gutless

so, i recently took on a second job at a local funky nursery in town, where i get to learn all the plants that people want to grow around durango. at this point in the season, we're still getting in all of the plants from places that don't freeze, like coastal oregon and california and balmy parts of colorado. i spend most of my days moving 1 gallon, 5 gallon, and 15 gallon pots of shrubs and trees around the nursery lot. it's heavy work.

last weekend i got ridiculously ill (as in: upheaval of all my stomach's contents repeatedly, even after there was nothing remaining in my stomach), but being the stubborn freak that i am, i thought i could go to work at the nursery anyway. i arrived, only to be met by a semi truck full of trees. after a half an hour, i was exhausted.

fortunately, i got the job of removing all the ropes off the trees limbs (the branches come bundled so that they don't get ripped off in the 65 mph winds created by road travel). it wasn't long before i found myself fueled by fantasy. i was the champion, rescuing beautiful bound girls from the villainous ways of men who'd tied them to the train tracks, just before the steamroller crushed their bones to pieces.

i lasted 9 out of the 10 hours of my work day on this source of strength alone. then, seeing the crazed look in my eyes and the lack of color in my face, my employer sent me home. i dreamt of clotheslines and coal smoke.

boundaries

And the book fell open to:

Leave the familiar for a while.
Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season
Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.
Make a new watermark on your excitement
And love.

Like a blooming night flower,
Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness
And giving
Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence
Lie beside an equator
In your heart.

Greet Yourself
In your thousand other forms
As you mount the hidden tide and travel
Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven
Are sitting around a fire
Chatting

While stitching themselves together
Into the Great Circle inside of
You.

--hafiz

flow

well, it's officially spring here in the mountains. the snow report (which tells us how many inches are at the base and on the slopes of all the area ski resorts) has been replaced by the river report (which tells us how many cubic feet of water per second move down stream). the rivers are gushing. behind my house, junction creek has bared all her colorful stones, polished by swift moving rapids. downtown, the animas grows wider with snow melt each day. i love it.

this little town is surrounded by rivers. the san juan mountains provide the head waters for the two major rivers of the southwest: the colorado (which carves the grand canyon before running into the pacific ocean in mexico) and the rio grande (which divides first and second world countries, one might say). they provide the water necessary to sustain this community's agricultural practices, they provide habitat fora multitude of species who in turn provide food for hundreds of others, and they provide the inspiration of movement and flow for every spirit here.

i've been spending a little time every day talking with the rivers. junction in particular feeds my dream state, where i've been passing through emotions and doing all sorts of work which leaves me tired and sore when the morning arrives. however, i wake to the river singing outside my window, and i'm reminded that the day will move as well. the only thing that keeps me stuck is my perspective. but with the sun casting light from a higher and higher place in the sky each day, i notice that everything holds a facet i've never seen before. it's beautiful.

i'm giving up what i think i know, and keeping my heart open. i'm giving up what i think i want, and letting myself be pulled by what guides me. there's a river of light inside me that moves as powerfully as those around me...

dog days

so, my life is run by dogs. right now, to my left, 3 dogs are in action...kelly, the girl, is vying for alpha of the household over voo doo, the big, sulky male. her favorite way of showing dominance these day seems to be in the form of humping him in any way--from behind, splayed on his back, or even in reverse, such that she's humping his face. cochi, the obvious omega in the pack, chews a bone and barks encouragingly, like any good spectator.

we can actually set a clock by the time of their revelry. at 8:30 every night, they have their cool down wrestling match. it's followed by human affection time, when they each come and comfort the crotch of whomever is in the house.

i love dogs, but i don't know how ready i am for this kind of intimacy.

the dogs have provided many opportunities for us to get to know our neighbors. cochi has taken an interest in the german shepard dogs across the street, who dutifully patrol the borders of their owners' home. being the trickster he is, he teases them as they make their rounds, and once or twice has lured them out of bounds. their owners don't like this at all. twice now, one of their humans has come to our house, hammered loudly on the door, and yelled at me. i listened, apologized, and took what actions i could, even though they aren't my dogs. we've kept the dogs in and watched them closely when they are out. yesterday morning, cochi barked at the GSD (german shepard dogs) from our front porch. the owner of the dogs replied with a shot gun. welcome to the neighborhood.

so i was a little wary to say anything when i was walking the dogs (on leashes, mind you!) this evening and a woman slowed down in her suburban, rolled down her window, and asked, "are you the ones who just moved in down the road?".

i paused to center myself for whatever might follow.

"are you the ones who rescued our dog?'

my guard dropped. "oh, yeah!", i spoke, relieved. i was happy to take on the identity of the GOOD neighbor.

see, about a week ago, when the dogs were romping outside, a few of us heard a whimper. we looked at the dogs, and they all seemed fine. then kelly slowed down and went over to sniff at the culvert that runs beneath our driveway. i called to her, and as she ran towards me, we heard the whimper again. it was coming from the culvert.

4 of us converged at the sight simultaneously. looking down, we could see a cut up brown snout and a paw reaching out of the metal tube meant to move water beneath the road. there was a dog trapped inside.

i got down on my knees and saw that his shoulder was wedged against the drain pipe, and his head was resting on rock and ice. he was most definately stuck, and maybe injured on top of that. i stood there, dumbfounded. one of the neighbors got on his cell phone and called the fire department. "bring the jaws of life," he suggested.

i started trying to dig out the ice and dirt beneath the dog's head. my nails filled with grit and cold shards, and my fingertips turned a numb red. we waited.

finally, one of the four got on her bike and said, "i'm going to try to find the owner". she took off down the road, and the dog whimpered once more. i reached in and rubbed his head and shoulders. "you're going to be alright," i said, as much to myself as to the poor pup.

the guys on the scene were passing time and soothing their concerns by trying to figure out how the dog got stuck in the first place. "he must have followed something in from the other side of the pipe," one guessed. "if we only had a jack, maybe we could wedge this gap a little wider," the other proposed.

i heard my cue. "i have a jack," i offered. i ran to my truck and got out the jack, and found a shovel as well. i brought them both back, and the boys went to work. i talked to the dog, in hopes to keep him open to all this activity.

the ground had thawed more than we'd anticipated. with a few strikes of the shovel, the ground loosened beneath the dog enough for us to start to wiggle him out. suddenly, he was free. a horrible stench came with his yelp. he shook and shivered. i held him close.

just then a big red truck jerked into our driveway. a man in flip flops hopped out. "jackson!" he declared. the dog belonged to him.

he told us that he had just returned from a vacation and heard from his housesitter that his dog had been missing for 4 days. he was just heading out in his truck to look when my friend cycled into his yard.

"four days?" we exclaimed. could the dog have been trapped under our driveway for 4 days?

he thanked us all, multiple times. then he called for his dog to jump up into the back of the truck. the poor thing could barely walk, let alone leap into a 4x4, even for his beloved owner. the man scooped him up in his arms and placed him gently in the back.

we watched as he drove down the road, then everyone dispersed. i still don't know any of my neighbors' names.

but i can tell you the name of every dog.

divided

new

the past few days have been full. i spent all of friday on a farm, unearthing day lilies for planting, and listening to the baa of newborn lambs in the adjacent pasture. the sun poured down, the mesa side springs gushed water into the irrigation ponds, and the soil saturated the air with the scent of spring. me? i blissed out.

saturday, i woke to snow all over the ground. by the time i had built a fire in the woodstove, the snow had turned to rain. soon the sky filled with big purple and white clouds, and then it all darkened to indigo, and thunder erupted. then the creek cracked. the snow filled stream behind my house gave way to chunks of flowing ice. my ears danced delightfully between the uproarious sky and the melodical water, two sounds that have evaded my senses for seasons now.

today, my house became a new house. brian returned from a 4 day motorcycle trip through the desert, mari moved her belongings from her red truck into the room next door, and nicola emptied boxes of herbs and tinctures which now decorate our kitchen shelves.

nothing i knew on thursday is certain today. how splendidly unnerving....