Seasons of Der Alchemist

April 1, 2011: Guten tag! Vie geht es einen? ... No. No, there's nothing wrong with your computer. I'm merely welcoming you to my ephemeral (meaning Cybernetting) Blah-ugh! world in my native German (or Deutsch, as it was once known, until someone finally realized how close that was to the word "douche").

It's been a challenging day for me -- and yet isn't it always, with my myriad responsibilities, the absence of any real respect or authentic admiration, and this terrible itch I have on the bottom of my foot. (I think it means that guests are coming, but I'll still refuse to put my shoes on!)

Inspired by the cool, rainy weather, I've taken the liberty of constructing a fire (and my family was pleased to see that I did it in the fireplace this time). Fire is a fascinating thing -- much more vibrant than water, and not as showy or consumed with itself. (Water just thinks it's such a much!) I like fires in the winter, and even though it's spring, the fireplace doesn't know that, and so continues to burn without argument.

You might be interested to hear about a recent discovery of mine, which I guess is alchemy related (although it might merely be based on foolishness, which is a more modern version of alchemy, if you think about it). As I'm so enamored with fires, I came to the conclusion that they must be serving some kind of psychic purpose for me, and that spending time in front of the fire in winter months soothes my soul and heals my heart, (as well as drying out my skin).

This, in turn, led me to connect the importance of spending time in the water during summer months for quite the same reasons. Nothing centers my twisted soul in late July like a late afternoon dip in greenish-brown Long Island Sound, and while I still find it hard to actually swim more than 20 feet without taking on water, I can manage to at least paddle frantically in place for extended periods, and this basically gets the job done.

In my disturbingly inquisitive way, I then speculated on what alchemistic element the autumn demanded, and of course I now understand it's earth. Fall is the time when all good men (and even the ornery ones) must find a suitable solace in the tree-laden sanctuaries most replete with sour, smelly soil. The autumn is the time of earth, and I'm not just saying that so I can sound like Pocahontas.

And spring, it turns out, is when a young man's fancy must be put on hold in order for that individual to seek open vistas of big sky. Spring is a time of spiritual expansion -- (Oh brother, now I sound like a line from the junk mail catalogue that Whole Foods keeps sending us!) -- a time when we best find the great teachings of the sky, and learn those sky lessons, and all the sky facts, and study the sky syllabus (or the syllabi ... or the skylabi ... Can you tell how tired I am?!)

Anyway, a better understanding of basic seasonal alchemy, I feel, will help even the stupidest man (and sexiest woman) experience the joys and subtle intricacies of life in these gas-bag times in which we live. And if it doesn't do that, one can at least get in some swimming ... or have fire now and again.

That reminds me -- it's time to poke it!