O.K. I have "Existentialitis." That is my diagnosis. It is a condition that infects me every few years. I become anxious and depressed and very catatonic. Movement of any kind is psychologically painful and is very difficult. My heart beats crazy and I can't control my breathing. I think I have made the correct diagnosis.
Last night, a friend came over for dinner. She brought runes and a book, a sort of guide to reading them, I guess. She had me reach into a bag and pick one.
"Just let one jump into your hand. Then concentrate on a problem or a question that is on your mind right now."
I took one between my thumb and forefinger and thought about what has been bothering me most recently. She took the ruin from my hand and began to research in the book for a minute. Then she began to read. It was about wholeness and the Life Force, things I know much about. I let her go on until she faltered.
"This part is silly," she said, skipping ahead.
"You know, I can write that stuff." And I began to recite a pretty good version of what these things say. "I grew up in the time of mysticism, when transcendental meditation and yoga and the ideas of I Ching and Zen were replacing the existential angst of the fifties. Suddenly everyone was a numerologist or an astrologer wearing crazy clothes and hats, sitting on the beaches and throwing the bones. Everyone was looking for something new. The way in was the way out, etc. It all got cross-polinated with LSD and 'The Teachings of Don Juan.' I learned to do a pretty good reading of the Tarot."
She looked. . . shall I say--rebuffed. She is much younger than I and would like to eat mushrooms and run naked through the desert with Q, I am certain.
Just then, a bright light shown through the shutters over the tree tops. I was confused for a second, then I said, "Look, it's the full moon!"
"Can we go out and watch it," she asked. But of course we could. We walked to the lake and sat on a bench with a clear view of the moon's reflection on the water as it rose into the spring sky. It was the Pink Moon, the Full Fish Moon, and all about the fish were jumping. A man in a kayak paddled silently by. We sat quietly and motioned in the direction of any activity on the water's surface. It was quiet and perfect.
This morning on waking, I thought, "Hmm, it was a Full Easter Moon. I wonder how powerful is that? Perhaps it has something to do with the malaise I have been suffering."
But I knew better. That wasn't quite true. Still, I believe in the power of the moon over our emotions, and so. . . .
I shall own a print of the picture above in a few days. Slava Pirsky and I are trading prints, though he hasn't selected one yet. I want many of his images and may write to ask him if I may have this one as well.
I think they would make perfect compliments. But I feel like a hog to ask for more. He is already being overly generous. Still, a man wants what he wants, eh? I can't wait until it/they are hanging on my wall. They are powerful explorations of the artistic relationship between a man and his daughter, a very, very rare and wonderful thing.
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