To listen to this post, please click here: Fiddle Dee Day
At dinner the other night, John and I were served a delicious dish of sautéed fiddlehead ferns. I always feel a bit guilty eating them, since they burst so with promise, as did this one outside my cabin door last Friday.
As we munched, I was reminded of my slenderest little volume, eight pages long. Tracy Strong and I conceived, designed and printed it spontaneously in a single day in 1995 to accompany my show Stand-Up Dreams.
As you see, it’s entitled “All Points on the Psychic Compass Turn In.” It’s a tiny collection of thoughts that occurred to me waking up from sleep. (The title itself is one.)
Such thoughts have a different quality from either dream or waking reality, and while I don’t always know what they mean, I enjoy attending to them.
The one I recalled was this:
It made me laugh when I wrote down, but I didn’t fully get its meaning until I took this photograph a few moments ago. That’s the very same fern in the top photo, but how the days have changed her. Her head is nearly all unrolled–though, for the moment, her leaflets are fiddling still.
This fleet season, these few days when opening leaves are V’s on the trees, is like that ephemeral state between sleeping and waking–a sweet surprising passing gossamer of consciousness. Reminding us that life, at any stage, still bursts with promise.
What are you fiddling with these days?