I go out in the early dawn to the top of the driveway, to shovel a bit of what’s left of demolition detritus (insulation plaster) into five-gallon buckets for disposal. On the way out I startle a deer in the back of the garden, who crunches off into the woods. After a few shovelfuls I hear more rustling ahead, and look up to spot another one twenty yards from me, watchful, wary. I sing and talk to her a bit, then continue with my business, looking up every few seconds. No longer concerned with me, she also gets on with her grazing. There isn’t much out there now. Things must be getting twiggy. I have unspoken thoughts about sneaking next door over the winter and bringing back buckets of fuel corn from the silo, broadcasting it in the meadow for the deer. Just once in a while, maybe. I could offer to pay Karl some money for occasional use of his corn.
The deer moseys off. I like that it doesn’t run.
Two nights ago we had a righteous brush fire in the fire pit. Cleared out everything since the Spring, when Rose pulled the giant grapevine out of the dead hickory with the tractor and chain. It was bigger around than my arm, and a mile long. This was the first fire in the ring of cinderblocks, and we cleared the whole big pile, including brush I cut last weekend from behind the house. Three people working on a brush pile is a good number. After, we had manicotti Rose had made earlier and warmed in my oven. She really wanted to talk to me about her session with the therapist last week, but Karl was there and he ate with us so no chance for girl talk yet.
I’ve had two episodes of congestion-related dizziness recently. It happens every so often and it’s inconvenient but not scary; a little Sudafed usually clears it up in an hour or so. Last night after dinner one of these things came on and it was the worst I’ve ever experienced. The vertigo was so bad I was weaving back and forth trying to walk across the room, thought I was possibly going to be sick. To add to the spinningness, Carol and I had a phone appointment to talk about what else she has on the books til June. I had requested no more gigs unless we discuss them first, as the schedule is quite full and my job and life are plenty inconvenienced already. (I didn’t put it that way to her; tried to stay positive.) She proceeded to give me five or six more gigs that weren’t on the website yet but which she has booked, and then several other possibilities that aren’t confirmed. I managed to put a cap on it, but not as soon as I’d have liked. It’s unfortunate that the only time we have to do business like that is often just before I go to bed. It leaves me roiling and unable to settle down.
Anyway, as it turned out I couldn’t settle down anyway, because the moment I became horizontal, my head spun so bad my eyes were going back and forth. Eventually I managed to get a little sleep, waking at 12:30, 1:30, and then at 3:00, after which I did not sleep again.
When people will say to me, “I can’t believe you’re breaking up! Why are you stopping touring?”, I will want to say, “A million reasons… and only one.”
I must get ready for work. There is so much more to say; moments I want to remember, like the deer, and the fat woodchuck trundling away over the yard, and how the morning glories are still blooming profusely. I keep telling myself, there will be time, after the touring is over. There will even be time in December, when we only have two holiday gigs and I managed to refuse booking anything else that month. And if I subtract December, it’s really only six and a half months.
How is it that a mitzvah feels so much like a penance? It’s a hard decision, whether to do what feels best for me or give over my comfort for the best interest of the band and risk resenting them. I remind myself that everything is my own perception, and that it’s possible to get myself into a place where it’s not only tolerable, but still valuable as well. The Shadow Self isn’t much fun to explore. But I suspect that is the opportunity I’ve been given here.
Healer, Musician, Bookmaker, Poet 
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