Lunar New Year

It's been a day of messages, strange luck and unexpected meetings; one of those mysterious days that come in early February, when communication seems to flow along with the breeze.

At midnight comes the Lunar New Year. The pig is a symbol of carefree fun, good fortune and wealth. May the Year Of The Pig be good you.

Journeys

One night, around 10 o'clock, I went into the shop on the corner. Dale the manager was lost in thought. He had the next three days off, he said, and was heading to the beach. He'd thought about driving down that night, as soon as he closed at 11, but he wasn't sure. Maybe he should just wait until tomorrow.

Outside, the wind was from the West and the sky was full of stars. There was hardly a car on the road. Oh, no, I told him, it's a perfect night for driving. As long as you're awake, you should definitely go tonight.

Dale surveyed the view from the open door. He said, you know, you may be right. I think I will go tonight after all.

Later, after I went to bed, I could imagine Dale driving, winding down from the hills into the coastal plains. Red tail lights disappearing into the starry horizon. I fell asleep comforted by the thought of journeys and the way the landscape never truly sleeps, even in the dark.

Coffee After Midnight

When  you are able to take a night drive with your beloved, and you have change for a cup of coffee, even the most ordinary symbol can become beautiful.

The M stands for McDonald's but maybe also Mysterious, Mystical, Midnight, More.

Genius Loci

We named it the house sprite because we didn't know what else to call it, but Genius Loci is probably more fitting.

The first time I recall noticing it was the morning of my third birthday, when I got out of bed and found the house empty.  It was so quiet, the only sound was the humming of the fans. I was still small enough then that the house seemed big and mysterious, something wondrous to be roaming around alone. I wandered down the hall, past the open bedroom doors which suddenly seemed to have a strange significance. It's beyond me to describe it now, but there seemed to be a presence there, something unseen that seemed to vibrate with delight. It was my birthday, so I was full of anticipation of course, but the giddy otherness seemed unmistakable.

When the family began to drift back into the house from wherever they'd been, the presence disappeared and I remember being disappointed. Still, the presence (if we can call it that) would turn up again and again.

Often it would be lingering in the kitchen when I'd sneak in to grab an illicit snack. That was the most common way to find it, but it wasn't confined to the house by any means. Sometimes you'd find it slipping  around corners or messing about the flower beds on sunny afternoons. It gave me the impression that it was giggling.

Simple enough to understand this as a childish whimsy, some externalization of my own nature. After all, the presence did seem somehow female and a little mischievous. Perhaps the sort of Family Circus type "Not Me" character that robbed the cookie jar when no one else was around. That said, it's not something I thought about much. It was just something that was there, a sort of mood or feeling that would crop up at odd places around the house. There was nothing to see or hear, and it certainly wasn't scary, so there was not much cause to wonder about it. Or mention it, either...you learn early on you aren't supposed to talk about things like that.

So it was in the years after I'd left home that it rarely entered my mind. It wasn't exactly that I'd forgotten about it - it figured heavily in memories of the Summer mentioned here, for instance - but what was there to say? Every place has its own mood and atmosphere, and it nearly always defies description.

It was certainly far from my thoughts the day I came back to the house where I grew up. My original family had been irreparably changed and broken by then, and the sadness was overwhelming. So imagine my surprise when I walked into the kitchen one morning and found the bubbly presence there, just like it was 1981 and no time had passed at all.

Since time had passed and I was an adult now,  I was curious. What caused this odd little sensation? It was not like a ghost, not something that made you feel watched or frightened; but it did seem to have identifiable movements, places where it definitely was or wasn't.

While going about my duties, mapping its rambles became a cheerful distraction. Given the unhappiness in the house, it wasn't hard to notice these pockets of delight. It most often hung about the kitchen and hallway, though it might turn up in the bath or utility room as well. It was almost never to be found in the front rooms, and outdoors it preferred the back or the side to the front garden as well. Perhaps it was something about the weather conditions that caused it. The handy thermometer / barometer on the wall and reports from the weather station helped keep track. It was an interesting idea, but alas, there was no consistency between its appearance and any weather conditions that I could find. Back to the drawing board.

Maybe it had something to do with negative ions - these are supposed to encourage a sense of well-being. I experimented here too, examining places and things that contain them, and while they were very nice, it just wasn't the same feeling at all. Water pipes? Perhaps, but the presence was inconsistent with the plumbing lines. Anyway, I'd never felt it out at the well. EMF waves? Maybe, but aren't these more consistent with seeing ghosts? There was no obvious explanation for something that must have been ongoing for 30 years or more. Assuming it wasn't just my fevered imagination, that is.

A few months passed, and one day my son - then about 11 - walked into the room.
 "Something must be about to happen" he said '"because that feeling is in the kitchen again."
"What feeling?" I asked.
"You know, that feeling that something's about to happen. Like you get before a storm. It begins with an A. An...something"
"Anticipation?"
"Yeah, that's it. It's in the kitchen right now, but it moves around the house."

Yes, that was it. Anticipation. That's exactly what it felt like, the purest sense that something exciting was about to happen. It was also the first time anyone else had ever mentioned it to me - confirmation that it wasn't my own imagination.

We talked about it a bit, and it seemed that my son's experience was pretty much the same as my own. Although after so many years, I'd learned that it really never seemed to herald anything in particular - even if at times it seemed to be egging you on.

At the end of that Summer, my husband moved up permanently. It didn't take him long to notice what my son and I had; it was he who named it the house sprite. He also pointed out that it didn't just appear in the house and grounds, it turned up in specific places around the neighborhood too. The corner of next road over was a favorite place, as well as the dry creek 3 blocks away. Which was accurate, I realized.

He had no explanation for it either, but was happy enough to have this little non-ghostly presence spreading good cheer. Heaven knows we needed it. Every little bit helps.

The house sprite hasn't been around too much this Spring, but tonight it's been hovering round the kitchen window for hours. The air nearly trembles with laughter we cannot hear. It's a mysterious thing.

It's almost enough to make you believe in fairies.

November Night

My previously mentioned experiment to lower my anxiety levels was having excellent results - I'd only had one serious anxiety attack in a week, which is a great improvement - but having my psyche in (apparently) better shape brought out an old nemesis. Quite suddenly, I'd fallen ill with what seems like a total body breakdown, some systemic illness erupting in assorted peculiar ways. Conversion disorder, anyone?

On one hand, it hardly matters if this is my unconscious way of expressing self-hatred through illness. The fact is I'm ill, in pain and life has become extra difficult at the moment. Naturally it's very worrying (and oh so convenient, smirks my punitive super-ego). When one is beset by illness and worry, it's damn nigh impossible to take the necessary steps toward self-improvement. Which, obviously, is what's on the other hand. Of course there is a chance that I'm simply ill and the timing was purely happenstance - there is a chance, but I know my neurosis, and I'm not buying it.

Still, I'm dedicated to finding a solution. I am determined to work my way toward some type of  inner peace. If joyfulness is too much to ask, then contentment is perfectly acceptable. I'll keep working at it, even if I feel I'm falling apart.

That isn't the point of this post though. What I came here to say is quite different, really.

Before I became ill, there was this one night - the tenth of November, I think it was - the weather was warm, the sky was lowering and grey. I'd felt well and strong enough to take the dog for a walk. It was sunset and we went the long way, since it was that sort of evening. Silhouette birds swooped low over trees and there was a sprinkling of rain every now and then. There was a feeling of walking upon the crust of the earth - which of course we always are, but really feeling it, you know, walking atop this ancient and marvelous place. The beauty of even the ragged rocks is apparent at times like these. The hills and creeks seem to contain some ineffable secret.

At home, the boys had got hold of a projector and were playing with it on the lawn, shining pinpricks of light at the house and trees. They laughed so much, chasing around in the surreal landscape they'd created.

I consider myself fortunate that happiness, when it does come, seems to come for no particular reason. There is no set criteria of events that must be met; I know from experience that such criteria would never be met. Instead it comes at random, perhaps triggered by some confluence of factors impossible to define or maybe nothing at all. Again, it hardly matters. There was nothing special about November tenth, except that I was happy for half an hour. Because it was random, it could happen again at any point. Therefore there is a reason to keep going. I don't dare give up, because happiness could suddenly appear with no warning. It's worth it to keep going. When those fleeting moments of happiness do appear, I wouldn't miss them for the world.