Things i did today that i've never done before

1. Ate pine nuts picked by hand and roasted by those same hands in Canyon de Chelly, AZ less than 3 days ago. I 've never tasted a pine nut until today, WOW.

2. Pet a dog with a mouth much larger than my head.

3. Hung out with someone who will voluntarily bury herself alive overnight to improve her awareness of earth.

4. Scrubbed my truck's battery with baking soda to break up the acidic corrosion that was preventing it from starting.

5. talked to an 89 year old woman about coming out in the 1930's, playing trumpet in an all-female vaudeville band, teaching pottery in japan, hitching rides on banana boats from bali to hawaii, and picking up her partner (30 years her junior) on a cruise to alaska (and that was only the beginning....).


these events all occurred amidst my own personal drama of being inexplicably unable to determine any of my feelings, talking at length about things and crying, predicting the doom of all my hopes, and then eating delicious homemade italian chocolate ice cream and knowing that really, i'll be okay.

bed prep

so, i know this may sound odd, (but isn't it familiar?) but i think that i'm going through some sort of spiritual detoxification. last night when i was writing to a friend about how i was feeling, the desire for an exorcism came to mind. and, in fact, i sort of feel like that's going on. i woke this morning feeling achy, with a sore throat, and puffy eyes. but my head feels clearer than it's been in a few days, and i sense a new, open space within me: fertile, vital, despite my seemingly crusty exterior. In fact, the more i think about it, the more i get excited...i get to plant a new garden, see what takes root inside. (now, just remind me to tend to it, despite all my leanings towards external distraction...)

uninspired

Somewhere between yoga yesterday and this present moment, my spirit crashed. i've been stumbling around now for hours, dumbfounded, lost, wondering what happened and entirely uncertain about what to do. i've tried the standard remedies: walking beneath the canopy of oak, bay and redwood to a striking hilltop view of the west, driving with the windows rolled down and music loud, letting books open to THAT appropriate page and paragraph, chocolate, putting my hands in the dirt, dog nuzzles, and now, you see, i'm even writing. i still feel numb. i don't even have the energy to freak out about it.

well, i suppose this happens sometimes, and then the sun goes down, and the lights go out, and maybe my eyelids will close and open to a different day. at least i have a reason to get up tomorrow: i have to leave this house and go out in my truck again. hmm.. that feels.....like a feeling....i think i just want to be done, you know, to be home for a while. except i have to create that first. ha ha. you make the bed you lie in, foster.

Just where DO our taxes go?

So, driving home from the East Bay, (after taking a beautiful walk through the redwoods with the sweet dog, Rufus, whom I'll be dogsitting for the next 3 weeks), i heard a snippet of NPR that I just have to link up here. Apparently in Bozeman, MT tonight, the town council is meeting to determine whether or not they will give back four million dollars to the federal government that was allotted, in a pork barrel, for a parking garage. If it went back to the Feds, they would require that it be used for Hurricane Katrina victims. Now, I don't know if i trust the Feds to allocate money (hello people! have you read about Blackwater Security? and Haliburton?) but what is EXTREMELY interesting is learning about all the little "special projects" the federal government funds without much notice. so. if you feel like writing your congress folk about why they're getting money for parking garages and roads to Wal-Mart when other folks in their districts can't find jobs or get access to decent food in their neighborhoods, then you might want to look at this link. otherwise, maybe we ought to just start visualizing benevolent alien takeover.


(p.s. this is a list of "pork" suggested by constiutents to be used for hurricane katrina relief. click on subjects in the menu bar to the left of this link to learn more)

http://truthlaidbear.com/listpork.php

practice

I awoke in the morning to a dog snout in my eye. I grumpily rolled over and looked at the clock: 8:25, it said. "you have a tea date at 9," my calendar said. I put the pillow on my head. The phone rang. It was the tea. "I was thinking, it's so nice out, why don't we head out to the ocean for a walk?"

it was nice out, I finally noticed. And I'd been thinking a lot about the ocean, and it felt absolutely right to go face her while her foot kicked back at the gulf 2000 miles away.

Kathy and I drove her (nameless!) vw bus through the sunstreamed redwoods and gold hillsides to point reyes, past the napping holsteins and to the car park for McClure's beach. The whole drive we talked about prayers we'd said to Rita, and how we knew that these events were calling to all of us to take more time to honor what gifts we take for granted, from the Earth, from the universe, from each other.

We walked the narrow path guiding the gap between two tall orange and grey sandstone cliffs to the water 300 yards below. A sparkling stream galloped beside us, green, and singing. The path opened up on to a rippled beach with the blue blue ocean crashing in the cradled cove before us. Rocks stood strong in their wake, and starfish clung expertly along their backsides. My whole body tingled. My shoes came off, and I joined up with all the other tiny specks of the universe, fully embracing my own timelessness, while simultaneously engaging in this rare and perfect series of moments with a woman I barely knew. Rocks pierced pressure points on our feet, dried jelly fish and sea palms littered our way, and it was 4 hours before we darted across the scalding black sand to the trail back up to the land.

we loaded up and started back the way we came, only this time, the road showed us tule elk strolling the hillside, and then abbott's lagoon transformed into sapphires and emeralds. the sparkle was so intense that Kathy jerked the wheel to the right and stopped. "do you see that?" she asked. I nodded. This was not the sun on the water. Every particle that composed our view was vibrating, from the lagoon, to the green water plants, to the dark brown dried grasses just 40 feet in front of us. Two birds circled above and dove into the scene. They remained intact, firm and solid, while the land just glimmered. Two rabbits hopped down the hill towards the water--they, too, remained flat and solid, while everything coming from that piece of earth just waved in and out of place. I could feel my cells trying to match the rhythm, and I held my arms across my chest, wondering if I might melt into it all. I didn't.

we watched, we cried, and we let the magic be.

Ten minutes later, Kathy looked at me and said, "you missed your yoga class."
maybe, but then, maybe not.

post-yoga thoughts on rita

(okay, so, the title sort of states the disclaimer: the following thoughts occurred immediately after my bikram yoga class, which, according to my instructor, reached 120 degrees Fahrenheit and 60 % humidity and did i-don't-know-what to my brain...)

Yoga today kicked my ass. It was hotter than I think I've ever experienced, and the sweat on my body was so thick that i couldn't get a good grip on my ankle during Standing Bow (my foot kept rocketing skyward out of my hand and i fell twice!). However, at the end of class, i found myself lying in Savasana, and thanking the air, the water, the heat of the room, the teachers, the studio, the trees, the fossil fuel that brought me to class (and that likely heated the classroom), all the people who practice yoga, my spirit guides (for, in this case, not letting me get so far into my head that i'd want to either leave or puke), and then, at the end of it all, i found myself thanking Hurricane Rita.

yes.

I thanked her for making something of all the energy we--as a human population, as a country--have been tossing about in the form of consumption, environmental abuses (from pumping and refining fuel to creating petrochemical pesticides which then leak back into our waterways to contribute to the Dead Zone in the Gulf of Mexico which, at last measurement, was equal to the size of Rhode Island), and for directly targeting the region that directly represents these abuses: Galveston and Houston, Texas. I thanked her for reminding us that we are not victims of some horrific "act of God" or "natural disaster" but that we ourselves are very powerful beings, and we have a hand in the creation of all of this, whether or not it is comprehensible in the logical mind. She points to a bigger picture, to one that is timeless and boundless, and of which EVERY LIVING THING is a part. Our actions do not go unnoticed. When we take without respect, gratitude, or return, our actions will be acknowledged and balanced. It is no coincidence that this hurricane is reaching full force at the time of equinox, in the season of Libra, representing balance and justice.

but, i also asked Rita if it wasn't too late for me to contribute some other energy into her whirling spiral....I offered her love. Lots of love, both for who she was being, regardless of my understanding, and as something to mix in with all the anger and hunger for "what we deserve", whether that energy came from people who have exploited natural resources, or from the Earth itself in gaining retrobution for the attrocities committed against her. I have a lot of love to give, and I can give it to a hurricane as much as i can to myself, or the dog i'm caring for, or the food that I ate for dinner, or the people in my life that i want to keep present. Perhaps it will make a difference in how hard she swings at the Gulf. I guess I'll never know, but I can believe...

Full Moon Manifestations

Twenty-seven days ago, I sat with my dear friend wilson on the edge of a garden at Orr Hot Springs, somewhere just inland of the Mendicino Coast in California. As the moon made its approach towards the eastern horizon (still just out of our view), we wrote, with intention, what we wanted to see come into our lives. In the most positive terms, we described our relationships, our communities, our passions as if they presently existed in the way in which we'd have them be. I found that I had a lot to say about community, and development of a creative environment for exploring and expressin relationships to the ecosystem, to spirit, and to each other. I particularly expressed my family's relationship to this space (my parents have long been critical of my utopia-like dreams of community) through growing understanding and openness.

The next day, my dad called me: he had found a piece of river front property in West Virginia, with ample area for a large garden, 5 residences, and a commercial scale kitchen. The moment he saw it, he recalled details of discussions he'd had with my sister and me about our dreams for developing a restaurant and gardens, and possibly an education center with classes for the community about sustainable living practices. In his eye, this property would provide a perfect site for such an endeavor. He would be willing to invest in this property if my sister and I would come "home".

My first thought was, "wow! i should have been more specific about WHERE i wanted this community!"; but then, what do i know? maybe west virginia would work! My sis and I went over every detail of the property, came up with a 3 page list of questions, talked about our needs and expectations, and then called our parents. We would come to look at the property with them.

Now, West Virginia is beautiful. And this piece of property is no exception. It has access to 300 km of National Forest trails that climb high into the mountains, providing views of Virgina. It hosts the head waters of two rivers, and sits on underground caves that spill water to the surface through small springs when the water table rises. Much to my surprise, there were few bugs, and a fairly moderate climate as well. There were a few drawbacks, however; the land presently hosts a highly successful recreational business (fly-fishing, mountain biking, and fly fishing) as well as a busy inn (hosts 50) and restaurant. The demand to keep this business successful to provide the overhead necessary to make the changes we'd like to see happen would be exhausting. The land adjacent to the property is slated to be developed into vacation homes. Those folks who actually live in Pocohontas County would be the least likely to visit the restaurant, and our intention is to be as local as possible. The nearest town is 1.5 hours away, and the majority of people coming to the area would be driving a minimum of 3 hours to get to us.

I've been through a whirlwind of emotions around all of this, and I've had more thoughts than I can handle in the waking hours (I've not slept much, either!). But we all decided that this was too much to take on too soon, and we're letting go of this possibility. The amazing thing, however, is this: my family is talking about working together such that we all might see our dreams come true! Lori can have her community supported restaurant, I can have my community supported farm, and my folks can have their girls near by. We're learning more about each other's dreams, and how to listen to each other in supportive and cooperative ways. It's more beautiful than the West Virigina countryside.

Now, I tell this story today because there is a full moon--in Pisces, at that--on Sunday. I don't know what kind of magic she'll hold that night, but I'm convinced that she shines light on truth and possibility if we are open to her assistance. I don't know exactly what I'm asking for this time around (that's a whole nother mess of emotions, i'll tell you) but I'll take the time to allow for a bit of inspiration to come through me, and see what, together, that moon and I can create.

Like Stevie Said...

I woke this morning to a pink and orange painted desert sky, with sage, juniper and scrub oak dotting the foreground. My head rested on a window-side pillow, flushing pink with cold, while my back tingled warm from the body cozied up next to me. I shifted to get a better look at the mama deer and her two fawns walking the barbed wire reinforced property line; Tooler, the calico one, stirred and meowed, stretched, and left my spine to generate its own heat. This is the seventh bed i've slept in in seven days, and it brings a whole new perspective to that saying, "you make the bed you lie in". I guess we really do get to create our every day.

Today I'm in Durango, where i began my home-free journey 4 months ago to the day. It is tempting to stop and look back at all that has occurred over the past 120 days, just as it is to look ahead to what might happen next, especially given what i know now compared to what i knew then. but i've been given today, with the temptations just being the music on the radio. The sun is shining, the aspens are shaking their leaves like costumes on belly dancers' hips, and the winds of autumn are stirring up change everywhere. I feel my heart opening to gratitude for the miracle of all of this, and all that i don't even see that is life giving and intangible. There seems to be nothing else to do but to keep on...