Two Fairies At a Duster

It is warming up here. I can walk around without a jacket for part of the day. And we'll be leaving soon. *sigh* Still, I soak up the desert. Today I stood in the wash as two ravens (or crows) flew around me and down low over me, seemingly interested in something about me. When I went away, they went away. Interestingly enough, I had just written a scene where three ravens flew over my hera, Sara O'Brion. (Her surname has its roots in the name Bran which is "raven.") I loved listening to their wings in the dry desert air. It was just me and them, baby.

Mario saw a bobcat while we were here, did I say? Very cool. I still have not seen the bobcat this time. This has been the season of rabbits. Jackrabbits and cottontails. Everywhere. Even in my dreams.

Last night I dreamed one of the Obama girls needed my help, so I helped her.

Too many other dreams about death and dying.

Today we saw a small prickly pear cactus growing out of a saguaro limb, about ten feet off the ground. Funniest thing.

Wrote 6,500 words today. I still feel as though I'm in the hacienda where I left Sara. She is very pregnant. And it is summer in the Sonoran desert.

Tonight we went to the library book sale and bought way too many books—but they are great books. Books on folklore, mythology, Mexico.

Walking in the desert while I've been here, I have become more certain than ever that I know what I want. I have wanted the same thing for thirty years. But every time I articulate it, all I hear is, "but I can't because..." Because I don't have any money. Because I'm afraid. Because I'm sick. Because I can't be around any remodeling. Because there is no place left where the water and air are clean. Blah, blah, blah. All these buts and becauses over the years.

I don't like to want things I can't get. This causes suffering. Maybe wanting anything period causes suffering. And yet if you never want anything, how do you make plans for the future?

This is what I want and what I've always wanted: I want land and I want a place where people can come to seek sanctuary, to write, to do art, to learn about sustainability, to envision and create the world anew. Listen to this: One of my favorite books of all time is Doris Lessing's The Good Terrorist. You know what I remember about it, what I loved about it? This woman was part of a group of "radicals." They took over buildings which weren't being used in London and they lived in them. Squatted. And while the rest of the radicals thought of this as a political move, as a protest, the hera of the story (who is a wee bit amoral, I seem to recall) turns this squat into a livable house. She creates a home. I love the process she goes through to make it a home.

That is what I want. A piece of land to care for. A sustainable lovely place where people can come. What I want is an Old Mermaid Sanctuary. In nearly every novel, my people are constantly creating family and home.

Home, home, home. Mi casa, su casa.

I know I've said this before. And now I say it again. Perhaps I'll put a plan forth so that I can accomplish this somehow. I always thought I'd be able to do it by making money from my writing. Since this hasn't panned out, how else can I make it into a reality?

Tonight after the book sale, we went to see the movie Appaloosa directed by Ed Harris. Harris was in it, along with Viggo Mortensen. It's a duster and it takes place in New Mexico. I figured I'd be watching a movie with a good story (from a Robert B. Parker novel) with good acting and beautiful scenery. I don't know if the print was bad but the scenery wasn't anything to write home about. (Blog about maybe, but not write home about.) I mean it was New Mexico with those amazing blue skies and we could hardly tell the sky was even blue. (Maybe it wasn't actually filmed in NM.) Ed Harris is a beautiful man. He just gets better looking as the years go on. Less hair more beauty. And he's nearly always in interesting movies and I always believe he is the character he portrays. (And Viggo ain't bad to look at either. Yes, Mario thinks Ed is pretty, too.) So although I did enjoy watching Ed Harris, the movie wasn't particularly good. The story was very predictable. That isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes you watch a movie or read a book and you want certain things to happen. Not so much here.

But the best part of the evening—besides being there with Mario—was that when we were at the ticket window, two teenage boys came dancing up to the line with wands, wings, and the general clothing of fairies. One of the boys was very blond. The other was very dark. They were beautiful, funny, and clever. No one talked to them. Except me. I told them they were beautiful and we talked about sweet nothings. I hope they had a lovely time and that no one bothered them. Bothered them in a bad way, that is.

You just never know when fairies are going to show up in your life. So watch out for them.

May You Prance and Dance in Beauty!