November New & Knowing

The monthly newsletter from the couch in Roundagator, a cold gentle rain sparkling outside, while Wilbur and the gray cat are here with me on the couch, heaters whirring, in a dark and quiet house.

 

November 30th 11:11 am -

Good morning on the world, sweet baby, welcome to our planet, welcome home, 

welcome in, we are so glad you are here, let me wrap you up in my arms and walk you around every room in the house, let me sit on the floor and teach you everything that I know, everything that I love, here is a crayon and a pencil and a pen and some chalk, here’s a drum and a guitar, a cat and a dog. You don’t have to love it like I do, the whole world is yours to decide. That’s the biggest thing, little baby - I’ve been told - never close yourself off, never stop learning, never stop asking questions. Never be too sure, too certain. 

Oh, behold, little one, there is horror and terror and pain but the earth does maintain; let me show you the charms of our rock, what is yours is ours and theirs and yours, just about forever. That’s something we don’t know much about, either. But while we are here, there are chickens in the yard and it’s good to watch them for a little while, listen to all of their silly sounds. They make eggs every day, isn’t that kind of like magic? They are smooth and they feel very strong and solid but also hollow, and if we get two of them we can make cornbread. He has the recipe written on the cabinet door, it’s easy to follow. We’ll go pick some greens, too, and cook supper in the yellow red warmth of our kitchen and make all of the rooms smell like love and collards. These greens are bigger than you, isn’t that so strange? We were put here to carry each other, don’t worry. Come on. 

You arrived on earth at a very peculiar time - nothing is for certain, again. In the whole world with all of it’s beautiful voices, sometimes you can hear the crying for miles off, late under the stars. It’s a funny time because we’re in the middle, it isn’t winter, and it isn’t fall, and it definitely isn’t spring. That means that everything is trying to come down to rest. That’s why the trees are yellow or red or brown, naked looking, thin. The poison ivy has died down so we can walk more freely here, like the whole world is our little big woods. That’s why the light in the evening looks like fire across our skin here. That’s why the sky is so clear and the stars are so bright, I don’t understand it. It’s like the cold makes everything sharper. And that’s why you can see so far into the distance, all the crops are gathered and all the trees are bare, distantly a deer in the copse. Distantly oyster mushrooms on the willows, pecans on the ground. They feel so different to each other, don’t they. Let’s see what it feels like to put them in our pockets and carry them home. If you take two pecans in your hands and squeeze them together, one will break. What a sharp shell for something so sweet and soft. Be gentle. There are more hawks than usual and I haven’t slowed down to make sure but I think there’s a little peregrine falcon on the wire these days, too. We can watch the birds all day, the trees all heavy and wore out looking with juniper berries. The birds have their own special songs, just like us. 

He wanted to know what was the last song that made you cry. It’s ok to cry, don’t worry. I can’t explain why music can do that. Hearts are the final frontier down here, I think they have a lot to do with it. This morning with keys in hand, with rain on the windows gentle, he said, I don’t know how to paint. Me either. I guess nobody does.  That’s another mystery. I read that Rembrandt said “Painting is the grandchild of nature. It is related to God.” We are, too. We can keep trying on this painting stuff, if you want to. It’s one thing in life where you cannot fail! What should we listen to while we draw?

Oh, darling. Isn’t is so kind that cats purr when they’re glad? Aren’t deer such strange creatures, and so big? Their flagging white tails so funny when they run off. It’s ok to be scared of the coyotes at night, I am sometimes, too. They sound like ghosts to me. Maybe if we are lucky, all those geese honking overhead will land in a field near us and we can go and watch them for a little while, they make the land look like snow. If we are lucky, we’ll get some real snow and rain, you’ll see a fogbow and a rainbow. If we are lucky, we will be warm and safe and together for a long time. You don’t always have to be brave. I will always love you. You can always come home. 

Thank y’all for the marvelous time at The 100 Men Hall! It is always such a renewing feeling, a coming home feeling, to be on the coast and among friends who I think of as family - thank you. Love y’all so much. And highly recommend a visit to the Hall if you’ve never been - a whatchacall dynamic space with something happening all of the time. From the Matzo Ball to the Writing Room to the future-gumbo-cook-off, they’re doing the Good Work. (And! they won a 2024 Governor’s Arts Award for Arts in the Community!)

https://100menhall.com/

Up next? A fundraiser for CARES Clarksdale! I’ll have several paintings for sale with half of the proceeds going to CARES - my favorite nonprofit in the world. They help feed animals in the community for free, in addition to top notch love and care and medical attention for all of the animals in Coahoama county. The fundraiser is at Stovall Store on December 14th, if you’re in the area please come by!

https://www.caresclarksdale.com/

https://www.instagram.com/caresclarksdale/

https://www.stovallgincompany.com/store

https://www.instagram.com/stovallstore/

Then, February 1st, i have the JOY! of being at The Little Green Store in Hunstville, Alabama. New work! Big work! Strange work!

https://thelittlegreenstore.net/

Last but not least, and like always, you know it - prints and t-shirts and stickers and magnets and etc. are available on Threadless. Thank y’all to everyone who has ordered something recently - thank you so much. And please remember they have a 100% satisfaction guarantee, so don’t be afraid to invoke it. If there’s a print you’d like to see on there, and don’t currently see, let me know and I’ll do my best!

https://churchgoinmule.threadless.com/

Speaking of songs that make you cry, i don’t know when or how or why this song came on the other day, and i burst into tears. I’d love to know what yours was, and why, if you want to share. I guess it was because all of a sudden i was there in her white car with the steel blue soft interior and it was summertime in North Carolina and the world was green and blue and gentle. Or because we were in Memphis and it was almost Christmas and very cold and we were all together outside the gates of Graceland with big old candy canes. Or maybe it was the surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be part. But it was very definitely the take my hand, take my whole life, too, part.