Words have melted over the course of a week or more of hot days. They’re puddled in a thick grime on hot pavement, not quite fluid anymore. Don’t expect any commentary of any sort today, at least not yet. It’s just not happening. My morning is reduced to dull feelings, rather than even basic thoughts. They’re not bad feelings, nor are they good feelings. It’s all just more a recognition of being here and being alive. Were it not a work day I would probably just roll over, and maybe not sleep but go horizontal into the in-between for a few hours.

I wouldn’t say that LOSCIL captures the mood but it’s of a mood, one of many elements melted into the ooze. I’m only really posting it here today for my own bookmark. It’s something to return to at a later point, but nothing’s wrong with sharing it for now. It’s worthy of mention. This Scott Morgan has been doing these albums on this project for just over twenty years now, an odd passion certainly. It might be interesting to sit down with him and listen to him talk about what his vision is. It seems to me as much a form of painting as it is music. The few articles I’ve read describe a transition of themes from water to firmament to sky. Aural landscaping… or seascaping or skyscaping even if one is allowed to make up words as one goes.

And why not? Who is allowed or not allowed to make up words anyway? There is no committee and anyone who reads this can decide if they make sense and if they’ll accept them.

One meditation of note: A woman described herself to me as “brazenly vulnerable” and it stuck with me through the last few days. It reminded me that I recently claimed that my sentimentality was not maudlin but my superpower, or something to that effect. The sentiment (no pun intended) was the same maybe. You have to be bold and strong to allow vulnerability when you have to navigate the pained histories of so many people. You have to be wide open to allow love in, and that’s not a statement of only romantic love but of love itself. You make yourself accessible and available to all things, including hurt. Not to say one should continue to be hurt by the same things over and over. That’s simply not sustainable, but a person has to remain wide open if they are to expect that anything good will ever happen.

Brazenly vulnerable is a beautiful way to put it, actually. It’s an act of defiance and rebellion. Hurt people do hurt people and there are a lot of hurt people out there and all around us. We just have to continue to love them, from whatever distance. Nobody ever really gained anything from being too self-protective and never taking the risk of being disappointed, often profoundly. This vulnerability is my superpower because as my own history proves, you cannot kill me. I’m still here despite anything. And I don’t believe anyone ever truly tried to hurt me anyway. They did what they did because it’s all they know how to do. I actually feel bad for them.

And of course the balance of people who’ve hurt me to the people who’ve loved me and held me up is tilted so steeply in my favor…

Wow.

Gratitude bubbled to the surface of the puddle.

Let’s leave this here for now then. It’s a good place to stop.