Eyeing the display, I see the crowing glory: Shagadelic Mojo?!
Patrick cracked up. "Yes! Isn't that fabulous! We'll set it off tonight."
Stepping up to the house he adds, "This is where my mother has been holding her Artist's Way groups for the past 10 years."
Well of course it is. Why not? After all, if it were not for Julia Cameron, I wouldn't have left my job, become a coach, and written that article. If I had to name one book whose reading and working of its program had concretely changed the course of my life, that would be it. I seemed to have landed in just the right place.
Entering the living room, Patrick introduced me to his mother and a friend of hers also staying there. We immediately launched into extended conversations about the Artist's Way, Sue, and various family histories. My ease with the Weilands was far beyond what one would expect to feel upon meeting strangers in such tragic circumstances. Yet, they immediately felt like family to me as we followed a meandering river of conversation sometimes punctuated by tears, sometimes by laughter. We traded books, relaxation tapes, stories, and poems. It was like a big show and tell and all of it meaningful, every bit revealing something to each other.
After some time we broke for dinner, lavishing oohs and ahhs over the gorgeous organic produce they got from a local farmer and then...
Shagadelic Mojo!
Note: In autumn in Wisconsin, leaves are dry. Oak trees are full of dry leaves.
These were serious fireworks: multi-firing huge fireworks that went on and on after a single touch of a match.
How that oak tree did not go up like a Roman candle is beyond me.
"Patrick, no more!"
Mary's eyes were fixed on the shower of cinders falling among the branches on this breezy evening.
"Okay." Pause. "You know, these are made so that they cool off quickly."
I cracked up. "Oh, yeah, Patrick, nothing bad ever happens as a result of fireworks!"
He shot me a look (ix nay on the ire fay) and started laughing, guilty as charged.
As the last cinder faded, the moon waxed full over the trees and the ladies went to bed leaving Patrick and I to contemplate our journey.
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