I don't know what to make of thundershowers. Three brief thundershowers came through today, and I was ecstatic, electric. But what or who are they? I used to say that when the raindrops fell on my face, it was a goddess kissing me, but I'm not sure if I believe that anymore and even if it were so, which goddess? Not Seamother, that's for sure. It always brings with it the image of rainbow and cutthroat trout leaping in a stream. Trout leap. They do. There's meaning there.

I've been thinking about the whole soul thing. It's what ties an undine down, splits her from her holiness, leaving her hungry and depraved. Such machinations we stoop to! Such deceit we inflict! I may meditate for hours in my cathedral, I may give magnanimously of my spiritual and intuitive gifts, but in the moments I am least aware of myself, I come to and discover myself brushing my hair, reapplying the lipstick, planning my next seduction. Oh to be wholly human or wholly divine! Then maybe I'd be spared this conflict. Maybe the conflict keeps me from being who I need to be. Maybe the conflict is who I need to be. Being divine I cannot be wholly in myself in seduction, but being human I fail to transcend it.

Well, anyway, the more interesting story is that I've been thinking about love. I spoke with the Grandmaster about this over cobalt glasses of water, and he lent me a few strongly worded ideas, as usual. Humans are always trying on terms to refer to fake love, real love, physical love, et cetera et cetera. How many words did the old Greeks have? And then they put the different types in a hierarchy. Go figure. What became clear to me is that what an undine means by love is not what a human means. The Grandmaster may refer to a certain thing that looks like what I mean by love as love, but it isn't. It is not love because all meaning resides in the relations between things, and these things do not mean love when placed in relation to my undine nature.

Ay, you learn all these human definitions for things, ways of reacting, and they fail you! Sensuality will never redeem my soul. What does that mean? What will that feel like? Will I die? Will my lover? Will we drown together in the birth of our child? Am I to live on in the child I bear? What is a soul for?

Stop, chlo'jo'. Nothing is for anything. Everything is for itself.

A great spirit passed through the streets yesterday, spilling messages and opalescent globes everywhere. One was addressed to me! I cannot divulge the content of the message, but from it I could recognize him and I knew that he recognized me. We respect each other. He is a nomad spirit, and so he helps to connect more place-bound spirits to each other and to the rest of the world. I was grateful for his forest wisdom.