The Space Between

Oh, synchronicities.

The period after the Launch of the Self-Love Oracle has been strange. One takes care of the mundane life as best as one can, while aware of the frenetic action backstage, getting ready for the next act, or a new play altogether. Watching the music video for Michael Penn’s Try once again, I realise this is all about opening Door Number 2! If we were to go by the Tarot, perhaps this is the next stage where we meet/integrate/become the High Priestess.

A week ago, one of my friends “read” me. “You have money,” she said, “but you can also spend it.”

“OMG yes,” I replied, bursting into laughter. “I just splashed a bit and ordered a small harp.” (Really, I don’t make these purchases often!)

“A harp?”

“A little one, to play with. A pentatonic harp so I don’t get discouraged.” (Because these do not have discordant notes, when tuned right. While this would not be my first stringed instrument, it had been 2 decades since I touched one.)

“So it’s only the black notes.”

“Oh?”

It took me a second or two to realize that she was right. How strange that this was a 180-degree flip from the days I’d owned and dabbled on piano and organ keys and gotten irritated at songs that included sharps and flats! My fingers stumbled over the black keys and I found them a pain, and soon I would be receiving an instrument that was only them? Hilarious!

In the back of my mind, I also knew vaguely that the pentatonic scale was an “old” musical scale from the time of the Greeks. On the day I would receive my harp (though I would not know it yet), I went through some of my old bookshelves and found a forgotten copy of Orpheus in the Underworld. I pulled it out, marveled at how yellowed its pages were, and left it without thought on my desk. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur because of dealing with a sick and restless kid–I would not return to my desk again until after the harp had arrived. When I saw the book again, I went “ha ha”. When I started watching Caroline Casey on Youtube for the first time, and she brought up Orpheus again, I went “hmmm”.

Black notes. The in-between notes. The notes that bridge the “white notes”. I christened my harp “Orfy,” apologised for my lacking music ability, and hoped, that if I was going into/through the “Underworld” (again), that we would be bright companions for each other. The territory wouldn’t be new, but some of the company may be.

And Lissa Rankin just posted about The Space Between Stories.