I am at Neith’s house on Galiano Island. Sitting on a deflated rubber dinghy in the dappled shade behind the potato beds and the echinacea. Neith’s laptop on my knees. Fig and Chestnut are chewing cud and they gaze at me with their odd reptilian eyes. Goats have such delicate lips.

I was in a wild terror of indecision in Vancouver, feeling the crush of time (note to Time: fuck you). Such mental exhaustion as I’ve never experienced. I did the event thing on five major events in six months and they were all amazing experiences, gorgeous things and I don’t regret any of them, but I’m running on fumes. I can’t even find the juice to get my ass out the door. Every teeny weeny decision feels enormously painful and wearying. I am an imbecile. Someone just please, please tell me what to do.

In the midst of frantic waffling I decided to hang my Arcosanti windbell from the ceiling. The bell reminded me of one of the major messages I got from Arcosanti: to pay attention to the flip of the coin. The turning and flashing in the air is just part of the process, as is the fall. Coin-flipping is a trick Terry taught me -- toss it up and when it lands, pay close attention to the whisper. If the whisper says hooray, than heads it is! If the whisper says “well maybe go for two out of three…”…then really, it’s tails. Eventually the higher intelligence will emerge, once I know what I really do want.

So all kinds of things fell into place, and I decided to go to Burning Man, magically, wonderfully. I told everyone I was going and people said yay for me! I spent a day acting on that decision, but under the surface I felt prickling uneasiness. Flip it again. I need solitude and silence, the ocean and the trees – not Burning Man, not now.

It doesn’t matter how many people I told I was going. It doesn’t matter if they think I’m a flake. It doesn’t matter if money is “wasted.” It doesn’t matter what might have been. What was, was for a reason, which I might never know. Faith is the only balm for regret. I know what I want, and I want to rest, now.

I always forget though, that I can’t unwind so fast. It takes time, and I just wish it wouldn’t. But I am remembering that there is nothing I need to do, so I can spend as much time with the goats as I like or lie spread-eagled in the tiny orchard looking up through the tall grass into the apple tree.

Fuck you, time.

I still feel on edge, like I haven’t quite found either solitude or silence (like looking for the back of my head in a mirror). I am still waiting for sanctuary to find me wherever I happen to be. I’m still impatient and that pisses me off.

I am trying to be at peace with not knowing what to do.

[from my Tribe.nt blog, Wed, August 29, 2007 - 10:33 PM]