I made the pumpkin scones. And they were cute, though I’m not going to bother you with the recipe. I’m still on the hunt for perfect pumpkin scones…scones to bring me back to the Greenmarket on Union Square circa 2007, scones bursting with golden raisins, pecans, crystallized ginger and pure, unadulterated autumn. If you have any leads, I’m open. And um, also, I can only say that I must be doing better if I can soliloquize my thoughts on scones rather than torrenting anguish all over the place.
Better is a relative term. I am considerably less miserable this week than last. A lot of lucky stars are being thanked. Do I think it will last? Nothing lasts–who even came up with that question? But I have a learned a few useful things.
For instance, even though change (read: unwanted, highly undesired, horribly unwelcome change) is a major bitch, there are things that help. All you people coming out of the woodworks to tell me your stories, say that you hear me, and send so much love–that does wonders. Also, crawling out of my small hovel of personal anguish to actually talk to my family, to tell them I love them, to commiserate that things are weird and messed-up but also necessary–that does wonders too. Nobody’s doing marvelously. And we’re not together physically, or legally, or emotionally in ways we have been in the past. But we are in this together, and we are all surviving.
Making space for new understanding in this cramped-up body and brain is no easy thing. But letting go is the lesson of the day, and that does nothing if not make space. I was hoping to say something profound about the moon and changing times, but mostly I’m just grateful to be getting by, grateful for your care, and making wishes to be as vast and open as the sky, that no amount of anguish can knock me down ‘cuz the impact blows right through. One of these days, yo’, one of these days…