Moonbeam Celebrations

Moonlight, calling to all unsleeping to come out and revel in its pearly luster, poured in the screened porch of Chatsford Hall. It had a magical glow. But to the Genome, much as he appreciates the beaming countenance of Sister Moon, it brought no cheer. 

The cypresses cast shadows across the lawns and gardens and white camellias peeked out of the dark shrubbery with their laughing gnome faces. Still, when I mindfully scanned my feelings, all I found were the emotions belonging to something that has been prepared for stuffing by a taxidermist.

Years of living life on life's terms and practicing Fierce Qigong have prepared yours truly for any catastrophe that comes his way. Like the Russian peasant who endures long, cold winters haunted by hungry wolves and empty vodka bottles, the soul has a hard protective coating. Left alone to his own devices, Genome takes on the appearance of Fate's spoiled darling.

But I ask you, with a week of no sleep and an overactive limbic system, can we wonder that moon shadows make no appeal? As I sat watching a scattering of clouds moving up from the south, a voice spoke to me from the north, saying, "Whatcha doin'?"

It was Sarah Lupe Louise sitting atop the table on the outdoor side of the porch screen. My gaze softened at the sight of her and I felt a soothing sense of relief because this young cat considers the Genome a source of perpetual goodness. You might say that she can't get enough of the Genome bouquet. 

Well, I don't have to tell you how effective is the medicine of the kind heart. It's the stuff to give the troops, if you want my opinion, just before they take the field to face the prowling forces of Midian. It makes all the difference.

"Can't sleep," I said.

"Too bad," she said.

"Want to feed me?" she said doing that little figure eight dance of hers.

"Too early," I said but somehow it didn't seem enough in the way of explanation. "It's only 3:00 AM," I added.

"Oh," she said, and calmly accepting my decision, she sat and began inspecting a paw.

Still looking for a solution to remedy the circumstances that I found so unsettling, I said, "I just don't know what to do."

"Nothing for you to do," she said.

"You think not?"

"Not in charge," she said. 

"No," I said, "I guess I'm not in charge, am I?"

"Jungle cat in the sky," she said.

"In charge you mean," I said, and then, still musing, I asked, "So what's it all about? Why do we bother?"

"Well," she said, "I do my stuff because I'm a cat."

"I see," I said, "You do what you do because it's what you were meant to do. Like dancing. You're a good dancer."

"Thank you," she said, "I also kill voles."

"Let's keep this conversation out of the gutter, shall we?" I said.

"You do human things pretty good," she said.

Something in her words, if they were words, seemed to go to the heart of the matter. I ratcheted up the musing to full-scale pre-frontal cortex stuff and I noticed that the inside feelings were a lot more agreeable.

"Hungry?" I asked.

"I could eat," she said and began doing a passable Electric Slide. 

I entered the kitchen and selected a fine quality New Zealand venison and after bunging the medium dose for the average cat into a bowl, I walked into the garden to give her an early morning snack. 

Life comes hard and fast for cats and for people, maybe even a little harder for cats, and it occurs to me that cats, like people, have little real value when they're sleeping among the stars. So why wait? Might as well celebrate today and what better way to do that than by helping someone else celebrate?

Power Principles

"It's like this," I said, explaining to Ms. Wonder why I was having trouble keeping abreast of her photography exhibits.

"It's the sewer harpies that I've mentioned before. They're agents of pure evil and they seem to be getting stronger. I'm thinking that it has something to do with my giving up the reselling business."

Princess Amy

She closed her eyes, lifted her chin a couple of inches, and held up a hand, palm open, facing me as if to ward off any negative influence coming from my direction.

"If you're yammering about soul vessels, Celtic goddesses, and Charlie Asher, just stop now. Your agents of evil are nothing more than Princess Amy, well actually Amy is just another word for your dysfunctional limbic system but I can work with that."

"Is yammering the appropriate word, Poopsie, considering my struggle to keep my head above the clouds?"

 "But," she continued, "and listen carefully because what follows is the most important part. You must get your head around this--there are no sewer harpies."

"Mabd is the worst of them," I said. "I can deal with Macha and Nemain, but Mabd--pure evil."

"Amy is making all this stuff up," she went on as though I'd said nothing. "It's all simply natural, random, happenings that Amy misinterprets as supernatural."

"I've heard all that before," I said. "I've considered it, even believed it. Then again, I'm not sure that I ever really believed it; rather I accepted it as good enough to be getting on with. As I've mentioned several times, it's not so much the events that prove an evil intent as much as the frequency of their popping up. Like the demon king in a Thai water opera."

Once more, the rolling eyes, the lifted chin, a deep breath this time, and then the open palm. Reminds me of Arnold Schwarzenegger and his famous line from the film Terminator 2: Talk to the hand."

"Let's get grounded, shall we?" asked the Wonder. She wasn't suggesting anything, she was getting down to business and I realized that if I knew what was good for me, I'd pay close attention.

"The solutions," she said, "are, first of all, to look for humor in the situations that trouble you. You're on target with The Circular Journey. All that's needed there is a bit more regularity. Blogging every day is my suggestion."

"Wise counsel, Wonder," I said, "I'll post every day."

"You're also doing the right thing by relying on music to cheer you. But most of your listening is done in your car when running errands. Why not listen more at home?"

"Excellent observation," I said and I meant it. This little nugget of wisdom had lit a fire under me. "Continuous music," I said.

"And finally," she said, "socializing. You're falling down on the amount of time you spend with others. You rarely go to meetings and your social gatherings are limited to Native Grounds Cafe with Lupe on weekdays and Island Irv on Sunday mornings."

The meetings she mentioned, if you're new here, are recovery program meetings for those who abused alcohol and other substances like the white powder that we used to sprinkle in our hemp doobies. There are different programs for the two but I combine them into one. More convenient, fewer meetings."

"There are no lunch-hour meetings here in Waterford," I said, "so with the Cape Fear bridge closed, I'll be going to Southport for meetings. And just FYI, there are no recovery programs for coffee consumption so I'll continue to abuse caffeine."

"Oh," she said as if suddenly receiving a jolt of information from the Akashic Record, "exercise is one of the most important practices. You have a good workout program. You're just not consistent. Meditation is part of your morning outing in Brunswick Forest but you're not any more consistent there than you've been in the other routines. Make it a top priority."

"I call those activities my Power Principles," I said. "It's something I picked up from SuperBetter."

"It's not so very important what you call them," she said, "as long as you practice them regularly."

I reeled! Was it possible that after all these years, that wonderful brain of hers had come undone? Not important what I call them?  I watched her lips move as she continued to speak but I heard no sound. 

My mind had jumped the rails and was mired in the drainage ditch of my limbic pathways, not unlike the spoiler I made as a young teen when I, bike riding with my hands on my head, tried to make the turn onto Old Thatcher Road using body English only. Well, I don't need to tell you how that day turned out.

I couldn't wait to take the subject up with Lupe in our next Native Grounds meet-up. Lupe's counsel is the next best thing to Wonder's mysterious ways and it's no secret why. She cubbed under the Wonder after all. Stay tuned to The Circular Journey and I'll update you on developments as they occur.

Something tells me that we're onto something big.