I saw a book at Kaya�s that intrigued me greatly, and then today, John posted a link to the artist, Alex Grey. This is amazing.

Linky Dinky Doo, eh? Few things on my mind this morning, before I jump into my work for the week. First of all, I started reading my first Tom Robbins novel, �Still Life With Woodpecker.� A gift to me from Bunny, and I love it so far. How could I have remained ignorant of this author for this long? Just goes to show how little I know. His analogies have me �ooh-ing! and aah-ing!� like an immigrant witnessing the 4th of July fireworks for the first time on American soil. Meaning, I�ve come to this land, I�m making it mine, and I�m awed by the display.

Let me share a little example: �Max�s heart made a sound like the sleigh bells on Mrs. Santa Claus�s dildo.� You don�t get much more original or random than that. Bold, brazen, and just fucking weird. I dig it the most.

Let�s switch gears here for a minute: Yesterday morning, I attended church with my father. Rev Kev was fabulous, funny, and poignant as always, but what I witnessed, what touched me so deeply that I still feel it like a sob in my chest waiting to come out, was not in the sermon. It was in the congregation. Last week, my father read to me an obituary, a local nurse was struck by a car and killed. Her life-partner was wounded, but survived the hit-and-run (I believe it was a hit-and-run, but I don�t remember the exact details, just that a giving and wonderful member of our community had been lost in a freak accident).

The congregation in this church is largely gay and lesbian, as it does not discriminate or judge, and accepts all paths of belief, lifestyle, etc. While the church�s resident singer was belting out a song about love and community, I noticed a woman two rows in front of me double over in her seat and sob. A hand went on her shoulder from the woman to her right, then, another, from the woman to that woman�s right, and yet another, from the woman three seats to the right.

It was a line of arms, all to the left, all touching the upset woman. A woman in front of them went to get a box of Kleenex. The show of support, of understanding and love, brought tears to my eyes. Everyone rushed to comfort her in their own silent way. I could feel the force and meaning of their touch from where I sat, palpable, tangible, warm. When the song was over, my father leaned close and whispered, �That is the woman who lost her life-partner in the accident.�

Sunday, I learned about community, support, and love. I learned about mourning and loss, and that life goes on, whether you want it to or not. I learned that nothing needs to be said out loud for someone to know that they are supported and loved. I learned that touch is sacred. I spent the rest of the day with my family, sisters, nephew, brother-in-law. And I tried to share, without words, but through my smile and thoughts, what I learned with them. What a momentous day.

-Barbarella

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