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I went to sleep last night with a full moon hanging over the bayou and woke to a rosy dawn – signs all is okay. The Times Picayune’s history archive the other day was about how Rex, the first official Mardi Gras krewe in New Orleans, pressured the city to close down on Fat Tuesday, which began the real Carnival season in New Orleans over a hundred years ago. This morning the front page of the TP was about Rex reasserting itself in the city as an upstart, Tit Rex, they claim is using their branded name. Over a century later, and Rex is still flexing its muscle in the Crescent City.

But what caught my eye this morning was not on the front page of the newspaper, but several pages in where I read that a Super Earth has been spotted from the single vibration of an orange star. It’s given some scientists hope that when we have finished ruining this planet, there will be a place to go. Ahh, the hum of an exit sign. How comforting is that?

This week the National Newspaper Association is in town for a conference and I am seeing a long time source of mine for dinner. Our conversations for the past few years have been about the future of newspaper and will a printed rolled up digest of the news be thrown to our children’s front porches.

This past Thursday, at the drum circle in Fortier Park, Gingerbread sang an Abbey Lincoln song, Throw it Away, a rift on letting go and letting God and that song has haunted me since then for its melody and its lyrics. I also read an article this morning in Renewal, the Waldorf’s school’s journal, that Rudolf Steiner described the brain as an “overrated” organ. It is designed, he said, to be an organ of reflection. Not much original work comes directly from the brain. When it is well developed through experiences and activities that create complex neural pathways and is balanced during sleep, the brain becomes a sophisticated organ of “mental digestion.” It processes our daily experiences and learning and reflects these back to us in an available form for deeper understanding. Again it is another signpost in my journey to get out of my head and get into my heart.

In bed last night, in the last moments of this splendid, full moon, I spent a long time trying to fall asleep because my brain was trying to tell me something. I had potential worries stacking up in the parking lot of my mind, vying for mental space with my general bonhomie, and Abbey’s voice kept saying over and over again like a melodic mantra, throw it away, throw it away, throw it away, give your love, your life, each and every day.

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