Reading harold_maude's journal

It's dark out there, just past the doors. The moon is full
and kevin is out playing music by a fire that he and the other kevin who lives here built.

He built himself a didjeirdu out of pvc, it was handy and he was on a mission after obtaining several tracks of aborignal music that he has been listening to rather intently for a while now.
I love the sound he makes as he gets lost in releasing his soul music. He sometimes goes into one of the silos that has long since lost it's covering and plays there.
It fills the need he has for the sound and feel of base. It's enegized him.

We've talked about the tribal music that sometimes takes place at the fires, usually just drums that people bring, along with the few that we have here.
I play sometimes on a barrel and loose myself in the beat that comes.
Like a heart beat.
or several, depending on how you look at it.
Now we will have more music and I've been thinking about taking some of the dead branches to fashion some other primitve instruments so that we will have more music still.
On occasion I will howl, but it's usually when I'm a good distance from the fire, since it can be rather loud and long when I do.

Maybe the answer I've been searching for has been in the journey into the deepest part of my soul, the most primative, maybe that's why I was so angry this morning out of the blue.

Everything in my life right now seems to be disgarding things,
stuff that doesn't matter.
Even with all the "needs" that we are facing which are difficult to have right now, maybe even thoes arn't as important as I have looked at them to be.

I'm sure when I get down the road a peice things will begin to make more sense, and the answers to why all of this occured will present it's self.
I don't know if I will like the answers, or if I will be scared because of how things could have gone, if there had been different choices made.

But I'm on a road, traveling somewhere, I don't know the destination yet, I do know that all thoes half started things are probably going to be given away, I'm loosing the need for them more and more each day.

I still can't see down the road. And that still bothers me.
It's like there is nothing there.

But maybe that in itself is an answer, that there is nothing there, until we need to see it.
I wish that thought would make me less uncomfortable, and give me the resolve and focus I need to plow ahead.
But even that thought doesn't.
I guess it's just my time for massive discomfort...
kind of reminds me of what a mother eagle does to the nest when it's time for the babies to learn to fly...

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.