I just read the most recent post of the COD and narrative momentum. It was humorous, playful, creative, and intriguing. I especially liked the musical thread that was brought in or appeared. Just before I read your reference to the “music of the spheres” and Pythagoras, I had written down the words “music of the spheres” as I took notes. It felt like this galactic sense of music flowed into the writing. An example of this is when there is a description of the movement of celestial objects as “ ..travelling along the Hindu arms of the spiral galaxy at unheard of orbital speeds.” I really like that image and can see and feel it.
I have a special fondness for multi-fingered Xhactu with his iridescent hummingbird coloring. He seems to be representative of the “Other” and because of this is bringing something new into the narrative. His deep desire to learn to play music (the bagpipes) is touching somehow.
I like the way in which music is combined with three secrets. The second secret which is connected to the "longing for love not found” made me feel and see an image of a lone wolf howling. Of course, the third secret to be revealed is left hanging in the air. A good way to end the section, which evokes the desire to find out what that might be. Whatever it is, it seems to be connected to the “drone” and ancient music. I have a vague inkling of where this may lead.
The writing in this section felt evocative to me. Also, there were new narrative threads that appeared which were woven into the story. The magical quality of serendipity also came into play. I learned something new about the original meaning and source of the word "quarantine” - how it evolved out of the Black Plague and is connected to an Italian word that means 40 days. That was interesting.
Here is a short story I have to share: when I was about 5 years old, my parents moved to Seattle where we lived in a houseboat on Lake Union. It’s the first house I remember living in. It was situated at the end of a dock so that we had a great view of the lake itself. I especially remember the interior of the house which was somewhat nautical in design. There was an older Scottish gentleman who lived alone near us on the same dock. My dad, who was always quite neighborly, befriended hm and he came to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. Everyday at around 6 p.m. he would play the bagpipes and we could hear the music. It’s an experience I have always remembered. The sound of the bagpipes always pulls Chris back to Nova Scotia. For me, they pull me back to that houseboat in Seattle
Hi Estela,
Thanks so much for your response to Russ’s and my recent COD scenes and episodes.
Writers need readers, of course. But I suspect that generous feedback from readers like you—and a precious few others—is rare. Many writers would be hard-pressed to say just how readers were being affected by their writing. It’s the old “note-in-bottle” phenomenon. Stuff the note into a bottle, toss the bottle into the waves and currents, and watch it bob into the distance. Then, scan the horizon, waiting for a sail, a smokestack, or a make-shift raft. Even a sprouting coconut to wash back up on shore would be an “event.”
But your comments solve that bottle-problem in a big way—more than the coconut could—and I want to thank you. I’d bet Russ feels the same way.
Your childhood story about the experience of living on a nautically-themed houseboat on Lake Union, complete with the old Scottish piper who lived down the dock and fired up his bagpipes every evening at around six, is just so delicious. It’s so uncanny, I’m inclined to take it as a form of synchronicity. Do you agree?
Thanks again, Estela.
Paco
Hi Paco:
It seems that we never really know where our words and images will fly to and land. Following the evolution of your and Russ’ novel writing process has been like a journey of exploration – a thought provoking adventure of sorts. In addition, it has led me to a level of “story” that stems from deeper sources, such as dreams, visions and other altered states of consciousness (i.e. the initial perceptual shift that gave birth to Fex & Coo.)
After writing about my childhood houseboat/piper experience, I wondered what had triggered this memory. Certainly the bagpipe image in the COD partially led me there. However, in some odd way, it was the sound of the bagpipe which I heard internally that cemented the connection to that experience (sound to memory).
Your question about synchronicity is interesting. Initially, I thought it might be related to the COD bagpipe image leading me to the houseboat/piper experience. Then I remembered that the Fex & Coo gang, plus Owl Man and Heron Man, met together in the houseboat in Seattle. At that time, I felt a familiar sense of place with regards to this setting. But the deeper connection to “home” occurred with the music of the bagpipe and piper in the COD. Interesting connections – separate experiences over time, and yet in some profound way they interconnect with one another. In some strange way, I now feel that my connection to the COD story is more internal than external, and that it resonates more deeply within.
Thank you Paco.
Estela
Hi Estela and John,
I send my thanks to both of you for your kind responsiveness to FC, DCL and COD. What a difference your observations and participations make!
My computer has been in and out of the shop recently, a petty aggravation in itself, but it has played havoc with my own ability to respond to both of you, and others, in return.
I’m looking forward to further deepening of this unusual experiment.
Best wishes and thanks again,
Paco
BIRDS
our backyard is wildly overgrown
so many birds now come
tea-tree is dying
i sculpt remaining branches
two large crows perch
on the highest peak
watch me place their breakfast
on the porch railing
i have learned not to look directly
but sideways, my body still…
no odd movements
whooshing black wings descend
blotting out the morning light
one eats too much
mate grabs tail feathers and tweaks them
threat displays subside
gobbling takes over
then the family of three arrive
one mother magpie with
two screaming young ones
they almost eat out of my hand
we can look at one another boldly
mother assaults the crows
who give ground and
return to my tea-tree, sated
brimming with this morning music
I warble to my crows and maggies
wild attracts wild
they gaze back a moment
then launch easily on
drawn by some mysterious pull
from the horizon
black white patches against blue
Hi John:
What a wonderful poem! I took some time to let it sink in more deeply. The images of the birds in their natural environment are evocative. I felt like I was in the experience of the morning ritual you have with the “crows” and “maggies,” listening to the “morning music.”
I had to smile when you say that the crows “watch me place their breakfast/on the porch railing….” I have a similar ritual of feeding blue jays,leaving peanuts on our deck railing as they watch and then swoop down to retrieve the treats.
The “mysterious pull” you speak of is striking and I wonder where this pull comes from within us as well.
Estela
Thank you Estela. This “pull from the horizon” is related to COD’s Ep 19-20: “some reality that is coming,” (98) When we tap into the creative process we often take what we want and appropriate it to our needs. We miss that pull which is a pull or tension coming from the “other side” which wants to incarnate through us, even as we are pulled into its orbit. This cultural “blind spot” is a major factor in the current chaos. See my latest post here coming in a few minutes. Cheers, John