It's raining like never before...but everything is so much better with a pool. I mean really, with blue like that, how hard could it be?
I'm feeling much better than my last post. Much of this has to do with going to the beach every single night since then, even in the rain, and meditating. I am so freaking lucky.
I have two stories for you that relate to this. Then I must do work. I'm going on tour on Monday!
The Story In Which Turner Reveals Why He Goes To The Beach Every Night
Back in October, Carey and I sat down to make a Five Year Plan. Ya know, cuz we're dorks like that. It was very exciting, and huge...wishes turning into goals, ideas into commitments, a baby in three years. I love shit like that though. I love goals and plans and commitments. It's a major turn-on. Even if it's scary.
Which I found out that night, in my sleep.
I dreamed I lived at a house on the beach (which, metaphorically, I believe we all do - the beach being the earth between heaven and the deep). I had this rock whistle that I remembered desiring as a little kid, and I blew the whistle happily, showing off to the guests in my house. Look what I have! Do you hear me?
I walked outside to feel the sand underfoot and watch a roaring tide, and in the high waves I saw all the whales and dolphins of the world congregating. Staring at me. Waiting for me to tell them what I wanted from them, because apparently I had called them with my whistle.
I stood there, busted. I shifted nervously. They stared, their swimmy eyes cutting through the water and into me. I held up the whistle, like What? This? You thought I was calling you? I couldn't be calling you, I don't have anything to say, I'm, I'm not sure what you want...haha! JK! I was just...blowin' yer whistle...!
At which point all the whales and dolphins in the world rolled their collective eyes at me, turned, flapped their tales in annoyance, and swam away.
Do you think that's significant?
Now, The Story In Which The Whistle Appears
I knew there was a reason I played so much of that game, The Legend of Zelda, as a kid. The whistle is super important to any hero myth.
When I was 5, my mom took me to Seattle. We tromped through Pike's Place Market, and I found My Whistle. But of course, I was not allowed to have a whistle. Hero myths be damned, no single mom can put up with a five year old with a whistle.
At this point I committed the worst trespass of my entire life. Which at least means I got it out of the way.
On the grassy knowl overlooking the bay by the Market sat a puppeteer. A blind puppeteer. Asking for money. My mother gave me a dollar, and I...stole six more.
Oh, you thought I was perfect, did you? Glad to disabuse you of that notion.
So I took my seven bucks and marched back to the whistle table. My mother suddenly realized that no five year old should have seven dollars, and when she asked me...I guess I had learned to steal before I learned to lie.
"I stole it from the blind puppeteer, mommy."
Mom marched me back to the puppeteer, and required that I tell him--and his audience--what I had done. I was booed. I was hissed. I was told to take a hike.
My mother doesn't remember this, which means it must be true. She has an endearing habit of blocking out bad behavior on both our parts.
Flash forward 23 years. I'm attending the National Performance Network Annual Meeting in Seattle, staying at the Marriot right underneath Pike's Place. The whale dream had just happened, so I told Steve about it, and then the whistle. After chanting "Morally Bankrupt!" at me for ten minutes, Steve's eyes widened in excitement:
"Let's go find that whistle!!!"
We braved the tourists, and commenced to telling the story--minus the thievery--to the shopkeepers who looked like they'd been around awhile. Three different owners told us about an occarina maker on the top floor who'd been around for 25 years. Maybe that's what I meant by whistle?
It was. Totally the same whistle I remembered, only much much smaller (my hands, too, were smaller back then). I bought my whistle.
Then I lost my wallet, and the payment was cancelled. The angry whistle maker called me two weeks later, thinking I defrauded him. How could he know I am a thief by nature???
We figured out what had happened, and then I told him the dream. He told his wife, and a week later, another whistle, shaped like a bird, showed up at my house. "So your wishes may take flight."
So now I take my whistle down to the beach, because right now it's whale migration season--they found a blue whale in the bay just three days ago. I stand in the tide, focus on the things I know I want in my life, and whistle my wishes from the bird to the whales. When I'm done, the surf always sounds like an affirming applause.
Love,
Turner
