When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron; water, fire, stone;
Five will return, and one go alone.

Iron for the birthday, bronze carried long;
Wood from the burning, stone out of song;
Fire in the candle-ring, water from the thaw;
Six Signs the circle, and the grail gone before.

Fire on the mountain shall find the harp of gold
Played to wake the Sleepers, oldest of the old;
Power from the green witch, lost beneath the sea;
All shall find the light at last, silver on the tree.

Just re-read the Dark is Rising, which I first read when I was younger than 11-year old Will Stanton, the last of the old ones.

Julie left me Arthur and George to read in that grand tradition of traveler gift giving, “I'm one lighter, Enjoy!” She wanted to know what I thought of it…so here goes.

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For once, I’m working a lot, both at ACT and in my private practice…But where I’ve really been is in the Fisher and Son’s funeral parlor. I've spent the last few months obsessively watching and dreaming Six Feet Under. It’s hard to respect so many hours of dedicated TV time, bottom sore from couch surfing, but it felt creatively productive. The show broke up some stagnancy. Things look different. I feel more awake.

Glenn described the aesthetic of ACT's MFA actor training as "undefended presence", (note, not reflected in mainstage productions). That's really given me something to chew on relative to the craft of Alexander Teaching.