the end of the longest week of the year

24 dec - 5 dec 2007 can be legitimately combined into one week. it was december 24th when i stopped moving, and decided to hold still for a moment after another grueling holiday season. i did my best to prepare for it this year; i knew what was coming, but in the end it was still two months straight of work without many breaks. and of course, a goodly amount of introspection on the fly. like it or not the solstice and the end of the year, and the time leading up to it is a time of transition. i am not one to make new year's resolutions, but december always brings about an awareness in me of what changes i need to make in my own life. in retrospect, i cannot say that 2007 was a bad year for me, but it was difficult. at the same time it was all about laying down the ground work for what is to come, as i strengthen my resolve to live on my own terms, and as i enter into year 10 of my business.

i won't bore you with the details of the longest week. there were many significant events that were profound, but there is no way for me to describe them in any significant way. what i do want to give an account of is the first friday show. if you missed it, you weren't meant to be there; that is understood. but it is a reminder to me to not blow everything off, and to be open to the opportunities and live experiences that present themselves to me.

we put on an art opening at the egg every first friday of the month, you know that, you are probably on the email list. this month's show happens to feature yvonne, a more recent member of the egg, and the show features a bunch of electric lamps. lamps weren't the entire show, but a good proportion of the show, and this is significant.

i arrived tot he egg around noon, and the whole egg was full of people preparing for the show all afternoon. as brent and i were preparing the upstairs, the lights flickered. he looked at me, and i confirmed that, yes, he saw what he saw. there was a big wind storm outside that i was barely noticing, because of the amount of activity going on inside. at five the show was coming together, but not ready (the doors would open at six). no matter, things always come together in the end. at 5:45p the power went out, and we were in complete darkness. not just a flicker, but out entirely. non-plused, we all set about looking for and lighting candles. john found his car battery bass rig, and we all cheered as 3 clip lamps were lit to continue setting up the show. the caterer was given a headlamp, phone calls were made, a generator was on the way! and the rest of us watched and waited. the food was set on the tables, the bar was open. kenneth came upstairs to let us know that we couldn't use any of the plumbing, as our system required the sump pump that worked on electricity. so no running water either.

six o'clock came and went. how lovely the space was lit by candlelight. how ironic that there was no power for a lamp show. but the show must go on. there was no way to cancel, the internet was down too. the generator arrived. a flurry of activity went on surrounding the arrival of the generator. it sputtered a bit, and died, then it started again. the lights were unplugged and replugged, and part by part the lamps lit. it was like some moment from the past, a bizarre solstice ritual, like new year's eve. the lights dimmed and brightened with the generator's inconsistent hum. we all stood around watching and cheering as each section of the gallery's lights came on. an abbreviated version of the original, but still amazingly beautiful. a shining example of community, of the egg, our egg.

with so much that could have gone wrong, and did, no one panicked. everyone pulled together and did what they could to make it all happen. and a truly memorable night at that. it was almost disappointing when the power came back on. there is something about florescent lighting that dissolves magic. but the rest of the evening was lovely too. i am sorry if you missed it, but maybe you just weren't meant to be there.