Strange Things Are Afoot

A tale for All Hallows’ Eve

I am writing on the last day of October, the time when it is said that the veil between our world and the underworld is thin. I have been seeing ghosts of late, and also feeling storms inside my body to match those in nature.

Last day in Lisbon – Eve strikes a pose

September in Lisbon: I made a video near the medieval ruins known as Convento do Carmo, a 14th-century convent destroyed by the great earthquake of 1755. There are many tombs inside the remaining structure. A place full of spirits.

Sacred remains at Convent Carmo

That late summer day, our last in Portugal, I set up a tiny tripod outside and made a recording with my phone. Five minutes of yoga poses as people floated by me like ghosts. Did they see me? Was I invisible? I felt like a secret.

A moment later I added the background track from my song, “Peace on Earth.” Making my voice invisible, I celebrated these beautiful musicians and their instruments. Let these souls shine, I said, and I’ll be the ghost floating by! 👻 

The sun faded over the hills. In the darkness, I tripped on cobblestones while crossing the street. Back in NY, I soon realized my left foot was broken (5th metatarsal) – a déjà vu as I had fractured the same spot before.

I’ve been a medical boot for 6 weeks now. At night, my dream world is quite active – I’m leaping and scaling ancient walls through purple storms, my body in constant motion. By day, I move like a snail. 🐌

During the last full moon (2 weeks ago), I was in Boston seeing ghosts from my days as a student of Berklee College of Music. I discovered that my hotel was a block from where I broke my foot 17 years ago – I had tripped on a storm drain on my way to a bar called Lucky’s. 🍀

Scene of the crime, across from Lucky’s Lounge in Boston

Sometimes life is spooky. We have fault lines where we’re prone to break open time and again, places where the veil feels thin. Today I am Frankenstein in my big boot, full of agitation. But I am always thankful for the learning and growth that comes from life’s mysteries.

For now I’ll hold on to that moment of dappled sunlight in the ancient corner, loving the fluidity of movement as well as the solid ground beneath my feet.