My first night in Auvillar I saw a man in my room.  To be more accurate, two men--first a white man, very briefly, then a black man, leaning over my bed.  His image had more permanence.  I was disoriented, in a new place, exhausted, jet lagged.  I had a moment of acknowledging that the black man was very beautiful and looked like someone I knew.  I had a second moment of making a decision: should I be afraid?  Or should I be curious?

A thoroughly American woman, I opted for fear.  But I wrote in my journal, and promised myself to hold a conversation with the dark man, to find out who he was, and to try to bring him into my consciousness.  He looked a little like a Slam poet I know, a guy named John, very talented.  So I suspected he was a muse.

Today, in the main art gallery in Auvillar, I came across a painting of the man who had visited me.  It was John Coltrane!  (I've posted the painting on my profile page.)  Now if only I can convince him to come back, to teach me, to revisit my dreams!

I spend too much time being afraid.  Yes, there are really things to be afraid of in this world.  But to live in fear so much of the time--that's a waste of good life.  So, John, c'mon back!  I'll offer you some good scotch and a poem as well.  In the morning!  I'm setting my alarm for an early rising, so I can dedicate the morning to you!  Music, not fear!  May the spirit of a Love Supreme watch over all my friends and loved ones--and infuse my dreams!