A month of Sundays and Divine intervention a Shaman Story if you would believe me.

(This was a draft and as twists would have it something that will haunt me as my path twisted from this plan, but I wanted to post it anyway because that healing was amazhing and I should let it float out in the universal instead of sitting in a digital vault.) Well with a week and counting to Burning Man and to leap back to the otherside of the pool to swim in warmer waters as a preemptive strike to the bad weather burn of Winter and my health function concerns, I set up a date with a Shaman Lady that is an exorcist of the bad stuff. The things that have been nesting in my bones and body making me eat my pain, not speak my truth and generally sabatoge my living experience, some of which has been there maybe lifetimes, some of which I remembered as it had been shadowed away from my memory. But here is what is strange so if you think about Harry Potter and keeping pieces of souls what would be better than a living crystal? Am I getting into some awkward territory? Try living this. So several weeks ago my Uncle met this couple and I really felt that they had more to do with me than with him, he of course could never imagine such a notion, but Linda and I kept looking at each other, and just found an easy conversational space for some of the most esoteric of subjects. And then I took the dog for a walk down a different street and basiclly walked right up the house they have been remodeling. It was then she mentioned that she did healing work, Indeed I needed healin-

In bed with Beethoven and the illusion of recovery

It is with a broken heart and a twisted wreck of a fighter body that I type these mental etchings into the vast stratosphere pleading my case to the sands of time and the winds of fate. On route to Burning Man and my new exciting fearless life of creative freedom and epic sunsets on the beach and perhaps that true love I've been working up the worth for, well I got bitch slapped right on the ass by a big white truck and I have been derailed back to Denver where there never ceases to be things to get nested in but also the neon glow of Denver has now been turned a fluorescent, And as I lie in bed finally with a day simply to catch my bones before they drop right off, I found the documentary of Beethoven now I am really not trying to say that my prattles and vaguely ingenious insights into the minds and hearts of a crumbling civilization are hardly worthy comparison to the greatest composer of all time, but it brought me comfort that he too.... struggled with health troubles that held him back and he turned out to be the best, in fact maybe it made him the best because his struggles pushed him. I fold in. And yet the only thing I had the strength to do was to find a room in a home of ladies on the brink of breakdown. I have unpacked found a job which I promptly quit today, baring the pain of the body and the mind numbing "work" it seems I am a snob even when crumpled like a rejected paper airplane I still demand purpose. It was cultural rehab that has 1st installed an active voice. A haven for the weary and maybe the fiery that want to do more in the parameters. Not everyone can be so brutally punished with frustrations as Beethoven to be in the shadow of a prodigy yet discover your own talents swell to such immortal proportions only to be constantly ripped apart by deaf ears and weak bowels. To never have the comfort of lasting love and the solace of companionship. Yes today I snuggled with the inner muse that must face that my game plan and time line have once again felt altered. But unlike last year, when I I braced my neck and clung to ropes, I have learned that I will swing again. That my spirit will not splinter under the task of another rebuild but that it will bend and mold itself and that I have only one task and that is to make. I am a lover and laughter and a doer in life and no truck can ram that out of me.
So 2012 I do beg your indulgence and my hail mary pass but we will get there.