Friday, December 17
5:35 p.m.
Read through my corrections of Mt. II again today, a final check. Added a full page & some measures at the very end of Mt. II. (I kept inwardly seeing that yellow post-it note to myself that said to continue the intensity ...) I continued the intensity, & then brought it down to mezzo piano, as a Prelude to Mt. III. I think Bob will be pleased. I am pleased.
Windgarth, Saturday, December 18
10 p.m.
M. & I went around town today, dropping my Cds off at various shops. I sell them on consignment; they take 30% - except Hickey’s Music store which asks for 25%. I said that sounded a bit low, didn’t they want 30% - & they insisted 25% was enough. Ithaca is a small town, which is an advantage, most of the shop keepers know me. On the other hand, I rarely get paid. I have sold many hundreds of my first book (The Spiritual Life of Animals & Plants) & some T shirts as well, but barely have seen any financial results. I suppose it will be the same for the cds. I have a little notebook where I carefully write down how many books I bring where & when - however, the following steps (i.e. to get paid for them) seem more elusive. When I brought Claus 12 cds today, I noticed that all the books were gone, & noone had called to tell me to bring more. (When I called Claus to ask if he would sell my cds he said “You are keeping track of the book sales aren’t you?” I reassured him with a description of my little notebook by the fireplace & he seemed relieved. I wrote the cds in as well, under his name.) Then again, I would rather put my attention on writing more books & more music, than trudging around to shops with my little notebook & all its $ signs & figures ...
M. & I arrived at Windgarth at 3 p.m. today, a cold, windy afternoon. We had brought shopping bags filled with ribbons & wrapping paper & presents for Cindy’s grandchildren. I barely had time to look at the lake, the children were due to arrive before dinnertime - but I stood by our door, with my back to the lake & my arms full of presents - & listened, listened, listened to the sound of the waves & wind. That would have been enough, that sound. I could have turned around & up the steps & driven back to Ithaca without a regret ...
As it was, I struggled with the door knob & my shopping bags & two loaves of bread we had picked up on the way to Windgarth & went inside. Deb stopped by briefly & then left. M. turned on the moving reindeer with their small, clear lights & I wrapped & arranged the children’s presents. We had a nice scarf & a calendar for Larry. He had quietly requested the title page of the quintet as a present, the original manuscript. He collects manuscripts & he said he would frame it. When I was done, we called Larry & he went to pick the children up at their mom’s house. It was our first Christmastime together. Cookies & chocolate milk & then their presents, stuffed animals & scarves & corduroy baseball caps & smaller toys - & then we played checkers & took photos. The boys ran around the house for a while & we had a grand time. The only hint of sadness I was aware of, was when I gave Larry the ms, when he read the inscription to Cindy.
11 p.m. Larry just stopped by, wearing his usual black winter beret & long scarf & dark blue sea captain’s coat - to say that on their way to us, the boys were sad & angry & asking about Cindy’s death ... & he thanked us for cheering them up. And then he cried.
After he left, M. asked when we would all recover & I said “It will take a long time”. And so it will, even though I see & feel Cindy’s presence filling this house. I am sitting on the couch in our downstairs kitchen which overlooks the lake; twelve windows & a door, it is more like a very large, enclosed porch. My telescope is pointed towards the lake & stands near the black & graceful propane stove with its cheery flames & presence. Our small & spindly Christmas tree is across from me, near the door & is covered with candy canes & ornaments & wide, almost transparent ribbons. The moving reindeer are still on outside, & I can see them through the windows. The laughter of the boys is here too, & many past memories of Cindy. Cindy coming over to talk, or to bring us a small flower from the gardens or a shell from the beach - or to tell me about the moon or fireworks down the lake - or questions about my clairvoyance, or life or being, angels - sitting next to me here on the couch in her garden clothes or all dressed up after a party with a big, old-fashioned ribbon bow in her hair ...
Last week M. e-mailed Larry the manuscripts of two of the new books, Realms of Light & Meetings with Angels & Other Divine Beings. Tonight he said that they are well-written & clear & much better than the other books on the subject he had read - & that they are helping him. M. commented that was useful information, since Realms of Light was written for those in his sad situation. (The book describes my clairvoyant experiences of other realms - & meetings with people who are now in other realms, after their life here on earth.) Diana is still working on the layouts, but the books will be published this coming year, hopefully within six months. Writing these books was more-or-less an “assignment” from the Higher, & I am very happy to again be writing music.
Windgarth, Sunday, December 19
10:45 a.m. Woke to a light snowfall & a phone call from Bob. Unless the roads are impassable, we will print up all the corrections to the quintet score tomorrow night. We are also considering changing the concert date to mid-April.
The lake & sky are shrouded in white today. A thin layer of snow already covers the lawns & trees. A thin layer of snow continues to fall from the sky, changing direction with the wind, like a moving veil. A few geese on the lake, headed south - & I see a few squirrels as well, climbing the bare branches of the locust trees. I’m not sure why. Cindy would know. One would think that their winter nuts & other treasures are buried somewhere in the ground.
The only bit of outdoor color is a tear-shaped banner on a thin stick, stuck in one of Cindy’s window boxes, flapping in the wind, like a wave from another realm, a hello. A bit of cheer in an all white world. Pinks & mauves & blues, a small piece of simple plastic defying Nature’s present monotony - she probably bought it at the Dollar Store. And yet today those awkward colors mean quite a lot to me - & I begin to understand why she bought it.
Bits & snatches of Mt. II keep running through my head.
Later, I will put on my warm boots & thick clothes & bring some of my cds to the Winery across the road, for them to sell.
A Composer's Journal Entries December 17-19, 2004
Moderator: figaro