Hi kids, Played a lot of Joni in my head today and on the keys... mostly trying to use her as an oracle past the emotional intensity of loss remembered. Of course we all went through the throes of having our empathy engines resparked by the media celebration of marking one complete solar orbit away from the incredible losses incured last year.
But 9/11 has personal loss ramifications for me as well and today was the fifth anniverary of the same date in 1997. Joni has been an oracle to me so many times. I suppose Elvis performs that function for some people. I know my recent and relatively intense incursions into the art and politics and fan base of Tori Amos has shown that she is an healing icon to many and like Bjork is one of the few female masters of communication worthy up picking up Joni's crown, should Mitchell retire from the public eye. Joni is as much a school of thought and heart as she is a craftsperson and to study her "school" over all these years has changed me for the better in so many ways. We all know she is a genius and we all know she evokes the genius in us required to even hear and experience hers. Sometimes, too, if we pay attention, her lyrics and images can be used like an I Ching. The link I provided is a short description of how a Joni lyric cam true for me in a major way and almostmystical way 5 years ago. I don't want to lose my 9/11 to the larger one. I am tired of loss. Aren't you? Thank you Joni for the rudder and dreams. Thank you ardent admirers of Joni opening your hearts the way you do. cul heath ratboy's anvil for 600x800 screens ............................. for 1024x768 screens+ The Loss | MainSeptember 11, 2002My 9/11 The weather here today is exactly the same as I remember it being five years ago on September 11, 1997; an intense clear blue sky, surprisingly warm, yet with a light breeze carrying a smell more fall than summer. By habit I woke up and made a big pot of strong coffee even though Dan, my partner in work and life, had gone into Vancouver for the weekend to do some work for his father. He had wanted me to go in with him, but I felt I should stay and try to finish up a job I had already started for a friend of ours. I took my breakfast of coffee and cigarettes out on the balcony of our house overlooking the Georgia Straight, I watched the early sun scintillate on the calm water that happens between tides. As I dragged on my smoke and sipped at the coffee I watched a distant and unlikely gang of crows and gulls gyre and dive with much cawing and screeching to harass an eagle, hoping to drive it from what they considered their feeding area. As usual, the eagle ignored them and with motionless wings outstretched rode air currents through the commotion until it suddenly dropped rapidly down to the water surface, snared a fish in its talons, and rose again, quickly outdistancing the other birds with stately sweeps of its powerful wings. With the contract of common defense broken, the gull and crow mob broke into two groups and moved away in opposite directions. Through the course of a few more cigarettes and coffees I sat feeling the planet turn and reflected on the interconnectedness of life. Eventually I shook the reverie and moved back inside to prepare for the days work renovating our friend's basement into a livable suite she could rent to a student or some other recent escapee from the city. On my way up the single winding highway toward the worksite, I pulled the van over for a scruffy and bearded old hitcher holding a sign with the name of the next ferry landing on it. I wasn't going that far, but I would be able to drop him a fair distance up the road at a major intersection where his chances of getting another ride were far better than where he was when I picked him up. He clambered in thanking me profusely as he tossed his back pack onto the tool boxes and lumber in the rear. I told him it was no problem and how far I taking him and that was all we said for several minutes. As we rode along he began humming "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell. I mentioned to him that she was a favorite of mine, but that it drove me crazy that that song was about the only one of hers radio stations ever seemed to play. He stopped humming and nodded without looking at me. After a few seconds he started humming it again. He kept humming the chorus part over and over without bothering with the verse sections. A couple of minutes later we arrived at the turn off and I pulled off the road to let him out. He struggled back over his seat, grabbed his knapsack and opened the door to leave. I figured he was going to say thanks for the ride but instead he looked me straight in the eyes and really loudly sang, "Don't it always seem to go you don't know what you've got til its gone..." Then he winked and quickly jumped out , slammed the door and then smiled at me as he waved a goodbye through the side window. I returned the smile and wave and then pulled away to make my turn. I thought that was weird but let it go as another encounter with a Sunshine Coast "bush-bunny" eccentric, of which there were many. The song stayed in my head though for the rest of the ride to the worksite and annoyingly lingered for at least an hour after I began work. I had to make a conscious effort to implant a different song in my brain. Just before noon the woman friend called down to me and asked if I wanted some soup. I wasn't really hungry but it was nearing time for a break and I agreed. I decided it would be good time to get more finishing nails and went out to the van to get some. As I stood at the back of the van loading up on nails the song the hitcher had hummed came back in my head and I swore under my breath about it. Just then I heard the tires of another vehicle pull into the drive just in front of the van and pulled back to look around the doors to see who it was. As I did this, my watchband got caught on a box and broke causing the watch to fall to the ground. I bent over. picked it up and wiped the bevel clean, noticing that it was 12:03. Meanwhile my friend Brian had gotten out of his car, came up beside me and said he had bad news. I looked up at him and saw a pained look. At 12:03 PM, September 11, 1997 I learned that Dan, my lover of 9 years had been killed in a car accident. Dont it always seem to go... Posted by culheath at September 11, 2002 03:13 PM CommentsPost a comment[FORM NOT SHOWN]
