Zero Dark Thirty

Keep a weather eye on the horizon

Oddly one of my favorite Pirates of the Caribbean movies was At World's End. It seemed a the time vaguely prophetic. And at the moment channeled. But then, I have always figured most creative artists, regardless of the medium, are closely tied in with the cosmic consciousness. I felt as far back as December a wicked wind was coming. Or in Star Wars vernacular, a disturbance in the force.

In early March I was on a campaign to get things like my new to me vehicle accomplished and groceries stocked for spring break. When the lock down order came from our governor on March 11 I was not surprised in the least. Anxious yes, because Colorado closed its ski area's first and our resort seemed determine to welcome to Angel Fire. As an introvert I like my own company and I was in the midst of a very creative time. March moved into April and I was most concerned about the lack of rain.

Then the morning weeping began. Not for me or my future with my studio, but for all those on the front lines like my sister. I sit and watch the news and silently weep. I work at trying to  voice my thoughts but the tears carry my words away. Second cup of coffee and I am fine. Ready to begin a day full of tasks I did not have the time for facing a busy summer season.

I was amazed at how quickly I rearranged my art studio to give way to being a productive green house as fall turns to winter. I fell into the mask making brigade easily even though I had not sewn a stitch for almost 20 years, and had to uncover the the sewing machine from a massive amount of must be mended things.

But of late my mood has become more dark. My temper right on the edge. I vent in short and sometimes rude remarks at those who insist this is all a hoax. I have never suffered fools gladly. But last night was my first Covid nightmare. One which would not allow me to roll over and go back to sleep. Humanity is in pain. So I am up at zero dark thirty trying to get the tears to wash away the images.