It's November, mid-November, and as I noted at this same time last year, the chard and mustard and arugula and kale are all a big go. We'll see how far I get with these greenhouse greens this winter, though. I suspect the plants need to be in the ground - some kind of ground, to really do it right. Things like to be in the soil.

I'm waiting - laying in a bed of fertile soil - for a god to believe in. I'm sure whoever my savior is, he's involved in the playing of flutes. A Rahsaan or a Jethro. Perhaps Krishna himself, out in the cow pasture or grove. Blue jays are the entertainment out the window these days, and all else is brown and the green grass is slowly muting. Some herbs - sage, parsley, sorrell - still going. Otherwise the hillside has that empty clear bare November look.

A lot of it comes down to town or country. I don't believe in town and all the sophistication and ineffectiveness it produces. People who live in town want to report to other people, want a lot of mirror reflection. I don't want it, or want to not want it. When I'm all done with town I'll be done with fame - wonder when that will be. I hope this music thing isn't another way into town but it probably is. I want trees to listen. Even if it isn't time to rest completely in a god now, at least I know I want to get there. Maybe my understanding of rest isn't accurate about how to be a contemplative in the world:

"As you work, as you come and go, and you pass among the crowds, to be a contemplative will simply mean that you try to turn to the Jesus within you and enter into conversation with him, as with the one you love most in the world."
- Little Sister Magdeleine of Jesus

I might be wrong about the whole town thing.

I realized a few weeks ago that it's only a bad attitude I've had that there is no original fresh dancing possible. If I think there's no original dancing possible, then there isn't. But if I think there is always original fresh dancing possible, then there is. It's all potentially original fresh dancing, perfectly appropriate and necessary for that moment, or even earth-shattering. It has nothing to do with a linear sense of time, or what's been done before, or the history of contemporary or experimental dance. That's always been just a big mud pile in any given moment.

This rite includes appearances by Carlyn Levy, Paul Besaw, and Chelsea Rhyll, and was filmed during a workshop at UVM led by Jennifer Monsoon and Robin Vachal on dance and camera, performing and perception.