Neptune opposite Mercury

I want to tell you what a relief it is when the relentless California sun–which I adore–is displaced for a morning or a day by gray skies, by the coastal fog that the hot hills have pulled in to cool them down.  I want to tell you about the colors of the ocean waves on these gray days in that moment just before they crash, but how do you name the play of light and shadow?  Even if I tried, these days words dissolve, go missing, take the shapes of different creatures.

I want to tell you how the name Velella Velella cannot describe the tiny beings washed ashore–their translucent skeletons, indigo blue skin both the sailor and the sail.  I want to tell you how we are all ferrying souls–our own–across great seas.  I want to tell you how the seaweed write silent haiku and how my favorite words in the English language are flotsam and jetsam.

corazon gray1 velela haiku21 green

Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2

Movement No. 1: Moderato.  I can’t remember ever not knowing this piece, but I don’t seek it out.  It always seems to find me.  I still hear it with the scratch of needle on vinyl, spinning on my dad’s hi-fi.  The scent of vinyl lingers in my memory more than four decades later.  On Sunday afternoons he taught me to hold stars in the heart of my earthly body.

Movement No. 2: Adagio sostenuto.  The dogs of Poli Street are howling high and long and slow.

Movement No. 3: Allegro scherzando. There are so many things I’ve remembered; others I’ve forgotten.  There are spaces when the forgetting and remembering merge into one and we simply inhabit the the notes.  We call this music or love.