tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-132492402024-03-13T07:39:11.740-07:00.moment by moment..here . . . now.Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.comBlogger556125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-78807216061159731632014-12-24T10:08:00.001-08:002014-12-24T10:08:50.208-08:00An Article I Liked That Gets Close to My IdealI liked this Outdoor magazine article, "coincidentally" written by the author of a new book I had just put on my wish list, and didn't notice his name till I read the by-line. :-)
<br>It gets as close to describing my ideal "self-directed, parent-facilitated LIFE Learning" as possible. Ideal would be including a solid base of 8-Shields-Style mentoring.
<br><a href="http://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/nature/Unschooling-The-Case-for-Setting-Your-Kids-Into-the-Wild.html">http://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/nature/Unschooling-The-Case-for-Setting-Your-Kids-Into-the-Wild.html</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-64576886768645251012014-11-26T15:27:00.001-08:002014-11-26T15:27:51.297-08:00Getting Outside When it's Cold<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-weQ3-ma7aIE/VHZh-M1TM3I/AAAAAAAACXE/P3_ZpRgO8uc/s1600/photo%2B1-771298.JPG"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-weQ3-ma7aIE/VHZh-M1TM3I/AAAAAAAACXE/P3_ZpRgO8uc/s320/photo%2B1-771298.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6086159667662369650" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sFspSU0438Q/VHZh--HGGKI/AAAAAAAACXQ/dN4Iv2NLek8/s1600/photo%2B2-774480.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sFspSU0438Q/VHZh--HGGKI/AAAAAAAACXQ/dN4Iv2NLek8/s320/photo%2B2-774480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6086159680890345634" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uPxbgk3lzZA/VHZh_WN4WxI/AAAAAAAACXc/8NbQBsa7eac/s1600/photo%2B3-777148.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uPxbgk3lzZA/VHZh_WN4WxI/AAAAAAAACXc/8NbQBsa7eac/s320/photo%2B3-777148.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6086159687361256210" /></a></p>We are back home from Thanksgiving with the family, and back at it!
<br>Today I coaxed Anjali out the door with the suggestion of pretending to visit the North Pole. ;-)
<br>This guy came along with us. This guy [ big hearty eyes for this guy! ] came along. Can you see he is making biscuits on the ground, just because he's so happy I'm paying attention to him?
<br>
<br>What did I notice?
<br>Chickweed was back.
<br>Feathers of that other chicken we couldn't locate the other day. :-/
<br>A little sparrow who didn't mind being in the brush pile right next to where we were loudly playing.
<br>A tree at the top of the hill with magical draping branches. If you hide underneath these types of branches, the world really does seem more magical! <3
<br>Low-growing plants under the shelter of trees bouncing back from frost, ones out in the open not as much.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-88743437371736140812014-11-20T13:17:00.000-08:002014-11-20T13:20:10.494-08:00Day Four and Five: Getting Outside when it's Cold<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Well, technically it's not cold outside today. At least not compared to the last few days! 40 seems balmy compared to 20! <br>Yesterday I was very busy packing to come to North Carolina for our family Thanksgiving visit. But I did manage to get outside to empty the compost (does that count?! haha) and to do some sprints in preparation for the looong car ride. What did I notice? Really strong wind. Warming temperatures, the huge disc of ice that I dumped out of the cats' water bowl still frozen in the same shape. Water dripping down the frozen gutter cup cascade (whatever that's called). Bright crisp blue sky. Hmm. I can only come up with 4 as I'm looking back on it... <br><br>Today we woke up in the "mother-in-law suite" at the cabin. It is so quiet and restful out here, with nothing to do but hang out, huddle by the fire, eat, and then go outside to get some fresh air, walk off the meals, get away from family for a few minutes ( ;-) ), and tromp through the woods. <br>Tromping through the woods might be mine and my sweetie's favorite thing to do together. And what a treat it is during these times to have ample childcare, and no place to be, so that we can take long leisurely wanders through the woods. We inspect deer tracks and scrapes, admire mushrooms, listen for wildlife, and talk about stuff you get to talk about when you're away from child and day-to-day business matters. Ahhhhhh. This situation is the exact opposite of what makes it hard for me to get outside in the cold during my regular life. Going on our wanders is what we enjoy and look forward to most when we're here (well, and hunting ~ if you're Troy). So this doesn't even need to be accounted for in my "Getting outside when it's Cold" accountability journal. But I'm on a roll! :-) <br>What did I notice? <br>The only leaves left on the deciduous trees are oaks, I do believe. Rusty brown and/or red. <br>Enchanting microcosms of moss ~ 4 different kinds in their own wee little forest.<br>Many deer scrapes! And all kinds of hoof prints. <br>Rusty red clay. <br>Mushrooms like little penises pressing up out of the mud! :-D </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>I could go on and on. How can I incorporate this kind of delight into my everyday life?! <br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 933.333333px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i-heKAwl5kM/VG5bCwjepZI/AAAAAAAACWc/-JlgRix6_04/s1600/photo%2B1-710495.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i-heKAwl5kM/VG5bCwjepZI/AAAAAAAACWc/-JlgRix6_04/s320/photo%2B1-710495.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083900249575695762" /></a></p><p></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>rusty clay, pine needles and oak leaves. <3 <br><br><br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 525px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FxBpnnFEnu8/VG5bD8eaGjI/AAAAAAAACWo/bi1PAFkDRGw/s1600/photo%2B3-714646.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FxBpnnFEnu8/VG5bD8eaGjI/AAAAAAAACWo/bi1PAFkDRGw/s320/photo%2B3-714646.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083900269955521074" /></a></p><p></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>sunlight through rusty oak leaves. <br><br><br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 525px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-adlvWU7xJVg/VG5bE8VeHZI/AAAAAAAACW0/PwRR_qwxqtg/s1600/photo%2B4-718614.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-adlvWU7xJVg/VG5bE8VeHZI/AAAAAAAACW0/PwRR_qwxqtg/s320/photo%2B4-718614.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083900287097904530" /></a></p><p></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>microcosm. </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-76678971516148440542014-11-20T13:08:00.000-08:002014-11-20T13:11:44.617-08:00Day Four and Five: Getting Outside when it's Cold<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Well, technically it's not cold outside today. At least not compared to the last few days! 40 seems balmy compared to 20! <br>Yesterday I was very busy packing to come to North Carolina for our family Thanksgiving visit. But I did manage to get outside to empty the compost (does that count?! haha) and to do some sprints in preparation for the looong car ride. What did I notice? Really strong wind. Warming temperatures, the huge disc of ice that I dumped out of the cats' water bowl still frozen in the same shape. Water dripping down the frozen gutter cup cascade (whatever that's called). Bright crisp blue sky. Hmm. I can only come up with 4 as I'm looking back on it... <br><br>Today we woke up in the "mother-in-law suite" at the cabin. It is so quiet and restful out here, with nothing to do but hang out, huddle by the fire, eat, and then go outside to get some fresh air, walk off the meals, get away from family for a few minutes ( ;-) ), and tromp through the woods. <br>Tromping through the woods might be mine and my sweetie's favorite thing to do together. And what a treat it is during these times to have ample childcare, and no place to be, so that we can take long leisurely wanders through the woods. We inspect deer tracks and scrapes, admire mushrooms, listen for wildlife, and talk about stuff you get to talk about when you're away from child and day-to-day business matters. Ahhhhhh. This situation is the exact opposite of what makes it hard for me to get outside in the cold during my regular life. Going on our wanders is what we enjoy and look forward to most when we're here (well, and hunting ~ if you're Troy). So this doesn't even need to be accounted for in my "Getting outside when it's Cold" accountability journal. But I'm on a roll! :-) <br>What did I notice? <br>The only leaves left on the deciduous trees are oaks, I do believe. Rusty brown and/or red. <br>Enchanting microcosms of moss ~ 4 different kinds in their own wee little forest.<br>Many deer scrapes! And all kinds of hoof prints. <br>Rusty red clay. <br>Mushrooms like little penises pressing up out of the mud! :-D <br>I could go on and on. How can I incorporate this kind of delight into my everyday life?! <br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 933.333333px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E33eWI2XqCA/VG5ZEf7YWYI/AAAAAAAACVs/82hBr5F-OkA/s1600/photo%2B1-704618.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E33eWI2XqCA/VG5ZEf7YWYI/AAAAAAAACVs/82hBr5F-OkA/s320/photo%2B1-704618.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083898080449026434" /></a></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>rusty clay, pine needles and oak leaves. <3 <br><br><br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 933.333333px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--DQNIqrTPCg/VG5ZGOgCJeI/AAAAAAAACV4/MZR-K58fThA/s1600/photo%2B2-711474.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--DQNIqrTPCg/VG5ZGOgCJeI/AAAAAAAACV4/MZR-K58fThA/s320/photo%2B2-711474.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083898110130660834" /></a></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>soffffft. <br><br><br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 525px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4oiYcUSUqCc/VG5ZG5uT60I/AAAAAAAACWE/mRhQXOENDzk/s1600/photo%2B3-714999.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4oiYcUSUqCc/VG5ZG5uT60I/AAAAAAAACWE/mRhQXOENDzk/s320/photo%2B3-714999.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083898121733270338" /></a></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>sunlight through rusty oak leaves. <br><br><br></span><p x-apple-mail="wrapper" style="height: 525px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UWDehw56_GQ/VG5ZICZipqI/AAAAAAAACWQ/ydu46OIUlKw/s1600/photo%2B4-719592.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UWDehw56_GQ/VG5ZICZipqI/AAAAAAAACWQ/ydu46OIUlKw/s320/photo%2B4-719592.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083898141241943714" /></a></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>microcosm. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-69048528327480037162014-11-18T13:18:00.001-08:002014-11-18T13:39:38.671-08:00Day Four: Getting Outside When it's Frickin ColdThe high today is reported to reach 23. I was feeling pretty low today, and was not even planning on going outside ~ truth be told, all my Good Habits fall by the wayside when I need them most. Yoga? stoopid. Fresh air? fuck that. I was very glad to have some time to myself while my husband and girl ran errands. And then I looked out the window to spy a FOX preening himself where our chickens usually like to sun themselves. Oh, shit. Since he wasn't "in the act" I thought it safe to take a hilariously poor-quality window shot to prove it (zoom in really far and you can see him with his copper-colored head bent over, pretty much smack-dab in the center of the photo, to the left of oak tree with clinging brown leaves) before I dashed out the door and hollered at him, saying what always comes out when I am shooing away animals we don't want to feed: "I see you!" And of course he escaped quickly and fleetly. Any other time, I would be sneaking around doing my best not to startle a wild creature, so thrilled am I to spot one. I have only recently even seen a fox ~ maybe even this one ~ in our woods. After I scared that one away bc I was jogging, I swore I would never run in the woods again. And here I am yelling at one with all my might. I ran out to the yard, no chickens in sight. To the coop. The door is frozen shut, so I peek in the little chicken door. I see the crumpled feather-fluffed body of one of the black n white ones. Steaming. Still warm. And the thing about foxes is they don't even eat the whole bird. So unfair. :-( I feel responsible for these girls. I get up and turn to see three of them huddled against our house, with their new rooster friend shielding them to a certain extent. I roam the rest of the yard ~ the woods ~ where predators usually run off for their feast, and around the garden fence. No carcasses, but no live girls either. I call out, and one quietly tells her story from the tall grasses beside the shed. I've found 6 out of, well ~ nine, now. We have lost 3 in the past two weeks. :-( I guess it's time to get a dog. <br />
<div class="">
<br class="" /></div>
<div class="">
What did I notice today?</div>
<div class="">
Dead chicken</div>
<div class="">
6 out 9 remaining chickens</div>
<div class="">
bitter bitter biting cold wind</div>
<div class="">
frozen water bowls</div>
<div class="">
fox. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnwSInTF8uk/VGu3scOdYkI/AAAAAAAACVc/7JYexFZTLZk/s1600/IMG_9446-720284.jpeg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnwSInTF8uk/VGu3scOdYkI/AAAAAAAACVc/7JYexFZTLZk/s320/IMG_9446-720284.jpeg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6083157695812952642" /></a></div>
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-64315553316915360902014-11-17T13:51:00.001-08:002014-11-17T13:51:20.920-08:00Day Three: Getting Outside When it's Cold<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xA0F7tmL6Mo/VGpt2SjGiXI/AAAAAAAACVM/y1qqv82vHkA/s1600/photo-780920.JPG"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xA0F7tmL6Mo/VGpt2SjGiXI/AAAAAAAACVM/y1qqv82vHkA/s320/photo-780920.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6082795026176706930" /></a></p>And how! We definitely have some Winter Weather in effect; the high was 28! But Anjali and I made it out! For over 20 mins (I was keeping track). Better than nothing.
<br>I noticed:
<br>bitter cold wind
<br>kitty cat paw prints on the back deck in the snow ~ at least 2 sets, if not 3. and some bare girl feet prints! ha!
<br>frozen chickweed
<br>a bunch of cardinals and robins in the trees at the end of our wooded area
<br>some forsythia blossoms already bloomed! confused, I say!
<br>
<br>Doing this! Doing it!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-39874079650730339792014-11-16T10:57:00.001-08:002014-11-16T10:57:22.851-08:00Day Two : Getting Outside When it's Cold<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3HLFzeWOnIo/VGjzk5_VoHI/AAAAAAAACUw/hZaa6ssoGMU/s1600/photo%2B1-742852.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3HLFzeWOnIo/VGjzk5_VoHI/AAAAAAAACUw/hZaa6ssoGMU/s320/photo%2B1-742852.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6082379112131174514" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PiqkRfIGG2s/VGjzl0zZFYI/AAAAAAAACU8/L3RkSc79tT4/s1600/photo%2B2-746856.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PiqkRfIGG2s/VGjzl0zZFYI/AAAAAAAACU8/L3RkSc79tT4/s320/photo%2B2-746856.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6082379127918761346" /></a></p>Anjali and I set out to get some energy out and some fresh air in. What did we sprint on to?! The scene of a crime! Bloody probably-chicken feathers, and even a tuft of downy fur from an apparent skirmish. Not what we set out for, for sure! :-/
<br>What I noticed:
<br>Gray practically-raining skies and brisk breeze
<br>Bloody white feathers
<br>A trail of feathers
<br>Tufts of fur
<br>A pile of white feathers with bloody tips still fresh, in the crunchy brush in the beginning of our wooded area, just outside the perimeter of the yard.
<br>:-/<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-51243034700717732182014-11-15T08:04:00.004-08:002014-11-15T08:25:35.462-08:00Getting Outside When it's Cold: Worth It! I'm going to use this space as a place for me to be accountable to my self for getting outside even when it's cold. When it's warm and even mild, I spend as<u> </u>much time as possible outside. I pee outside, chop veggies for dinner outside, and we eat every meal outside. Literally, I made Anjali eat a dinner outside with me when we could see our breath a couple weeks ago. I said, "soon it will be so uncomfortably cold, AND dark, that we won't even consider eating dinner outside. So let's suck it up for a few more meals." haha. Living outside keeps me sane. And I have known this for years now. However (or shall I say AND?), my body is averse to cold. I have Reynaud's syndrome that makes my fingers and toes so sensitive and painful in cold. And, I just don't like the cold. Well, that's not excuse enough. (And obviously, since I work at home, I don't *have* to walk outside most days of the week, even to get in the car, let alone walk briskly across town or campus, etc. ) Even if I go out to get the mail on a cold day, when I come back in, I feel better. I remember during the "polar vortex" last year, how much I actually really enjoyed taking care of the chickens, making sure they didn't freeze to death or die of dehydration by warming their water, making sure their spotlight was on to keep the coup warm, etc. Even though my boogers froze the moment I stepped outside, I relished that shock of rejuvenating cold. This year I want to go outside, every day, on purpose, even when it's cold. OR<i> </i>Raining!!! (did I write that?! panic!!!) <br />
<br />
So I want to make this my accountability page. I'll stay out there for at least 15 minutes, ideally more than 30. And going from the house to the car doesn't count! :-) I'll write down five observations. And take a photo, for proof. OK???? <br />
<br />
GO!!! <br />
<br />
I noticed:<br />
The moon is less than half, waning, and the fullness is on the LEFT side. <br />
The most wild life I noticed were many cardinals flitting about and foraging in the trees and on the bushes. :-)<br />
I ate wild onion and chickweed. <br />
I noticed what I now know are skunk nosings and scrapings in the dirt. <br />
In the shadow of the fence, there was thick frost, but where the sun had fell, it was melted and wet.<br />
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<i>greg grey kitty in my coat. *swoon!*</i></div>
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<i>it's cold, and I'm not dead. </i></div>
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-6417448634829641962014-07-03T10:44:00.000-07:002014-07-03T11:31:04.788-07:00Mermaid Moment and Meta<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Seeing as how it's July Third, I've been thinking about Independence, and Freedom. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I would like to dedicate this post to Freedom. True, Deep-Down Freedom. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For Everyone. </i></div>
<br />
Whoa! The keyboard is so dusty I can barely see the letters! Ha! Enough of that. It's been over a year. Here I am. <br />
<br />
Wanted to share an experience. We spent a week on Ocracoke Island, getting cleansed by the sun and scoured by the salty waves. After about a week, my cares had finally drifted away. Our little familia packed a picnic and found a secluded beach spot for sunset. By secluded, I mean: we didn't see a n y o n e for as far as we could see on either side, and rarely a car drove by beyond the dune path we hiked to get to our picnic spot. (This, by the way, did not seem hard to do on Ocracoke ~ even on close to the busiest week of the year! Highly recommend.) After the dinner of roasted root veggies, sautéed snap peas and meatballs, sweet Sealion and the girl ran off to play and I was left to my own thoughts and lingering meal (to this day I'm the slowest eater I know). When I got out of my own cares enough to look at them again, they were buck naked and dancing around in the surf! If you know my family well at all, you know this is not surprising. Really the only surprise is how much privacy we felt in our little slice of beach heaven. I was contented for a long while to spectate on their naked shenanigans ~ hunkering down on their bellies and letting the waves scoot them forward with a wooosh! (She adorably had her floatie life vest-wing combo on. Period.) They continued playing for quite a while. As I finished my last morsels, I thought, "I guess I could pack us up; the sun is setting." <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>And then I realized: when's the next time you'll have the opportunity for naked ocean frolicking?? I didn't know the answer to that.</b></span> And if you know me well, you also will know that any activity is better done naked. It's not just for kicks that I crave nudity, and I surely don't have to be drunk to bare it all; my urge is primal, and it goes way deeper than exhibitionism or drunken thrill-seeking. I quickly stripped my sundress (because along with that primal urge for nakedness, I wear undergarments as infrequently as I can get away with. In Oregon this was so easy; the social climate of the Southeast makes it much more of a challenge <i>for me</i>). I dashed to join my family in the waning sun. They were thrilled that I joined. We danced in the surf holding hands and sang Ring Around the Rosie, timing our "all fall DOWN!" for when a foamy wave came and bathed our lowered tushies in the warm water. Soon we ran back to our picnic spot to towel off. The tide was rising and would soon be teasing our stuff out to sea, and the sun's last rosy light was fading from the western horizon. It was time to pack up. The breezy air was also unusually chilly. We thought for sure we would be covered in goose-bumps once we emerged from the water. But we weren't. Within a moment, I tossed my towel and was back in the surf. Wanted to seize the opportunity for all it was worth. I called to Sealion to take my photo. Not so I could post it on Facebook or Instagram, but so I would have the photo to remember my experience. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-74G1UIaIemE/U7WUb24t7qI/AAAAAAAACUE/z58ennOxZQ4/s1600/IMG_8249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-74G1UIaIemE/U7WUb24t7qI/AAAAAAAACUE/z58ennOxZQ4/s1600/IMG_8249.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>look at that bright white full moon! hahaha! </i></div>
<br />
Here's what I wrote in my journal the morning after: <br />
<i>I was self-aware enough to realize I wanted him to take a photo, while at the same time telling myself: live the experience; don't simply pose for the picture. Be Here Now in this water. Do what you always dream of doing. But really live. Don't do what you've seen other people do, or what you think people </i>ought <i>to do. Feel into it. Be Here Now. </i><br />
<i>For a moment my attention and identity got lost in the waves that were darkening with the disappearing sunset. </i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>the ocean was beckoning me, mesmerizing me like a dark siren. I imagined all the animals emerging with the darkness, and simultaneously desired to give myself to them. To give myself to Her.</b></span><i> All that in an instant. I felt the warm Mama water on my yoni hair and yoni. Inner thighs and lower tummy. All the "naughty" parts were getting loved on and bathed and splashed just like they always want to be. Just like they truly should be. Seaweed swirling rushing by and gently wrapping around and caressing my legs and arms as I crouched. </i><br />
<i>Soak it in. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. I didn't want to let it go, yet felt ok getting out, letting the moment be a moment and have a closure, drying off, clothing, joining my family, departing. </i><br />
<i>I am not merely posing my life for the camera. I'm not living to tell about it. I'm living for Life. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The social media phenomenon has been an interesting one for me ~ starting with this blog, TEN YEARS ago. Cameras and phones have come so far. It's so easy to snap a shot. To share with friends, and even with not-friends. My intimate moment shared with no one but me (and my sweet family on-looking) can instantaneously be a public moment. Really, though, I experienced this existential conundrum even before I had a cellphone, at least fifteen years before I joined Facebook. When I was an English major, with a Creative Writing focus. I noticed I had a little narrator in my head who was describing what I was doing as I did it ~ so I could write about it later. !!! When I noticed this, I vowed to live my life for the living of it, and not simply so I would produce writing worth reading. This is a touchy and nuanced idea. But I think what I was trying to get at is just that: <i>Be Here Now</i>. BE here now. Live here now. Feel here now. Not viewing it through a narrator's description, or peeking through the viewfinder of a phone, dammit. If I were never to have the capability to take another photo (Goddess forbid!), or write another narrative word (even more!), <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>may I live each moment with my whole being. As if it were my last.</b></span> Not living to tell about it. Living for Life. <br />
<br />
[And <i></i><br />
I'm not judging people for being on Facebook. I have found a whole lot of value there. And still do. I cherish the sharing and connection I find there. I like looking at photos of friends' kids. And surely I'm not saying we shouldn't write about our lives. Good writing brings me willingly to my knees time and again. Good writing (and art in general) can also live into experiences when we can't ~ when, for sanity's sake or simple survival, we must check out in the present moment (as my highly revered poet teacher James Baker Hall emphasized time and again). But I don't want these ways of sharing to take the place of my experiencing the actual moments of life. "Pics or it didn't happen" just isn't the case. Sometimes the pics happen, but our minds and hearts are far from IN the moment.] <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-36909757878353466842013-05-12T14:04:00.001-07:002013-05-12T14:04:47.426-07:00Gratitude Every Day: day ten<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Any moment in which you have the space to stop and realize, "</i><b>I am Here Now</b><i>," is one worth celebrating.</i></span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PM5ngFtzjP4/UZAA-o2t5RI/AAAAAAAACSw/5gmXJksmm1M/s1600/IMG_2911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PM5ngFtzjP4/UZAA-o2t5RI/AAAAAAAACSw/5gmXJksmm1M/s400/IMG_2911.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm grateful for full moon celebrations. More than that, I'm grateful for full moonrise celebrations that include grand mountainscape views, lively companions, and delicious and mindfully-prepared food and drink. Even more than that, </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm grateful for friends who find it valuable and worthwhile to make the effort to celebrate</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> such events. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-style: italic;"> </span><br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-67564241168118927422013-05-12T13:37:00.000-07:002013-05-12T13:37:07.366-07:00Gratitude Every Day: day... 25Hello! I'm here and I'm grateful! <br />
<br />
Yesterday I woke up to <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/05/11/science/earth/carbon-dioxide-level-passes-long-feared-milestone.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=edit_th_20130511&_r=1&">this news</a>. It got under my skin and wouldn't leave me alone. Then I let myself just weep about it. You better believe I didn't drive a car yesterday (I have been driving about once a week since we moved to Lexington; I'll find the bike route for that one). <br />
Sorry to mess up your day if you hadn't heard. <br />
<br />
So today, on Mother's Day, as people get gushy about their mamas, <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">I'm getting gushy about my mama: my Mama Earth. I do so love the experience of being an earthling.</span> Even at this time and place in history. I get down about it. But I do believe I'm here at this time for a reason. So after I cry a little (or a lot), I get back up and get back to gardening and spreading the love and light. <br />
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<i><i><br /></i></i>
<i>communing with fellow earth-inhabitants: namely, newly-blossomed violets. </i><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-50981297196713746582013-04-25T12:44:00.002-07:002013-04-25T12:44:25.091-07:00Gratitude Every Day: day nineAs I've said, being gone from this area of the world for eight years, the weather here feels like a new adventure for me. The rainstorms here are delightful! So much different than the West Coast rainy season ~ these rainstorms are <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>round and fecund, dramatic and energizing!</b></span> The <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">electricity in the air</span>, thrilling. Every thing in Nature seems to come even more alive ~ vibrant and technicolor, perky. These rainstorms are a welcome break from my fervent outdoor activity ~ a beckoning inside for slower and mellower tea-sipping hours. <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"> Could a rainstorm be sexy? <i>I think so.</i></span><br />
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Today, I'm grateful for <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Springtime Kentucky rainstorms. </span> <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-43966724089896077982013-04-25T12:36:00.001-07:002013-04-25T12:36:31.239-07:00Gratitude Every Day: day eight<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Farm livin' is the life for me. Today I'm grateful for...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">CHICKENS!!!</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-15385591736486608342013-04-25T12:31:00.004-07:002013-04-25T12:31:45.049-07:00Gratitude Every Day: day seven Oh! It is so hard to be grateful when <span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">dappled sunshine</span></span> is falling on your back, a light Spring breeze caresses your cheek, <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">birdsong</span> is about the only thing in your ear, and your temporary office is a yard that backs up to the Pisgah National Forest in Asheville, North Carolina! ;-) <br />
<br />
<br />
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Today, I am grateful for <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>hiking with friends</b></span>. <br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-3781692730623924122013-04-25T12:27:00.001-07:002013-04-25T12:52:07.683-07:00*Bonus!* cute baby photo!!<div class="mobile-photo">
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Quickly accepted into the species, Cutus Adorabilis, Baby Jude is an instant heart-stealer.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-10714253161600677812013-04-22T15:40:00.005-07:002013-04-22T15:48:42.956-07:00Gratitude Every Day: days three through six! Well, I've gotten behind on my gratitude listing because: <b><i>I've been having so much fun!</i></b> It's easy to find things to be grateful when you're having fun, eh? In those instances, the challenge is in finding *which* grateful thing to focus on, as opposed to finding the gratitude. Ahhh. feels gooood! <br />
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So I'll just choose a few obvious ones. (can you feel my gushing?!)<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>I'm grateful for:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">girlfriends!</span><br />
girlfriends!<br />
girlfriends!<br />
girlfriends!<br />
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Girlfriends who, by the sheer infection of their enthusiasm, can pull you up outta bed from moping.</div>
<div>
-who support you and encourage you to be your highest, best self.</div>
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-who invite you to take a break from taking yourself and life so damn seriously! </div>
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-who are not afraid to have a whole WHOLE lot of fun. </div>
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-who are open to giggling for hours.</div>
<div>
- who howl at the moon, regularly.</div>
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- who aren't afraid to be very very irreverent.</div>
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-who appreciate the sacred in every thing and every moment.</div>
<div>
Did I mention girlfriends who like to dance? What about chocolate? ...Surely that must be in there. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
I'm grateful for:<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">a community of fabulous individuals who totally BRING the party!</span> Every one of my friends is a multi-talented, beautiful person who adds layers of love, effort, and magic to any occasion worth attending here in Lexington. Not only are they fun and talented, they are loyal and caring and giving, providing exactly the village experience the Family Pope was wishing for when we took the flying LEAP to move back to Lexington. I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm grateful for:<br />
parties worth dressing up for!<br />
days worth drinking espresso for!<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">magic!</span><br />
music! <br />
passion! <br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">mischief!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">hips that remember what boogying down feels like and then don't stop for days. </span><br />
<br />
I'm grateful for:<br />
My Family. I marvel at<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> <span style="font-size: large;">the girl my daughter is blossoming into.</span></span> Her wisdom, her insight, her savvy, her fashion/costuming sense, her dancing, her mastery of working a crowd. <i>Her poop jokes.</i> ;-) <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> <span style="font-size: large;">My soulmate</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> ~</span> who immediately impresses upon anyone who meets him his energy and motivation and zeal. His generosity and passion. His deep sense of trust in our relationship and in me. {<b>heart heart heart heart!!!</b>}<br />
<br />
<br />
Ok! I do believe that's enough exclamation marks for one blog entry. <br />
At least you can say for me, that when I am manic, I ride it like the sparkling <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151177716852066&set=a.10150442886617066.357927.710727065&type=1&theater">art car</a> that it is. <br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-85439927161601312042013-04-18T07:10:00.001-07:002013-04-18T07:10:05.554-07:00Gratitude Every Day ~ day two<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Today I choose to be grateful for Springtime in Kentucky.</span></b> I have been surprised that after spending those eight years on the West Coast, the climate and weather here in my home-state feel new and adventurous to me. After the dead time of Winter when all green things go underground to sleep, Springtime here really feels like a celebration! All the blooming bulbs and flowering trees are so festive ~ like they put on their best dresses for the glorious occasion! I celebrate with them. <br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-13527975304344176922013-04-17T14:40:00.000-07:002013-04-17T15:18:34.255-07:00Gratitude Every DayI have managed to get totally out of the habit of blogging. When I lived in Mexico, I am proud to say that I repurposed that time into living in the moment, slowly. However, since I have returned to the US, I find plenty of small moments throughout the day to check Facebook. Some of that I think is worthwhile. And sharing on there feels worthwhile to me. But that interaction is so ADD- and addictive-feeling to me. Sharing on a blog ~ as much as blog times have changed ~ feels like more of an investment in myself, and less like a jonezing twitch. This blog is quite valuable to me after all these years of sharing in this space. I look back and really appreciate the investment. <br />
<br />
So anyway, inspired by one of my favorite bloggers and people, <a href="http://www.superherolife.com/blog/">Andrea Scher</a>, I'm going to do some gratitude journaling and accountability here. I walked through a very low-frequency moment for more than a week recently. Whatever was the cause, I felt as if I had to pick myself up by my bootstraps and apply some discipline to look at things in a sunny manner. <b>Attitude is a habit. Even with all the shitty things that happen here on Earth (by those outta control big-headed hairless monkeys), it will always be a miraculous place to exist. And I endeavor to see my life for the miracle that it is, every. frickin. day.</b><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MiUxUqeOiQI/UW8V73KaKrI/AAAAAAAACPA/s1MW5HgOs3s/s1600/IMG_0442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MiUxUqeOiQI/UW8V73KaKrI/AAAAAAAACPA/s1MW5HgOs3s/s400/IMG_0442.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<i>not hard to see the miracle here. baby steps, right? ;-) photo by <a href="http://huntgathersaute.com/">Remy</a>.. or was it Darek?? </i><br />
<br />
I wrote in my journal that disciplined morning a few days ago about how I would fill the page with gratitudes, even when I was seeing the world through half-empty glasses. ;-) I did an oracle reading for the first time for myself on New Year's (as a part of my <a href="http://leoniedawson.com/shop/kits/incredible-year-workbook-calendar/">Create your Goddess Year workbook</a>), and on the new moon of each month, I read the card that I drew for myself for that month. This month, on the day that I chose to look on the bright side even though my lip was still dragging in the mud, I read my card from the<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7768106-sacred-path-cards"> Sacred Path Cards</a>: Number One: Peace Pipe. What the card said to me was that I am responsible for the vibration I put out ~ even through my thoughts. That everything in my life ripples out to touch every being with whom I'm connected ~ the whole web. So I need to come to terms with the fact that I came into this world at this time, and accept my purpose. I need to come to balance and peace inside myself so that I can fully own the vibe I transmit at all times. To me this doesn't mean denying my feelings, but simply realizing that I'm in charge of the way I choose to Be in this life, and owning it. <br />
So this is a step in that owning and responsibility. <br />
I guess the soundtrack to this (as is my soundtrack for everything these days ~ Medicine for the People)'s "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQBqtBgelnI">Manifesto</a>" refrain: "Don't waste your hate. Rather, gather and create. Be of service. Be a sensible person. Use your words and don't be nervous. You can do this; you've got purpose. Find your medicine and use it." <br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Today I'm grateful for this medicine that I know is mine ~ the written (typed) word. May it be useful to Mama Earth and her inhabitants. <!--3--></span></span></b><br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-77751044206145857512012-12-31T14:48:00.002-08:002012-12-31T14:48:36.941-08:00Where IS Here Now? Contemplation on a Year[<i>here is yet another Kinda-Finished piece that i feel like i must send out into the stratosphere before i put 2012 to rest. i wrote this over a month ago.]</i><br />
<br />
Ha ~ that is a LARGE title. I'll see what writing I can accomplish in this window of time, with this melancholy music of someone else's choice in my ear, and an interview for a newspaper going on at the table to my left. I sit, just having finished espresso, at North Lime Coffee and Donuts in Lexington, Kentucky.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qt7DFLovvD8">"Everything's already alright, always alright, always alright.."</a> A favorite line from a newly-favorite artist [Nahko and Medicine for the People!] rolls through my head as I attempt this essay. I can use the reminder today, as I'm feeling heavy with the reality of so much change, so much expectation, so much unexpected. So much change. <br />
<br />
This morning I looked out a second story window in Lexington, Kentucky, and viewed a neighboring rooftop crusted with sun-gleaming crystal frost. A year ago at this time culminated almost two years of planning, scheming, moving ~ jobs, houses and situations, preparing for a Big Move to Baja California Sur, Mexico. Last year at this time we were in North Carolina celebrating Thanksgiving with family, heavily anticipating that move, which began in the following weeks of December. <br />
<br />
So what are we doing having just moved to Lexington a week ago??! What <i>happened</i> with Baja, anyway?? It has become part of our Story ~ a story that could barely be uttered at first and has now found its wording and rhythm until it has woven itself into the fabric of our life. our Story. For those of you in my close circle, you have heard the bits and pieces hashed and rehashed till it's your story, too. It has been distilled into a pallatable few sentences acceptable at casual cocktail parties, where ~ similar to hearing about an illness, the person hearing it is able to keep a politely straight face as they take in the news and respond appropriately. What <i>happened</i>, was, that the person who loaned our group of Lumbini owners the money to own the property (who happened to be a spouse of one of the owners; complicated, no?) decided he was tired of waiting for us to repay him. What happened was that he gave us an ultimatum of either repaying him a very large sum of money in the matter of a few short weeks, or he would put the place on the market ~ in two weeks. When our family had just moved our whole life down there, onto the land. What happened was that we essentially got kicked back up here to the US when we felt forced to make the money, or lose the dream that we had been cultivating for several years. What happened was that, all at the same time, there occurred some deep discord among members ~ business partners and best friends, alike ~ about what happened on the property, while we lived our lives there, and others wanted to make or break our daily decisions from afar. Details as seemingly minor as where a short-term tent was pitched, practices as fundamentally integral as raising and harvesting our own meat. What happened was what has happened to countless other intentional communities over the years, almost textbook-classic (as I later read in <a href="http://dianaleafechristian.org/">Diana Leafe Christian's invaluable tomes <i>Creating a Life Together</i>, and </a><i><a href="http://dianaleafechristian.org/">Finding Community</a>)</i>: financial difficulties, and internal disagreements. That's what <i>happened</i>. What it <i>felt</i> like was.. like a stiff kick-in-the-stomach to a long-nurtured Life Dream. What it felt like was the rug getting pulled out from under our lovingly cultivated life. What it felt like was being hurled into a deep, dark vacuum-like stratosphere of unexpected un-knowing. <br />
What it felt like (from what I can only imagine) was a mis-carriage of a Beloved.<br />
<br />
Troy was the only one in the group who could even think about making up the sum of money required in such short order. And he is the only one who can repay the next, equally large, sum of money expected in a year's time (from then) ~ in June. So we agreed together to "buy the time" to keep Lumbini a possibility at least for another year. We took a loan from a friend, and moved back up to the US for Troy to work the shifts necessary, for Anjali and I to play our supporting roles and keep our family together. <br />
<br />
From a place of feeling like we were the leaders of our life, the choosers of our destiny, it felt like the ground has shifted to one of constantly reacting to this shocking life change. From feeling like the dealer, we have moved chairs to dealing with the hand dealt.<br />
<br />
What else happened?<br />
Our moms, on the East Coast, each became ill and were hospitalized (and are recovering).<br />
My Granny died, and then my Granddaddy (on the other side) died, both on the East Coast.<br />
We agreed that the work situation that we tried out while in Baja ~ of Troy coming back up to the US for stints while Anjali and I stayed down there ~ didn't feel good to us.<br />
We desired a lot more knowledge in Permaculture.<br />
We were lonely and wanted Community. <br />
We decided to move to Earthaven, a relatively long-running, exemplary, permaculturally-based intentional community (coincidentally the home of aforementioned internationally-recognized Diana Leafe Christian!).<br />
We reunited at Burning Man with fabulous folks who already know us and love us, who live in Lexington.<br />
We realized and agreed that we wanted tight community <i>NOW</i>. That, right now, we were tired of trying to start things from scratch. We wanted to feel known, accepted, and loved Now. And that was available to us Now ~ in Lexington, Kentucky.<br />
Troy finished up his contracted time working in Oregon. <br />
We traveled down the West Coast being embraced and supported by the folks over there who also love us.<br />
We moved to Lexington. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
.....<br />
What I want to celebrate today and right now is my reunion with my feral wild woman body and its source, that vast and deep Mama Earth ~ her sands, her dirt, her oceans, her inhabitants. <br />
<br />
What I want to celebrate today is my re-acceptance of my own personal vision, and my leadership and responsibility in the Great Turning that is Now. That <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEnfy9qfdaU">with my own two hands</a>, I can make a difference, and that it's worth it. <br />
What I want to celebrate today is acceptance of the fact that I Have a Community. I'm not searching for them. I have leapt into a warm and solid embrace. <!--3--><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-31703810190090263922012-11-16T07:15:00.001-08:002012-11-16T07:15:21.030-08:00A collection of photos from a day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-26254010217117557482012-10-14T16:57:00.001-07:002012-10-14T17:14:37.844-07:00Recovered Ruminations on BRC 2012<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<i>Over the years I have really appreciated that I took even the time I did to attempt to share about my experiences at Burning Man. When I look back on all these years of writing in this blog ~ both steady and intermittent, totally frank, attempting optimism and just a bit of downright self-foolery, I cherish these glimpses into my heart and mind in that soft condition that Black Rock City makes possible. I also just wanna get this up while I have this teensy little window to do so, so I'm gonna stop ruminating on the ruminating and post the darn thing! </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>After writing it ~ inspired ~ the first time all the way
through, my phone lost this essay.
I attempted to recreate it here on my then-ailing computer, in a home
with no internet. Life happened
and it is now a moon and a half later.
I feel like a lot of what’s shared here in this essay is too important
for my Self not to put out there.
But it is unfinished. Even
in my slow daily rhythm, my 21<sup>st</sup> century life keeps truckin’ and I
keep encountering and incorporating new information, adventures, lessons and
loves. So it goes, and so it
is. But this is Where I Was At the
week after Burning Man 2012, and I honor this expression: </i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_y-ei2ggNkA/UHtNvkTYGKI/AAAAAAAACNs/qfNK7i-dpc0/s1600/IMG_8590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_y-ei2ggNkA/UHtNvkTYGKI/AAAAAAAACNs/qfNK7i-dpc0/s400/IMG_8590.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This post is dedicated to this girl here. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>No, not my daughter(!), but me at almost her same exact age </i><br />
<i>~ on my fourth birthday. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because this girl deserves it. She's worth the mess and the work. </i><br />
<i>And the love. </i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
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Burning Man.
Every year I ask myself, do I really need to go again this year? And every time I return to that dusty
home in the desert, BRC proves it to me, yes; you need this. Catharsis, Re-union, Home-coming
~ with the community that feels like My community, back to my Self. Black Rock City is like a
powerful mirror which reflects wisdom every time it’s peered into: roughly the same city every time,
generally the same activities every year, but depending on where you direct the
mirror, the view is dramatically different. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If last year was the year of Family Zen Blissed-Out
Tranquility, this year was of Tough Love and Mandatory Transformation. It was not rainbows this year; I might
say it was a little hard. I cried
most every day. But it was a good
kind of hard, like an itch that reeally wants scratching, even till it bleeds. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If last year had me and my family sitting up on a cloud like
a group of Hindu deities, spouting forth butter and cream from our benevolently
cupped hands, this year had me possessed by an angry Kali, ruthlessly bound to
make Change. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Whereas last year I was primly content with early-to-bed and
early-to-rise, this year I was possibly as manic as I have ever been. I burned hard. I might even say I Raged ~ ha! Well, at Burning Man that’s an <b>awfully</b>
big statement; I’ll say I “raged” for a 36yo who is used to going to bed by
9pm, and who tries not to drink coffee after noon. ;-D I saw the
sunrise from both ends, woke up early, stayed up late, and could barely settle
myself down for even a short siesta.
</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6GO9Z_B4z0A/UHtMqnTw9_I/AAAAAAAACNY/UBlBJLIE_l0/s1600/IMG_8504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6GO9Z_B4z0A/UHtMqnTw9_I/AAAAAAAACNY/UBlBJLIE_l0/s320/IMG_8504.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I was agitated and aggravated. Not just in the first 24 hours where you arrive and wonder
why the hell you came ~ and then you acclimate. I was restless and annoyed. And then I went dancing. I danced till I couldn’t stand up any more, and then I went
dancing again. Barefeet pounding
on bare ground, bare breasts bouncing feral in strangely mild night air. I danced until my hips re-membered how
to boom with the bass, and I danced until every joint re-membered to accent
every beat. I gyrated in a sea of
undulating masses. And then the sky
opened up and rained moon-haunted, green laser-sparkling fat drops onto the
gleeful crowd, onto my bare torso, and imprinted the dusty earth. And when I couldn’t stand
anymore, I grooved in my seat by the fire, still wanting more. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sought passion.
I felt passion. I found
passion. I longed to be seen. I dove headlong into the eyes of a
beautiful Other for the first time since well before sweet Sealion and I pronounced
our vows out there five years prior. Heart to heart I saw and was seen. Awakened electric in sensory Yes, my
self-expression blossomed essential Connection, borne of clear conscience. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Waxing moon greeted dusky sunrise.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I woke up Angry.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Angry because: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll be Damned if I only dance my heart’s worth two nights
out of 365. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll be Damned if I only open my heart to connection with
other souls one week out of the year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll be Damned if the only creativity that wells forth from
my hands is that in prep for my annual dusty pilgrimage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I’ll be Damned if I only feel sexy and attractive in that
faraway desert home ~ I’m not talking 20-year-old sexy; I’m fine being done
with that. I’m talking feeling
Good and Worthwhile in Your Own Skin.
Like a dog digging after a mole, a bear grabbing a salmon. A wild woman howling at the moon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The kind of Like that attracts that kind of Like. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because, for me, this week is not a masquerade party where I
try on another woman’s face who has a more Vibrant life than mine and then go
back to Business as Usual. FUCK
Business as Usual. This is for
real and for keeps. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is true for a long time I wanted to feel In Control, keep
things tidy and neat, because ya know, when my heart cracks open the blood
drips down and… it’s messy. Well
I’m back in the game. I’m in it
for the mess: for the sweat, and the spit and the grease and the blood. And the tears. I’m here to live it big, and I’m ready
to make mistakes. Life is too
fragile and short and beautiful for tidy packages. Lemme have the mess. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I guess I could say I engaged in a passionate romance
with my own body this year in Black Rock City. Or more specifically, with my Root. The seat of my creativity, the locus of
my movement, the center of my balance.
Font of my fertility, drive, and passion. And I was gonna be Damned if I left her there in the desert
till next year. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HhnJPvErx-A/UHtMZFfUBuI/AAAAAAAACNQ/odQ1gQBLdko/s1600/IMG_8497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HhnJPvErx-A/UHtMZFfUBuI/AAAAAAAACNQ/odQ1gQBLdko/s320/IMG_8497.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<i>My Love: after my wedding ceremony to myself. </i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To begin the week, I went on my very first solo Journey of
contemplation. I encountered
Fear. Fear of my parents ill and
aging, awe at my daughter growing bigger still, awareness of the passage of
time on the face of my husband, and myself. I looked around me and saw people struggling: a woman grieving, folks desperately
trying to connect. Inhabitants
clinging to a big whirling ball even as its populations decline. I pondered Old (old) Ways Lost, and I
mourned them deeply. My sense was
that of the fragility of things.
The fleetingness. I
returned to camp desiring to be closer to my loved ones. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the end of the week we nourished our selves with a
morning’s ecstatic dance. I lay on
the floor as the facilitator guided us through a meditation: I listened to my body. It told me, I Am Alive (even as my
right ovary, the source of my creativity, quivered in accord)! I listened to the steady voice of my
heart. It said, Trust Me. I listened for my Higher Source. She told me, You Have Everything You
Need. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we would’ve moved on, my daughter urged us to rest in
the breezy shade. A woman with a
voice like honey sat cross-legged on the stage, caressing a sitar. Her lesson that hour was to lead us in
a devotional chant. To whom? Sarasvati, of course! Goddess of Arts and Music. It felt synchronistic, as all week I
had worn a hennaed crest of fire on my throat ~ to call forth my voice, my
expression, which I felt had got stuck.
I closed my eyes in dedication to this prayer. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Sincere, vulnerable, open, tender...tired.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-22046102483997183052012-08-17T15:51:00.000-07:002012-08-17T15:52:02.762-07:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NsGo1qoStyU/UC7LE4iLhoI/AAAAAAAACM0/tNNtmqczTU0/s1600/image-722763.jpeg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NsGo1qoStyU/UC7LE4iLhoI/AAAAAAAACM0/tNNtmqczTU0/s320/image-722763.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5777778656718587522" /></a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-38544429516602148242012-08-01T10:58:00.002-07:002012-08-01T11:57:30.339-07:00the view from hereHi! As a product of being unplugged in Baja Sur, Mexico, for almost six months, I got out of the habit of writing here. I relished that. That might sound strange, but, this blog has been in existence for over seven years! That's a long time to have that little narrator sitting in the back of my head, making hopefully-insightful, inner-focused commentary in my ear. ;-D Such is the life of a writer, I suppose. But it was refreshing to be Me without my narrator for a while. I find such a love-hate relationship with this-here internet existence ~ wanting to connect, to express myself, to be heard, but also feeling like a myopic techno-addict very quickly. I know I've written about this so many times over the years. Perhaps someday I will make peace with it. <br />
<br />
For now we are in Oregon, where Sealion is working shifts, and La Chiquita and I play our supporting roles. And with friends, who unavoidably play their supporting roles. Community: that's what it's all about! In our free time together, Sealion have been doing some vision board play to focus our intentions on what is to come. <br />
<br />
Here, I will leave you with another tidbit of recent journal artwork, effectively turning the page on that last post that I wrote months ago in the thick of things. Moving on.<br />
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Oh! and here's a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/76219265@N05/sets/72157630829768894/">Flickr album</a> showcasing the journey over the past month-or-so. <br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-5540255395591951312012-05-14T10:25:00.000-07:002012-08-17T11:14:56.230-07:00Right NowHmMm. Glad to be here. Glad to have this sounding-board still intact and available. <br />
<br />
I had a whole other blog post written a few days ago. And, well, you know; things change. My head and heart are all a-swirl, still. But different. Reminding me of a book that Anjali has, written both in espanol and in English: "lo mismo, pero diferente." <br />
<br />
But this watercolor exercise in Right Now is still applicable. <br />
<br />
Ahh: Right Now. <br />
<br />
Right Now<br />
Is<br />
Here. <br />
<br />
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13249240.post-31110699658284278802012-03-28T09:23:00.004-07:002012-03-28T09:42:43.734-07:00Unplugged<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px; font-family:georgia;"><i>I wrote this a few weeks ago, and have been brewing it in expectation of posting it here.</i></span></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ojozCOzwSHI/T3M9kHCfo6I/AAAAAAAACL8/wSPZ_ujB1nM/s1600/IMG_1830.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ojozCOzwSHI/T3M9kHCfo6I/AAAAAAAACL8/wSPZ_ujB1nM/s400/IMG_1830.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724987241892127650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Fireside lounging mama</i></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><div style=" ;font-size:medium;"><i><br /></i></div><div size="medium" style=" ;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#009900;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">Living in Baja Sur, Mexico, </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;">I have reached a level of unplugged-ness I <i>never</i> expected.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Truly, for weeks now, I have done the bare minimum of making my way to our local public wireless access (usually because I'm going by there anyway; rarely as a trip in itself), waiting the minutes it takes to download my emails (and a few select blogs and websites now and again), and then I'm away to other parts of my day. I don't even do this daily. At most, I reply to pressing emails. Oftentimes via concise (ha - as concise as I get, that is!) text message. For instance, yesterday I had a rare several hours to myself. In my old life I would've dashed immediately to the computer and easily spent those hours in front of the screen. Yesterday? I couldn't wait to turn on some mama music and mulch the kitchen garden with the bails of straw that we had finally procured. I didn't even think of opening the computer, not even to play music; I used my phone for that.<div>What else have I been doing with all this time that, for years, I spent plugged in? </div><div>~I've been studying the sunset each evening </div><div>~Peeing in the wee hours of the night with nothing but the light of the moon and my moonshadow as companions</div><div>~Therapeutically and often dunking myself in the invigorating water of our mama ocean</div><div>~I've been listening to bats squeak in the roof of our palapa kitchen </div><div>~Planting seeds and watering gardens</div><div>~Chomping nasturtium flowers that I pick from the walls of my shower</div><div>~Getting to know the species of birds at the shore</div><div>~Witnessing rows of garden greens disappear by the day, probably to a rabbit</div><div>~Being serenaded by duets of owls</div><div>~Watching as the tops of my bare feet get very tan</div><div>~And feeling with the soles of those bare feet as the earth gets warmer with the progression of the season</div><div>~Drinking a lot less coffee</div><div>~Embracing Siesta.</div><div><br /></div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;color:#009900;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px; font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><div><i>This post is dedicated to the pelican friend we encountered on the beach with an irreparably broken wing. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); line-height: 20px; font-family:georgia;"><i>If you'd like to read more about what we've been up to here at Lumbini Gardens in Baja California Sur, Mexico, check out </i><a href="http://lavidalumbini.blogspot.mx/2012/03/march-news.html"><i>my recent newsletter at</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"> La Vida Lumbini</span></a><i>.</i></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript"><!--
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</div>Tiffaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07373839243476150994noreply@blogger.com2