windthread

i'm Ready.

Realized i didn't have a way to transport them…but well,  it's not that far and they can just ride in this basket.  I may or may not put a cloth over them.  Maybe they will want to ride naked,  exposed.

I cleaned up the Albatros to receive the new half ton bale of alfalfa.  i received it.  i filled all the Goat water tubs enough to last till i get home tomorrow.  Won't need to do it in the morning.  I hosed out and swept the truck bed so the screen can  ride well there.   I put stuff i'll need in a basket:  the little World notebook that never had a use before.  The cone of thread to tie them to the screen.  Needles.  2 in case i lose one.  Scissors.   a cloth to dust the screen with though i shouldn't need it,  will wrap it in a bedspread for the ride.  but just in case.    I'll need to stop on the way at the Dollar Store and buy Tissue in case i need to wrap one for someone and i put in some very thin strips of torn Toad Egg Cloth to tie that tissue wrapped Cloth.  I guess that's it and there's a very nice Humming Vibe going on here.  Real soft,  but real real.  Goodness.  it's Goodness.

and that word…raw….kept humming around.  Was new as of yesterday,  where did it come from?

and i knew,  after while.  Back to my most LOVED friend,  Marge.  Marjorie Burke Price.  Back in my other life in Michigan.  Marge.  Marge who i used to spend hours with,  studying Jung,  studying Art,  we drew and drew and drew.  We studied and studied and studied.  She was Brilliant.   and i don't just say that because i loved her,  i say it because she was.  She had a brilliant mind.  Brilliant.    She also had seven children,  one of whom committed  suicide,  another was intensely schizophrenic.  I say this to point out that a life of ease isn't necessary for Brilliance.   We were friends when i was in my 30's,  she in her 60's.   She died not long after i left Michigan to Wander.  To seek my fortune.  She had just gotten her Masters in Fine Arts at the University of Michigan.  She died of a massive heart attack at the refrigerator door,  getting her first grandchild milk for her bottle.  Marge.

I don't know how it works about Death.   it would seem that if it is so that we are re Incarnated,  that the old self,  the dead self, then,  is gone?   But sometimes she is so HERE and so STRONG.  That was the "raw" of yesterday….that was Marge.  Talking to me, again.  We read all kinds of stuff,  not just the complete works of C.G. Jung,  our most constant,  but other things among which was Claude Levi-Strauss…The Raw and the Cooked.  We were reading that when i left.

Le cru et le cuit.  the Raw and the Cooked is a structural study of Amerindian mythology.  Levi-Strauss writes that "certain categorical opposites drawn from every day experience with the most basic sorts of things…e.g. 'raw' and 'cooked',  'fresh' and 'rotten',  'moist' and 'parched', and others, ..can serve a people as conceptual tools for the formation of abstract notions and for combining these into propositions"

and i hear her say Read Further.  She always said Read Further…

The english translation of the title Le Cru et le Cuit is not incorrect,  but it is perhaps incomplete.  "Cruit" in French does not necessarily mean "cooked", but is also used to denote "done" or "prepared" which is not necessarily obtained by cooking.  In this case, Strauss' use of cuit implies what culture and society does to the raw and make it  'done' or  'cooked'.

so.  Raw Cloth.  Cooked Cloth.

i ironed the shirt from the thrift shop and as i was going along, i wondered about why someone might have let such a really fine shirt go

and here,  between the front and the back…these two small marks.  I guess this.  ????  but for me they are Magic marks.  I'll be able to feel them.

So…DONE for today.  I will take All of You with me tomorrow,  Marge too and well….here we go.