Whatever This is, it’s *A* Moment
Dispatches from the Underground brings us the hottest last-minute Friday afternoon facts, including perspective, disappointment, ritual, and a phenomenal new album
It’s hilarious how much we so often not only resist the things we really need but sometimes also reject the best gifts we are given. Most of the time, we don’t even realize it.
I thought of this yesterday as I found myself frustrated and tired, just as I’ve felt nearly every day for the last three or four weeks. It’s a busy time. I’m getting a great deal finished up, working against deadlines, constantly feeling behind (because I am behind) — and none of this has anything to do with my actual day job, which still, audaciously, continues to exist and consume so many of my waking hours.
In the end, I suspect I will succeed at getting everything done, but how late will I be? It’s not like I’m going to actually hit the deadlines — look what I’m doing now, writing Dispatches at 3 pm on a Friday! What if I’m too late? What if opportunities are missed? What if people are waiting for me in a way that is legitimately unfair (anybody that knows me knows I’m comfortable causing a little bit of waiting).
What made me laugh at myself yesterday, however, is that I realized I was yet again ignoring all the things I talk to other people about all the time, that I was grumbling about things I had very intentionally brought on myself, things that I very much still value and desire. That is to say, it occurred to me that the reason the work is so heavy is because this is the work of the harvest — and the harvest this year is bountiful! That means lots of work, but I have so much to do because I’ve done so much sowing and tending and growing all year long, that it’s all coming out of the ground and I’ve got to get it out and store it so it doesn’t rot and so I avoid getting overly hungry in the cold season to come.
Shouldn’t this have been obvious? If you ever forget such things, remember that even the Wizard of Monadnock does too, and does all the time.
Moreover, this is why we have harvest festivals. It’s not just because celebration is good and important and because it’s great to mark something as significant as the annual harvest. It’s also because when we bust ass all year and then bust ass even more to make it all worth it with a proper harvest, we deserve some time to let loose and soak it all up.
Not that I ever really need an excuse, but this year I feel particularly justified.
Along those lines, I might point out that I never actually finished my Lammas: Waters and Roads series. I mean, I suppose we could leave it right where it is; the three existing parts say a great deal on their own, and perhaps that’s sufficient. But the reader doesn’t really know the end of the story — and part of that is because I don’t really know it myself.
I don’t know for sure if I’ve figured out this whole hobbit-elf thing or whether or not I’ve become soft, receptive, and chill enough. I suspect I still have a ways to go, but I’ll tell you this much: I suspect that this weekend’s Equinox activities will help me sort things out. I’m spending some time tomorrow atop the mountain(well, mostly on its sides — the top is awfully crowded) and Sunday I’ll be helping to lead an outdoor Equinox church service at the Cathedral of the Pines, one I helped to design.
Make no mistake, we’re doing this right. And I’m gonna figure this out.
My favorite thing about today is the release of Haley Jane’s first solo album, Live from the Sound Retreat. Find it on the streaming services; I’ve been listening to it all day. I’ve actually been hoping for a Haley Jane solo acoustic album for well over a year, since back when I got utterly hooked on the Facebook Live videos she would broadcast during solo performances and sometimes just with her and a guitar in a room somewhere. They’re magical.
Her electric performances and albums with The Primates (now officially on hiatus) absolutely blaze with remarkable energy. Her work as one half of Yes Darling (along with Ryan Montbleu) can’t be described as anything other than genius. But when it’s just Haley Jane and her guitar, she really puts her whole soul out there on on display — and it’s just utterly beautiful.
It is a live album, but aside from the muted applause between songs it’s hard to remember it’s not recorded in a studio. The sound is incredible. Her voice itself is quite singular — nobody sings like she does — but it’s her inflection, her spirit, the way she says it that just kills me every time. It’s the range. She can go from cute and playful to quietly mournful, to powerful (in the vein of like Diana the Goddess powerful), to a deep, dark, guttural passion that seems to cut to the root of being a person.
I’m hooked on certain lyrics — this one, from “Heart House”, the first track:
It felt like a boulder lift,
Like Sisyphus,
But the problem is,
That’s not fair.
And my memory slips,
But I admit
I remember we tripped -
Trip fantasia -
Oh, I recall you standin’ there laughin’
With your green coat on,
Oh, I, I never let go
Of the lovin’ we made with the lights on.
Also I just learned it’s her birthday — kinda touching that she would choose to give US such a gift on her own birthday. Thanks, Haley. The rest of you, go listen.
Last thing because I’m out of time: the fact that there are actually people at Area 51 today is the feel-good story of the year.