Illuminating aspects

Last night I enjoyed the company of Laura Ingalls, Bat Woman, Spider Man, Marilyn Monroe, Dumb Donald (unfortunately, Fat Albert couldn't make it), the Universe, a sexy saxophone player, a cute little black sheep, and, to my delight, the One-eyed, One-horned, Flying Purple People Eater! i was so excited to meet TOEOHFPPE, because i've forever wondered if the purple bit of his title referred to his color, or the color of the people he preferred to eat and I got to ask him! I feel complete now that my question has been answered.

i allowed my dark side to manifest itself last night. My hair became highlighted with black streaks, and my eyes sunk into my head. i grew black wings with long feathers, and shiny black and silver skin. i wore a black gown and carried a juniper crag in my taloned fist, and felt old and wise. When i danced around a bonfire in the cold night, i felt my sadness rise, and transform.....it was powerful. i couldn't sleep at all. from my window, i watched Orion sneak into the southern horizon, a sure sign of winter, and then sat quietly as the clouds came in with more snow for the peaks.

despite the cold, despite the dark, i am welcoming the depth of this winter, and the opportunity to go inside and get creative with what might be able to sustain me through this season of frozen ground. this is the season in which i chose to come to this world, after all...perhaps it has something for me to come home to as well.

the world in which I live

Time is only a measure. It has nothing to do with what you can or cannot get done, unless you think it does.

People are realizing that the financial survival doesn't cut it in terms of a reason to live. They see gardens and houses with warm light and people sitting around the table talking, laughing and eating, as the abundant life they want to cultivate, and so they do.

Every door is unlocked.

Lightning and snow brighten the same patch of sky in the same moment.

When you ask for something, more often than not, it shows up. If it doesn't, something better does.

Pureed yucca is for dessert. And it's really delicious.

Post run thoughts (when i go on and on)

Just got back from a run. I wish I could keep the momentum going through my day…I’ve much to do in terms of getting settled here. I’ve been battling my fears of not being able to find work to support me and what I think I want to do (which, in this human existence, sometimes requires money), and at the same time, trying to remain as open as possible to the connections that are all around me, that may just lead me to the way I can best serve this community and myself. The thing is, I’ve been a little stressed about the the timing of it all. My bank account says it needs to happen NOW.

So,it was funny that I should end up sitting in meditation with a group of Buddhists last night. Now, those of you who know me can verify this: I am very adept at being with my thoughts while engaging my body in all sorts of physical activity, whether it be swimming, yoga, skiing, hiking, hell, even driving, but for me to sit still and be with my thoughts, well, now, that’s like trying to make a fire be still with its fuel source.

Anyway, I sat. and I had lots of thoughts, about what I needed to be doing to get a job, who I wanted to meet, wondering why I left California, feeling really lucky that I’m here and not in the line of a hurricane…and through all this, I kept trying to come back to my breathing—to the feeling of the air moving into my lungs, the filling of my diaphragm, the slow falling of my chest as the air moves through my nose back to the room around me, warmer now then when it entered my body. Then, of course, i began to wonder whether or not that was even the right thing to be doing...i don’t know what you’re supposed to do when you’re meditating! Next thing I was aware of was Michael Stipe singing “Stand” in my head (I’ve noticed that usually always beneath my thoughts there’s a song, and somehow it reflects something about my present state of mind). Well, I was TRYING to Sit in the place where I was, and I found myself getting angry at all this mayhem in my brain that needed to assert its significance. I watched myself try to push this feeling away, and I watched it rise again. I thanked it for its vitality and resilience, and then, went back to my breath. It was then that I was given a gift. As I breathed in, I heard, “This is you of the world,” and as I exhaled, I heard, “this is you in the world”. With each breath, these words cycled. Eventually, i took it on: the You changed to Me, and soon, the phrase just fell away to prepositions. “of” was my inhale, “in” was my exhale. During each moment, I was engaged. I was where I was, both being created by and creating the world around me. I was connected and connecting, supported and supporting, being altered by and altering everything and I was sitting still.

But I know that’s not really what y’all want to read about…you want to hear about the two professional beach volleyball players I met after meditation, right? Well, it’s true. I met two women who live here in Durango who make their living playing volleyball in the sand in little bikinis. They’re both like, 7 feet tall with beautiful bronze skin and sinewy muscles and they make more money in losing one game than I do working for a year. They both played on the Atlanta Olympic Team and that’s when they realized that there was much more money in the sand than on the court. So. It's in the contract that they have to wear the uniforms given at each game. Curse? Blessing? Both? Well, I've been told that they live in a palace. You tell me.

One of the women is off to Mexico today to complete a tournament she started in Brazil. Then, from there, she flies to Kuwait. Kuwait?? I asked her, incredulous. Sure, there’s sand there, but, hey, isn’t it a war zone?

It is, in fact, that she is going to play as relief for the troops. I can just hear the bush administration’s thinking: “yeah, you know, all our boys need is a keg and some good lookin’ women, that’s all they really want anyway.” Well, we’ve got a campaign going here to have her invest the money that she gets from the government to play eye candy into some sort of effort that might actually benefit the people who “choose” to enlist in the army. Perhaps someday, our government will realize that all our boys really need is a way to survive the U.S. economy without having to go to war!

Okay. I’m done for now. Really.

Homecoming

so, go figure. i'm ecstatic in the wonder of all this: new people, places, possibilities....

today, i walked down my road to a dirt road that took me westward across the mesa and to a small lake that sits beneath the la plata mountains. i could see the fish swimming beneath the surface, and ran my hands through the mullein and milkweed and cottontails as i walked the narrow path of its banks. i'd just spent the morning re-arranging the kitchen (now we have a compost bucket, and all the grains in mason jars on the blue shelves above the baskets of bounty from the garden out back: pumpkins, squash, peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, and batchelor buttons) and walking around the property, discovering a chicken coop, a greenhouse, and cinder blocks that will eventually find their way into the back of my rear-wheel drive truck. speaking of sheila, she's now a lightweight cavern, emptied of all my belongings, save the altar on my dashboard which hosts a mandala, a few prisms, some sage and dried flowers, and a colorful assortment of olive pits. we drove together across the nameless county roads on Florida Mesa, stopping every once in a while to talk to the cows and horses, and also to watch the new double-wide get crane-lifted on to a lot a few miles away from our new home.

last night, i delved into the harvest of local crops and made pumpkin soup and apple pies while swapping stories with one of my new housemates, experiencing that odd sensation of excitement and alarm when you discover that, despite the ease of being with new people, they don't know anything about you, and you don't know anything about them, even though the comfort of old friendship flows through.

there is something old in this place for me, however. the connections here run deep...so far i've one degree of separation from more than half the people i've met, and a common set of goals and values with nearly everyone. and i've failed to mention the elation that this land brings my soul: under this sky, alongside this river, beneath these mountains, i have a new power, something buzzing in my skin, a sense that i'm closer to God, transcendence or something boundless like that. call me crazy. i'll take it.

ah, the joys of moving...i wonder if there's more of a homecoming for me in the exploration of the unknown than there is in actually returning to what i know...

so, i have to blog right now because i can. I'm in the back of my truck in a dirt lot next to the La Quinta in Moab, Utah (look, ma! i'm mooching wireless!). It's comfy, not as much as a room might be, but i've got silk curtains, a down comforter, and the calming rhythm of a sprinkler outside my window. homey, for sure, and i think that's what i'm on the road for now.

Yes. Home, my new home, is a three hour drive from here.

I decided not to break into my new house and frighten my new housemates at 1 in the morning, and besides, i was beginning to see things that weren't cars and trucks in the lights on these 2 lane highways through the desert. so, i'm taking advantage of the bed in the back of my truck for the last night it will be there. and I'll get to see the red rocks and canyonlands on the early morning drive to Durango.

Moab is PACKED tonight. every hotel is booked up, and the parking lots are filled with trucks towing a variety of jeeps and four-wheelers. i don't know what's going on this weekend (it's a friday night, after all) but it looks very testosterone-fueled.
i wonder how many eggs will be eaten in this town tomorrow morning. for that matter, i wonder how many chickens had to work overtime to produce all those eggs. are there labor laws for poultry?

okay, well, i'd better sleep before this thought goes on too far. i've already had disturbing dreams about sinking to the bottom of the ocean due to the weight of two saturated down sleeping bags earlier this morning. please, sweet dreams for all of us...

along for the ride

yes, i have been absent from california, although i'm sure that at least 10 people got their hair dyed to my color such that no one really missed me. But that's not my point. My point is this: I've been traveling, and now that I have returned to Oakland, i realize that I'm now just hanging out here for a few days, en route to somewhere else. So, of course, i'm seeing everything with depth and meaning, as if it's the first and last time i've seen it. On a walk around Lake Merritt (which I've walked dozens of times) I felt compelled to touch every tree, and witness every duck butt bounce buoyantly as the birds sought underwater for whatever it is they eat. I actually walked the labyrinth instead of walking past it, because I don't know if I'll ever have a chance to do it again. I tend to find myself engaging this way with people (and, as my friends here know, i'm making every effort to see all my loves before i depart) but not so often with the place. However, this bay, this ocean, the hills here, and the fog--they are as dynamic as my friends, and perhaps even more honest. The magic they've shared with me has transformed me. i'm humbled by it all, really.

My dear friend abby picked me up at SFO on Monday. She'd flown in from DC a few days before (and, by the way, on Frontier, this time i flew with a red fox and a bald eagle...quite good companions). It was late, but we talked about plans for the next day. "i want to go somewhere really pretty," she said. There were a million places to go.

We went to Slide Ranch.

I haven't been there for nearly a year, and it is just as magical as ever. We walked to North Beach and collected rocks, shells, seaweed, and fish vertebrae. We listened to the sound of the waves crashing through the pebbled shore, trying to take it all back to its mother. We watched pelicans dive for food, and fog cascade over cypress trees. I think abby liked it there.



the unforeseen bonus of abby's visit was that it had me driving to the places I love most here. Through sharing them with her, i received all the blessings and good will a girl about to travel to the mountains might need. I'm filled with awe and respect for this place that has sustained me for the past 5 years. I know i'll miss more than just the avocadoes.

in flight

I’m sitting on an airplane in Denver, just having arrived from San Fran, and on my way to Atlanta, where I’ll be talking about food politics for the next 4 days. I can’t quite wrap my brain around it all. I planned to come to this conference months ago, when I knew I’d likely be pursuing more work in this field in California….but, as I look around the airport here, I realize that I don’t know the first thing about the food scene in Colorado, and it’s here I”ll be living in less than 3 weeks. Yep. I’m moving to Colorado, y’all. Unless the universe has something else planned for me, I’ll be in a house on a mesa just east of Durango, staring out into La Plata mountains, growing my own food on the 7 acres of property I’ll be sharing. That is, after winter, which, I must remind myself, lasts 5 months. Oh dear. I’ll have to build a greenhouse…

As we flew eastward into the afternoon, the Rockies sparkled with facets of white snow and gold aspens. We turned sharply into our approach to Denver, and I felt as though I might fall out the window. My stomach lifted out of place, and I knew I’d been launched into the reality that, yes, I’ve chosen to move here,..but not just yet. I’m going to Atlanta first.

I sat next to a couple from Denver who were returning from a trip to see opera in San Francisco. It was their 60th wedding anniversary…they had married just after WWII finished. We talked about what life was like back then, with all the men gone. The woman told me how she played trumpet in all the bands because all the men were at war. She said, “that’s the difference between now and then. Now, people go where they want to go; back then, we went where we were needed.”

Well, that may be more true than I know to believe, but I still feel called to do things that are sometimes outside of what I think I want. In fact, I think I’ve struggled for a long time in learning how to get at what I want…it’s been suppressed so far beneath what I think I have to do…or what I think other people need me to do. It’s not like my life has been force-fed to me: I’ve definitely chosen everything I’ve done, but often without really checking if it felt like the thing I wanted to choose. I’m listening now, as much as I can, to both the external call for what is needed, and my internal voice of what I want to do. I know that when both are honored, I find myself in the place just right, resonating, vibrating at a higher capacity than I would if I just listened to one voice or the other. It’s synergistic. It works without work.

Anyhow, i’m now somewhere over Hays, Kansas, and the moon is setting just behind the sun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this: a red, backwards-c shaped crescent sliver, orangey-red, descending into a sunset. Only from above, I suppose.

Below me, there are scattered clusters of light: homes, farms, small towns on the prairie. I’m flying on Frontier Airlines, and there are animals painted on the wings. on my first flight, I had dolphins out my window. This leg, I’m sitting next to a great horned owl. It seems like a good thing, to have these creatures accompanying me on my journey—somehow, I know I’ll arrive safely in their company.