"She stands at the window, proud Mary, bad news..."

It turns out I was right. The board of directors hasn't even bothered responding to the lawyer, because by law, they don't have to. They are perfectly within their legal rights to deny his inheritance without giving cause. Those who said we can sue have been corrected as well. Honestly, if we sued, we'd be at risk of being fined for filing a frivolous suit, as there is *no way* we can win. It's over. Honestly, the part of me that isn't just so whacked out by this I'm nearly gibbering is relieved.

"It is solved by walking."

My job is to find us alternate housing. Best case is the co-op across the street. They don't have anything available right now, but I was told to call back every fortnight. From there, I begin searching in Queens and the greater NYC area, and then if that proves fruitless, move my search to the suburbs and NJ.

My goal is to find a solution with a minimal effect on our quality of life. My other goal is to stay sane, because my own internal dramas are not willing to take a backseat.

I don't have words for how I'm feeling right now.

I'm walking on the edge of a knife.

One foot in front of the other.

"It is solved by walking."
"It is solved by walking."
"It is solved by walking."

Jade

"I'll do what I do and you will look away..."

I tend to think in song lyrics. I also tend to get certain sets of lyrics stuck in my head. (doesn't everyone?)

"She was prophesied for an early slide, followed it to the letter..."

"You've been gone away to long, leaving us to carry on, though in truth you never tried, just stepped back and watched the slide. Paragons of innocence, questioning your intent, never quite sure what you meant from the other side. Moments on the carousel, must admit we ride it well...."

"Bits of dreams all in a line, and somehow we missed the signs that it all was never real and somehow a fatal deal."

_The Wake of Magellan_, Savatage.

"Deliever us unto each other I pray." _The Green World_, "I Had No Right", Dar Williams (From a prayer written by Daniel Berrigan)

As you can probably tell, my mind is entrenched in wars. The one our country is rushing headlong into, with the distinct probability of creating a climate the will lead inexorably to mutually assured destruction, and the war in my own head.

My own war is small, and near bloodless, but magnifies everything, causes more trouble than I'm worth, makes everything harder than it needs to be, is pointless melodrama. "In a world of kind pedestrians who've seen enough today." "Way back, where I come from, we don't like to make our passions other peoples concern. So we walk in the world of safe people, and at night we go in our houses and burn."

"In the dark he heard a whisper, asking him to understand.'In the desert look for water, on the ocean look for land."
"Could you keep our lives together, safely back onto the shore, could you grant this last illusion, only this and nothing more."

Jade

"You've got to bleed for the dancer"

I think it's time for me to get back into dance. My yoga practice is being very good to me, and I'm certainly not giving it up, but I want to branch out a little more. Luckily, I have a new CD set that I'm dying to find the time to try out; Shiva Rea's _Yoga Trance Dance_, which seems like the best of both worlds.

In yoga, I need to maintain presence in *now*, and if I wander, especially now that I'm well into the intermediate poses (I'd consider myself advanced if I could do pigeon, and the arm balances, damnit.) I risk injury, and when one considers the state of my joints at the best of times, injury comes easily.

In dance I can put presence, the self, everything down, and wander off anywhere I wish. With all that's going on right now, and how lost, alone, and burdened I feel, I could really use that. At times, when everything is coming into place, dance is like a vessel I can pour my most impotent rage into, and let it be transformed.

Where am I? My voice echoes, as if I'm in a hall of mirrors, my only responses come from the quiet of my own mind. The inner core of my body and mind remind me of watching someone wind chainmail links, but these coils are layered, one on top of the other. In the best of moment, the uppermost layers unwind, and I can draw a full breath, my hands cease shaking. The inner layers remain tightly coiled, clenched against the next blow to my fragile world.

This is not an adventure. This is not a glorious new opportunity.

This is losing my home, the home that has been in Sirs' family for 3 generations, the home that I have put untold hours of sweat into. This is losing what I have so carefully built for him, for us, over the past two 1/2 years. This is losing what kept us sane after 9/11, what has always served as our shelter from all the storms. We are losing it over *nothing*, over pettiness, over power/money grabbing by terribly small people. We are losing something that has so much meaning, that we have given so much of ourselves to, that has given so much to us, for no reason at all.

This Is Wrong.

I will make it right.

Jade