I may be the world's worst selfie taker. I already have a problem - when I laugh or smile my eyes pretty much close - if I open them wide I look like someone else. On top of it all I really don't enjoy taking my own picture. But this morning I was moved to make my "unfinished" selfie.
My hair is longer than ever, even in my most absolutely hippest of hippie days. Funny I never really felt like a "hippie", I felt like me in experimentation. I was discovering the world. I was open. I was young. I liked the Grateful Dead. I had long straight very dark hair. Fifty years later I have long, straight white white hair and I have braids. I don't think I wore braids, at least not often, when I was young and a hippie. Now I wear braids, even before Covid, I wore braids, I think my braids are a part of my grand-mothering self and I like it.
And I still like the Grateful Dead, I don't listen to them very much but every once in awhile I pull out my old lp's - yes I still have them and listen on my not so great record player.
This morning while I was drinking my morning tea, sitting at my bench looking out into the south and listening to NPR I had a flashback. I couldn't believe my ears when I started to hear about San Francisco 1970 (I was there for part of that year). They were talking about the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Starship (loved Gracie) and Indian Ragas.
"When the Giants of Indian Classical Music Collided with Psychedelic San Francisco" is a great Saturday morning story. It was a story that made my seventy year old mind flit back and forth between then and now and the in between. I love Indian Classical Music, one of the things I did regularly was attend concerts of the Indian Music Society of Minnesota. But in 1970 I didn't really think of it as Indian Music it was part of my exploration, my entry into meditation, and other things that I won't talk about here.
I don't think in the couple of decades that I listened to Indian Music in Madison, Minnesota and in New Lebanon New York that I was conscious of that way back link to Grateful Dead. But this morning I was transported back and forth and back and forth. The drone instruments, the tabla, the sitar a heady leap into the hippie world and deeply disciplined and spiritual world of the Indian raga.
If you are interested to dip into this exploration of "that which colors the mind" here is the video. It was a good start to my day. It is still reverberating in my heart and in my mind and the memories and imagining are continuing as I type, and move along in my day. All of this on a Saturday morning.
Saturdays have a different landscape for me than when I worked five days a week, often way more than forty hours. I do not have a job that I work at forty hours a week. I am retired and I am living in a very rural part of Maine and...it is Covid time. No more meeting friends for Saturday morning brunch at a favorite or new restaurant. No more Saturday afternoon matinees or evening concerts.
What has emerged during these months of hunkering down are a few almost routines.
The Saturday morning shower. The best thing about these long, cleansing, hot showers is listening to music from my speaker system. It was installed because I needed both a new fan and light in the bathroom. I was surprised when my electrician told me to order this combination for my bathroom, he was so certain that I just did it. Thank you Rick.
Saturday morning showers are filled with singing and dancing. I link the Bluetooth speaker with my Pandora account. This morning after listening to raga's and thinking about California, the Grateful Dead and so much more I decided that I would listen to my Bonnie Raitt channel (another California Girl). There is something so cleansing about belting out a good tune while beautiful hot water streams over your body. Music taps memories, music opens up the creative juices, it often crystalizes thoughts or questions that I might have roaming around in the back of my mind's crevices.
So here I am this first Saturday after Joe Biden and Kamala Harris have been inaugurated. Feeling cleansed, feeling lighter, and feeling ready to roll up my sleeves and try to do my part. I've got my grandmother braids, my scrubbed self, and a musical repertoire to help along the way.
AND my kick sled will be arriving soon!
It is Saturday. There is a new administration. I have hope. I have dreams....
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