View from my front door, by Stef Mitchell

How on earth am I supposed to sleep with Wedding Brain? Here I am in a white sheet apartment in the Bed Bath & Beyond corner of Chelsea, whilst Isaac flies midair towards Australia for a week. I haven’t written in a while because my brain has been clogged with white fluffy imagery of satin dresses and wedding talk: rings, celebrants, honeymoons, etcetera ad infinitum. It’s interestingly intense. I look at this paragraph and all I see is white tulle and lace.

So much excitement and preparation go into weddings. Where will I have my “hens night” and with whom? What will we do? I have to say I tend to baulk at the linguistics of wedding speak. Some of the vocabulary literally makes me eyelashes curl, and not in the good way: honeymoon, hens night, registry, bridal, and bridal shower are just a few of the bandied words which just don’t feel right on the brain. Then there’s the shoes. What shoes do I wear? All I know I want is a lace veil and motorcycle boots. Can an Angel please concoct the rest?

In the meantime, let’s get off the white walls of fire and go into the Art of Invocation. Tonight is a New Moon, and tonight we find a chasm of darkness in which the light of the moon shall fill. I’m dying to tell the story of how I met Isaac, how the Art of Invocation was employed. One starts to realize after testing the witching waters, and coming closer to this planet’s edge, that the phenomenon of materialization from the very fabric of ether, is either very spooky, or quantum mechanics in motion.

I believe in the latter, because after so many experiences in the domain of causality and creation, the initial sense of spookitude starts to depart. However, I’m excited to keep causing and creating: I do believe that the world is in good hands with mine; in fact, I have the confidence, given to me from so many years of trial and error, that I’m practiced enough to cause and create without harming others, as well as to create spheres of energy within which we might dance positively and encouragingly.

It’s been interesting watching my life shift. There are times when I walk through the door of my new home in the country, or come to the apartment where my beloved and I stay, strewn with the remnants of him, and find I need to take a moment within which to inhale the nowness, the reality, of it all. Just three months ago, “things” were very different. Just four months ago, I had no idea what was coming for me. When I have a moment to myself with no distractions and nothing to do, I sit on my porch or the dirty brick balcony in Chelsea and I breathe in the reality of my life. I am here. I have arrived. I am now truly living.

I’ve never before experienced partnership in this way. I’ve never before felt so connected, like I’ve found the twin to my soul. I could never quite grasp when others talked about that bond. I’ve never had my own porch, my own letter box, my own driveway, a cellar, an attic, a king size bed to fit all of my limbs. I am so grateful. In this way, Thanksgiving becomes, for me, a chance to find my regular state of mind completely immersed within the public morale of the status quo. I find I am so grateful so often, that every moment becomes a blessing. Thanksgiving amplifies that thankfulness vortex. And for that, I am thankful.

Sage, garters, yellow bellied leaves, Tantra, river, George Harrison, bees. We are all eating so much left over turkey right now. I yearn for simplicity with my love in the country – and yet I have such work to do. Poetry books. More on the art of invocation. Love stories. Series for children. Book readings. Set design. Production. Who knows what more? Did I mention a wedding in seven weeks? Dear moon, take us far. Dear new moon, find us ajar. I’m reading to be flooded with your gifts. As I purge, I ready myself to be filled again. Find me at the art store scribbling on all the canvases: I’m taking this dark light in.