Dharma's Universe

World AIDS Day

2011-12-01T21:55:00.003-05:00

I woke today, early in the morning, reaching for my phone to check the time. Before even noticing the time I noticed the date and in my sleepy state thought "world AIDS day".

In 1980, maybe 1981 I remember driving with my father in the car to school - an extremely rare thing, and the radio was doing a report on some men with Kaposi Sarcoma. This was the first report I ever heard related to what was about to become the AIDS epidemic. Today Hillary Clinton made a press statement which included

We have come a long way in the fight against AIDS, but there is still a long road ahead to realize our ambitious goals. If we continue to work together and coordinate a global effort guided by science, we may one day live in a AIDS-free generation.

What a lovely thought. I am not sure I can allow myself to think I will see, at least not yet but it's a nice dream.

Rest in Peace: Doug, Ben, Glenda, and the cousin I never met.

The 30th

2011-11-30T21:00:00.002-05:00

Finally. I did not fully succeed but given everything I am please with my attempt. Hop you were happy with whatever you attempted to accomplish this month.

I am officially done with everything except my final paper for Social Welfare Policy. If I manage a B- in this class I will be satisfied. Not pleased, but happy to have it done.

Macro I, I have done all that I think I can do, except a few more comments on my colleagues postings. The assignments that get reworked into the final paper? Yeah, I'm behind. I will draft the assignments, submit them and without feedback will write the final.

Tomorrow I will get my third paper back from my Micro I professor, and I am cautiously hopeful. The final paper may kill me however.

Playing major catch up in Human Development and Behavior I. Still have module postings to do, a much delayed mid-term and the final.

Yeah the next 9 days will be hell.

I would love to say I will keep blogging through all this but just case a heavy dose of reality sinks in, see you on the other side of the semester!

simple things

2011-11-29T21:02:00.003-05:00

(Yes, yes, I realized late last night, about 12:40am that I lost track of posting yesterday. Ah well. It's my fifth year doing this and the first where I missed days. I suppose with all that's on my plate it is to be expected).

Late Saturday The Music Nerd (trying on a nickname for my sweetheart, we'll see if it sticks) and I were driving home after an all day meeting in Cambridge that we attended. I was asked about my favorite movies of the holiday season. Rudolph is undoubtedly a top favorite, as is The Grinch. The Year without A Santa Claus is another, the songs crack me up. I also spoke about watching the Nutcracker Suite every year, not that I remember which company performed it, or if it were the same production aired year after year. Then I recalled how once a year The Wizard of Oz would be on television. It seemed to me that it was on every November, though I don't have any clear recollection, not really.

Sunday I woke sullen, cranky, and unmotivated. I gave fair warning to the Music Nerd, who was gracious about it, asking if there were anything to help. "No," I replied flatly. Being faced with such a sweet inquiry, and those gorgeous, kind eyes, I started blabbering about all the things that were overwhelming me: I have so much school work to due; terrified I won't pull it off, that I will freeze like the last time I attempted grad school; my house is a mess - needs a true cleaning; I've gained a bit of weight; behind on DNE work, and basically I blathered on about my fears, anxiety, generally bitching about my life.

As I attempted to settle in to accomplish some of the mountain of schoolwork, suddenly the television was on, a movie was starting. Without me noticing, Music Nerd had popped in a dvd - The Wizard of Oz. The smile that came over was so big, my heart lifted with the sweet gesture. Music Nerd was surprised at my response. This is at least the second time that MN has done the exact perfect thing to attempt to remedy me when I have been at some of my worst.

Simple things, thoughtful gestures, makes life so much better.

it's late

2011-11-27T23:34:00.000-05:00

But I'm here.
Now I'm going to bed.

Anxious melancholy

2011-11-26T22:03:00.001-05:00

The title sums up the feelings that keep sliding over me, or rather creeping around my innards, leaving feeling like something is terribly wrong. It resembles the impending doom feelings that were regular visitors before I discovered happy pills. I am not without my drugs of choice so I am at a loss to explain why this keeps settling over me. It could be that I am coming to the end of my semester and the stress is getting to me. Perhaps that is all, not that that is minor but it could be reasonable; which is perferable to truly something being wrong, or that my feelings of things being about to implode is true. Even if it quite reasonable and explainable, it still nerve wracking and leaves spending a portion of everyday waiting for the other shoe to drop. I do hope this stops easily, on its own, and soon,

*Please excuse typos and brevity, composed on my phone.

Anxious melancholy

2011-11-26T22:03:00.000-05:00

Another favorite

2011-11-25T19:30:00.000-05:00

Fifteen years from tonight you have to make a desicion
The greatest love of your life
Is gonna call during dinner...
From the home of the girl that he's living with now
And the guilt he'll say is killing him
He's wilted in the middle and
He knows how bad he acted
Knows he can't have you back
But the fact is he can't be happy when you're angry
And you're so angry, he says you stayed so mad
And he heard it on the street that
You moved back in with your dad
You were drinking something awful
And that makes him sad
Then he says it's good to hear your voice again
And that it's hard to ask it,
But he's calling with a question
He's been working real hard, he's trying to make a new start
An honest to god fresh beginning
So maybe you could try to finally find it in your heart
To forgive him

You've already been here before
You already know where it goes
You chose this, you know it's suppose to be over
You've been here before
You already know where it goes
You chose this, you know it's suppose to be over

He hung up the phone, you listened to the dial tone
And you stared at the stove until the beeping started
You read some love letters some threats
And some you couldn't tell apart
That you keep under the bed at the apartment
And then you did what he asked you to do
You opened your heart up
Right there on a napkin on the carpet
And part of it was frostbit
But you've always been a smart kid
Could still distinguish, the blood black as pitch
Valves had gone stiff, veins and scar tissue
Four chambers just a standard issue
But none had room, forgiveness is huge
And you had two full of ice water
One fulla salt, one packed with coal
Eager and ready and willing to find fault

You've already been here before
You already know where it goes
You chose this, you know it's suppose to be over
You've been here before
You already know where it goes
You chose this, you know it's suppose to be over

Then with your heart in your lap
And your head in your hands, suddenly you had a plan
Wrap the mess in newspaper
Headed west on Hennepin,
Heavy with a huge favor for a kid that just turned ten
A flat-chested, gap-toothed girl
Was the best that I've been so far
And now I'm too big to forgive him
I need just a moment with me,
A moment when I was still little
I used to sing on the roof outside my windowsill
And I came hoping some ghost of me would be here still
And here you are, stick figure and a busted grin
Still ignorant of all the trouble I'ma get us in
Hoping we could trade, just for tonight
Like I could borrow your heart
And I could leave you mine
It's not much for collateral, tattered and battle-scared
But I can promise you solemn
That I will be back for it tomorrow
I only need yours this evening
So I can call an old friend
And I can tell him
That we're finally even,
That we're finally even

You chose this, you know it's suppose to be over
I've been here before
And I already know where it goes
You chose this, you know it's suppose to be over

Thankful is a good

2011-11-24T22:24:00.003-05:00

and that I am.

For many things:

friends

family

community

grace

that I am healthy, relatively ;-)

education

dance

music

my sweetheart

my cabin and it's owners' grace for letting me stay there

a yummy dinner tonight

meeting new people

a never ending supply of books I want to read

the smell of wood smoke

So many things, I am sure I am forgetting many important things but I think this is a good list for now.

My holiday bird is a phoenix

2011-11-23T21:50:00.004-05:00

Once again I am doing something different, unfamiliar for a "holiday". Here am I again wandering into someone else's structure, secret language of their family. I seem to have yet to create my own rituals around most holidays, and the ones I have invented seems more like phoenixes, burning up in my past being reborn into still new plumage.

Perhaps that is my tradition, to reinvent, recreate, blend what is known with what is new year time about me, about my life. There was a time when I could not imagine ever not going to my family Thanksgiving, I did choose not to go from to time over the years. Sometime because I went else, or I lived too far away. With various partners I have attempted to start something but when relationships end, the attempts to create those familial habits turn to a pile of ashes of things that have passed on.

My pattern, when alone, is to try on other families' customs but unlike Goldilocks none of them are just right. Oh, they sometimes feel that way, especially when it's been my lover's family. In reality, though I dearly enjoy my far and few between family gatherings, my family is not really close - only gathering twice a year for most of life, and those gatherings have shrunk as died and reformation by marriages have thinned the branches even further. Stepping into others' families have always been filled with hope and dread. I long for an extended family that thrills, annoys, and loves one another; one where we gather for no reason, randomly and share little bits, hide others, but there is always laughter. When I have had a glimpse into that possibility I then fight the urge to run away; it's too close, too much expectation. The annoyance and obligation overshadow the warmth and I am left feeling claustrophobic. There really is no pleasing me in this arena, I know that but yet I search, hope, and wonder when my turn comes to have that family that meets my hopes and dreams. It won't happen, at least not with perfection, and certainly not without me taking an active part in the annoyance, laughter, and warmth.

This is related to my recent whinging about being single, about never having that happy ever after. How does one create that "family" if one is single? Who makes up the members? Surely I have enough friends to create my own ragtag crew ala Charlie Brown, but there will be no grandmother to scoop us all up in breast of kin that are the grown ups who provide. I am that grown up now, but who and where is my tribe? I remain a nomad, regardless of living in one place for over a year, I roam on more esoteric planes all the time it seems; constantly seeking something that may not be findable, so perhaps I should enjoy the journey more. Maybe some of us are not meant to hold rituals in the same manner that others do. Perhaps I am more of a catalyst than a stable solution; jumping into things and seeing what happens; what to take onward with me, and what to leave behind for others to amalgamate for themselves.

Is there a formula to this?

2011-11-22T22:34:00.002-05:00

Driving this morning I was reflecting on my relationship and noted that when I fell in love, it has not played out well for me. The first time I truly fell in love I was in my early 20's, it was a disaster - she was immature, insecure, abusive, manipulative. One year in, I had tried to leave but after hours of weeping, apologies, and pleading, along with a sprinkle of feeling responsible for her being New York City where she was like a lost sheep, I gave in. The more time that passed, the harder it was to know how to extricate myself from the crazy cycle of our life. The tipping point seemed to appear out of nowhere, which of course is never quite the case, and suddenly I knew that no matter what the price (and it was very high) I had to get out to save myself.When I left it felt great but I felt enormous pain; pain that left feeling like I wanted to die; I did not really want to die, but I wanted the raging, stabbing sensations to stop.

Before and after that roller coaster ride I was in relationships that were much calmer, and I wondered if it is was because I hadn't "fallen", wondered if I would again. And if I did, could I survive it. But then again, I fell deeply, irrationally for someone. Before even meeting her in person I felt attached, even addicted to this person. It was a ridiculous fall, all the more since it turned out that almost everything she said was a lie. Again I was relieved when it was over, felt worlds better, and it hurt, not as bad as before, but there was sadness. There were little things I missed, much I did not, but there was this emptiness as I was single for the first time in eons, briefly.

The next one I thought was more reasonable, but only because I was not the one who fell first. This one I thought had real potential, it all seemed so sane, especially by comparison. She was not insane like some others but that being swept up thing? Clearly that is my downfall, my Achilles heel. I should know that when I feel that swirling, too hopeful feeling that it is bad news.

What I also noticed in my reverie this morning is that I seem to choose best when it starts slower, perhaps knowing them as part of my social circle first. It might serve me well to keep this in mind for the future. Things are lovely with the person I'm seeing and they fit more in this category which after the review I conducted of my romantic history should be a good sign but the moment I start having faith in someone, my magic thinking leads me to expect the happy times to end.

Yeah, I have might still have some issues to work on.

Like sands through the hourglass.

2011-11-21T21:58:00.004-05:00

Checking the television guide tonight I noted, once again, what shows I no longer watch. There are many shows that I associate with Her Geekyness (who I left some time ago) which are no longer part of my regular viewing. There were a few I avoided initially because it was too hard to watch them, knowing the shows had been part of my day to day life that no longer existed. There were some that were always more her thing, those were easier to let go of, but the others were more mixed. Since that time, I have not had a pattern of watching tv with someone. Actually since leaving Dayton, my television watching patterns have shifted. Initially I stayed with someone who did not have any signal and certainly no cable; often I crashed with Greg and Janet, who have digital signal or whatever it's called, but no cable. Sure we rented movies during some of those visits, but again folks who do not use television the way I had (or Her Geekyness). I learned how to cope without depending on tv as much.

It's been rather freeing to have little idea what the new shows are, to happen upon things, and only really know some of the syndicated things (they are much easier to remember since the schedule is the same five days a week). Vastly different from how I lived much of my life. Even now I watch more than those early gypsy days but I often am doing other things and can barely tell you watch I'm watching let alone the plot. I even shut it off! Seriously. Though this more normal, it still feels so odd.

So no more forensic shows (mostly I'm good to have stopped watching them, but I did get used to what she used to "the voice", there truly was something soothing about the sound of his voice, though the subject matter was not the best to fall asleep to - her habit. Very little CSI, The Closer. I do miss the original CSI but tend to forget to watch the reruns, and did not care for Laurence Fishburne on the show - a supreme disappointed because I had high expectations for his performance (I have caught bits and pieces of Ted Danson and have been pleasantly surprised by the character and performance). It's hard to remember what else I have "given up". I am still happy to catch Charmed repeats however, whenever the day allows and I remember it's on. As time moves on I remember less and less of what I have stopped watching, or forgetting more and more to connect them to her, hard to tell which. It's not about missing her, it hasn't been for a long time, more of a like a far away memory, of what my life used to be; one I don't miss in very many ways. The life I'm living now is much better.

A quiet day

2011-11-20T22:36:00.002-05:00

Nothing good, nothing bad, just eh. You know, a "meh" kinda of day. Did not get much accomplished, except for some work that needs to be shipped tomorrow. Way too much time reading a compelling thread on Ravelry, almost caught up. Beautiful day but I did not take advantage. It does seem that the day after a productive one, the next gets little attention in terms of the "to do" list. I wish I could be more consistent. More things to work on in the future.

Perhaps tomorrow I will be more pithy. Thanks for tuning in.

Ah, to be brilliant

2011-11-19T21:52:00.002-05:00

But I'm not. At least I'm not feeling it right now. Cannot think of a blessed thing to write about. I was going to post photos I took today but am having difficulty getting them off my camera. Argh. Technology is a pain in the arse sometimes.

Overall not a bad day, it included a nap, a shower, laundry, and an awesome fire which has keep the downstairs at about 75F all day.

Finished one extremely overdue assignment, am working on another. Might finished it tonight, or tomorrow. In either case, more things to cross off the to do list feels good.

In which our heroine discovers her minions are missing

2011-11-18T23:14:00.004-05:00

So yesterday I hauled work back with me that is still in the car. There's coat in there from, um a week ago? A wrap from sometime this week. My travel mug which hasn't had coffee in it for at least two weeks. Oh, damn let's be honest probably more like three. A coffee cup from that place I'm ashamed to say I go to from time to time - it's been there a week as of today. Old mail, I think. Parking tickets that need paying. Lots of other flotsam and jetsam of living half out of my car at least 3 days a week.

Then today I went to Sunny's. And now the car is really full. As in seeing out the back window a bit of an obstacle course. What was added was:

a beautiful pasta serving bowl
two sets of flannel sets (yeah!)
a laptop cooler pad thingy
an air purifier
a portable dvd player, complete with car charge, two pouches, and various cords to plug it into the wall, a computer, or tv.
my little bookcase, which I think will go upstairs next the couch
all the yarn that was in said bookcase: 10 balls of some purple wool, 10 balls of some black wool, 3 skeins of vintage 3ply yarn which could make a nice throw, two skiens of some Lambswool in cool colors, a small cone of beautiful peacock colored lace weight yarn, and probably a couple of others.
a necklace that I thought was lost but I found it but it needs repair. It make me totally happy to find it, I was just mourning it's loss the other day

On the way home I stopped at the grocery store for a few items that I needed (i.e. ice cream and cookies to get me through a weekend of cramming on school work). Once home it was cold out, a fire needed to be started, the cat at the main house needed to be fed, and it 's kitchen tidied. Let's just I'm lucky the things that needed to be in freezer got of the car. Tomorrow, unless the forest trolls have done their job, and given their performance of late - the odds are against this, I will be spending time unpacking the car, stacking wood, vacuuming, and doing laundry. All this and school work too. Perhaps the fairies will at least have made the coffee.

Bittersweet

2011-11-17T20:24:00.003-05:00

I work for a lovely couple, assisting with their business which she founded and he supports her in her mission, serving as her right hand man. Aisling and Kent have been together a number of years, marrying two years ago. They share a home, dogs, friends, and families. There is a comfort surrounding their relationship, that leaves longing for what I do not have, haven't for a long time, and wonder if I will find again. Their home is well tended, the furniture tasteful and comfortable, they adore their dogs as though there were their children and in a way they are - something I understand. I realize I have only seen the tiniest slice of their life and my envy is based on impressions, my lack, and not reality.

Living alone has suited me well, very well for the last year and a half; I have learned a great deal about myself, and it is lovely to only have myself to account regarding my choices, my spendings, and my grocery shopping. Still there are times when I miss partnership in the everyday, the glow and glide of couplehood. There are not great periods of this desire seeping at the edges of my being, but they happen, like today.

Aisling and Kent had left for a trip of approximately three weeks and I was still at the house finishing some work. Kent called shortly after leaving, as I expected because I was sure there was something left behind. He had left his wedding ring by the kitchen sink and really didn't want to be without it. As we spoke I walked over to the sink and retrieved the ring, slipping it around in my hand, noting it's simplicity and size - it would fit on the middle finger of my larger hand. While playing with it, I recalled feeling that way about my wedding band, which has been off my hand since 2005. I have not been single all that time but no bands with the weight of commitment, purpose, and promise have encircled my finger since then.

My desires in these moments fights with my cynicism - relationships don't last. Or at least mine don't. It's not that I have only flitting partnerships, but apparently I lack that gene for sticking things out. Perhaps that gene is related to my cynicism - they are mutually exclusive, if I have one, I can't have the other. Only one time did I have any true faith that a relationship would last, which it did for twelve years but in the end I still left. Regretfully in many ways, but it was the right decision for me at the time. In the years that have swirled by it does seem that in some ways I left the best thing I've had. But somehow it still wasn't good enough for me. The truth is that there were things missing, some incompatibility concerns that time have not erased but have left me wondering - at what point are things like that still good enough to stay? How do you know when you should stay in spite of those mismatches?

Perhaps the reason I laden such loveliness on relationships like Aisling and Kent's is that I keep hoping I if I can learn the secret of couples like them, I will be able cure myself of my lack of faith. If I can find inner peace that will lead to acceptance not just of my imperfections about another's, I would be allowed me the domestic, marital bliss that has alluded me, and I would finally believe I deserve such riches.

I will be shipping it tomorrow.

A Good Day

2011-11-16T22:16:00.002-05:00

It doesn't take much sometimes to feel like a day feel successful.

- I was able to sleep in, and felt relatively rested upon waking

- An excellent cup of tea

- Lovely trip to my acupuncturist (despite being offered a choice of a no sugar/no alcohol diet or herb, I chose the herbs)

- Finished a paper for Micro Practice class before midnight, meaning I can get to bed at a reasonable hour

- Receive a "B" on my module posting for Social Welfare Policy

- My home is warm and toasty on gray rainy day

- A glass or two of a lovely red wine (see why I chose the herbs?)

How was your day?

"Aargh" says Charlie Brown

2011-11-15T21:39:00.002-05:00

While reading in bed last night, at precisely 12:01am, it suddenly occurred to me that I had not blogged. I confess, I was tempted to leap out of bed and back date the posting. But alas, I am too honorable.

So here I am hanging my head in shame, four stellar years of not missing a post, the record has been broken. If it was going to happen I cannot think of a more appropriate year than this one. Lyme has been kicking my arse for over two months, finally seeming to abate just a week ago, graduate school has been kicking my arse for over two months - partially because of Lyme. My internship is not quite doing a number on me, but it's a contributing factor as well. So are my two very part time jobs, my reduced commitment to the Frolic (I'm very sad to not be doing a better job), and my responsibilities to Dance New England (also falling down a bit there as well). Perhaps even attempting NaBloPoMo this year was a foolish idea but I really thought I could do it. I still think I can, so I am resuming my intention of posting daily for the rest of month.

Wish me luck, I think I'm going to need it!

Another great day in Western Massachusetts

2011-11-13T20:38:00.003-05:00

It was lovely to sleep in, the fourth day in a row that I did not have a specific time I had to get up - what a luxury.

Had lovely little bit of time with Michele before I took off to pick up my sweetheart up in Greenfield. We decided on a side trip to the Montague Bookmill - it's been YEARS since I was there. It is lovely to see that this place has survived, and thrived all these years. I had a lovely warm rice salad at their Lady Killigrew cafe; it was so yummy. The sunset was blazing with pinks and reds, incredible.

Now we are home, the stove is cranking, and we've had dinner, some yummy lemon shortbread and chocolate for dessert. Schoolwork is calling me but I am enjoying the stupor of a nice weekend, a full belly, and a goal of serious cuddling soon.

Lovely Saturday

2011-11-12T21:51:00.003-05:00

A day in Northampton.

A real shower, not a cubical pretending to be one.

Lovely vegan breakfast and coffee at Haymarket - god I love this place.

Nice visit to the Forbes Library for study time.

Awesome catch time with Michele, then dinner at a fabulous new (to me and her)

restaurant in Florence, Side Street Cafe. Food was so good, and I loved the

waiter - I want him to be my waiter every where.

Now more chatting with Michele, both of sprawled on her bed, it's like when

we were housemates, but in some ways better. More history between, we've had

some challenging times, some rifts, but we have grown and grown back together.

It's like being home, in more ways than one.

Making good decisions

2011-11-11T16:30:00.004-05:00

Today, in a fit of maturity, I decided to not attend an intriguing sounding workshop (using mindfulness and yoga in treating depression and anxiety) nor a one day conference (on feminism) - both coming up in a week. As much as I would love to attend either, or ideally both, I have no time to do anything except what is necessary for school, work, and daily survival.

Perhaps I'm getting better at setting priorities, at least a little. There seems to be some improvement in this area, which is good as it should get me through school. On one hand I keep focusing on getting through this semester and I expect that that will continue to be the mantra for each one. Recently Greg pointed out that in a year and a half I would be setting up a practice, actually working in my field. I shuddered and said more like two years in a fit of fear and wanting to put off the reality of next steps. But then I recovered and realized that yes, what he said was true, scary, and terribly exciting. Making good decisions is what will get me there. Learning to fight my internal demons that let me feel like I'm a fraud, that my good grades are not valid and my less than stellar ones given to professors who see through my facade of being capable of this work, will also work to get me to where I want to be.

Which leads me back to there is so much to do, work on school, on me but it's all for the good.

One month to go

2011-11-10T19:48:00.002-05:00

Until the end of the semester and the list of work to do by then is staggering. Truly. However I am so looking forward to the time off from classes. It's hard to believe how the time has flown by. Of course having Lyme since before classes began probably accounts for how behind I am.

One goal for my time off is to do a jigsaw puzzle. Yeah I know big excitement but it will make me happy. What else? Knitting. Reading some of the articles and such that I didn't get to during the semester. Um. Cooking! The benevolent landowner is going to Germany for a few weeks I will have access to a stove and oven. So exciting. I should pick out some things to make. Sleeping in everyday I can, except for my internship days - that will be thrilling.

And perhaps I will blog even after NaBloPoMo is over. Anything is possible, right?

Rest in Peace Heavy D

2011-11-09T18:03:00.000-05:00

Children's Work

2011-11-08T19:00:00.003-05:00

This is Dessa's song that first got my attention. It resonated so stronger for me. The lyrics are great but listening it, even better hearing her intonation, the arrangement.

I get something different each time I listen to her cd - A Broken Code. I highly recommend her, her songs, her writings. Everything

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSxSCv7Cegc)

My father was a paper plane, my mother was a windswept plane*
My little brother is nearly twice my age, he taught me how to meditate, I taught him how to read.
I grew up with a book in my hand, I got these dark circles before I turned ten.
Heard my mother with her friends worry it was something she did, to get such a serious kid.

But I've learned how to paint my face,
How to earn my keep
How to clean my kill.
Some nights i still cant sleep,
The past rolls back, I can see us still.
You've learned how to hold your own,
How to stack your stones,
But the history's thick.
Children aren't as simple as we might think.

Before you came along i was a lone cub,
Fell in love with language, tried to tell the grown-ups
About the storm clouds, the weather in my head,
Hadn't heard the word for melancholy yet.
Then you came in five years behind,
We thought you couldn't talk, turns out you were just shy.
Mom said it was serious, dad said you'd be fine.
I thought you were the prophet of 1989.
You were so tender, we thought something was wrong with you.
So patient, we thought that you were deaf,
you were so solemn, so tiny but so ancient.
Ma took you to see doctors, you scared her half to death.
And I made you a library of tiny books with spines 2 inches high.
You didn't say too much,
But your smile taught me how to quiet down my mind.

But I've learned how to paint my face,
How to earn my keep
How to clean my kill.
Some nights I still can't sleep,
The past rolls back, I can see us still.
You've learned how to hold your own,
How to stack your stones,
But the history's thick.
Children aren't as simple,
As we'd like to think.

You slept in my bed, and if I kept quiet
I could hear all the voices in your head.

When the wagon tipped,
I prayed over your body, I asked God to take the damage out on me.
10 years later he finally gets the memo, sent it to accounting,
and knocked out my front teeth.
But you came to, and took my hand,and held my eyes and...
Me and you, had a long walk home, so we decided not to cry.
Now we've got a grown up love,
And I know that's how its supposed to be.
Same old story, mom gets Easters, lets dad have Christmas Eve.
But I won't pretend I don't remember,
How unusual they were,
The little mystic and his handler.
All some children do is work.
I've learned how to paint my face,
How to earn my keep
How to clean my kill.
Some nights I still cant sleep,
The past rolls back, I can see us still.

Some days

2011-11-07T20:49:00.003-05:00

Some days, it is about the small victories. Other days, it is about just slogging through. Still others, it is muddling through hoping the apple cart didn't turn over.

I'm not sure that today was exactly any of those days, not entirely. There was a small victory (booking a speaker for the elders I work with). There was some slogging through (hello, school work), and a bit of muddling (isn't that most days?). Oh, and some huge frustration with bureaucracy, not sure what that category would be, but today was that too. Even in all that fog of happy, slog, muddling and frustration there were slivers of joy.

In the upstairs of the cabin there is a huge window over the desk, standard height but about 5 feet wide with a view of trees and not much else, that faces west. There is a bit of what we call "lawn" where I have seen deer and woodchucks grazing and can catch a glimpse of the main house if my eyes veer left a bit but mostly trees with just a bit of sky above. The clocks were set back this weekend and my judgement of time is a bit askew and I can't tell if it's later than I think, or earlier, or darker than it should be. Tonight at a bit past 5pm the sun was setting, lighting up the sky with pinks, bronzes, and casting elegant shadows below. With more of the leaves off than on the trees and the conifers losing needles those pockets of light have shifted to allow more contrast of the almost black of branches which the sky peeks through with it's quickly changing rainbow display. This view from the window never fails to offer me a slice of joy, any time of day, any weather, any season.

The other day my beloved brought me curtains to help curtail the blinding light of the late afternoon, but today while I was at work had artfully tacked it up to allow the view to still be available. Sitting at my desk, working on a reading assignment (Pinderhughes's 2000 article in the Journal of Family Psychology on Discipline, if you must know), after being at my internship (it's going well, thank you for asking), I enjoyed the curtain engineering and the briskly shifting light show that my window offers me daily, if I just pay attention.

Perhaps that's what every day brings, the chance to be mindful, to take in the simple things that we know will lighten our souls, if only we remember to do that small task. There are things each day that if we really see them, breathe them, hear them, we can find the path to a moment of happiness each day. This is not something I do consciously every day, but often. I suspect I do it unconsciously some days as well, how much more joy I could have in my life if I was mindful about it every single day? Can one overdose on joy? I suppose a way to find out is to be more purposeful about a simple thing like the view from my window.

Never on a Sunday

2011-11-06T19:36:00.002-05:00

Never on a Sunday

do I find myself rushing for Monday

will a rainy day not be perfect for cuddling

does a breakfast out seem wrong or indulgent

will I resist the temptation of too much tv

does a long bath sound like a bad idea

nor does sitting for hours with a friend

should I forget that the hours change, the light shifts

and every day is a gift.

oops!

2011-11-05T21:51:00.000-04:00

Meant to write earlier but now I'm at the Frolic, so I am "phoning it in". More tomorrow. Have a great night peeps. Don't forgetto set your clocks back an hour!

Happy birthday to my siblings

2011-11-04T22:40:00.004-04:00

Today is my siblings birthday, yes plural, they are twins. I can still remember the flurry of activity surrounding the birth, though I am sure that there are details that have been lost, as well as many I never knew about.

My stepmother went into labor on Sunday the 3rd, after attending a party the night before. Sometime that day I was shuttled across the street to stay with my friend Eileen, who lived on the fourth floor of a brownstone with her blind mother and father. Her mother's sister lived with her husband, and two children on the second floor; their mother on the ground floor - she always wore black as all the good Italian widows did in our neighborhood. I was there because my mother had left our household less than a month before, unexpectedly, and was living in California.

After spending the night, I readied for school at the neighbor's but realized I had forgotten my gym clothes (I hated gym) so I dashed across the street. I have no idea what made me enter the parental bedroom during this trip, perhaps I heard a sound, but I was stunned to find my mother in the bed. I have no recollection of asking her anything but I suspect I did and the response was probably that she came home for the birth. Confused I made my way to school.

Coming home there was no one home and I headed back to my friend's apartment. At some point my father called there, and I eagerly waited to hear if I had a brother or a sister. The response was "It's a them!". I had one of each, and once again that day I was stunned, surprised and unsure what to say next.

My recollections are a bit fuzzy but I think they came home when they were five days old. The image that has remained in my mind all these years remains true. Fran sitting in the rocker nursing my brother, my sister in the single crib (did I mention we were not expecting two babies?) wearing a light blue one piece sleeper looking so tiny, so breakable. Standing motionless in front of the crib Fran told me to pick her up. I reached up and into the crib a bit terrified and awkwardly scooped her into my skinny arms hardly breathing for fear of dropping her. She seemed so tiny, so soft, and I felt nothing but love for these tiny beings. That feeling has never changed.

The next time I saw my mother was in late January when she came home to us and we became a house of six for a time.

Documentaries you should think about viewing

2011-11-03T19:48:00.003-04:00

Recently in my Micro Practice class we have watched some videos that have really touched me.

First was Raising Cain, http://www.pbs.org/opb/raisingcain/ which was a great look at boys in this culture. Certainly it left me with the desire to read more of Michael Thompson's work and food for thought about stereotypes that reside in my head. An intro can be viewed here, but it does not begin to convey how deep, how disturbing some of the stories of these young men are. Heartbreaking.

Today was an emotionally draining day in class as we watched two videos, one of which I had seen in my last go round of grad school. The Color of Fear triggered intense emotions and tears this time as well. One difference this time is that I have since become friends with one of the men. This scene particularly stands out both times, strongly.

As if that wasn't intense enough my professor followed The Color of Fear (which I still feel everyone should watch) with Big Mama. No, not the one y'all are thinking of, not Big Mama's House. This documentary had most of the class in tears. It follows the story of an 89 year old woman with custody of her 9 year old grandson and their journey towards foster care for the young man who has developmental and behavior difficulties.

Happily as class was breaking up I checked my phone and had received a lovely message from my sweetheart which took the emotion edge off a bit.

Two for Tuesday

2011-11-02T23:13:00.002-04:00

Yes there will be shortcuts to make it through NaBloPoMo this time around, more than ever!

Two recent favorite moments:

Last week, while at my internship, a lovely 83 year old woman whose mouth was tucked into itself because she hadn't put her teeth in, gently reached up to point to my nose and said: "I like your nose earring". Such a sweet moment.

In a moment of clarity I realized that I could move the drying rack from the left to the right side above the sink. It totally opened up the appearance of lightness in the kitchen area. Small changes can make one so happy.

Because clearly I'm insane

2011-11-01T21:48:00.003-04:00

This will be my fifth time doing this. This is the second time I have done it while also doing a butt load of school work. However this time I am taking four courses, spending about two days at my internship, mentoring two new CCG members for DNE, and attempting something related to being the PR person for the Frolic. And you, know sleeping. Oh, and I'm on the recover road from Lyme.

Did I mention I'm insane? No? Oh.

Ten Years Ago Today

2011-09-10T22:20:00.003-04:00

On this date in 2001 I departed Northampton to begin my drive across country to meet my then wife who have moved almost two months ahead of me. I piled the last of the belongings from our home, my beloved Niya cat (5/1995 - 12/2010) and a heavy heart.

The next morning as I was leaving Buffalo, news of the first attack made my ears. An already surreal experience suddenly became more so than I could have ever imagined. I wrote an email to friends most nights from the road. I am pasting that collection of ramblings, unedited here. Make of it what you will.

***********************************

My Travels Thus Far – September 12, 2001

Hello all,

Well. To say that my last few days in Northampton were surreal would be an understatement only made more surreal by driving yesterday.

I left Mass on Monday morning, landing in Buffalo later that day. I was entertained by my friend and their lovely daughter, fed a wonderful meal and had a good sleep. Well, good except that like a child my cat woke me for no apparent reason at 2:30am. Darci and I blithely chatted in the morning with no tv on so I had no idea what my day would bring on

Tuesday morning.

I plotted my day's journey expecting to land in Elkhart Indiana to stay at my brother-in-law's. I checked voicemail and had already received 2 messages informing me of event. I called Chris who filled me in while I listened to reports on the radio.

As I traveled west listening to the reports I felt like I was lost in "The War of the Worlds" as I had no picture of what was happening. At times it was had to drive because growing up in NYC it was impossible to imagine that the towers were gone. It seemed too terrible, too unlikely, too frightening in the unknown of it all.

Upon landing in Elkhart I finally saw the pictures. I was grateful that I was so tired, too tired to have too much emotion.

Today, Wednesday I landed in Milwaukee, a slight detour from my destination to see my mentor. So far it's been a lovely visit and Niya is especially making their home, hers. Except for their dog, who wants to be her friend (he's a 9-year-old miniature collie who's losing sight

and hearing and has an injured leg). I intend to head out fairly early in the morning and my goal is to make it to Des Moines Iowa. The day after that I hope to end in North Platt Nebraska. Depends on caffeine intake, enough sleep and how much my cat objects to the hours in the car.

I will continue to update when I can.

Travels – The Next Installment 14, September 2001

Hello dear ones,

As I continue my drive National Public Radio has been a consistent companion along with my mostly sleeping cat. Occasionally Niya will comment on apparently nothing at all, perhaps she disapproves of my music choices, or is voicing distress over our political state.

I have surpassed all my goals for driving so far. As of today, Friday, I have driven over 2000 miles! The views have been amazing so far. The variety and beauty of this land is so vast. Indiana is unbelievably flat and filled with cornfields. The route from the South Bend, IN area to Milwaukee WI was mostly boring, crowded, citified and had way too many tolls! Niya especially hated the tolls - I had to open the window each time, which elicited, each time, a disdainful yowl. However, leaving Milwaukee and traveling the southwest section of Wisconsin was really how I think of Wisconsin - gently rolling hills, farms and cows.

Iowa was so incredibly gorgeous. Lush hills and valleys, absolutely bucolic, green, the living vision of fertility. The same day I left Milwaukee and drove through Iowa my goal had been to make to Des Moines, but I was in a groove and kept driving til I has in Omaha Nebraska, 525 miles total! I found a slightly skuzzy motel room with a lovely view of a construction site right in the "back yard". I realized I still had not seen one plane up in the skies the entire trip.

Today I drove with the aim of ending in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The evening before I could not believe how boring, industrial, and ugly Omaha was, at least what I had seen of it. I flopped in the bed and was blown away by the fact that I was in Nebraska. It seemed so weird. I mean Nebraska! But oh how wrong I was about the beauty that Nebraska holds.

Driving through the state was incredible (I think I am so road tired that I am running out of adjectives - sorry!). I had thought that in Iowa one could see for miles - it's nothing compared to the land view in Nebraska. It was like looking out the ends of the earth. What's really amazing is that you are not looking from the vantage point of height like in the New England; it's all so level. Sometimes the large expanse of nothingness (not truly of course, but no cities, no buildings, etc) seemed scary, claustrophobic. There was a small farm, small house and a barn or two surrounded by acres and acres of tilled land. And beyond the tilled land - nothing, except for the highway on one side.

And the view of the skies! So awe inspiring. I could see the storm I was driving into for miles ahead. When it seemed like I was right under it, I still wasn't, but also to the right I could see beautiful clear skies with wispy clouds. The vista was so all encompassing of the different weather conditions. Further into the state hills appeared with shrubs scattered on the surfaces. In the distance the shrubs looked like a man's stubble on the planes of a face. About 40 miles from the border, up on the left is a large silhouette of a coyote up on the hill. Quite amusing.

Oh then Wyoming! So beautiful. Late in Nebraska and continuing into Wyoming the landscape is not as flat but marked with striking outcroppings of rock forming shapes and ledges. The road often takes such a gentle climb it's almost unnoticeable - except for the huffing and puffing of the truck. In Medicine Bow National Forest I drove through more rain, this time light, and then to my right the most incredible rainbow I think I've ever seen. It seemed so much wider than any other. Also I was able to see both ends! So beautiful and magical. In Arlington WY, there is an "A" up on a hill - I suspect it's not a state/city-sanctioned thing but it was amusing.

There were times where I am sure I saw more cattle than all the people on the road for at least 100 miles. Cows in all sorts of colors have been everywhere, along with sheep and bison (buffalo). I also saw deer or perhaps elk along side the road much later in the day. I have seen seagulls so far from a body of water. In Wyoming there was a body of water with lots of red floating somethings. The only thing I could think of was cranberry bogs.

Today I landed, finally, in Rawlins, Wyoming. I drive way past my goal by about 120 miles. Today mileage was 631. I was quite exhausted after all that. When checking into the hotel (much nicer than yesterday's) my hands were still vibrating. I have approximately 1150 miles to go. I don't know if I can keep the pace of the last two days - if I can I will be in my new, temporary home on Sunday and in the arms of my beloved.

Travels Continue 18 September 2001

Hello everyone

Sorry to be so long since the last post, I tried fruitlessly to post on Saturday night from Winnemucca Nevada but to no avail.

When I last left off I was in Rawlins, Wyoming, staying at a very nice Sleep Inn, a driveway away from a 24-hour family truck stop restaurant and gift shop. Gotta love the road. The morning fog was so thick that I could not see the interstate or the mountains just yards away to the south.

It was hard to imagine any fog could be that thick. After a filling but mediocre truck stop breakfast Niya and I became one with the road once again. After a short time on the road I passed a sign for the Continental Divide, elevation 7,000 ft. Wow. Here the area surrounding the road for miles was flat with mountains suddenly sweeping up, particularly to the south. Again the sky appears so vast out here. Today the sky was clear (once that pesky fog burned off, which it had by the time I finished breakfast!) with no sign of rain anywhere. Wyoming is incredibly beautiful. I want to return and spend time finding the towns that I know are contained within the twists and turns the roads off the interstate take.

As I was driving off to the right I passed a single elk or antelope or whatever member of the type of species occupies that area. He was so beautiful and close that I could see the markings on his horns as a buzzed by at approximately 80 miles per hour. (The speed limit is 75 mph in Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada - I wasn't speeding! honest. Okay those moments when I hit 82 or better maybe one could consider that speeding.) The animal was so still and beautiful in the midmorning light. The towns spread out more and more as I drove west and the mountains came into better view. In New England the mountains are so covered with tall growth that one doesn't see much of the crags and wrinkles in the rock that forms the massive eruptions. Out west in the distance the mountains seem to show the years of millieum written with their jags and folds laid bare to sun and shadow. The earth shows subtle changes in the reddish brown that become clearer as you drive closer, though it seems one is always still so many miles away from them.

Driving toward the town of Rock Springs the mountains jump alive with new colors, like a wide paintbrush clumped irregularly has colored the surfaces with white, taupe, and chestnut. Again the mountains are bare with little to interrupt the horizontal stripes. It is so beautiful and so startlingly to approach a town of some size for the first time in hours upon hours of traveling. The town's name while trite is so appropriate, the mountains seem to suddenly emerge in front of one while driving a previously flat forward view.

Somewhere along this route I saw a black shape on the side of the road and as I came closer I realized it was a cow, far from any others in a position that could only mean that he or she had wandered too far away and was now dead. This particular dead animal was sad to me, though I had seen so many animals killed by humans safely contained in steel. Maybe because cows are a herd species and this beast seemed so much closer to the road than other bovines I had seen.

Saturday afternoon I crossed into Utah, which seemed like a milestone in traveling this large expanse. For the first time this trip the mountains are right upon me and I am driving in what feels like a crevice between rock faces. Here the mountains show their crags but also have trees springing up and like colorful plumage on birds these trees are announcing autumn with yellow, bronze and red disturbing the green. Rather suddenly it seemed I was on the crest of what had surely been a large basin, which is now Salt Lake City with what just has to be a shrunken lake. As I entered the city limits I saw my first planes since I entered the Buffalo, New York region early Monday evening. Even though planes flying is so commonplace, especially for someone raised in New York City, which seems to always have at least a half dozen planes in the air at any given moment, today it seemed such an odd site and at the same time a triumphant gesture of new beginnings.

And then the lake. Huge and blue with sail boats, motorboats cruising. But again I couldn't help feeling that a million years ago this huge body of water was hundreds time this size. Though it's a salt-water body, the smell is of sulfur and not altogether pleasant. Not as strong as the sulfur springs I remember from my last drive out west. Since that trip was about 27 years ago I can't remember what state this was in. The piles of salt are huge, reminding me of the snow piles in parking lots of shopping malls in New England. These mounds are easily 4-5 train cars long and about 3 cars high. At one point there is the lake all the way right with train tracks the next few feet over, then a canal of water, then Interstate 80 heading west, another canal of water, the Interstate heading east bounded by more water. It's hard to believe that the road I'm driving on is solid enough for me to be on with my truck loaded with the remainder of my Massachusetts belongings causing it to sit at least 3 inches lower than usual.

Soon the landscape changes again and it is flat, flat, flat, with mountains so far in the distance that they seem to belong to another state. I've entered the Great Salt Lake Desert and the Bonneville Saltflats. To each side of the road is sand and salt with the only other color being the stones and rocks that are mostly black adding stark contrast. It feels wind blown like a beach but the only water is to the north, which one can't see from the road. In fact in looking a map now (to help recall the trip) is when I noticed that there is another lake.

Near the border there is a rest stop and my curiosity and the realization that I may never be here again cause me to do something I haven't done the entire trip. I stop. I get out of my truck for something other than gas, food or sleep. One can walk on the salt flats here. Perhaps it is a need caused by my alternative persona who is Tuareg, a people who harvest and trade salt. After parking I walk on asphalt, cement, pebbles and then the salt. It is hard and crusted, baked into a solid mass. There is a family with several kids being silly and running around, and making designs with the dark pebbles on the stark salt. It reminds me of recipes for things like salt-crusted cod. I reach down to try to scrap a few grains, it takes great effort. I rub the grains between my fingers, coarser than table salt, but nowhere near the size or clearness of gourmet salt from France.

I return to the truck happy I stopped, and happy that I am ten miles from Nevada.

Next chapter - Nevada the land of nothing.

The Journay Almost Complete – Nevada 18 September 2001

Hello again my patient readers,

Crossing the border into Nevada is a bit surreal. After the great nothingness of the Great Salt Desert there is the early foreshadowing of Nevada. There are casinos within the first few miles, and then nothing again. Only after driving about, oh maybe 100 miles do you come to a town of any consequence, Elko. There isn't much. Of course after all the times I've seen this during my journey you would think I would be used to it. Maybe it's because I grew up in New York City, but I continued to be surprised at how much nothing there could be in a town. Actually Elko had a "strip" with stores, strip malls and what-have-you but beyond what you could see I suspect there wasn't a lot more. To the south of the interstate there was nothing visible, to the north was the strip and I'm sure some side roads off into large stretches between homesteads. To the east and west the interstate. My goal for the day was Winnemucca, which I did succeed in reaching, 647 miles from the start of my day. Between Elko and Winnemucca the only town of note was Battle Mountain with billboards announcing the casinos. I cruised past doggedly in pursuit of Winnemucca.

I found a very decent place to spend the night but before sleeping decided that I really needed dinner. Okay I confess my brain was road dead. I got back in my truck and drive about a half a mile up the road to the Red Lion Inn/Casino/Restaurant. It was bright, smoky and noisy. Here I was finally in front of slot machines and unfortunately those one-armed bandits had elevated themselves beyond a simple pull of a lever. There were buttons and multiple lines upon which one *could* win. My eyes were tired and I needed food. There was to be no channeling my grandmother tonight. (For those that don't already know, my grandmother was famous for her low-level but consistent gambling - bingo, Atlantic City trips and lottery tickets. The day before she died she was in Atlantic City - she had won $400 that day. She came home and died before breakfast.)

Waking up on Sunday I knew I had so many fewer miles to go, and though Niya had persisted in keeping me barely asleep from 2:30am to 4:30am I was eager to complete my trip. I found a wonderful place for breakfast. If you ever find yourself near Winnemucca during anything resembling breakfast hours run, don't walk, to The Griddle. Great food,nice atmosphere, cheap prices and large servings. I would go back in a heartbeat even though it would mean being in Nevada.

The drive through Nevada on Saturday was remarkedly dull and apparently devoid of rational thought as it was almost impossible through the entire state to find an NPR station. Perhaps I was just plain tired of driving but it was hard to rejoice in the landscape here. There was just nothing. I drove for hours without seeing any indication of life form, not even cattle.

Today, Sunday, the mountains seemed more colorful. I listened to Patsy Cline and early kd lang. It seemed the best possible music for the day. Here too the colors of sand and white salt seemed prevalent. More endearing and less destructive forms of graffeti abound on the road - black rocks are formed into names and sayings on the sides of the road. Unfortunately they were hard to read if they are too close the road - the distant ones easier to read while speeding by.

Since I hit Reno in the morning I suspect I missed the glitter but perhaps I will see it another time. Here again I saw a couple of planes, still an infrequent enough sight that it surprises me. Suddenly I thrust into the Sierra Nevada mountain range inside the Tahoe National Forest. Here I am riding at great heights along the sides of mountains with bright rivers on one side and then the other. California, I am now in the state that is to be my home. It's hard to fathom - I'm here already and I'm finally here - all at once. Chris and I are talking on and off as I get closer. The drive becomes less important and the destination is everything. Almost. Suddenly I see hills again and again they are so different. Here the mounds are wheat colored, deep yellow, with the surface looking plush and velvety, mottled with trees,tall and deep colored. Again I marvel at how different these lumps of rock and earth can look. And then water to my right, stretched out before me, beckoning. Yes, this part the landscape is the thing that makes being on the coast, the west coast so marvelous. I can be so near water.

Chris and I agree to meet at off an exit near her office. I see the little red car she's been driving compliments of our friend Tracy (Suzi's partner). She gets out of the car, the wind blowing hard against her and I open my door to come out. We hold each other and I can feel her belly shake as she cries. She tells me that I smell good and remarks how long my hair has gotten. We release, go back to our respective cars and I follow her to the Richmond Field Station, University of California Berkeley - the place that has brought us both here, far from what had been home. 3207 miles from home.

Random Leftovers Thoughts from The Road 20 September 2001

Hi again. Bet you thought I was done ;-)

In Milwaukee I got to eat in the new baseball stadium. Obviously this was during the moratorium on sports so the field was quiet. This stadium is beautiful and smaller than the old one to enhance the intimacy and the immediacy of the game. It was built on the same plot as the old one but where the actual old ball field was is where they are building a little league field so the kids "can play where the greats played".

In Iowa: The Museum of the Danish Immigrant. Also, a Danish Windmill

Somewhere, sorry I don't remember: The Museum of the Mountain Man (honest!)

Billboards in Nevada: "Police hide behind these" (I saw two of these)

"Keep your eyes on the road - hard isn't it"

"The King of Cha-ching" - for the Silverado Casino, you just have to say it out loud - I did!

An exit in Nevada (recalled especially for Ann): Ramusen Road (I may have the exact spelling wrong)

In the middle of the Great Salt Desert in the distance is this tall narrow structure, I can't figure out what it would be, but I'm guessing something to do with radar, sonar - one of those -ars. But no, it's "art". A tall pole with various sizes of balls or globes painted with odd colors jutting out at irregular intervals and distances from the pole. Looks like it was done in 50's or early 60's but who knows. Also out here a random american flag stuck in the middle of nowhere. In the distance I think it was placed there for the recent world events, but upon driving closer this flag is faded and ragged - I have no idea why it's there.

Marking the mountains with initials of a city name is fairly common. I had seen what I thought was an unofficial marking in Arlington WY, I still think it was not a sanctioned marking as it was quite faint. I saw a distinct "C" in Carlin Nevada, and an "L" in Lovelock Nevada.

The colors in the mountains in all the states vary so much and are beautiful in their complexity. Peachy oranges, terra cotta, dusty mint green, ochre, gray-green, green, brown, taupe, white, chestnut, raspberry sherbet pinks and every shade leading into and out of these.

While I hadn't been worried about being on the road in terms of my safety (though others were) I was concerned about my ability to drive this distance and a tad antsy about my sanity with this much time alone (no offense to Niya). I felt completely safe in terms of bodily harm, getting scammed, etc. The truck held up fine. Until this trip I hadn't driven farther than about 250 miles/4 hours by myself. This trip took 7 days (Monday -Sunday) and 3207 miles. My shortest day was just over 200 miles, my longest day was 647 miles (which is way toooooooo long by the way). I have learned that my comfort zone is about 400-475 miles in a day, although the day of 525 miles wasn't too bad actually.

I have learned why people who only talk to animals the bulk of their day sound the way the do. You get used to the non-response so your linguistic style changes. That was scary. ;-) On Saturday I started to truly get a little lonely but at the same time more comfortable being by myself. I think that I could do a trip like this again, even longer and maintain my sense of humor. Next time I will take a little voice recorder because there was so much detail I forgot, even when I got to write the same night.

Well I guess that's probably all I can remember. Thank you all for listening to my little (okay, long) monologue.

Now that you no longer have to send travel prayers, Chris and I would like you to think good home hunting thoughts. I have seen 8 places already (today is Thursday morning) and driven by a few others. Still hunting. Once settled I will send you our new address and phone number(s) and extend invitations for you to visit, though I can't guarantee premier sleeping accommodations - hope you like the floor and sleeping bags ;-).

******************************

Hope you enjoyed the trip.

love

Samantha

Life is all around

2011-07-12T20:49:00.007-04:00

Today, upon exiting my cabin, I scared the last fledgling that had just left the nest next to my door. The little critter was on the grass just past the porch and was startled into a hopping, not quite flying motion before settling back on the grass a few feet away. (You can see a small black box if you look up for the string of the sky chair, which is the speaker, perched atop that is the nest.)

Last summer the nest was empty, th

is year every time I left my home, or crossed onto the porch, the mama bird swooped out of the nest, flying to a nearby tree. A few weeks ago the high pitched squawking announced that hatching had occurred. I believe there were 2-3 of the little beings.

This

last one grew visibly in the last week, becoming less gawky looking as time progressed. He, or she would cling to the nest and flap it's wings

wildly in the last few days, but still afraid, or not strong enough to unclench it's claws from the twiggy mess.

Later today, I discovered Dora, the cat of the main house has gone and killed me a mouse - a fat one at that. Still later, I startled a fawn just on the other side of the fencing that protects the gardens. So much nature here, I love it.

All this development reminds me of all the gro

wing I've done in the last two years, and especially the last year since taking residence here at the cabin (the blessed abode for which I am grateful for every.single.day). Though I haven't written a great deal in the last several months, so much continues to shift inside, and out. This week is my last at my Crime Victims Assistance Program job - I am terribly sad about leaving. There is SO much more for me to learn and I really like it there. It has been amazing to discover I can like a job, especially one that is close to my chosen field. Later this month I will find out about my internship placement - which has me excited and a bit nervous. A month after that school starts. A whole new journey, one long in coming. I feel ready for school this time around in a fashion that I didn't have before - determination is a word that floats around my head a good deal when thinking about this program.

Life just keeps moving forward.

Day 13, May 1, 2010

2011-05-24T21:42:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I stayed at the campsite - stretching, taking a few photos, journaling, and napping. Especially considering the new plan we intended to spring on Greg about hiking out the next day (today) this turned out to be very wise.

Katie, Meredith, Matt and I packed up and headed out at 9:30 (Saturday). Slogging through the sand was once again a bear and I felt slower than ever but of course I was with the faster hikers. We took breaks about every 50 minutes.

When the upper trail was in view I faced the fear of

the vertical dirt scramble. We took a break just before attacking it. I sat with my traveling buddha statue (he as a little hobo bag!) in hand, back straight, trying to let go of fear, meditating that some way or another I would get up this crevice of dirt and rock, even if it meant asking Matt to take my pack. Meredith went first, and Matter was below when I begin my ascent. "Go up sideways, that worked going down", advised Matt. "Use your stick girl!", called Meredith.

Amazingly I made in it one attempt. Meredith beamed at me when I stood at the top - "You did that in one move, no stops. You're awesome!" It was one of my best moment of facing fears, digging deep for strength during a trip that had many such internal rallies and moment of pride. The accomplishments of this trip were many, and this might have been the best one.

We made it back to the car in 5hr, 40min - two hours less than going in. Janet said I sucked when she found out I made it up that pass in one go with my pack and how fast, "And without

training for this!" Yep, I'm proud of myself.

More later just too tired, need to shower (YAY!) and brush my teeth before heading to bed. Tomorrow we drive to Salt Lake City.

Day 12 April 30, 2010

2011-05-08T20:17:00.002-04:00

Wednesday the winds from the night before were worse and I stayed behind. It was an odd day of solitude, I spent about 6 hours in silence - reading, writing, thinking, and a nap.

The sound of the winds were inescapable except when I was in Katie's care, which was so hot and hadn't the energy to ask Matt (who was cocooned in his tent) for the keys to open the windows. I think I associate these kings of wind with storms so it was interesting not to have clouds most of the day.

When the sounds of air moving at howling rates across the mesa were too enervating to do anything but to lie still, I was able to compare the changes in speed and the resultant sounds to ocean waves. It was fun to do that, for a while, not the entire six hours. Unlike the ocean tides hitting the shore there was no grand great plan or order, it simply was.

Yesterday's hike to the Arch, pushed my limits hard. It is estimated we hiked around 7.5 miles. With stops and figuring out the trail, whether to take the high route or not, it took us just shy of seven hours. Matt and Meredith had gone up ahead of the rest us during the final stretch, and bless Matt's heart - he not only carried my tent (which was actually his since the one I borrowed for the trip was killed by the wind storm) during the hike, and my therma-rest pad for half of it, but he had set up my tent first thing when they hit our camp site before us.

Greg said, while I was climbing up from yet another river crossing, refusing a hand again, that he was surprised by my strength and determination on this trip but he didn't know why given how it's there in other areas of my life. I responded by saying I was just stubborn. He said stubborn isn't always such a bad thing to be.

Once getting to Jacob Hamblin Arch I was please to see very little in the way of cow patties that had marked most of the hike out. While it has been sweet to see cows not penned in, to see them along the road, and especially idyllic to see that fawn colored mama and calf in a shaded glen on the trail yesterday, one has to wonder about the impact on the land and water we have been transversing. Though fun in a twisted way to see shit piles in various phases of petrification, many looking like interesting sculptures, it is a reminder that this is a wilderness study area and not protected. What is the impact for the native wildlife, the soil, water sources? How does one get a dead cow out of some the places we hiked yesterday - what happens if they can't.

At one point during the hike Katie said she felt she had aged 25 years doing this march in. I rolled that phrase around in my brain, on my tongue but it had no resonance for me. If anything despite the exhaustion I felt, and would feel upon arriving at our camp site, it seemed this whole trip made me feel younger somehow, as if doing something far out of my scope, experience, and comfort zone fed my soul, made me realize how much could lie ahead for me if I so choose. It was an enthralling realization and probably helped to get me the next 3 miles despite feeling completely depleted of resources.

A year onwards

2011-05-06T14:37:00.003-04:00

A year ago today, at least in terms of the day of the week, the first Friday of May I arrived here at my cabin - sad, actually distraught, confused. Actually as I type this it is close to the exact time I arrived here. Funny that.

Once again, like last year, like two years ago, like many times, I am not where I thought I'd be. However, I have also been happier in the last year, than perhaps ever in my life. As it's been a year, I will in the next week finally finish posting the journal entries from my trip to Utah last year. I know that I delays writing them because of all that happened after I returned. Though I knew there was a shift between BC and me before I left, I had no idea how big, because she never shared any of what was going on with her, with me. I returned from Utah on Monday with hope and had a glorious almost 2 days of reunion with her before everything fell apart. Friday morning at 6am I was pulling out of her driveway with my car loaded to the brim. Writing about Utah would mean facing everything. And in truth I have faced but it seems I still needed some more time before finishing those posts. Now it's time to fully move on in this other somewhat symbolic way.

When I left Dayton in March 2009 I wanted to shift my status quo, question my assumptions about myself. I have done that a great deal, and continue to - or else I would have never done a lot of what I've done in the last two years. Lived like a gypsy - happily, traveled, rode rollercoasters (literally and metaphorically), walked a 5K in less than an hour, hiked and backpacked for two weeks in Utah, began rock climbing, wrote for internet content mills (and even got a few dollars for it!), journaled daily for over 13 weeks, etc.

Through working off personal loans, and actually paying off other debts- I will shortly have cleared over $6000 off my plate. This is huge. Soon I hope to only owe my student loans, which is a huge amount but so much better. As it turns out I will be adding to that amount as I have been accepted back into graduate school and will be returning in the fall.

So despite some ups and downs of late, what with the anniversary of the ending of the relationship, some deaths, the nail biting wait to see if I got into school, and a stressful but satisfying new job, I remain happy, still growing, and stretching my boundaries of self definition.

Day 11 Thursday April 29th

2011-04-19T18:54:00.006-04:00

(It's been forever, I know, nearly a year but I will finish the last few entries.)

I am now at Jacob Hamlin Arch. It's been a very long day. The winds continued and given the condition of the tent I slept in the car which was less than comfortable. The best guess is that the winds settled around two in the morning. One cool thing about the disturbed sleep was seeing the moon set low in the western edge of the sky.

Waking before 7am the air was cool and the sky was clear in the east but a bit foreboding in the west. We all had a lot of prepping to do for the next section of the journey. Eventually we were all loaded up, many kudos to Matt (a recurring theme of this trip) for helping me then and later. Drove south on Hole in the Rock Road to Redwell trail head.

Once parked, we all took a moment to stretch before heading out at 10:37am. Initially the trail was not too bad and I had a good pace but slowed a bit later. There was some serious scrambling up and down hills, which gave me pause thinking of the climb back. Along much of this there were tracks of cows (and their deposits). As I went practically crawling up some of the inclines, I kept reminding myself that if a cow did this, than I could. Nonsensical but it provided a mantra to get me through. The hike was hard and long, at least 7 miles and the last two or so were particularly trying for me as my body was hurting, my limits stretched.

There were many river crossings starting about half way into the hike which tested everyone's balance on rocks, logs, and other flotsam. In addition we discovered that Matt missed his calling as a bridge engineer. The scenery was much greener, more lush than the last few days.

As we got close to where the trails converged the canyon walls got more beautiful - rich in desert varnish, mineral deposits adding incredible depth to the expanse of rock face. In one place there was the most amazing smoky whites to dark blue-purples striping the wall randomly.

Finally we got to where Redwall and Hurricane Wash meet up - from here it was supposedly a mile, it felt (and I think was) much longer.

Finally Greg said he thought he saw a glimpse of the arch, I thought I saw it as well but I did not dare hope as I trudged along. Happily it was the arch - grand, majestic - words barely capture the visceral reaction to this awe inspiring place.

My body hurts, I'm cold. We've had dinner, the sun is starting to go down as it's after 8pm. There is so much to say about yesterday, alone all day with the howling

winds, howmuch the wind takes out of you, the incessant noise scratches at your brain. More later.

Caught in the Light

2011-02-13T20:47:00.003-05:00

You are always beautiful. Often your hair flows, slides, down across your shoulders, your face, your back. Yes, frequently it needs to be brushed but it always seems to beg my fingers to drift through it. There are times you look studious, or sometimes you look like this

It's hard to believe how much that expression is like yours but of course since you never see yourself do this you just have to trust me on this.

Your eyes are amazing, the color shifting to greener, or less green with dark lashes, attentive, smiling, serious.

But sometimes, like late last night when you reached over me to grab something in the dusky light of the bedroom, you look.... something beyond common beauty and take my breath away. It only lasts a moment but it stirs something deep and strong in me; if I get cold I should simply recall that brief glimpse because it warms me. It's special, intangible moments like that make what we have so lovely - being able to take in single moments, relishing them, you, us in the here and now.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Twisted Advertising

2011-01-29T21:29:00.003-05:00

(I have not seen the movie, nor do I have any plans to, just to clarify my total lack of knowledge of the true plot line or ending.)

First the idea that there's been a movie produced on the premise of a "no strings attached" (NSA) arrangement is ludicrous. However I noticed, in a rare moment of paying real attention to commercials, that they are selling this as the first date movie of 2011. Really? So a movie about a sexually convenient relationship is a good movie for a new romance?

Now I am not a prude, in fact I had a few of those before such there was a descriptive term for it. I am in fact "involved" with someone where we do not talk about the future or "us", not a bit. Nor am I joined at the hip with the concept of monogamy but I am not getting this. Perhaps it's part of the "Pretty Woman" syndrome of movies - the most unlikely arrangement results in love and implied foreverness; the idea that getting the milk for free (or not so free in the case of P.W.) results in the guy buying the cow despite conventional wisdom.

It further cements the notion that women can change men, that women are always ultimately looking for a relationship regardless of what they say. This implied message is what galls the most about this movie and others like it. Women will connive, seduce, flatter, anything to not cop to the fact that they want a relationship; and in fact are not all that picky about who they want to settle down with. The idea that women need without rational thought, without regard for anyone else's feelings to pair off and ideally mate asap because there is an invisible, inaudible clock propelling them towards merciless one track functioning when it comes to dating is disrespectful at best, and misogynistic to the nth degree at worst (and is the more likely reality).

Now I realize I watch plenty of movies that do no service to women, and enjoy them. For example I just finished watching the entire Thin Man series with Myrna Loy and William Powell. While I took great pleasure in the witty repartee, the lovely fashions, and the relative innocence of sexuality, occasionally I winced as Nora Charles is portrayed as not particularly clever (sometimes rather dense in fact) and seen as offering little to the solution of the crimes. The next series I will be viewing is all the James Bond movies - the ultimate in women as eye candy, especially in the early days. Now there is a bit of redemption here because some of the maniacal evil geniuses are women, and some of the later movies have more admirable female characters - small steps.

Why is this movie getting under my skin so bad? Good question, one I wish I could answer with anything like clarity. An excellent feminist dissection would be great but apparently I don't have it in me. I just know there are images bother me more than others. Perhaps the rapid fire witty dialog of Nice and Nora soothe me, maybe the sexy outfits, great chase scenes, and fabulous cars distract me. I don't know. I do know that the Charles' are a remnant of another time, a time when women had barely had the vote; Bond movies have evolved, albeit slower that molasses runs in a Vermont February but there has been some improvement. Movies like NSA just earn my annoyance, rise my ire, and generally make me haunt Netfl*x for more interesting options than mass market movies.

A Busy Time in Brooklyn

2010-12-02T21:37:00.006-05:00

As previously noted I went to a film showing at Tabla Rasa on Tuesday night but earlier that day I also went to the Gowanus Print Lab to meet master printer Deborah Chaney who is working with Greg on a series of etchings he is producing from our trip to Utah. They are just beginning the work, and as I had never seen this process I was eager to take a peek, as well as to meet Deborah to find out more about production and pricing.

Deborah was a lovely hostess in her studio, watching her work was fascinating. I did a brief "photo essay" of our time there which you can view here. I hadn't intended to spend the entire 3+ hours there but I became engrossed in the process and wanted to see a print produced. I was lucky enough to see two done.

Tonight we had plans to attend an event at Central Booking, but the fates had other plans. We left to catch dinner at Bubby's in DUMBO. Traffic between the Slope and DUMBO was crazy but both Greg and I decided to just go with the flow. Bubby's is in a fabulous location between the two bridges - the views from our table was stunning. The space itself is huge but doesn't feel lonely or like an empty tunnel with sound bouncing off the walls. Service was great, their ethics on local foods wonderful, and the food was scrumptious.

We were supposed to go to this event at Central Booking but between traffic and a lovely meal we were running late. Thinking we could just sneak in the back, we confidently strode over to find a locked door. However as luck would have it was an open studio night at the building so we poked around a bit, and heeding Janet's suggestion popped over to the Brooklyn Arts Council. We found ourselves there just in time for a talk with artist Otto Neals and Emmett Wigglesworth. It was amazing to stumble on this, I loved this talk. Otto Neals is the most gorgeous 80 year old I've even seen, and has the most beautiful voice. Emmett is passionate, with an enthusiasm for life that is infectious. Greg had worked Emmett when he was at the Department of Education in the 1990s. Emmett commissioned to do a mural in P.S. 181 in Brooklyn - quite a big deal. "You can't worry about being famous, you need to look at what you contributed." It was a very uplifting talk. Also they both worked with the Dorsey Gallery, which is where, I'm pretty sure, we had the memorial for Cynthia Belgrave - we celebrated her life and her art. Sweet ties.

After that finished we found our way back to Central Booking, and though the door was locked we were let in - the talk there was just winding down! While the art in this space was amazing, I think we wound up in the one that suited our moods and temperments better.

Shortly after we arrived home Janet followed with the proof of a small book project they have been working on - very exciting end to the day. Look for information on this book in coming months!

Soon I am off to bed because tomorrow we leave for Miami! Art Basel, partying with Alex and Allyson Grey, and looking at art until our eyes bleed!

A History Lesson

2010-11-30T21:42:00.003-05:00

Tonight I went to Tabla Rasa Gallery with Greg and Janet for a few purposes. One was that Audrey and Joseph Anastasi asked them to contribute some works to a new small show, to introduce me to them, and finally to view the documentary "RFK In The Land of Apartheid: A Ripple of Hope".

First, this is shot beautifully, the music is lovely, and a nicely told piece of history. It is a piece of history I had no idea of; growing up JFK was revered, King was honored above most, but RFK? I knew he was assassinated. After viewing this I want to know more. But even more than that I want to know why I have never heard of Chief Albert Lutuli who was the first African to win the Nobel Peace Prize in 1960. Okay, I realize I have never spent a lot of time studying South Africa but why is Mandela held up, outside of SA as the only mover and shaker there? According to Tami Gold, Lutuli is held as a hero not just of South Africa but the whole continent.

I am not going to be lucid on this topic because my mind is racing a bit from the images, the voices, and the emotions the film raised in me.

From Day of Affirmation Speech, delivered at Cape Town University, June 6, 1966:

It is from numberless diverse acts of courage such as these that the belief that human history is thus shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

In many ways this is how I see the world which is why I think of even small acts, words as important. Recently I was thinking about this while doing an assignment for my Certificate Program in Victim Advocacy; it included a selection of examples where racism and other prejudice were being displayed. My answers never included silence even when it could have cause major problems. In reality I have sometimes been silent when safety is an issue, or am just at a loss. I don't want that to be continue to be the case. I will continue to say something every time, because I believe in the power of a ripple.

Shots of home

2010-11-29T23:16:00.006-05:00

I talk about my nest all the time and mostly no one has seen it.

So without further ado....

The driveway, it's about a 1/10 of a mile long and I cannot see the mailbox from any location, even when all the foliage falls.

View from my desk or the couch, which is opposite the desk.

A basket of yarn that mocks me

as I procrastinate knitting (though there has been some improvement in that area).

The second cord of wood before stacking, some of which was done by me, the last of it by kind fairies (aka The Boys, I bless each and every one of the - I have good friends).

Sister Act

2010-11-28T22:36:00.002-05:00

In many ways I have many sisters who are not biological. There are women in my life who are soulmate type sisters of varying degrees, history, etc. However in truth I have a biological sister, well half-sister (which is such an odd phrase, I mean she is a whole person and all that) in that we share the same father. She has a twin, my half-brother and they are close what with being twins, having a matching set of parents, being raised together all. Along with having different mothers, they are eleven years younger than I am, we lived in the same house when they were 0-1 years of age, and again when they were 5-6, so not much lived history.

As the eldest sibling I did take care them, learned to balance a baby on each hip rather early, and generally doted over them, thought they were the cutest things on earth. But I didn't really know them. In some ways I still don't, but in much the same vein I still love them, am devoted to them in my heart, and I would do anything I could to help them. However I doubt they would ever come to me in an emergency, I mean they have each other.

In my mid to late teens they were still very young and just saw me, I think, as an oddity. I didn't dress like their friends, right after graduating high school I left home, and I moved - a lot. To further add to their "who is she and how are we related??", I came out as a lesbian. Initially I think they tried to ignore this as much as possible. In fairness they were about 12 when I told them, and anyone's sexuality is an odd thing to cope with at that point. Mostly their response was silence, except to ask me to not do PDAs with my girlfriend when we were out together. A few years later it seemed that it was conveniently cool to have a lesbian sister, then it just was blase. Fine by me.

Over the years it is my sister and I who have more of a connection though when they were young I had been sure it was my brother and I who would get closer and stay that way. I have never had an argument with either sibling, a side benefit of largely having little to do with each other, I suppose. But neither do I have more than a handful of great memories of us together, which is a huge sadness some days for me.

Tonight I had dinner at my sister's new place (I never saw the last one though she lived there 11 years) that she shares with her beau, who I finally met. It was nice to finally see her in her space. It was a lovely evening of catching up, hearing about my brother's romantic woes (which sadden me), learning what is up with her mother, commiserating on our father's peccadilloes. It's nice to see her as she actually is, an adult woman dealing with a mature relationship, figuring out next steps. I have no illusions of us suddenly being in regular contact but it is a nice thing to be peers the last few years, and tonight was a good reminder of how family and friends can be one in the same, very different, or how friends become family, but somehow actual family tugs at our hearts in different ways no matter the time spent together.

Recovery Mode

2010-11-27T20:32:00.002-05:00

Today has been a total pajama day. Still fighting off a cold. While it's not the cabin, Greg and Janet's is just about as close to be home as it can be for such days.

Tonight we are finishing our film noir marathon by watching The Maltese Falcon. It's so good, and comforting for a day like today.

I am grateful for friends, family, and safe harbors.

Just a lovely day

2010-11-26T20:33:00.002-05:00

Really that just sums up the day. Mostly very slow and easy here at Greg and Janet's. Today has been their "leftovers and film noir" party. Around 1:30 Janet and I started rearranging furniture, I took over the kitchen making the various leftovers look even more tasty.

People have been drifting in and out with lovely conversations, yummy food. So far we have watched "Pick Up on South Street" which is an interesting tale involving the Cold War as a back drop - Thelma Ritter is amazing as usual and "Double Indemnity," which I hadn't seen in years. Written by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler, it's easy to see who wrote the dialogue and who wrote the Fred's inner voice monologues.

We on an a talking jag now and still up for watching is "The Third Man" and "The Maltese Falcon". We shall see if we watch another tonight. I would certainly watch the Falcon again.

Lovely party, lovely day. Hope y'all are having a wonderful after the Festival of Stuffing Yourself Beyond Belief.

Fully Loved

2010-11-25T22:50:00.004-05:00

In June 2008 my cousin Judy lost her husband of 41 years. Somehow I hadn't realized that the illness he was diagnosed with years ago was fatal but it was. Since his passing I had seen her only once, at the family sedar, in April 2009, where we did not have a lot of time to talk. In fact we have rarely had significant conversation time, though I have always been very fond of her.

Yesterday I drove to her house, upon arriving, we flittered from topic to topic in a vain attempt to update quickly. After a bit we settled down with some fabulous pizza and nice bottle of wine. This morning into afternoon, before other guests arrived, we continue our rambling conversation while tending to straightening, prepping food, and repotting plants when we saw we still extra time.

Judy knew her husband for 54 years, they graduated from the same high school. They did not marry immediately, in fact Judy met someone else whom she married and had her first son with. Clearly that marriage did not last all that long. She quickly reunited, I think that's the best way to describe it, with David and was with him all these decades.

My view of their relationship was very limited through my adolescence. Also given that I only saw them about twice a year at family gatherings I had no idea of the complexity, the happiness, the struggles, that made up their marriage. After David died she wrote a beautiful letter where I learned so many things about his life which made realize how much I lost not knowing him. He was always so quiet at families occasions, Judy so vivacious, busy, with a full laugh.

After this visit I am awed by the beauty of their marriage, though I imagine it may have been colored by grief so that it more rose than beige. Even so to be loved like that, for so long, must be an amazing experience. Longevity in relationships is not exactly something I excel at, my cynical nature, my restless soul, and my walls hold such things at bay. At least that's what I think it may be. Maybe I am just damaged, or maybe I haven't met that person that breach my fortress, or perhaps I have not figured to let someone in enough to love me that well.

"In many ways our last years together were among our happiest." How lovely is that. Knowing that this illness was fatal, going to appointments together, never knowing which bad turn might spell the end, and yet her view is that they were happy together. I suppose it's possible knowing that your time is limited, each day has a different scent, a promise of exuberance because it might be the last time you did that particular thing. To be able to say you know in your heart that for your mate, you were it, the smartest, the most clever, the sexiest - for four decades? How remarkable.

She asked me if I had heard of The 100 Things Challenge which I had not. In the past several years I have pared down extensively, especially with my last big move in March 2009. Judy's house (in fact each of the three she has owned and that I have visited) is filled with beautiful things. There are so many things to look at, to run your finger across, fabric that begs to be touched. I suspect that if I had her belongings I would have found it significantly more challenging to reduce the way I have because I have always lusted after her living spaces. In thinking about what she would give up, I imagine many of the things she would keep would be related to David, things they bought together or that he built for her. I think just those two parameters would easily take up half that goal of 100, if not more.

One of the tasks that she has struggled with was what to do with David's ashes. He had wanted them scattered in Muir Woods but in conversations prior to his death she said she didn't think she could do that. He told he really didn't care all that much really, that he wanted her to do what was best for her. She thought about burying them outside his workshop on their property but realized that she do so only in a format that allowed her to dig them back up if she ever moved. Her good friend said not to do it in that case. She finally came up with something that made the most sense to her. In the last five or so years Judy has been making art, decorative boxes, furniture, collage prints and so forth. She made a box, decorated with paints, gel films of photos in its interior, and topped with symbols of David's passions. It lives in her bedroom now. She has told her younger son that when she dies she wants to be cremated as well, to have her ashes mixed with David's so they will always be together. Beyond that she doesn't care what happens to the ashes, just that she rests with him. Recalling that conversation now I am tearing up at the depth of devotion, the solidarity that is conveyed by her sentiment. I am awed by their love, my only sadness is that I never know what was in front of me all those years.

meeting as peers

2010-11-24T21:58:00.000-05:00

I am at my cousin's house in Hebron, CT. This may be our first time alone ever and we are now more like peers than ever despite over the 2+ decade age difference. Talking, confiding, in very different yet similar places in some ways. I am honored and touched to have the rapport with a woman I have admired for most of my life.

Day 10 Wednesday April 28

2010-11-23T19:33:00.003-05:00

Meredith, Katie, and Matt left the canyon (Brimstone) before Greg and Janet, so I hiked back with them. Well sort of, Meredith and Katie breezed ahead, while Matt went slowly with me, figuring out the path of least resistance as he put it. The guessimate is that I hiked about 4 miles and the descent (and hence the ascent) was about 500-600 feet (most of it in only one short section). I made the ascent in about an hour. My decision to head back to the Narrows rather than continue the hike with the crew was a good one for me - heavy sand for the rest of the walk out to the canyon. Hiking in deep sand is SO hard!

I can't remember a time when I heard my pulse in my ears as frequently as I have this week. The winds started kicking up on our walk back and have not relented one bit (the windstorm lasted close to 36 hours). As Matt and I neared our site, the other two were rescuing my tent from it's Queen of the Hill place as it swept from it's perch. Matt and I repositioned it to a lower place, little hope of a protected place in the mesa. Thanks to my blackberry we were able to get an idea of the weather. Sustained winds 20-30 mph with gust up to 60 mph. The hike, winds and I expect cumulative drain got to everyone last night; trying to cook in these winds was challenging and laughable by turns. However after a lovely sunset most of us stayed awake to watch the spectacular moonrise from the cloud banks.

Given the winds, a cranky groin and expecting the seven mile hike tomorrow I stayed behind, as has Matt (though I think for different reasons). I have taken advantage of the time reading and napping. Breakfast was not on my agenda this morning as I had a bit of bad coffee and a whole grain tortilla. Since then I have had a power bar, perhaps this explains some of the sleeping. Eating more might be good, so I did, but I am so tired of the lunch choices. I meandered between my tent (which was being flattened by the winds), under the juniper tree, or retreating to the car to escape the howling sounds. Really the constant noise was like torture after about 6 straight hours awake, listening, surrounded by the sound.

Odd dreams - my two exes (Her Geekyness and an earlier one) blending, leaving them/her, grateful it was their suggestion so I didn't have to do that piece (as I usually do in real life). Concocting how I didn't need to actually live with them during the time of giving notice on the apartment. Figuring how to explain going to Cleveland (where BC lives) but not caring a whole lot about the reaction.

One good thing about the wind, it's keeping the tent from totally baking. I have mostly figured and what will stay behind in the vehicle, clothes wise anyway for the backpacking portion.

I continue to be torn between being really proud of myself regarding this trip and feeling like I'm seen as the fat kid who slows everyone down, who breaths heavy with any light exertion annoying everyone who is in earshot. Yesterday during the descent Greg called for someone to give Janet a hand. There was no one really accessible except me, so I did. I was inordinately proud and stunned to be the person to spot her. Sometimes I feel like I will just cry and cry when I return to "civilization" release all of this, except it's not really like me to do that.

Home and chilly!

2010-11-22T23:00:00.004-05:00

I am home, for the moment. On Friday the 12th I left to head to Boston, Monday onto Ohio, a quick stop in New Paltz on Friday to re-storage my belongings, then back to Boston the same day. Today I drove from there to Croton to work for Sunny, and upon entering my cabin discovered it was a balmy 52F degrees.

It will be a quick stop over here in my haven, as it seems I remain your faithful nomad. My next stops include Hebron CT for Thanksgiving with some family, Brooklyn NY for a "leftovers and film noir" extravaganza where I will settle for a few days working on Art & Adventures business with Greg and Janet. While in New York I will likely be going to a party where Allyson Grey will be live painting, meeting Maddy Rosenberg, and having a lovely time I hope! Then I am off to Miami with Janet to attend Art Basel Miami. Crazy, huh?

This is all great, and the weeks after that are busy and filled with awesome people but I really am hoping for at least two weeks straight at home sometime in January.

Back to tending the fire, as the chill continues!

More dreaming

2010-11-21T18:10:00.004-05:00

(apparently I wrote this November 21 but never published it!?!?? color me confused.)

One of the dreams I had either last night, or the night before, it's all a bit fuzzy, involved driving at night with others in the car. As I drove the road became dark, to the point where I wondered if my lights were on, friends at first assured me that they were. Further on though it was clear that I was merely feeling my way on the road, moving along on blind faith, trusting my knowledge to prevent crashing. This theme, lights going out while driving, has occurred before but not for quite some time. Upon giving this some thought, I wondered yet again what it means. This time I am thinking that it involves feeling my way along a path that is familiar but not ingrained my muscle memory - as it were.

Last night I had another dream with a baby, again a recurring theme lately. Again it was a boy child too. He was happy, I was happy. We went to see my friend Abby, someone I've known longer than anyone but actual family. Then I went to a party like setting, a great deal like a Dance New England Camp Coordinating Group meeting (which I have been attending monthly in my new role of mentor). It was a light, happy sort of day. In the dream I had "received" the baby (he was adopted) on Thursday. In the dream I remembering thinking how his presence would impact my time at camp in the summer but felt confident about managing it.

After I woke I marveled at the fact of having another dream where I acquire a baby. Then I thought about the day mentioned in the dream - this past Thursday was the day I collected my things from Ohio and drove back towards New York. Babies and birthing dreams - new beginnings, creativity, changing or growing towards something perhaps? Am I still expanding, still moving on some unknown track towards something? The difference in this dream is adoption, being happy about the baby, introducing him (me? some aspect of me?) to people important to me. I still don't know but overall I felt good about this dream and I worked to feel better about the first dream which illustrates the idea of stepping off the edge, having faith that a net will appear or I will sprout wings.

More dreaming

2010-11-21T18:10:00.003-05:00

True closure involves many ties

2010-11-20T21:27:00.003-05:00

While in the Dayton area I was lucky enough to see a number of the dear friends I made out there, which was very satisfying while bittersweet. To those of you that I did not get to see, you remain in my heart and I look forward to keeping in touch via other means. To those I did manage to see, all I can say is wow, it was so so good to see your faces.

On Thursday I headed out to a storage place to pick up my trailer, delighted to find it directly across the street from Coffee Movers, where my belongings had been stored for over a year. Except. It turns out there were to be had at that place. U-H*ul had apparently called me to say that the pick up location had changed but they didn't really make that clear in the brief call I had. Sigh. So off I drove to an actual U-H*ul site to pick one up. As I drove down the road I passed Westbrook, which caused my heart to skip a beat, because that is the road that Her Geekyness lived when we met, the house that I helped pack up so that she could move to California to be with me. As I continued on it occurred to me that I was going to the place where Jeriann and I had gone to buy more boxes during that adventure which took place just a hair over 6 years ago. Freaky. At that point I decided the gods have a strange sense of irony.

It took forever but I got the trailer and proceeded back from Salem to Clayton to load up my belongings. Wait for it, there was a snafu. Really. My dresser would not fit in it. The opening was not big enough, had it been a bit wider or taller, it would have been just fine. But no. Back on the phone, I found that the only place with the next size up was in Dayton. As soon as I heard the address I had a feeling I was in for more deja vu. And I was. When I left, the last time, in March 2009, I went to one U-H*ul place but had lots of trouble with lights on the trailer and was sent to another place where it could be fixed. Here I was back at the same place, trading out trailers. Now I decided the fates were just cruel, but upon reflection I thought that perhaps it was the proper way to leave this place, even as it frustrated me.

Once done, I headed back up to Clayton and luckily there were movers up there so I didn't have to lift a finger. My spirits lifted in the most amazing way as I pulled out with the rest of my belongings reunited with me. I still have not opened any of the boxes, as everything is back in storage, but just knowing that everything I owe is in one state feels remarkably whole and freeing.

It has been a long journey to get here, both literally and figuratively. I am happy in a way that I don't remember being in forever, maybe ever? My life keeps unfolding in some ways I could have never foreseen. Some of it is not fun, but it is still engaging, I still see the opportunity to grow from everything.

Overall I am just happy to close the Ohio chapter. It's done, I have my things. No longer tied by being split, no longer mourning the tangible and not quite so being far out of reach. it's a good place to be.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

2010-11-19T20:07:00.000-05:00

Remember last Friday's post? Yeah, well I'm at Dance Friday again but more tired after my travels to Ohio and back.

Hoping to post a wrap up of those adventures tomorrow or the day after.

Thanks for your patience.
Signed
The Modern Nomad

Sleepy start

2010-11-18T09:39:00.003-05:00

Need to pack up and move on out of the home of the hostess with the mostess to pick up the trailer, the load up the beginnings and hit the road. Hence my quick post now because it's unlikely I will get online later today.

No surprise I woke from dreams about moving - hitching the trailer to a bicycle while expecting someone else to drive my car. After straining my way up a hill toward the cabin hauling an empty trailer I was beside myself with horror at the notion of pumping my way up the hills in Pennsylvania with the thing loaded. It took a few anxious moments to realize that we could just put the bike in the trailer and split the driving. Duh.

Am I stressed a little? Why would you ask that? Yes, yes, I know "just breathe". I am, I promise.

Nothing People, Absolutely Nothing

2010-11-17T21:42:00.002-05:00

Sorry folks, I got nothing for today. I'm hanging with my hostess and am totally distracted.

Tomorrow is the day I pick up the U-Haul and load up the last of my belongings still residing in Ohio. It feels good, if a bit surreal to close this chapter. The last drive from here with my belongings, unifying my baggage in one state.

Night peeps.

The Travel Gods have a bizarre sense of humor

2010-11-16T22:32:00.003-05:00

Yesterday I left later than i intended because, well that's how things happen. Having company on the road was a really nice change. Having a travel companion who is also a dj? Priceless - between we selected an interesting set of cds, of which we listened to only a small percentage of during the trip - because we brought that much stuff.

We were merrily going along, stopping as I noted last night at Aunt Lu's Cafe for a spot of truck stop cuisine. Finally I was getting tired and drove until I found a rest stop, I can't remember where. We adjust the seats as much as possible and napped. I slept lightly for about two hours, waking at around 3:35. Feeling remarkable awake and knowing that rest of the drive was less than 180 miles I felt sure I could make it, arriving at our host's home before they left for the day.

During some points of the trip I had noticed an odd smell, not totally dissimilar to the problem I had in February which necessitated replacing the heater core, but not identical and I thought it unlikely to have gone bad. In the early morning silence as my companion was still dozing, I now heard odd, vaguely tinkling or crackling like sounds which did not give me the warm fuzzies. About 35 miles from our final destination, my battery light lit up, quickly followed by the temperature gauge rising precipitously fast. Pulling off to the shoulder, I shut the car off and took a few deep breaths before grabbing the manual to try to determine what to do next. My hope was that this was relatively simple - a hose coming loose and losing the coolant fluid type injury to the car. This of course would not explain the battery indicator going on but I was trying to hope for silly but simple explanations of such things. For some reason I could not pop the hood - the lever did absolutely nothing but looking underneath showed a river of fluid heading down towards the earth on the far side of the shoulder.

I decided to call my insurance company, who patched me to a local tow company, who recommended a repair place near we were going to be staying. In my experience, while not extensive, covers a several such calls for service and/or towing, it seems to be the rule that one has a minimum of 1 hours and 15 minute waiting time. This time it was over an hour and a half, though in the end the timing was perfect. It did not take long to reach the car place and as I took Indy off the flat bed to put her in a spot, the power steering went out on me which freaked me out entirely. While doing all this the manager had come in to open things up and I was the first customer of the day. As the tow guy was about to pull out to take us to the house, my hostess with the mostess showed up with the keys.

We settled in quickly for a nap, which was cut short for me by the garage calling me with bad news about the vehicle. Never fear Indy is fine but my budget is screwed (thanks for the advance pay Sunny!). It was way worse and much more extensive than a radiator hose or another simple but she is now running just fine.

I am hoping this is the last of these sorts of adventures because the stress is not a fun kind and the impact on my finances is less than thrilling. Please make offerings, sing prayers, or dance naked around a fire to help insure smoother travels home and for my up coming plans (I will be away from home a good deal, per usual it seems) if you are so inclined. In turn I will make voodoo dolls in your image and laden them with chocolate, multiple orgasms and Jimmy Choo shoes. Thanks.

Live from the road

2010-11-15T20:40:00.002-05:00

It's true! I'm the classic Sapp's Bros. in Clearfield, PA on my way to Dayton, eating at Aunt Lu's. Got on the road later than intended so I expect to drive until about midnight, probably will sleep in the car to keep the trip cheap, but who knows. After this much driving I might spoil myself a bit.

I am excited to see a few folks who I really miss out there before turning back around with things I haven't seen for about 1.5 years or more! It will be like a holiday gift extravaganza whenever I open the boxes.

Later peeps!

Meeting Exhaustion

2010-11-14T17:36:00.002-05:00

at it's face. However the meeting, because yes there really was one, was a good one. It is good to meet with people you care about on a personal level as well as a professional one.

Following the meeting we are looking to have a snuggle party {tm} at Aileen's. I'm looking forward to it.

That's all for now folks.

Flowing in the River of Life

2010-11-13T18:41:00.002-05:00

Some days the time moves in contrast to how you feel. It creeps as you race, you mimic a sloth and the clock acts as though it's on a coke binge. But sometime, in the way that dusk moves to evening, time feels liminal - it's breaths merging with yours as you pass through conversations, resting, thinking, running errands as you walk together in step with no perception of going fast or slow but just being. I have had some of these moments, where life seems timeless - just moving along as if guided by a power contained within and without, in concert but without you have any conscious notion of participating in the process.

Wouldn't it be nice to have more moments like that in our life? I treasure the moments, no matter how short, that have this quality. When I'm very present and in my body it's more likely to happen when I am dancing is when this happens the most, though still all too infrequently. For me, the lesson there is to dance more: alone, with others, at home, at boogies, at clubs, wherever, whenever possible. I suppose this state would be referred to be being "in flow", as popularized by Csikszentmihaly. For me I relate it more to my Buddhist studies which predate my exposure to Mr. Csikszentmihaly, where I first encountered what intuitively I sensed in my body, in my heart about being in the moment even though I spent my childhood escaping via daydreams and books. I suppose that given how fully I immersed in those activities it could be argued that I was in that state, even while I was dissociating from realities, creating my own which felt safer, nurturing in that they provided me a world of possibility outside my own.

Given my lifestyle which lacks structure even as I strive to create some in order to meet some outside idea of how I should live, most of my days are about finding the flow, allowing life to flow over and inside of me. Appreciating the moments of deep terror, amusement, and bliss have become, while not second nature, it seems that I have the ability to "stop and smell the roses" better than I ever have before.

Whether one labels being in the flow, living the dogma of Buddhism, or having a sense of humor about the gods playing dice to figure out your destiny, I find that I am engaging more deeply in random minutes, walking the liminal, enjoying that moment of stepping off the cliff wondering whether a wind will carry me, or a net will catch me.

Phoning it in

2010-11-12T19:59:00.000-05:00

Literally! I'm somewhere without wifi and expect to dancing until after midnight so I am on my 'Berry making the deadline early so I don't blow NaBloPoMo!

Have an awesome Friday night my peeps.

Alone Again, Naturally

2010-11-11T16:46:00.002-05:00

Last night as I dived under the covers with a book, as is my nightly habit, I was taken with a deep hit of loneliness. It was a surprise because it is not something I normally feel at that moment. Rather than burying the feeling immediately, I decided to just sit with it, examine it a tiny bit but without a tinge of obsession or a sense of needing to fix it.

Since taking residence here in my nest in early May, I have been alone, slept alone in my bed more than I have in decades. This is not an exaggeration at all, it is plain fact. Mostly I enjoy it endlessly. It has felt a bit like a revelation to go food shopping without thinking of anyone's needs, wants, or palete; to only have myself to answer to regarding my spending; paying off debt rather than accruing more has been heavenly - I used a credit card this spring, an act I haven't done in about five years. Somewhat sadly I have discovered I sleep better when alone - what I lose in dream recall is made up, somewhat, by waking more rested. I now recognize the trade off in having someone in bed with me - it is delicious, comforting (among other things, ahem), but the sleeping is more fitful.

Spending hours, days even by myself holed up with no one for physical company has been restorative and instructive. I have learned that I know how to reach out for companionship, seen how I resist it but know I can choose to stand up for myself by seeking out people. I can sit in the lonely and see what it brings up; interestingly the lonely doesn't show up all that often. It has been nice to see how I "keep house" when it's just me. It has been informative to see where my limits are, to discover my internal motivation on things because there is no one to prod me.

Another thing I have realized, and am working to make peace with, is my life is rarely tidy and structured. When I look back over the years (and at this point there are many of them to review) there has always been something of a nomadic thread, myriad projects and interests, friends and family fun and drama that result in a lack of rut. This is something that largely suits me, but I have occasionally fought it; thinking my life ought to look different, more like some other people's lives, more like how the overall society thinks life should look like, that we should all have a sort of resigned ennui existence. What I am also seeing is that I also am able to manage a great deal of integrity in this lifestyle, that I keep connections, keep commitments (as best as I can given my predilection for procrastination), am good at networking, and have a great sense of humor (which is required for a life as odd as mine).

I am not lonely though I have moments when loneliness is my core feeling, usually quite briefly. There is nothing inherently scary about these moments, they are good reminders about innate vulnerabilities that we all have. In addition that are good reminders about our innate resilience, that we are stronger than our fears.

Movement to conclusion

2010-11-10T18:29:00.003-05:00

Around the end of August, or maybe the beginning of September while chatting with a friend, it became apparent that I had a strong yearning to retrieve my things resting in storage in Dayton. There were a few things driving this I believe - one the option to have access to my things that I haven't seen in 1.5 years; a desire to have all my belongings in one state; and perhaps finally to close the Ohio chapter of my adventurous life.

A bit ago I began researching storage places close to either my nest here in New Paltz, or near Sunny. The other problem was figuring out when to go since the drive would be long and with all my traveling, meetings, housesitting it was hard to figure out. Initially I thought I would go in October, clearly that was a bust. Plus with the DNE weekend, well, just wasn't happening. Looking at the calendar, thinking about the weather shifting, and Thanksgiving, well this coming week is the time!

Today I booked a storage site here in New Paltz, let the Dayton place know I was coming to collect my belongings, and reserved a U-Haul trailer. Whew! It feels so good. All of me in one state, and I can have a kitchen table downstairs, a coffee table upstairs, and unearth my fridge magnets! Also I can get my kitchen gear off Sunny's porch and put it in storage close by so if I desire my Cuisinart to make latkes I can. Friday I will drive to Boston to go to Dance Friday, Sunday will be my CCG meeting, then Monday I hit the road. My travel buddy needs to be back in Boston by Friday so it will be a quick turn around but so worth it.

This feels so good, exciting even. It's also been a long time in coming. Of course it means another week away from my cabin but I think it will result in a lot of peace for me.

Utah Day 9, April 27

2010-11-09T18:19:00.011-05:00

Dance Hall Rock was exceptional, it is such a wonderful spot and we were lucky enough to be the only ones there. The afternoon into evening was easy and simple.

Janet and Greg, and later Katie as well, were painting while

seated on the same shaded alcove.

We all took turns hiking about on and around the rock. We had a simple dinner, made a fire and had more wine. The moon rise was awe inspiring as it was almost full as it came up over some rock formations.

Moonlight cast a shimmering glow over our camp.

In many ways it was my best sleep which while not saying much, I am grateful for nonetheless. I woke pretty easily around 7 a.m. to the everyone breaking down camp, which I began to do as well. I was rather unreasonably please with my

first start to finish take down of my borrowed tent.

We headed back up Hole in the Rock Road the way we had come to Dry Fork Gulch; the trail head was packed, filled with folks about to enter the trail. It was close to 10am by this time. We turned around in search of a suitable camping site. Finding one where an older gentleman was working on his vehicle, we weren't thrilled is it was very open. The man, who was from Oregon, suggest we go down the path, heading further towards some more varied terrain. We found the perfect site and I set my tent a top the highest mound, playing Queen of the Hill.

Unloading quickly Greg sussed out how

we might hike from our site to our intended goal for the day. Heading out it soon became clear we were blazing an infrequently, largely unused trail. Lots of scrambling down slick rock and building cairns to mark our return route. My knees let me know they were less than thrilled with this plan but such is life.

We found what we thought was the chalk narrows we were aiming for but later we learned we were mistaken. Leaving there we heading toward Brimstone Canyon, entering it was cool and shaded. The stone he

re has more of a pink cast versus the orange of Zebra. Here at least was the Dry Fork Narrows that we thought we had come upon earlier. We partook of lunch here and after some guidance from fellow hikers we gathered ourselves to see Brimstone.

The heat was not bad, the rock was gorgeous. As we turned up stream (no water, just the language and shadow of where water once flowed) we entered a beautiful sandy stretch with a line of trees in the distance directly at the base of the rock face. We marched through the sand around the bend and I did a body check - my ankle had began to ache again, the right thumb joint that is sometimes troublesome was hurting. Taking into account that it was close to another mile in and we still had to head back to camp I made a judgement call and turned around, back to the Narrows. While I tempted to go further than the Narrows and test my trail skills I knew it would make Greg nervous if I was not where I said I would be for meeting up.

At one point a group came by where I was resting and asked if I was from the party of 5 or 6. Yes, I replied. "They said to say hello". It's a largely sweet, affable world this hiker's universe.

(a shot from back at camp, the end of sundown)

It feels like Sunday

2010-11-08T22:54:00.004-05:00

Seriously, it does. My out of town friends have all left and are home. I felt nappish and napped rather than studied. Had challenging dreams. Janet says that one's unconscious is six months behind life. I'm not sure I agree.

(my desk area)

At this point it's hard to remember if this was a theme in my dreams before but certainly since leaving Dayton in March 2009 I have had a lot of moving dreams, not surprising since I wasn't living anywhere until a few months ago. Even since getting here to the cabin I haven't been here without an overnight or three for probably more than two weeks. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration but not by much. During my nap I had a dream about Her Geekyness, who I ended things with in February 2009 (hence my move); we were fighting about money and work. Not unlike real life in some ways as finances were always an issue. For me, dreaming about exes seems to be like a check in with myself that I made the right decision. What is funny about that is I never regret leaving relationship, not really. I feel badly sometimes, like maybe I didn't try hard enough before leaving, but I digress. I had to wake myself up because I just couldn't stand the arguing anymore.

Earlier today it sleeted, making for a good sleepy sort of day and a day when keeping the fire going was important but not always easy. Luckily I have done just enough so the temperature downstairs has not sunk below 63F. It seems way too early for such weather but I suppose not.

(another view of that room)

Almost Blew It

2010-11-07T18:24:00.001-05:00

It's been a crazy, odd time zone kind of day what with the time change, the weekend event, plans shifting at the turn of a corner and a face wanting time, accommodating newly emerged needs but somehow I am managing to post before midnight, barely.

The weekend was a successful, from what we can tell financially and it certainly seems from the responses many of the organizers heard, it was emotionally successful in that it fed people's need for a DNE dose as winter begins to emerge and the long stretch of cold is before us and dance camp seems far away. Overall I am please with how things went but per my usual I was concocting a "next time" document and the bones of time line for 2011.

My out of town dear friends leave in the morning which is bittersweet, it was such a treat having them on my turf for a change, and there isn't much likelihood of all of them returning soon. At least they were able to see a bit of why I adore where I am as much as I do and play hostess just a tiny bit by offering soup and wine.

Given the weekend, late hours, and the damn daylight savings time my body clock is feeling very off kilter. Tomorrow begins a buckling down of work - school and A&A as well as some DNE. If I use my time wisely I can also begin to make notes on the NY Weekend. Of course I will need to blog as well.

Thus ends the first week of NaBloPoMo, year 5 I believe.

A Quickie

2010-11-06T11:23:00.003-04:00

Hello! I am about to dash off again because it's the New York DNE Weekend. Helped with get the site set up and danced quite bit which was great. Was up very late last night, slept in a bit and now am hoping to make it back to the site to catch lunch, my breakfast.

Yesterday was a slow but speedy sort of day catching up on things and also not under a lot of pressure for the weekend in other ways. As Scott said last night, "we have not overtly f*cked up, so it's a success". My bar is way higher and I already have a long set of notes structure ideas for next year, because that's how my brain works.

Unlikely that I will take classes today but will have a lovely time catching up with folks and doing oversight.

Ta ta for now!*

*Who says this? Consider yourself getting life bonus points if you know.

Evidence of Yesterday's Stove Adventures

2010-11-05T15:16:00.004-04:00

The soup came out great. Very basic: sauteed onions, carrots, and baby portabello; add water; add package of Manischewitz "mushroom soup"; add reconstituted dried porcini mushrooms with the water (strained).

For the last two days I was able to keep my home in an high 60's to about 71 using the wood stove. I am inordinately proud of myself. When my guests were here last night they were impressed at the toasty quality done by stove alone. For the last two mornings I found some glowering embers still in the midst of ash - again very pleased.

Little House on the Prairie Goes Post-Modern

2010-11-04T15:06:00.002-04:00

Since May I have been living in a cabin on my friend's property. I love this place, it is my home, my nest, my sanctuary. I have no idea how long I will be here but I am grateful for it each and every day (whether I'm here or not - in October I was gone about 23 days in total!). The property (the main house and the cabin) has a deer fencing around a great deal of it which is part of why I have nicknamed it "the compound".

Anyway. It's up the mountain a bit from the center of New Paltz and the temperature up here is always different from town. Though there are other options, I have decided to heat primarily via the wood stove - not that I know anything about maintaining one for heat in the depths of winter. It also occurred to me that I could cook via the stove, since I don't have a cook stove or oven here. About three weeks ago I attempted this just a bit by halving a butternut squash - grown by the gentleman farmer that is my friend. Putting a bit of water in a cast iron pan I put them in, covered with aluminum foil and attempted to "roast" it to use in a soup the next day. Yeah, well the fire didn't stay all that hot overnight. They were partially cooked. Oh well.

Fast forward to today. Picture this if you will:

I am tidying my nest in part because it was FILTHY and in part because I have out of town friends coming over (go me!). After dusting and vacuuming I decide to do this soup thing on the wood stove but I need a shower too. Besides my hair is already wet from dashing out in the rain to cover the hopelessly damp unstacked wood and grab some of the drier stacked, covered wood so I can make soup and keep the house toasty. Well while I'm at it, I thought I'd color my hair for fun. So there I am in black sweats, topless, my hair wet with water and dye, a towel around my neck and back with a pan on the stove heating up while I slice onions. Mind you I am facing a huge picture window that is visible should the kindly landowner wander by on the way to his car. Luckily it's a week day and it's raining so odds are good that he is hard at work in the house. I finish dicing the onions, tend to the fire to try to get the oiled pan is heating, then dash into the shower.

My hair has warm tones, the nest is tidy, the onions, carrots, and mushrooms are sauteed. I have wireless internet, lots of warm blankets for chilly nights. Laura Ingalls never had it so good.

Utah Day 8, April 26

2010-11-03T15:33:00.008-04:00

Yesterday we made our way to the Boulder Mountain Lodge where they did our laundry - oh happy day! This place is beautiful, just sumptuous, after a week of camping even more so. I walked over to the Burr Trail Outpost which is an artisan shop and cafe of the most charming arrangement. Met a woodworker, Dennis Bertucci, who is originally from Brooklyn; when I told him a bit about my work with G & J, he said I should get in touch with a local artist, Amsel Springs (who Janet and Katie met by chance a few days earlier - small world, no?) because he thinks Mr. Spring should be shown in NY. It was a delightful encounter.

Our dinner at Hell's Backbone Grill was lush with beautiful presentations and complex flavors. (I want their cookbook!) After dinner Greg and I worked on sorting all the food in our traveling pantry by meal category then by meal, then by car camping versus backpacking. By the end I was tired and my right arch was aching. Heading back to my room the disaster of my belongings exploded on the bed faced me and I moaned with exhaustion, wishing for a fairy godmother to magically pack it up. Instead I called BC while lying on the bed in a stupor; eventually packing while talking. Per my usual I did not fall immediately asleep - my mind was racing over details. While talking to BC, I spoke about how much I was pushing myself physically and in other ways, the tears of pent up emotions leaked out but I would not, could not fully let go. Perhaps it would have been better to have done so. There was something about talking to her, or talking with someone not part of this allowed all the vulnerability of this come to the fore.

For the first time this trip I got too hot while sleeping - it was a delic

ious annoyance. In the morning I showered again, just because I could! We all met up for breakfast at Hell's Backbone, again the food was excellent and oh my god, real coffee! I decided to pass on the Anasazi Museum which was fortunate as I had forgotten that I had scheduled an interview with a writer from the Art Calender, which went very well(I'm in this issue).

During this trip I find myself randomly sexually hungry and wish BC were here. It feels a little different out here, more primal, organic. Maybe in all the big silences out here one can feel, hear their body better. I just feel it ride through for the moments it's present until some other stimuli takes precedence.

Now we are in Devil's Garden, inside the Escalante Staircase National Monument. We will head next to Dance Hall Rock where we will camp for the night. Tomorrow is another night elsewhere. All of us are in different dyads or alone right now. There is a nice breeze floating over the landscape which obscures the sun's heat a bit. At one point while walking around the hoodoos, I could not hear or see any of our party - thought about what having that sort of space is like, to be connected and yet not at all; each of us in

our own world within arelatively small acreage. It is a luxury few of us have with any regularity, some almost never. I wonder if some folks, particularly the very city bound would find this scary - this big sky, silence except for pure nature, meandering paths that exist in the wild. No lines, or lights to help them pinpoint themselves in place and time; how many would cower under the moonlight, hearing the wind careening through these canyons, find

the layers of flaking mud on the Harris Wash unearthly.

The silence at night, on cold hard earth is one the loneliest moments for me, even as I take pleasure to be far from what I know. Physically uncomfortable, little is soft, the air cold, confined by a mummy sleeping bag, I suppose some would find this almost akin to torture. I rather relish the discomfort of the body and soul in this discreet time. It is a

challenge to let go of expectation, to be in the now, to try not to yearn for the other world.

Utah Day 7, April 25

2010-11-02T19:40:00.007-04:00

The hike back took a little less time and initially I had a really good pace but after a while the climb back up out of the Harris Wash and up from the canyon floor took it's toll. I worked hard not to gripe even as my left calf started to howl at the strain. Finally we made it back to the cars and I don't know that I've been happier to be in front of a car.

We settled back at camp where I orchestrated a great dinner of brown rice, canned corn with chipolte, canned salmon with wilted spinach and a squeeze of orange juice. Thanks to Meredith we had delicious wine - Menage a Trois from Folis a Deux (a place I visited when

I lived in California); it was a very indulgent night; a very jovial dinner with all six of us recounting the day, telling other stories, and generally

joking around.

The evening air was warmer than it had been, which was nice for my sore muscles and joints. In the lower campground the sound of the stream

was a beautiful accompaniment to the sounds of our laughter while a three quarter moon rose over the cliffs behind the raised campsite where Meredith and I had our tents.

Earlier Greg and I had been talking about how I was doing; I was trying to use words that were not too demoralizing in my self-assessment (being fat, out of shape, last in line, low lung capacity when he said "inexperienced". My response was that was a much kinder frame than I had for myself.

As every night I am amazed I do not simply crahs as soon as my head hits the floor. At 10:45pm I woke needing pee out in the cold. Crawling out of my bag I found a suitable spot mere feet away, promptly returning to my cocoon. For some reason I resisted the notion I was cold and foolishly did not add a layer until much later. Throughout the night my left knee woke me with a great deal of pain, to the point of my whimpering pathetically in my tent.

Weird pregnancy dream: Dorm/Doctor resident setting. Not sure who I was but there was a woman who was pregnant, but hiding it. She birthed a baby boy and asked me to hold/hide it. Somehow the baby pushed himself back up into my uterus and then I searched for a place to rebirth it, away from our colleagues.

On an odd block, vaguely desolate, ghetto like, I found a medical storefront of some murky nature. Entering a stall I pushed the baby out along with other matters which I initially thought was the uterus lining like from a menstrual cycle but when i touched it, or flipped it, it more resembled an early fetus that had stopped growing inside me, slightly deformed, as if it were further along than the size indicated, very red. Not sure but I think it registered as male to me. Suddenly someone was there and suggested I nurse the baby I had rebirthed. I had some kind of pump attached to my breast with a tube that could go to the baby's mouth. I was stunned to see milk but realized if i had also been pregnant than of course I could produce milk. (I suspect the tube/pump/breast is in part because of using the camel packs for water.)

I dumped the excess blood in a medical waste container at this place and made my way back to the dorm. I ran into two women, doctors, who asked if it was my baby and I said, "No, it was ____". Later I saw the mother hidden away in her room nursing the baby and wondered what was going on. Then we were having a meeting and she announced how she had lost that weight they were bugging her about and showed off her new svelte figure. I found the two doctors and said she clearly wanted the baby a secret and to forget what I had told them. They were amenable to this.

I am very confused at the meaning of the dream. Pregnancy and birth are often about creativity and growth. Does the dead fetus represent something I lost or let go of that I don't remember, that I didn't fully release? Why are all the babies male in my dreams? Rebirthing someone else's baby, after being given the baby? I don't think I have my own innate talent? Or am I both women and I am showing myself the way - the old me has moved on?

As I write today I am sitting along the Escalente River, on a trail beside beautiful rock face, hearing the river rush by, the sun is out. Greg is near me painting, the scent of turpentine perfuming the air. My body is greatful for the day off from hiking. I cannot wait to get to Boulder Mountain Lodge to take a shower, wash my clothes and sleep in a bed where it's warm.

(This photo is of Janet surrounded by trees near the river.)

(The photo below is from the drive to our next stop.)

NaBloPoMo

2010-11-01T14:40:00.004-04:00

Somehow or other I have realized it's November 1st, and thus the start of National Blog Posting Month, which I have done for 3, or is it 4 years now and while it sometimes stretches my patience, it also stretch my habits in good ways. Besides it will get me to finally finish posting the Utah trip and move on to other topics.

It will be a busy month, what with the DNE New York Weekend happening in the next few days, Publicity for the Frolic (a new role for me), very busy with DNE (new look coming soon!), working for Arts and Adventures, taking an online certificate course in Victim Advocacy, studying for my GREs, figuring out how to cook on the wood stove here at the cabin, and knitting because I have way too much yarn and I need wintery things to keep warm up here. However I often do well when I have many plates to juggle.

Soon I will need to start a fire in the stove because it's chilly in here, coursework needs to be attended to, some straightening up would be nice and may even happen today, or tomorrow. The chill is making think that starting a pair or three of fingerless mitts need to happen as soon as the mitten are finished. And a sweater. And maybe some felted slippers.

Stay tuned for more ramblings, boring photos of knitted projects, rants about my procrastination habits, how slow committees work and how much I don't want to take the GRE!

The Little Extras

2010-10-29T00:01:00.004-04:00

Tuesday night I receive word from a dear friend that she needs some help - in Massachusetts. Of course I will go, she is family, her children are like my surrogate kids and I was there when each one took their first breaths.

This morning I rise, shaking off sleep and the sick that has been dogging me for days. Heading off with the intention of being at her home before the kids get home from school, not that I know what time that is but no matter.

Arriving there, with autumn in all her glory, I am back in the area where that always comes to mind in the month of October. Going into the garage I see that the two black labs have torn apart a cushion, making a huge mess. Making

a note that I will clean that up, I head into the house and pet the tiny but powerfully noisy toy dog of some unknown breed that it weighs less than any cat I have ever owned and therefore in my mind is barely a member of the canine family.

Since I did not partake of any rest stops on the 2+ hour drive I head to the powder room. With ease and calm I walk back out to the family room only to find that I did not shut the door firmly enough. Argh. That means that long haired yippy

thing has probably escaped. Dashing outside the perky beast runs up to me licks my fingers and before I can grab her, takes off, along with the bigger lab. What proceeds is an amusing chase-not chasing - calling-not calling-thing as I try to calmly pursue the dogs, in particular the tiny one, terrified she will get hit by a car and I will have to explain to the eldest child how I let her beloved dog that she carries like a baby die. Charming way to start a visit, no? No. I alternate between the road and meandering through people's front and backyards while the little beast races back and forth across the road, looping around sheds, mailboxes and the like.

One good thing about a small dog racing, they tire fast. When she had expended her energy she stayed still as I came nonchalantantly upon her, scooping her up and calling the large lumbering dog to drop the 5 foot tree branch and follow me home.

This began my stay in Hatfield MA.

Day 6 - Saturday April 24

2010-09-11T14:22:00.006-04:00

Given the long day I had had, it was annoying to feel awake rather then sleep hitting me like a lead anvil. Eventually sleep did come and morning came far too soon. Hearing voices, I resisted rising until Greg came up to the plateau where Meredith and I had perched to ask if I could be ready to go in fifteen minutes to head into Escalante to partake of our breakfast invitation from the Lions that Meredith and Matt received night before. Turns out that we actually went to breakfast with The Church of Latter Day Saints folks, they were only using the Lion's Club hall the night before. After breakfast I declared that they were lovely people but I could never be a Mormon what with no caffeine or kinky sex.

After a carbohydrate heavy breakfast we headed to the Visitor Center to check on the trail since it is a primarily unmarked path. We drove down Rt 12 until we hit Hole in the Rock

Road, proceeding something like 7.8 miles, just past the 3rd cattle fence to a parking area. Slathering on sunscreen, packing lunch we readied for about a two mile hike on a partially marked trail on the hunt to find Zebra Slot Canyon.

At various points I was cursing my decision to do today's adventure, maybe even the whole trip. My left knee was cranky during the night, both knees were tired. Given that it got down to about 25F overnight I slept well but not nearly enough. Most of

the trail is hot, unprotected from the sun. I'm tired. The stunning rock formations, contrasted by shots of hardy green trees are compelling. The textures, the rippling color on the rocks are unbelievable. But

learning from yesterday my camera is not around my neck, instead resting securely in my bag. It would be great to shoot more of these vistas but there is a limit to what I can do.

We eventually find Zebra which is where I am as I write this, finally having the silence I so need. Stopping just inside the mouth of the canyon we eat lunch, also much needed. Leaving our packs against the canyon walls we snake and shimmy our way throu

gh the undulating walls, some places to step are literally the width of my boot. The views are glorious, sensuous; the walls beg to be stroked.

Everyday here I am stunned to be here. Greg said something about what a resource this place is; I thought a

ccessing it is such a privilege. My awareness about how fortunate I am to be here is not taken for granted, not for a moment.

Matt and Meredith have headed up to the find another canyon (Tunnel) in the area. Greg, Janet and Katie are doing their art further inside the slot. The silence is so good. I am dreading the hike back but hopeful the temperature will have dropped some by then. We started the hike at 10:55am, making it to the canyon by about 12:30 I think.

Walking deeper in to find shade, and take more photos, stumbling on Katie who was working on lovely small paintings. I find a shady spot, just settling in when a dog, two kids, and pregnant woman and her partner came through. Calling ahead to the ar

tists I let them know a dog was coming. I told the family about the wood plank and told the woman she might have trouble passing through it with her lovely belly. I hunkered back down enjoying the coolness, feeling a sweet, moist breeze coming from de

eper in the canyon. Some ravens started flying over me and the sound of their wings flapping echoed and resonated in a way one usually only hears in documentaries. Then I heard the whistling noise of one diving towards another. It is a sound I associate with planes, not birds and it struck me as one of the coolest things ever.

As we prep for the hike out which will take about 2 hours, I am wonder, once again, why I came. My endurance is so much lower than everyone else's. I don't like being the slowest, the most tired, etc. It makes me feel like a hold back, something. Janet has been very supportive, talking about often being the slowest many many times. It helps, a little.

Tomorrow we will break camp, load everything in, do a smallish hike up the Escalante River trail, then head to the Boulder Mountain Lodge for our hotel night. Thank the goddesses without husbands. I will likely hike very little tomorrow as my body needs a rest day.

Day 5 - Friday April 23

2010-08-30T15:21:00.007-04:00

We all woke at 6am to break camp down and load up so that we could make it to Calf Creek Falls and score two camp sites since this place is first come, first serve. Our car with M, M, G & I hit the road at 7:30. Katie and Janet stayed for a while to explore the canyons at the camp.

The road was beautiful, with a key sighting of Prong Horn Sheep - one was crossing the road ahead of us to meet up with his herd. I was able to get a few photos but none too close unfortunately. We arrived at the camp early enough to score two lovely sites near each other. Greg helped me set up my site since he had so much energy and his tent was with Janet. I t

ook a short nap while waiting for the rest of our party to arrive, which turned out to be fortuitous given the hike that was still to come.

At about 2pm all of us started on the Lower Calf Creek Trail, with M, M, & K quickly moving ahead. Janet and I took a lot of photos which slowed us more than my pace alone would. Early on I struggled with the climb even while enjoying the vistas. The path rose and fell with the landscape frequently shifting from marshlands, to plains, to a trickling creek to river. This area was overall much greener, almost lush compared to the first days. The presence of a stream changes so much; it snaked nearer and farther from the trail. It's hard to believe that all those colors in the rock are not the rock itself but the effect of minerals and rain shifting formations of blocks and stripes that dance across the surface. The beauty of all this is hard to describe because it is so vastness that it is almost overwhelming to absorb. The rock goes from barely having color to this incredible deep red streaked with rock varnish - a particular combination of minerals that is a black-purple coating sometimes in blocks

or great swatches of the rock face, other times mottled as to form a picture in w

hich everyone would see a different image.

The plant life included cacti, segmented scrub grass, safe, holly, some species of oak, juniper, and pinyon pine. there were a number of small flowering plants - yellow, pink, purple and white blooms abounded. There were also

pictographs high on the wall on the rock face opposite of our trail; there were also ancient graineries built into the hollows of an overhang.

At various point I heard what sounded like it might be the waterfall which filled me wit

h hope but it was the wind winding through the canyon. There were posts with numbers delinatinating interesting points of the trail. At #10 I saw the accompanying pamphlet which told me that the end point was #15 and I doubted my ability to to finish the full length. Just before #12 I told G & J I was going turn around. I had seen people coming back from the falls who were older than me, heavier than me but clearly I thought they were stronger. I had been using the image of a very old woman who was being carefully led down the trail as inspiration but in the end it all failed me. As we took a break M, M, & K were coming back towards us and encouraged me. After a time assessment, some swigs of electrolytes, and handing off my camera weight to Greg, I trudged onward.

Making it to the 125 foot waterfall was a grand reward. The pool of water looked like an oasis, greens on the rock face under the flow, ferns growing upside down on the canyon to the left of the water, the serenity of it. Here the tempe

rature was significantly cooler and the sweat running down my back chilled rapidly. Adding layers, eating some food revived me a bit, so I got up to explore just a bit.

Soon I decided to start back, figuring that G & J would easily catch up with me. In the stream I again spotted the trout with the leopard print design, saw a pair of mallard ducks and much to my surprise came upon a small stand of mule deer. Tempting as it was to unpack my camera, with them so close I declined, simply enjoying making eye contact in silence with them.

The light had changed by this time and the rock, scrub, and trees became beautiful anew. It looked like the sun, which was lower in the sky, was making the light rock even blonder on my left which then was reflecting onto the red next to me, causing it to look like a glowing ember.

I took great delight in the numbered posts descending as it marked my progress. Once or twice I got a little disoriented on the trail and had to take a moment to place myself. Much to my amazement G & J never quite caught up with me. It was during this time alone that I had my first epiphany. Back in January when I "accidentally" ran, BC asked me if it made me feel like I could do anything. My response was "No." But today? Today I felt like I could do anything. This was a life changing day for me. In the end I had hiked 6 miles, a large accomplishment for me. When I returned to the camp I was tired, achy, cold and crabby but I also realized that I had done something huge. I was a different person in some hard to define way that would live on forever.

Utah day 4, April 22

2010-08-05T21:55:00.008-04:00

From my journal:

Just to note this marks 12 weeks of daily writing - perhaps the only thing I've done daily for that long except eat and sleep.

I never got totally warm during the night; the rain stopped by around 2:00am I'm guessing as I got out of the tent to pee at 2:45 and it was quiet. My knees, particularly the left one cranked at me most of the night. Sleeping in bad positions and being chilly made my neck scream as well.

By Greg's thermometer it was 32F degrees at dawn. Our tents had frozen rain covering them, which meant we needed to wait for them to defrost and dry before packing them up.

Driving over to Green River I was so tired all I wanted to do was nap. A short visit to the John Wesley Powell Museum was on the agenda after which we stopped at an excellent funky cafe place with a Native American gift shop attached. From there we left the town of Green River and the last vestiges of civilization. Green River is largely a ghost town with a lot of empty store fronts; typical desert town. Quickly there was nothing, hardly any traffic.

Now we are in Goblin Valley State Park for one night. My energy and mood improved but now after setting up camp and showering I am ready for a nap. I also need downtime, so though Katie just joined the group (after flying into Moab) I am in my tent scribbling, warm at last with one long side facing south.

I alternate between feeling so defeated at my limitations and thrilled with what I've done the last few days. I am grateful at how well I am getting along with and enjoying Matt and Meredith which a large unknown for me. Now that Katie has arrived the dynamic will shift again, more so since we now have a second car. I suspect we will take turns keeping Katie company.

Tomorrow will be a long day of driving but we will be there for two nights and then Sunday will we be in a lodge, which no matter the conditions (just about) will feel like a huge luxury.

The sky here is so huge, vast, endless. Variations of clouds and shades of blue are ever changing, always beautiful - a mix of wisps, puffs, shaded, fluffy the clouds are compelling.

Later we will go on a hike to see the Goblins; a mile and a half loop is being proposed. I think I can handle that. As long as it's not too steep in either direction. Water, camera, and extra layers are the things I need to carry.

Later....

At the Goblin Valley Overlook - what gives you a vast lowered old sea floor of these structures that are like babe voodoos (though they may be geologically different materials). Especially when looking out over them they look squat, almost smurf shaped. They also call to mind a baby god playing in the surf dropping wet sand on itself for hours and hours.

Walking down to the floor of this geological anomaly the scale shifts dramatically as you realize how they tower over you. It is possible to climb up on them, even balancing on one leg for a

fun vacation photo as I observed other visitors doing. Out behind the bed of goblins are the tall jaggedly cut rock that as so common here; mostly dark brown, with subtle shaded striping running horizontally. Further beyond that is this amazingly verdigris rock, the color of that blows me away every time.

Freeform anxiety

2010-07-08T19:40:00.003-04:00

Welcome back my old friend. I can't say that I miss you when you disappear and when you appear I can't wait for you to leave again. Sigh.

The biggest thing is not presume that my fears, those negative thoughts and whispered horrors are true. Remembering that sometimes my mind is not my friend is a good, if challenging, thing. These feelings have been present on and off for several days now. I must just accept that they appear, that my shadows are always there, that they are not my enemy.

As I prepare to go to the city for the next few days, I realize that some of this is about leaving my nest. This cabin has become a haven for me. It is a place to let go, recharge, be totally inside myself. Last Tuesday I returned from California; from Thursday afternoon through Monday I had a lot of company. Tomorrow I head out for the weekend and thus I haven't had as much "top secret Dharma time" as my friend likes to call it before taking off again.

Aside from all that I am trying to determine where this is coming from, perhaps in part it's because I don't have the right dosage of my happy pills, and I have been stretching this script out, so I am getting an even lower dose than usual. Yes, it's that, but it is also some residual grieving over my last relationship and quite possibly still some backlog from the one before that because the truth is that one was completely messed up. It's processing a lot of things that have been rattling around my head from the past, from yesterday, from tomorrow's potential. It's a busy place in there.

It is also possible there is some loneliness happening in my heart, as much as I adore living here by myself. I have spent half my life living with partners, often without a lot of break between them. Between roommates and lovers I have rarely inhabited a space completely alone and not for a very, very long time. When my live-in partners went away for a trip or such, I delighted in being alone, it made me happy even while I missed them. Now that is all I have.

About a year ago I posited that my greed of love was a compelling factor in why I don't stay single. It's true I haven't been single long, but it is sinking in that I am indeed single; that the road ahead while it will be filled with friends, family of choice, and I expect some dating, I am alone on some level that is different than I am used to. It is scary, I think. Scary is not bad, but it is not comfortable. Really, in truth, since the breakup with BC, I am doing everything I planned to, except having her in my life. So on one hand my life is going according to my own plan and desire in all areas which is good, but the exception reflects a hole nonetheless. It is a big one, as I had very high hopes for her, for us. I guess I am still having moments when giving that up hurts. Perhaps I am rambling, grasping for some explanation of my moodiness.

I know this will pass, my center will reground, but in the meantime I am a bit uncomfortable in my own skin, which is so the opposite how I felt much of my time at NCDC camp where I danced more than usual - feeling very much in my body in a wonderful way. This weekend I will play, see family, and try to find my body again. Next weekend I will go to the Frolic and hope to reclaim some of that joy and magic from California here on this coast. So in general I will keep moving forward and my old friend will head off for another vacation, hopefully a very long one.

I {heart} Rob Brezny

2010-06-22T17:23:00.002-04:00

I just read my horoscope for this week and while I would have preferred to do without the rending of a dream, hope, etc that I have experienced, his words give me added hope.

Since Thursday late in the afternoon I have been at NCDC and it has exceeded my expectations and wishes that a change of scenery would do me good. It is a good community to dive into, lots of wonderful people, renewing connections, forming new ones. My heart has been touched, my body has felt powerful, my laughter has been plentiful.

Rob's words for this week:

What have you lost in recent months, Libra?
This week begins a phase when you will have the potential to not exactly
recover it, but rather to re-create it on a higher level. Maybe a dream that
seemed to unravel was simply undergoing a reconfiguration, and now
you're primed to give it a new and better form of expression. Maybe a
relationship that went astray was merely dying so it could get
resurrected, with more honesty and flexibility this time around.

Utah Day 3

2010-06-10T09:53:00.010-04:00

(I think this is my 600th post! Wow.)

Wednesday 21st of April

Today's plan was to head to Arches National Park. Lovely drive in, someone noted upon our first sight of the rock formations that yesterday was all about looking down into canyons and today would be all about looking up. So true. As we drove in, we stopped frequently to marvel, take photos and just absorb the beauty. Our stopping points included Courthouse Towers.

Balanced Rock - which had a nice walking path. Later we learned that the balanced rock was 55ft tall with the overall formation being 128 feet.

The major walk of the day was done at the Window Section where we hit the South Window, Turret, and the North Window, returning on the longer "primitive path". Along the path we found a lovely place to sit on some rocks and partake of lunch.

Later we went to the Fiery Furnace which Meredith was completely intrigued by. This site is hikeable with a ranger and that's done by appointment. When we arrived a group was heading out, and various members of group debated sneaking along.

Heading north we stopped at Devil's Garden Trailhead, where we split from Matt and Meredith - so they could hike faster and further. Greg, Janet and I took our time, stopping at Landscape Arch, where we found a nook to draw and write but rain started - heavy but short, cutting short our more esoteric activities. Rain in the desert is different, a treat in a way. Given the weather we decided to head back. The water made the rocks glisten - for about five minutes before it dried.

We drove back down, stopping at Park Avenue Viewpoint and Trailhead, again separating briefly. Greg, Janet and I drove to the other end, saw the lower bit of a rainbow that sat next to us for quite some time.

Some of the group were experiencing strong cravings for beer which decided our next destination - Moab Brewery, where we had a great meal. Upon heading back to our campsite we drove to Dead Horse Viewpoint to watch the sun go down. It was great to experience that location in the strong light of day and again to see how light plays with rocks.

Upon arriving back at our tent site we found there had been lots of activity - the winds had blow sand furiously into our tents, Matt's tent had flipped over, my fly had been put on wrong so it had blown off and in addition to sand, rain come in, leaving me with a damp sleeping bag. After putting my fly on correctly I took my bag into the rest room using the hand dryer to make my bag sleepable.

So here I am lying in my sandy damp tent, listening to the rain, not exactly cold, not completely toasty either. In some ways I am already overwhelmed and saturated by all the visuals. My body is sore, I am bone tired - the sun (yes I am a bit burned, though not badly), the physical exertion, the conversations, the nonstop beauty and the awe nature inspires are all a lot to absorb, assimilate. I can hear Greg snoring already. It's so much and the trip has just begun. I am wondering whatever possessed me to do this trip but I am enjoying it, just wondering how to balance everything.

With the noise of the rain I am tempted to call BC. What the hell I will try. We spoke very briefly but it was good to hear her voice. It hasn't been that long since we spoke but when I heard her on the voicemail after dinner it felt like it had been forever. I think because the days have been so full and so long.

It is almost 10pm MST, time to maybe put on another layer and get some sleep.

More thought of what is home

2010-06-06T13:31:00.006-04:00

Just moments ago I finally, finally finished American Gods by Neil Gaiman. What a truly amazing book on so many levels: deep, challenging, dark, a bit of very dark humor, fascinating take on old religions. I highly recommend this book but be warned it is not a happy read and it is long.

On one of the last pages:

He sat down on a grassy bank and looked at the city that surrounded him, and thought, one day he would have to go home. And one day he would have to make a home to go back to. He wondered whether home was a thing that happened to a place after a while, or if it was something that you found in the end, if you simply walked and waited and willed it long enough.

This resonates so much for me as I have given a lot of thought about what "home" means, how one feels at home; whether home is something you carry with you; how people can feel like home. Certainly the last 15 or so months has been a continuation of that search in a very lived way, of that hope of figuring out what I want home to feel like, look like but I am much in the same spot I was in when I wrote the post above. It's true that overall my old neighborhood of Historic South Park was fabulous, the overall vibe of that part of the country, my sense of disconnect there was something I was happy to leave - though there are people from that region that miss almost daily regardless of the connections and reconnections I have forged since leaving in March 2009. It is the people that I bonded to that make that place home but I feel safe in saying I will not live in Southern Ohio ever again.

For better or worse, as I said to my therapist, I am imminently flexible about many things, where I live being one of them. There are some wonderful positive things about being imbued with this quality; however the challenges are many both to myself and to the people who love me. I know this. It is possible that what I need is to become a bit less flexible, which for me means continuing to learn how to put myself higher up in the food chain of priorities, state my desires, intent, and dreams more clearly. This may mean shaking some people loose in terms of their standing in my considerations, not something I am comfortable with or practiced in. Even if that doesn't happen the prospect of finding a way to express and live my inner core is scary; uncharted territory that needs to be acknowledged, tended to for things to grow, for me to grow.

In the meantime, this sweet, funky cabin is my physical home, one I make more so every day. Especially the last two days as my kitchen things are here (still in boxes and some will not stay here - did I mention I have a LOT of kitchen things?). My spices are on a tiny shelf, disordered (usually they exist in alphabetical order) but just knowing they are here, adding their perfume even on the most minute level, makes it more like home for me. Today I cleaned off the camping stove/grill so that I can begin to actually cook somewhere besides the microwave, washed one set of windows. All steps to letting myself settle in here. Really, this place is sweet - y'all should come visit me.

A bit ago I sat outside with my coffee and toast, finishing the above novel, while a lovely summer storm ebbed and flowed. I reveled in the smells of summer rain, drinking from my lovely coffee bowl (Thanks Sarah! I <3 you so much!), listening to the wind and rain, I felt a moment of peace that was so sweet it was almost like an altered state. I felt released from the anxiety and grief that has marred my days of late, I felt a burgeoning of hope for myself that is still ethereal that it feels much removed from reality, but I will try to remember that I make that reality. I have a choice in how I see myself, my options; I have a choice in how I respond to feelings, thoughts, people, and the events sets in my path. We all have that ability, sometimes it's easy to forget that.