Love Into the Great Beyond

Last year I walked up to my house and there was a dead bird at the foot of my steps. It's the second dead bird that's appeared at the front of my house and it felt important. I buried the bird next to the tree by my sidewalk and planted Cosmos seeds. In a few weeks the flowers bloomed, reminding me daily that life comes from death, that we can honor things passing and love them into the great beyond.

At the closure of this years-long process of making my album I am exhausted. So much has changed within and surfaced without: creation from nothing, illogical attraction, dissolved relationships, feeling so much, making everything happen, surrendering, injuries, the ending of things, completions, peace.

I need rest in the way those English women in the last turn of the century would go off to Italy to regroup and regain their health and color.

But there are a few more loose ends before the travel. There are things to be said and freed. There is a house to be sold, possessions to be shed. I long to move into the great beyond of my future as a nomad. I can taste its air. The blank canvas holds the possibility of the entire cosmos; its got a magentic pull to my optimistic mind that I've never been able to really resist for too long.

But the heart needs time to feel. It needs transitions. It needs to mark the moments and honor the passing. It needs to love here and now in the void. It needs to love to know the contours of a life. I am convinced the heart needs to love more than to be loved. It's the mind that needs to be loved. To love is why I buried the bird. It is why I made my album. It is why I am slowing down and taking time to let go before I paint my future.

I am in the last few moments in my coccoon, so let me bury all the heartache in slowness and sleep deeply and when I wake let there be a bouquet of color, sun, breeze and nothing to hold me back from breaking again.