Saturday morning, 4am Yesterday was requiem day as I worked in the studio, which seemed fitting, somehow. Every layer of grief and joy is expressed and exposed in them – the Mozart, the Brahms, the Faure, the Rutter. Outside my windows there raged a storm that tore hydro lines and uprooted trees – for a while my phone and my internet was dead, and I was startled that this made such a difference: me utterly alone with my grieving, raging, joyful, impossibly beautiful requiem (Mozart at that point). Some deep internal things happened then that were very good indeed – thank you Bruce Telecom, Mozart, and the Storm. My work continues to go well – barring another major dharmic intervention, two very large paintings will be finished by the end of Sunday Nov 3, which is also the day of an eclipse of the sun. We will rehearse another requiem (the Popper, for 3 celli and piano), I will get some deep practise in, and the weekly routine will dance on. For me, though, there will be a rich, indescribable difference, thanks to the Storm, the Requiem and Bruce Telecom. I’m humbled by it, actually, in an empowering sort of way. a yellow christmas cactus that I raised from a wee thing. Blooming like mad in my eastern window… The tectonic plates beneath us are shifting. Can you feel it? There is an air change, a sea change, an internal change wherever you look, if you look for it. How wonderful it is to be alive.