Wanna walk on the moon with me? Maybe kick a crater or splash in the Mare Imbrium – the Sea of Rains (actually it’s a lava bed)? November’s Super Moon will loom so large you’ll think it’s close enough to do that. Biggest moon in 70 years. Meet you there on November 14th. If you get there first, leave the lights on for me. I’ll look for your footprints.
A little moon magic
will put the Earth back in perspective for you and heal a lot of angst, and
judging by my emails/messages, many of you are candidates for that Rx right
about now. So many stressed-out emails/messages from fans and friends these
last few months. Whether or not the root cause is the bruising political
season, clearly a lot of people are hurting and hurting each other. Friendships,
relationships, families breaking up. Tears me up to see that. So whoever pissed
in your Cheerios (as a young actress friend of mine once said) head for the
Full Frost Moon or to whatever puts light and magic in your life. No one should
hunker down in the dark with the mushrooms. Feel like a kid again, pop some
bubblewrap, wing a stick end over end at a tree, lick your favorite color
crayon, dream, make tomorrow happen today, discover the love that’s only inches
from the other side of your wall, let the colors of a crowd bleed life into
you, mix and bake some cookies just so you can lick out the bowl, light up a
memory with a song that hit you like lightning when you were a teenager.
Do you know how to
let your magic loose? You just have to knock down that wall I mentioned. The
bricks are probably made of one part fear and one part guilt mixed with tears,
if not blood, so kick the sumgun down. Take a few chances – little ones, big
ones.
In my experience, people who are too cautious invariably wind up with the worst of two worlds. They procrastinate away their chances, and when they finally do make a move, it’s precipitous and too late. It’s like trying to cross a street in the middle of the block. You wait and wait and wait for the perfect time, but there is no perfect time. With no clue or instincts, you let a blind moment of courage galvanize you. You dash out into traffic and get hit from both directions, metaphorically speaking.
It’s almost as frustrating to watch as it is to be the procrastinator. You can see clearly what’s happening to that shrink-wrapped person, understand every nuance of the trap they are in, know how easy it would be for them to trust and succeed in reaching a greater version of themselves, and be stupefied at their equivocating and wasted opportunities. Psssst! Hey, you! Yeah, you. Up here. Wanna walk on the moon?
Here are some photos of the magic outside my windows. I didn’t invent the beauty of it, but even my paltry 3.1 megapixel cell phone can see the grandeur: #1-2 Crow Hassan field and trees getting naked; #3 my friend Debbie riding the not-so-lonesome trail; #4-6 Elm Creek, black-and-white day; #7 Mickey Magic blowing out her birthday candle stuck to the table; #8-9 a couple of my friend Linda’s photos, including the only end of the moose you want to meet unexpectedly and Mt. Denali; #10-14 a gorgeous view from my window; #15 couple of mirror shots and another on a horse trail (always wanted a picture of me standing next to a pile of horse manure).
WET, NAKED AND SCREAMING is the fourth column I’ve written for StorytellersUnplugged as part of a series describing my comprehensive theory on writing. Here’s the link: http://www.storytellersunplugged.com/2016/11/03/thomas-sullivan-marmaduke-goes-to-college-or-wet-naked-screaming/#respond
Snow was invented to cover up dead leaves after the autumn fashion parade. That’s how the earth heals and is reborn again in the spring. It’s a little like an election cycle, isn’t it? The factions strut their stuff, leaf-lets bombard us with color and flair as they blow across the earth, suffocating and burying whatever is alive until the first frost declares the final tally one November morn. Then comes the snow – gentle, wafting, silent, pure – shrouding the collateral damage so that it can heal and reconstitute itself. One night soon I will look out my window at 3 AM and see snowflakes settling down like descending angels in the nimbus of a streetlight. The holy white shroud will blanket the earth and for a season I will scribble this message on it with my skinny skis: “Heal, heal, heal...” Until then I offer you these words I posted on Facebook…
SULLY’S GUARANTEED, 100% SURE-FIRE, CAN'T MISS PLAN TO UNIFY AMERICA
All traffic lights will have colors added so that each cultural, religious, racial, political, gender and sexual orientation group will be assigned their own color that will allow them and only them to cross the street (those who identify as gay will be coded rainbow colors). All other groups will have to wait their turn and color code. However many separate groups there are, you must wait through all of them before your traffic light comes up to allow you to cross. After one week, any group may elect to give up their color and merge with another group, thus reducing the number of colors and the waiting time at stop lights. When and if all groups have elected to join together as one, the program will be terminated and we can get on to crossing the street together.
