Fall New (Samain) Moon
The Woolly meetings count down, now 2, November and December. Tonight a writing teacher came, courtesy of Charlie Haislet. We met in the casual room of the University Club, that quirky brick and ivy place where Summit curves north toward the cathedral and the state capitol.
We wrote, sharing pieces of our lives, not pieces held back necessarily, but pieces discovered in the writing and new then to the rest. It was a warm and loving meeting, for men of our age perhaps unusual, at least among the white educated demographic from which we all come.
I needed this immersion among my friends, my brothers because the week has been strenuous, even stressful. Yet, the time also points up the loss, heightens the foreground/background shifting of life now. Minnesota/Colorado. Colorado/Minnesota. In the mountains, on the Midwest.
When I drove down Highway 10 tonight, a point came where one sign indicated Minneapolis and the other St. Paul. Tonight I chose the left hand path since my destination was St. Paul. But, in a way that fork in the road sums up the last twenty years, living now north of two cities in which I have lived and places I love, going sometimes to this one and sometimes that.
The uncertainty of the mortgage underwriter decision process drains the joy out of this time for me and I look forward to knowing whether we will be able to proceed or not. If not, it’s back to the looking process. If so, it’s hop in the truck next week, canned goods and a computer onboard, an air mattress, a picnic set for dining at the new place, a bedroll. Signing documents here and there, talking to fencing contractors. Getting the new place turning toward our life.
