

Let this be how you start your homeward journey. Shut off your phone for two days and a half, find your breath beneath the tree, empty your bowels, thank your friends and tell them how lucky you feel, savor your coffee, wash your hair and be sure to brush your teeth outside so that when you see the people tap tap tapping, you throw on your headphones and remember how the night is meant to sound. 

Great Artists Steal

Let It Land – my friend, Cris