rain and reality and the illusion of it all

Five inches of rain.  In less than 24 hours.  In our neighbourhood we had the least amount of rain.  A klik and a half down the road they had 8 inches.  The guy on the hill, half a klik away as the cockatoo flies, had 7.  Don't understand why there is such a huge difference.  Not that it matters because...we're saved.  A huge weight has lifted.  Don't realise how depressed you are about the drought until it breaks.  Grass is already poking through the dead remains of summer past.  What a miracle.  The creek is running, the dust is gone.  Everything shines.

Couldn't ride today.  Too wet and wouldn't get very far as the creek is too deep and swift but by tomorrow it should be dry enough.  Not to climb the hills, too slippery but at least go up the road. 

No calls on the house yet, although, as of yesterday, 20 people looked at it online. 

Reading The Curse of the Kings by Victoria Holt.  Used to love her.  Must have loved her during my adolescent gothic phase (not as in Goth gothic, but the heroine-in-the-creepy-gothic-house-with-the-mysterious-tall-dark-handsome-and-faintly-menacing-man phase).  I'll finish it but it's work.  Saw her name while trolling through the book laden tables at the Blue Nurse biannual book sale and snatched it up as a find.  Now I'm not so sure.  Also found an Elizabeth George.   A sample of my more 'mature' taste.  And she is a find!

Really need to tackle Ken Wilber's The Spectrum of Consciousness again.  Made my brain hurt (and I found he wrote it at 23!) but it was revelatory.  Didn't finish it and I need to.  Almost must be read one sentence at a time on an hourly or daily basis.  It's that difficult (for me at least) and I'd need to thoroughly digest that one sentence before adding another to the first.  

Years ago I read a book while stoned.  Don't remember the name of the book or the author(s) - feel it was a collaboration.  And perhaps the experience which occurred after reading the penultimate conclusion reached by the authors was a result of cannabis but I suspect it was because sometimes, through logic, and extrapolation of logical thinking along one line, a tear can be made in the veil of illusion and reality bleeds through.  Their premise was that the rate of knowledge was increasing along exponential lines; new discoveries lead to even more discoveries, somewhat like the branches of a tree, and based on their mathematical models the true nature of reality would be revealed to everyone on the planet on such and such a date.  This of course not only includes advances in technology but the merging of science, metaphysics and the wisdom of ancient religions.

I read that sentence and something in my brain erupted into or bled into the reality behind the reality.  Didn't sleep that night.  Actually scared myself by glimpsing the power and the scope, nay the infinity, of What Is. 

Suspect Wilber's book, if I can understand it and that's a big If, might do the same.  Then again, perhaps my brain has calcified with age. 

The only other time I've experienced this tear in reality was while discussing metaphysics with my mother.  There was a subtle yet electrifying shift in reality which we both experienced at the same time.  We were following some philosophical/metaphysical path down to some logical conclusion when it happened.  Only for a second but what a powerful second. 

A solo day today or 'je suis seul'.  Practising French, can you tell?  Fail more often than I succeed but the beauty of Duo is it doesn't matter.  Keep going until I feel I have some kind of handle on it and then go on to the next lesson.  Sometimes I get through without a mistake, not often.  Next lesson?  Verbs:  etre/avoir. 

Just finished reading a Dean Koontz book, Dark Rivers of the Heart, published in 1994.  Hard to read.  Kept stopping to do something else to assuage some of the building dread.  His protagonists in all the books I've read come out all right in the end.  Even so, he's a master at making me fear for them.  So I do dishes or a French lesson or check out the radar (storms to the south).  Then when I've girded my loins for the next chapter (or next page!) I have another go.  Have started keeping his books.  Don't know that I'll ever reread then.  His main characters are all the same man.  Even the dog in this book, Rocky, is a canine version of the same man (with an overlay of timidity caused by early abuse).  The men are soft-spoken, gentle, self-effacing, yet strong and talented.  Their talent might be discovered as a result of their adventures during the book or they might be brought to those adventures because of their particular talent.  In any case, they are likeable, normal yet incredible.  The women too. 

My bathroom book is My Happy Days in Hell by the Hungarian György Faludy.  Started it before and then put it aside.  Although he describes well those tumultuous terrifying days of the Nazi invasion of France and the attempt at escape by him and his small band of characters, I found him so unsympathetic that I didn't care much whether he made it or not.  He cheats on his wife with all the emotional upheaval  he would bring to eating a pickle sandwich.  It never seems to occur to him that he is behaving badly.  He only exerts himself to avoid getting caught so as to avoid a scene.  Anyway, I've picked it up again, have reread the first part and am about to embark with them to the shores of Africa.  Still don't like him much despite him being a famous poet.  Suppose I should respect his brutal (to himself) honesty.  He doesn't gild the lily and make out that he is a better man than he is.  Even so his male arrogance is difficult to stomach.

Having a dice day too.  Just told me to do yoga.  Thought I'd take the day off but put it on the list along with blogging, bathroom cleaning, french lessons and leaf raking. 

Signed a contract with a local realtor to put the house on the market on March 5.    Today is the 21st.  So far we've had a confirmation letter and an ad (with 3 photos I submitted) on their local website.  They're supposed to advertise the property on realestate.com, domain, reiq, myproperty but haven't seen anything yet.  Nor is there a for sale sign on the road.   Am a little disappointed but try to remember that everything happens (or doesn't!) for a reason.  R's appointment with the neurologist is in a month.  Perhaps nothing will happen until he's been assessed, tested and hopefully medicated and that's a good thing.  One of my faults has always been impatience.  Want things done yesterday.  Walk fast, talk fast, type fast, but don't live fast.  Not anymore anyway. 

The house.  I feel like I'm walking out on a relationship.  This house, this property, this land has been a soothing and beautiful haven.  I'll miss the hills, the wildlife, the ever changing beauty.    This house has loved us, as we have loved it.  I felt it strongly when we moved in, how glad the house was to have us.  It knew we would love it and look after it.  And we have.  We've restored her to her original beauty; polished floors, new paint, new gutters, tanks, garage.  The list goes on.  Fences, gardens.  And now we plan to abandon her for another house in another state.  Yet this house in her 100 plus years has known many families.  Some loved her.  Some did not.  I hope the people who come after us will love and cherish her.  In her present glowing state she invites love and tenderness. 

I've discovered, thanks to listening to an interview with Maestro Simone Young, a website called Duolingo.  A free website to learn French.  I love it.  And I'm learning.  It's fun.  Lots of fun.  Makes it more of a game than a chore.  I like that I can fail as many times as necessary and it doesn't matter.  Just keep going until I learn it.  Can feel how some of the learning is almost sneaky.  Think I'm concentrating on remembering This Thing and actually quite unconsciously absorb That Thing. 

Makes me wonder what else I can learn.  I've learned to cook.  Am learning French.  Looked up the price of rollerblades this morning.  Not to use here - but perhaps they would be useful where we move to.  We did find and buy a one man kayak at a garage sale.  Need to find one more so that we can explore Fingal Heads, the Tweed River, the beaches at Cabarita - the list is endless.  We're going to sell the coleman canoe.  We have too much trouble handling it.  It's too big and unwieldy. 

So it's all go.  Oh, and I came off Balthazar for the first time since I've had him yesterday.  Not his fault.  A big spook.  No slow mo dismount.  One second I was in the saddle, the next I was flat on my back over the side of the hill with my heels pointing towards the valley below and my fingers twined in the reins.  Got a bit of a mouse on my skull, a bruise on my arm and some sore muscles but otherwise okay.  Just goes to show you attract what you fear as I'd just been thinking I wouldn't want to come off on this track (the one cut into the side of Mt. W) as I could hit my head on a boulder.  So I did.