I Identify with Alaskan Pride, or things you can do with pig fat.

Most of the following photos are by Peter Alcock.

It’s fair time.  There is nothing else to do except hope to feed the masses under sunny skies or stay dry or commiserate with my fellow seasonal carnie-vores.  With it being the last fair (at least in this guise – who knows for certain what the future will bring) for myself, I observe and question.

If I do too much observing and questioning of those around me, it can feed a fire I don’t want at this time to manage.  So I am doing my best to go inward, taking the bits that bug to turn them into pieces that assist my living.  It isn’t easy much of the time; mis-perceived hurts and old, old dynamics are at play.  Yet, going inward is the best move.

I’ve done a bit of waffling, going over my decision to leave this chapter of my life behind.  That’s ok though, because with each sway between ‘yes’ and ‘I don’t know’, I keep coming back to ‘yes’ with a clarity that feels right to trust.  Its always a risk to go into the unknown, and it would be foolish to not weigh the risk and seek good passage through changing currents.

So much unspoken in those around me, and I die a bit to get it out of them.  Their curious ideas and remarks that stay hidden, the flashes of anger, uncertainty and relief… confusion.  Eckhart Tolle talks about the transformative power of becoming conscious, and explains it very thoroughly.  He also preaches the futility of bringing anyone else to light (if it were a rap song it would go like: “It’s nun’yo biz-ness).  It won’t work to force someone to see something he or she isn’t ready to face.  Doesn’t that just make so much sense?  Sure does.  Accepting that fact is another dance move entirely.

So I’m doing this and I am actually coming back to love.  Loving these people despite the slights.  As one teacher put it… “I love you in spite of yourself.”  And it feels pretty good.

I want to be an artist everyday.  This desire has been foundation, it’s sprung me from trap after trap, like a heart song.  A heart song being the tune that’s best for you, the one you hear and love and many times it takes a minute for others to get.  I keep hearing my song; I’ve gone round the way to heed it and burst through many a dungeon door to find an accepting night sky waiting, waiting to accept the next leap into unknown territory.

But not wholly unknown, because the song goes before me and I KNOW THAT SONG.

The song gets stronger the more I heed it.  I get happier, coincidence happens, little hints along the way play out.  I’m healthier for it, removing toxins to the tune of The Sex Bob-Ombs or “Crystallized.”

There might be some mourning to do.  Just a bit, for long held structures of life now condemned, now falling empty.  ‘Once was’ can be a nice way to spend an hour or two walking around the fairgrounds.

But you can’t stay on the ferris wheel forever (or CAN you???), so many tickets and the ride is done.

Onwards…