Daughter of Godcast Season 4 Choice, Episode 167 Hiatus. You know me, I'm Dan Kelly Shri Fugi Spilt. Let's do 4-6 episodes in one week and bring us up to date. Starting with not quite movie news, sidle up real gentle-like on current events. Ease back into podcasts, like we might slip into a steaming hot bathtub after a long day out of doors in a brisk late fall.
For most of November 2019 I had to step away from DOG and make progress on tangentially related projects, like the crazy idea of establishing a movie studio before finishing my first feature.
I upgraded one of the barns to support my tenant Tony, who builds big walnut slab tables. When he moved in last September, I promised him heat, consistent power and a composting toilet. I had planned to put a wood stove in as soon as I had the scene BJ and the Box complete, but snow started flying early in November and broke continuity at my outside location, plus Tony was complaining about the cold. I switched modes and deployed 20 feet of stove pipe, built a protective cage around the stove and wrapped his whole space in plastic. I am happy with the result, yet stopping production before the scene was complete felt frustrating, discouraging even. I had to climb out of a funk the last couple of days. Didn't help to be behind 3 weeks on podcast episodes.
So what did I learn?
I've got several projects going and I feel I'm getting better at finessing their parallel progress. Like the spinning plates on sticks guy, adroitly stepping over to whatever plate needs a goose, just in time. I love having project phases slip together optimally, as opposed to crunching into each other and leaving dents. This wood stove installation felt forced on me prematurely, I was excited to do it, AFTER completing production on the scene. Everything always works out perfectly... that's my optimal perspective. What I'm excited about is to be a more deliberate participant, which is getting better at going with the flow, being the flow. Relaxed, happy, savoring the most interesting and elegant action. I favor fortunate fitting togethers.
I am also noticing my relationship to time. Is there enough? That's where I'm imagining a break through. It's not whether there is enough time, it's about noticing and attending to the sweet now, and thereby making more time. What the fuck. OK let's try that again. I feel I can change my mind about time, from noticing that a doing is bigger than the amount of time left, to feeling so into the doing that time stops, takes a vacation, or that maybe time opens up and becomes more, there's more time than there was before the doing. Ok, that's nutty right? Do you know any other podcaster who talks about literally making time?
I'll let you know how this goes. A artist and polymath like me either has to expand audaciously into her imagination, or start dying. She feels the tuggings, this way and then that and she knows they are not pulling her apart, but are invitations to dance, spin to the left, jump to the right, bend and bump. The dance of intrigue. The pulls and pushes are the mountains and valleys of the mythic terrain we're making.
Creative interpretations that lean toward the light, that's what I enjoy. Did that make any sense, flick on any light switches for ya?
Can Broken be Beautiful?
Back to the movie. Ok, maybe not yet. My shoulder is broken again, worse now than it was in June, after the doohicky accident. The Ru magic didn't stick, but you know what? I'm having a big adventure here, I'm excited. Let me explain...
I interviewed surgeon Hollander yesterday and I'm not convinced he's a fortunate fitting together. So I don't have a neat solution lined up. This means there's more to discover.
Like what, you might ask?
I've got to pretend to be you, so I can have a story to tell, I already know how this story ends, right. So let's say you ask, "Like what else is there to discover, Dan Kelly? You're clavicle is completely broken, the two chunks are out of alignment and far apart, there's some tenuous gristle stretching between them, a little wad of gooey pre-bone. He'll have to tear that all out with a sort of pliers, the surgeon says. Oh and the tendon that attached to the medial fragment of clavicle has failed and is all rolled up and atrophied, too dangerous to repair with standard surgical techniques."
You've described current conditions correctly, I'd reply. However, you're currently listening and perhaps looking at a dude who is gradually learning to live beyond conditions, beyond conditioning. I don't know how to have a whole shoulder again yet, but I have remembered that this is my responsibility first, I can't assign my happiness or my health to someone else. So, do I have the resources and competence to fix this all by myself? Am I generating the requisite joy? Is that the adventure I am being offered? Or are there several new resources I'll find on my way to repair?
Which brings me to doctors / healers. Western medicine comes under a lot of criticism, but one thing western doctors are supposed to excel at is healing bones. We'll folks, my western surgeon has led me into a crevasse. Better said, I followed him into a crevasse. I have reached the limit of my own ideas of what's possible with western medicine. After the accident, my experience in the emergency room was ridiculous, followed up by various doctors just kind of guessing and flippant when things don't work out.
I don't have a lot of doctors in my life. I know a young genius about to be dermatologist, my General Practitioner pal Alan in NY, and that's about it. In contrast I've got a smorgasbord of crack attorneys, including an entertainment attorney, a tax attorney, a trademark attorney, an environmental attorney... I'm scouting for a marijuana attorney currently.
I didn't expend much effort accumulating all this legal talent, they just showed up as I needed them. But since health is a big deal for me, it's odd I don't have a stable of western doctors. Actually the doctor dearth makes perfect sense, I'm may not be letting the enlightened and talented ones show up, because I doubt they even exist. That's a stubborn adherence to struggle on my part, a boring paradigm I've chosen to perpetuate. Of course there will be brilliant, compassionate and dedicated western trained healers in my life, whenever I'm ready to dream them. So maybe this broken shoulder is a way for me to open up the flow of western medical virtuosity into my experience, or maybe I'm just ready to go right beyond western medicine altogether and discover more super humanity.
Whatever excellence is about to bloom, I'm liking being ready to be ready.
Back to You, Bob
When I first started this podcast, friends we're amazed at how open I was, willing to share pretty personal stuff, be vulnerable. What I'm trying to share in these episodes are my core perspectives, articulating them into visibility. What do I know, believe, resonate with? Pretty kooky stuff maybe, by mainstream standards. Oh well. I'm self assembling as I go. Because my only fixed maxim is - I like feeling happy. I'm finding my way to real magic, full living and if I can, we all can. Which maybe is why at least one or two of you follow this podcast, because somehow you're getting fed. How fabulous would I feel to know that a few out there are using my musings as an excuse to feel more of what THEY are. I love that idea.
Episode 167 Hiatus, Daughter of Godcast Season 4 Choice with Dan Kelly, Shri Fugi Spilt. Jamming 1/6 episodes out, which brings us back to an episode a week, regardless of when they show up. Maybe someday I'll be posting 6 episodes ahead of myself, both feet firmly planted 90 days in the future. Then I could take a month off, or keep pumping them out and bonus you all. What did we explore this episode? Wood stoves and multiple projects running concurrently and optimal timing of phases and broken shoulders and the call to become still more magical. Why I have more lawyers than doctors in my life. Coming up... talking about the artists in my life, and how I'm pointing a bevy of those artists at this movie, pulling back the bow string and letting fly arrows of excellence. A terrible analogy, kind of 80s movie aesthetic. I just rewatched Escape From New York, can you believe John Carpenter wrote his own soundtrack? Like he froze that movie in a blob of audio amber, we'll always know when - even with our eyes closed. Same for They Live. Don't get me wrong, both are classics and Carpenter's music is like the flaw in a Navajo sand painting, if the painting was perfect half of the women in Manhattan would get pregnant. Call me "Snake".