The Awakening

Ah the muse gave me a gift today.

 I have been rudderless for sometime. I had spent three weeks in a crack house of cleaning; I had flunked my attempts at Internet dating, bothered by the intrusion, of men who really just wanted pen pals. Flesh and blood baby.

My show, Annie Speaks had premiered successfully and needed me to bring a skill set that was as life sucking as editing. I had to create web sites and promote the work. Further I was supposed to be writing chapters of my book, And So the Child Shall Lead ( an idea so obscure it will take a sorceress to pull it off). But rather than sit and write I would circle my house and life and assault the toilet bowl once again.

I had a low-grade depression, well not really. But just this funk. No distractions, no daily rituals, no partner, no chaos, which I am so adept at navigating through. Further I had blown my budget and managed to stymie my cash flow, so running away on play dates just to distract myself from the barren tundra of my peaceful life was like a casino retiree without Florida.

 I was a seeker in search of naming my own holy grail. Uncertain about what to do with peace and solitude, my walks, meditations seemed indolent excursions that filled up but did not replenish the landscape.

I just filled days. I wanted to check  the employment box on surveys as “housewife”.  I was morphing into a Donna Reed, Jack Jones lyric of "Hey little girl do your makeup lyric, soon he will open the door”, with no one to play house with. " Life was closing in on me.

 I drove to the city to  join a friend for lunch. I am lost. I am fielding calls from my daughter who just recently returned from a decade in Europe to live in “The City”, New York.

 I am strolling through downtown Detroit, spring sun glares on the street numbers, and I am ambling, careening  really trying to talk, trying to find the restaurant. I tell her I am lost. She laughs, “Use your phone.''  It is good I have a phone and a child who are smarter than I. Yet I say to her, “What fun is it use your phone, then you won’t meet anyone”?

Hanging up, I walk to the man who seems the doorman for a residence, yet colorful woven hat  to imply's other wise.

I bolt into my inquiry. “Do you know where…”

He interrupts and in a Jamaican accent that could only be called music, all slow and intentional, he tells me, "where I come from people say, Good morning, good afternoon as appropriate. ” He is schooling me, in both language and life. I properly say hello. He does not know where the address is. He inquires on my behalf. He wants me unlost, found. He is an earth angel. I may have a smart phone, but fear if I seek in the icons it becomes like idolatry and I will miss God and all the earth angels. This day I have found my rudder. I will seek earth angels, and bear witness to angel days. I am in a daze of purpose.