It's Raining, It's Pouring, the Old Man is Snoring . . .

It’s raining and cool, made cooler by the wind. So much wind that petals of tulips nearing their lifetimes have been blown clear of their stems, and in some case, clear of the gardens that gave birth to them. It's so cool, in fact, that the heat in the apartment is on (what a wonderful landlord!).

It’s a great day to meditate or chant, to read or watch rented film, to groom your animals and pamper yourself, to stand under your shower as if it were a waterfall, to peruse Craig’s List for work while you listen to NPR, or – dare I say it – sleep.

Look for work . . . Five of us were laid off last month, so now I’m collecting unemployment. Unemployment feels like free money. The Labor Department as Art Patron. No more paper checks and snail mail. Now it's direct deposit or bank cards. I’d really love to get some part-time or short-term work OFF THE BOOKS while I’m receiving unemployment benefits. Medical coverage until September 1st. Not so bad.

No more McJobs, McBosses, McPaychecks. I turned 60 in March. Not a McBirthday. I want soul work. Work that grows from the heart. Work that I can say I truly like/love. Working at home. Or working with and for animals. Or working with sounds, sights and words. That’s as close to specific that I can be right now, because I’m in that space between one thing and the other where not-knowing but being open are called for. It's where all possibilities lie. I believe this.