Coming Back to Life

Lately, my sense of humour is back. I can only liken it to Godzilla appearing on the horizon and stopping to lift off his top hat, tap his cane and start to tap dance. Yes, it is unexpected. Yes, it is ungainly. Yes, it is larger than life.

I will be thinking things that send me into paroxysms of hysterical laughter. Yep. Outloud. When I am alone.

radiant self

It is the way I used to be in my twenties. My brother in law, who was the curator of the University’s art gallery in Bellingham would sidle up to me to get my “simultaneous” translation or color commentary for what was taking place in the room. He was fascinated by the connections that I could draw between social imprinting, delusional thinking, matrix creation and the constant effort of people to “seem” to be a certain way.

The gift of my childhood with all of its madness and chaos is that I can call the game.

After over seven years of just dropping surety in order to work on myself; after disciplining myself to learn; to meditate; to disrupt old patterns it is a rather joyful surprise to find that my minx of a spirit is coming back.


I do have a deep first compassionate response to people but at the same time, I can see the astounding absurdity of our asylum of beliefs. And it is fun to once again find the words flowing to describe what I am seeing.

Only this time, I trust myself more. Only this time, I trust the universe more.

I said to a friend I have known for 33 years last night that getting past 60 has left me with the absolute knowing that I will never, ever, in a million years fit into anything other than that cute pair of jeans with the pearls sewn on them. I told him there comes a time when you stand on the vast, uninterrupted expanse of the meadow of “fuck it.”

how I see it

So the chapter of isolation, meditation, self discipline and reconstruction is over. It will no longer be my sole focus… but will continue to be my soul focus.

Stomp, stomp, stomp… tap the cane and dance. My irreverent, creative self is back full on.

As Salvador Dali said, “I don’t do drugs. I am drugs.”