Look like a chipmunk in this selfie...
Today i chatted to my course director, it is great the way everything in my life is now in the one place, about my thesis. I now have like a clear direction, as clear as the Study of Man gets, of course.
I've been up nights trying to pin down the way Thinking, Feeling and Willing works in the spirit and it is fascinating. I swear i do not look at people the same way any longer. I do not judge them. Consequently i also do not feel like i need to fix them. It can be a very strange feeling being thus detached.
I hope that it is but a temporary thing because the goal is not detachment but compassion. To heal with inner love.
But you know. Am eminently practical, and it frustrates me when anything has no practical application. Hence my ire with the latest in high heeled shoes. Do not understand that at all.
Life passed in the peaceful hills of Holywood without incident. There were no gridlocks, planes falling from the sky, nor did we catch the bubonic plague. The G8 has passed us by without incident. Yesterday i went to collect Oisin from Velcrow Ripper's showing of Occupy Love. The director himself was there. The Canada Room in Queens was full and there were a few people i recognised. I smiled at them. But really, im here for my son... I got Oisin after listening to Sir Ripper tell us how he got his name, and then i had a great conversation with Oisin about Love and Hate. He likened it to Light and Dark and said, if you d not have darkness you cannot sleep. I said, youd also have no colour for colour is the play between light and dark. Yes! He replied, we are doing physics now and we are doing colour. I drew and yinyang symbol on my physics book because it was about the balance between light and dark. Anyway, who is to say that hate is dark? Yes, he said, because really strong white light is very painful.
There is not a day i regret him having had a Steiner education. It was a heavy wet summer's evening and the roses were out. I plucked one and inhaled its vegetal presence. A rose, Oisin, i said. Let me smell it, he said. It smells of cabbages. My darling, beautiful son.
We drove home and chatted about raising money, working in the film industry, the Occupy movement, punk, colour and...all those things that moms and sons are able to talk about.
Yep, this is being happy.