I’m pretty happy this morning. Happy? Content, perhaps.
I woke up at 7.30am at Jozarts Studios to a world of cold mist and grey light. Enough to make me dream of cold pre-winter mornings that stretch into velvet, sunless days. I fell back asleep and woke up to Dave Pahanish playing guitar and golden sun streaming in through the huge, vaulted windows. As people start coming through the coffeehouse, he switches on the stage PA and starts playing Joni Mitchell and some bluegrass. His kids have come in and are running around in circles, and the light just keeps streaming in.
It actually really reminds me of the end of a Grave Shift back at MICA… coming off a full night of consciousness and deep conversations and vague concerns. Morning is always a shock, because you almost can’t imagine the world in light again. Gentle fatigue pulling at you, but you also are well into your second wind, and could stay up forever if you had to… and there was a very specific morning light to the Gatehouse in the early morning – encased in gold from sunlight streaming through the Courtyard and reflected off the glass of the neighbouring elementary school. Always quiet acoustic music gets you into the morning on the old, painted tape deck…. I’m feeling pretty good this morning.
It’s one of those painfully beautiful moments – something that’s hard to contain. I think that the feeling specifically goes with the notion of being alone. Having no-one to turn to and share it with. It’s an overflow danger feeling of near explosion of glory of sunshine and sound and whatever else is going through my tired brain. Maybe just the glorious euphoria of too much tea.
