It happened again recently, that most rarefied of dreams: I am performing a beautiful new song spontaneously as I compose it. The dream wakes me up, and on waking I remember part of the haunting melody and lyrics, and am able to transcribe them.
Serpentine Music Productions is now entering its fifteenth year. I have outlived many of the stores and music distributors who used to be my customers, and even my one competitor (who was also ultimately a customer, too).
I continue to mull over my long involvement with Reclaiming, listening to what other people consider the babies in the bathwater, sitting with reactions and reflections in order to think of something useful to say about it all. One image that pops to mind is an incredible moment that occurred less than a year ago, and maybe that’s as good a place as any to begin.
Okay, I admit it. I watch American Idol each week. I can probably name on less than one hand the TV series I’ve ever watched regularly as an adult: Roseanne, The Daily Show, American Idol. There, I did it with two fingers left to type with. I’m just not a big TV watcher. So why Idol?
Here we are, on the cusp of the biggest collective tryptophan high of the year. All over the country, people are rummaging through their closets looking for their baggiest clothes that can pass for dressy, in preparation for tomorrow’s feast.
Though I never knew him personally, Gwydion Pendderwen loomed large in the Bay Area Pagan community when I first became a part of it in the early 1980s. My first affinity group participated in the protests at Lawrence Livermore Labs in 1982 in conjunction with activists from Reclaiming. I remember a buzz that day when a certain man came onto the scene: Gwydion had come down from the mountains to protest nuclear weapons research with the rest of us.
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