Been traveling a bit, out over the mighty Smokeys to a town called Knoxville, Tennessee. I've had dealings in recent times with the good folks of Tennessee and have warmed to a genuine attachment to the place. Or is it a state of Mind? A lot of songwriters living in Tennessee………is it mere coincidence that the word Tennessee rolls off the tounge like good whiskey? I think not.
I dove Goto, my favorite car in the world, out there yesterday at five. We went on at like midnight, and there were a gazillion acts, mostly young local women in their early to mid twenties- a lot of them in a sort of quiet pagan resurgence, a soothing rebellion. . Belly dancing, in it's often middle class unintended way, like horse back riding is a quick ticket to the instinctual, ah, belly center. Just where more of us could use some focus. Pulls you into feeling, out of the hegemony of the Head.
The place, called the Grotto and it was very cave like and mysterious; it was packed.
And we rocked. I'm new to middle eastern music, I just jumped in the deep end and swam for it and got swallowed by thankful whales enough salty times to make it a memorable night out at sea in Tennessee.
Then a hard night on a cold floor- but this place was a self-secret shrine to the Goddess, an artesian bounty channeling through banks both riverly and mundane. I felt a good strong energy there in Knoxville, and am glad as an Eyes in the Pine special report it can be stated plainly that the Goddess is well in Tennessee, parts anyway, and she is not plain, oh no, in any of her guises that walk among, and as, us right here on the earth.
This was the shrine in the Gypsy Hands building, slanted floors and the whole thing shaped like a hand that longs to hold.
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