Three things from DAH.

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. I pen, promote, and make change (not the coin kind). 

First up this week, Ghost Light …  
No, not gaslight, although many of us have experienced that. A ghost light is a sort of theatrical nightlight or safety light. Imagine a naked lightbulb on a stand, preferably a rolling stand (easier to move about, fewer broken bulbs). It's set on the stage after a theatrical performance when all have gone home, and the set and work lights are dark. So that nobody falls into the orchestra pit or trips over bits of the set, see? Except that this is the theater, so a simple light is freighted with legend and meaning. Theaters are inhabited by spirits and ghosts, of those who trod the boards, ran the flies, or manned the catwalks. Good and loving spirits, mostly, but there's always a crank or two inhabiting a playhouse. The ghost light either keeps the ghosts from mischief or keeps them company. And the light does add to the magic of the stage. I love a barren stage, dimly lit by that single bulb after the audience has fled. Somehow it's home, and it makes so much feel possible. 
The Story Behind the Ritual that Still Haunts Broadway

Second up this week, Goldberg …  
Neither the cartoon designer of overly complex machines nor the professional wrestler, Natalie Goldberg is a zen practitioner and writing teacher. Her most famous book is Writing Down the Bones, a book I love and think I own, but can't find (!!!), so I've ordered a nice used copy that should have arrived by the time you read this. I need some sort of literary ghost light to manage the spirits in my library. Perhaps the light would attract them, like a moth to a flame, and thwart my favorite books' efforts to flee and hide from me. Goldberg suggests a practice of freewriting, a process credited to Peter Elbow (lovely name). The idea is just to write, without stopping or correcting, for a specified time or word-count limit. The objective is to free up creativity and to shake cobwebs from the mind. It's sort of a writing meditation practice. In freewriting, it's the act of unrestricted writing that matters, not the meaning of the resultant words on a page. And I'm very bad at it. Both meditation and freewriting, actually. I'm too easily distracted and constantly fighting the urge to self-edit as I write. I'm trying again, though, because so many creativity and writing processes recommend free writing. There must be something there. At a minimum, I figure I'll enjoy channeling some of my library spirits and forgotten memories. 
Keep The Hand Moving

Third up this week, Garnacha …  
I'm often asked about my favorite wine types. And I always forget (or fail to remember) Garnacha (or Grenache). Yet this red varietal is always lurking at the dark edges of my pleasure-memory. When we had our wine bar in San Luis Obispo, we sold, served, and enjoyed a lot of Garnacha, because there's a lot of old vine Garnacha in Spain (we specialized in Iberian and Iberian-inspired wines). Those old vine Garnachas offered great value, in enjoyability and price. And I've always adored the red blends of the southern Rhone River Valley: Côtes du Rhône and Châteauneuf-du-Pape (such a fun name to speak aloud). Grenache is essential to them. Why, oh, why then does this fabulous red varietal always spirit itself off to the outer reaches of my mind? This week I am purposeful. I ordered a couple of bottles of Groundwork Grenache (made by Sans Liege on the Central Coast) from Amy G at Dixon's Pip Wine Bar. She delivers! This evening we'll open a bottle, pour, swirl, sniff, savor and summon up the spirited memory of great Garnachas and Grenaches we've enjoyed in the past. 
Call it grenache or garnacha, but order this wine when you want big flavor

And a bit more, the opening stanza of Christina Rossetti's The Hour and the Ghost:
O love, love, hold me fast,
He draws me away from thee;
I cannot stem the blast,
Nor the cold strong sea:
Far away a light shines
Beyond the hills and pines;
It is lit for me.

And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's poem "Sometimes" …  

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it. 
 

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