16 November 2012

The Trouble I See

Sometimes everything breaks at the same time. Light bulbs burn out. Batteries expire. Printers jam.

Sometimes everything breaks at the same time for a few days in a row.

Some people call it "a run of bad luck" but in my mind that phrase is only used when drugs or bloodshed are involved.

There's a scene in the movie "Pinocchio" that takes place in the belly of a whale. The image lives like archetype in my head:  tossed and tumbled in the garbage-cluttered swell of a contained ocean, the sound of water echoing in a large space.  This image comes to mind lately. There's no terror but things are falling apart around me. First one thing and then another. "What next?" is the cry from the whale's belly.

The thought occurs "I should be careful" and I consider it. The thought stems from belief that I've floated into a maelstrom and I have no control over events.

It's true I'm powerless. The car battery dying was not my doing. The heel of my shoe falling off is the result of a chemical decay process of glue and wood and leather over which I have no inluence.

But if there is such a thing as a cosmic Things Falling Apart tsunami, I have no control over it either. It will move on when it moves on.

It helps that at the same time, wonderful things are happening in my life:  I am writing songs again. A friend's timely gift of money facilitated replacement of the car battery and purchase of super glue to repair my shoe.

I'm meeting the people I need to meet to accomplish what I want to accomplish.

The choice is between focusing on the calamities -- being cautious, feeling sad and afraid -- and  noting calamity while focusing on the creative business at hand.

When I was growing up, my father called it "Kinchlow luck" when things went "wrong." He expected things to go wrong -- misfortune was attached to his name in his mind -- but he remained jovial. He was a mail carrier and believed his job required a happy face.

Now he's retired and it's like his energy for putting on the good face ran out. Now he's just stuck with "Kinchlow luck."

Some beliefs persist like wearing a suit made of heavy, dirty carpeting.

A current project is to create a public story-telling space in Holly Springs. I want to launch the Story Circle and community story plays here. I'm inspired to this work because sharing stories through theater is transformative. It can turn dirty carpet into something to dance on instead of wearing.

How do I share this with Daddy?