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Denver Discordance November 27, 2010

Posted by frostwolftfirerose in Capital Region Notions, Cultural Janitorial Detail, Mystical, Personal Journey.

Well, whew!  Back from Denver, and I have a lot of feelings about it.  The most salient aspect however is that I have truly and thoroughly “enalienized” myself to the place.

“Enalienized” here means that my resonance has altered such that Denver no longer feels “home” to me.  Appropriately enough it’s the trees that sort of tipped me off to this.  In my journey to Denver, there was the obligatory trip to the old homestead in what is now Centennial, but what was once unincorporated Littleton when I was upgrowing dabei.

The fun thing was that on the day I went, I met my new friends Jade and Shen Tat at the delicious Mercury Cafe.  On the waay there, I realized that I had dreamt about the route thereto.  I took Broadway north from Evans, and it turns into Lincoln near Exposition, and from Lincoln I turned onto 18th which twisty-turnied all around.  (The dream really started with the turn off Lincoln.)  En route to the Merc, I had a call to drive south after my brunch with them, which was delic ious in terms of both company and food and lasted almost 3 hours!

Driving south, I went first to Spiritwise, and bought a few objects including a functional sculpture of a jawbone with a bat on it for dispelling that which no longer serves me, a bat ring and a wolf sculpture.

I drove further South still, for I felt I needed to go a certain route to the old homestead.  I didn’t realize it at the time but I was on a rigte of initiation of some sort, for I made a “wrong” turn onto Eudora Street off Dry Creek and found myself at my next destination, the place I meant to go all along.

Medema Park.

This little parklet was the closest one to my Littleon abode from 1976 to 1982.  And there was a tree here that was calling to me.  Emburon, by name.  A pine tree of course, who was to give me a bit of instruction.  I made a 2nd pilgrimage later to Emburon, bearing an offering of chocolate.  (E would have preferred Ghirardelli, but had to setle for Lindt, alas.)  I’m now charged with discovering “tree speed.”  Which is simultaneously slow and fast, needless to say.  Slow in the “reality” of meatspace, but circulation wise, lightning quick.

Anyway, after my first encounter with Emburon, I realized I had contracted food poisoning somewhere.  Funny, but now that I’m writing this, I wonder if there wasn’t another awareness that had inserted itself into me through my interaction with the tree that put me in touch with the discordance underlying.  Anyway, I spent that night doubled over in stomach pain.  And my days thereafter were a bit dissonant.

Upon arrival dissonance was thematic however.  I took the wrong turn off of Tower Road and ended up on 104th Ave., nearer the older Northglenn homestead (near 120th and N. Washington, actually).  I took another twisty-turny journey (ah, a theme!), that took me to the general area where my Daddles used to work when I upgrew, and from where he was cast out in the first wave of ditching longtime employees nearing full pension.  Ah, Ronald Reagan farts farts farts!

From that Sunday-Monday onwards, my trip took on a much more bittersweet hue.  It always was going to be thus, seeing as the last time I was in Denver, I was part of a couple, and now I am the single guy again.  I’m now also a published author, and I sold 4 of my Doom Sonnets for After the vEmpire. So again, the bittersweet and the twisty-turny.  A rather blackthorn experience this trip, I guess.  And a loneliness started to insinuate itself into the Work of this God.  And the trees were there to gently support this awareness.

On Thanksgiving Day, I was with my sister and her family, and there was a moment in the afternoon, when I was by myself in the kitchen washing some pot or other, and that loneliness made his embarke’d experience known.  I have to say it was a total surprise, and a familiar feeling I’ve not experienced in a LONG time.  And that was when the awareness started to settle in as well, that Denver was not home.

And another awareness.  That I am going to have to have a lot of courage going forward with the new aspect of my Work as Professional Playwright-Producer.  I have a title for my new company–“Cultural Janitorial Detail.”  To accord with the Morell aspect of my being.  To put all of it together, actually.  Also fun–CJD also stands for Creuzfeld-Jakob Disease.  CJD is the medical acronym that denotes “Mad Cow Disease.”  CJD to transform the cultural CJD that afflicts us all.

Even though my sensibility is decidedly “Denver,” and those who live there know exactly of what I speak, it doesn’t agree with me.  As I sit here writing this blog entry, and feeling it’s woefully incomplete, I feel a vague sense of nausea as if the food poisoning of 6 days ago is always going to be associated with Denver going forward.  Lovely.  I’m back in the Hudson-Mohawk region, and I have some plans for the day now.  Today is the first day I’ve been able to incorporate Emburon’s task in my practice, which has pointed to certain activities.  (This was not among them, alas.  But still, it was something I felt compelled to do.)

I look forward to how my own Big Eden will manifest in this delicious and “deicious” (thank you o goddess of typos!) place.  Unfold ye sacred heaven on earth, rightcheer in Adirondack land.



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