Something happens to me and I am new again. There are a few of these things. The things that happen to me that make me new again. Like the breaking of a spell, the spell book written only by me, that lovers and friends and neighbors seem to find the keys to. I am on the edge of mystery, beholden to touch and to taste and to sounds that do not betray me. I am befallen but only for a moment, one that I will withstand with ease.
I commit to staying out of the realm of the ordinary, lingering just outside of what is expected and what is pre determined to have a life so wildly different that it shocks my own system into something new and imperceivable. Owning the house, no more u-hauls to rent, dog by the fire, things are in their place and only the bank could move them.
The light turns on in my head the one that says, this could be the last time you are new again. This could be the last time that you have this feeling or this hope or this vision. But it’s never true. Everything is repeatable. It is the promise of repetition that I let myself open up to new possibility, new thresholds, new mountains to climb to see over. There is so much less grasping when I linger in the waltz of again and again and one more time.
I am not new in the way that I don’t recognize myself, but new in the way that I measure love by how many times I’ve listened to Silver Springs in a day. The way I measure love by how many times I’ll call Jade just to see if they’re done getting their facial yet. The way Tam sends eleven voice notes in a row to tell me a story.
The way I measure love now has little to do with falling and everything to do with already being there, with already being in the stillness of not knowing. In the coasting beneath the ridge there is a place for love to find its way under each rock and each pebble. Love will have its way with me, this I know to be true. This is repeatable. This is repetition at its core. I say her band name and the bank teller says who? I am relieved that not everyone knows who breaks my heart.
To stay out of the realm of the ordinary requires a devotion so miraculous that it tests my spirit greatly. You have to draw the ladder with your eyes closed but you can’t get on it. You have to inch your way toward the back row of the drive in theatre and dial the radio to just the right frequency. You have to throw your hands in the air and say yes to every small move, caution to the wind, nothing can stand in your way or the ordinary will consume you.
Standing at the edge of the water I watch my little ships go out to sea, my projects one by one floating alongside each other, destined to reach who they will reach in their perfect timing. Everything in its divine hour I turn toward this eclipse portal with reverence for the riddle, no task too small to add to the cauldron.
No spell too small to be written.
FLEXIBLE OFFICE : WE START TOMORROW!
An experimental digital co-working space for artists, weirdos, writers, novelists, parents, coffee roasters, weavers, activists, and anyone who wants to co-work!
APRIL 2 - MAY 30 + Tuesdays and Thursdays 8-10 PST / 11-1 EST
Yes hello tomorrow its true TOMORROW Flexible Office starts and I knowwwww you’ve been waiting to officially sign up until the last minute because of your blooming neurodivergence and thats why I never close registration not even until an hour after we start because I KNOW HOW THIS WORKS
A place for tornado people designed by a tornado person : Flexible Office is where dreams come true and dreams are manifested and we do it together never alone. Alone time with others. Quiet time with each other.
Tomorrow we kick off with a visioning and goal setting session that will be recorded in case you can’t make it. Blessed be :)
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⌇⋰ Email : info@codycookparrott.com