Reunion in Berkeley: part II: Art

once again i am left dumbfounded by blogger's incomprehensible nuances. i didn't write this in this all-caps font, and now cannot change it, try as i may. in my "preview" it does not show up wonky, then when i publish it it is all amiss. apologies and curses! shoo! i will try to change it; this abomination must not stand!

Sri Tarasita performing her Green Tara piece in Devotion 2008.

While I was and wasn't eating I had the opportunity and pleasure of soaking in art in so many forms: the expression inherent in the Bay Area ~ the hyper-style of San Francisco ~ tattoos, hipster fashion (love it and hate it), all the murals, public sculpture and the overflowingness of front-yard-garden-meets-art, and easy freaxpression (I like that) that I have come to consider the norm (which is actually not the norm. but should be.). My TT and her way of dressing and adorning herself, and of course SuperKate and her signature style. Staying in the Shochat house I was floored once again by the sheer art of the place - the architecture for one, the paint and decor, but mainly the awesomely prolific amount of art created by Ashley. Thought-provoking, playful, and/or beautiful. Collages and paintings on every wall. Add to that art of the organic variety in the form of abundant mature gardens. If you consider that yoga is an artwork of discipline and form, this woman's life is all art.

And then there was the dance, the reason we came together in the first place. Rich kaleidoscopic weaving and patterning of ancient language, at once sensual, maternal, sisterly, and spiritual. Pretty. And beautiful.

Piled on top of that, I have last night's vocal recital here in Sac of sweet Arlene and her fellow students. Which reminds me of the abundant and inspiring guitar and vocal play during Miles's birthday bash a few weeks ago. Then finding old friend and fellow cast-member Shrine's website all over again (wooow). AND witnessing the resurgence of lovely Woo's artistic musings.!

In all my obsession about our upcoming move, Permaculture, primitive living and re-skilling, goat-herding and sheep shearing, pre-agrarian life and eating (I have been quite the nerd lately..)(almost left out beekeeping and seaweed harvesting!), I feel as if Art has bowled me over ~ hip-bumped me into a tailspin with all of its tattooed and bejeweled heart-gushing expression.

It has led me to wondering: where has my art gone?

Loved ones will not let me get regretful or wistful about this (haha I have tried. ;-). I have been reminded more than once that a life led mindfully is in itself artistic. And I agree. Bringing food to the table is in its essence creative. And writing is a creative act. Certainly parenting is an all-important constant act of in-the-moment creation. But the food I prepare is mainly humble daily meals, and is not always, ahem, inspired (especially lately. boy have i been uninspired in the cooking department lately. yeesh.). The writing I do is quite cerebral for the most part. And as much as I 100% love being a full-time mommy, I don't believe a woman's personal creative life ends when her child's life begins; on the contrary ~ you can't model how to live a full life unless you actually have a life!

Perhaps life's ebb and flow requires that certain aspects of our many-faceted natures take the spotlight at certain times while others wait in shadow. And, as it is a cyclical journey, the tide turns so that other gifts and passions may express themselves again if we allow for it. This is what I'm hoping today. In spite of, or maybe even because of the Bigness that our upcoming Big Change is demanding of us, I am feeling a longing, a lustful tear-stained calling from my inner Artist, who has been resting, recovering and healing. Quite impractical. Not at all pragmatic. Just as we are dragging the moving boxes back up from the storage room to be filled yet again so soon, I am urgently seeking a canvas on which to collage, and have set aside ~ several days in a row ~ time in front of the mirror devoted in earnest to dance.

Inside the program for Arlene's recital, the director, James C. Glica-Hernandez writes, "Learning to sing is a very personal process... [Students of voice] must overcome their fears and find their willingness to allow the sound of their voices pass their hearts to share that sound with others." I feel as if my heart is welling up with so much, I must open my mouth or else explode!

This incantation which was shared by a sister really knocked me over with its imagery. I told her if it were oil, I would bathe in it. Let it fuse with my own skin. It is my prayer now.

A Prayer for Calling Up Song

by Angela Galik

Rise, music, out of the Earth!

I feel it below me and just beyond this world.

A cavern full of sound, a storm trapped beneath a mountain

howls at the edge of my throat.

I burn to let it sing through me!

Rise up, music, in me and devour me--

When I open my mouth I want a rainbow cloud to come out

that covers my body from sight, and wipes away my face

so that the song does not go by my name.

And from this cloud as thunder and lightning, fierce and ecstatic,

crackling, roaring, drumming, brilliantly radiant,

deep as the oldest stone,

comes the music of the ageless universe, renewing itself,

the infinite, revealing and creating self.

Oh spirit I beg that you fill me

and that you erase me!

Unhinge my jaw and open my mouth as wide as a serpent's

and let flow out from me the flood that presses against my heart

from beyond--music of the Other World,

voices of thousands of beings expanding together into each note.

They who sang us into existence are singing our next age now,

and their song can lift us--and make us ready.

Oh Goddess, these songs are straining inside of me

like wild angels!

When this music comes into the world,

it will fill us and change us,

we will understand the right way to live

and begin out lives anew,

this time doing what we were meant to be doing

all along. Our hearts will be tuned to a true note

and we will learn how to praise, and never cease praising.

We will know what to do to care for our precious world,

and harmony and beauty will be the air that we breathe,

and the ocean we all swim in will be love.

Growing..growing..

Reunion in Berkeley: part I

I've decided to split this into two parts, as I have a whole bunch of food photos, yet the second half of this essay took on a life of its own. ;-)

Hello! I'm back here in Sacramento after having spent several days in Berkeley with my dear friend TT while she and our other dear friend SuperKate took part in a bellydance performance. And although I'm weaning back down from espresso, I'm sipping on some right now, and have about a billion and two things bouncing around in my head and heart.

One thing that is floating around in there is this:

Totally random, I know, but: that's me! I forgot. So I guess this post will be about what I took away from my stay in Berkeley after moving away nine months ago.

First off, is that my time living in Berkeley really was, officially, All About the Food. Revisiting there for almost a week, I had reunions to attend ~ at all my favorite restaurants. I said hello-and-I-miss-you to Saul's, Guerilla, Bette's, Venus, Tacubaya, Corso and Cafe Rouge, and then Mission Beach Cafe and Magnolia in the city (sweet jesus! i really ate at all of those places! no wonder i feel like drinking dandelion root tea and eating salads for a month!). And of course my beloved Three Stone Hearth ~ although deeply rooted in food and food knowledge (the beginning, source, and school for the nutritional and cooking knowledge I practice today), the people there are who tie me to it. And I cannot forget the birthday party we were honored to attend in celebration of Austin. It was the most sophisticated gourmet well-orchestrated potluck I will ever attend ~ but then how can I be surprised considering the birthday boy who held the conductor's baton! Yes; the week was a tour-de-force of gustatory delight (and geez were we right about moving from there being a boon for our budget!)! (aha i am connecting that espresso may be a leading cause of parenthetical asides..!)

Some highlights caught on film. A true quality eating experience must include good company. I'm so lucky.

plate of housemade pickles at Magnolia. the grapes were pickled with tea leaves.
ker-mis-chief at Magnolia

Anjali totally cracked-out from a very rare, very decadent cupcake at Uncle Austin's birthday party
beef marrow at Cafe Rouge ~ oh yes, we did!

Mission Beach Cafe
Austin posing at Cafe Rouge so I could get a secret shot of Troy's and my "Berkeley synchronicity": that dude with the dreads. ;-D
hot chocolate and Mohammed Ali at Guerilla Cafe
with the excellent and sweet cooks in the background, gorgonzola custard on a bed of arugula with roasted cherries and peck at Corso ~ phenomenal!!

Mexican cafe at Tacubaya

the best tortillas in town, dipped in egg yolk, at Tacubaya

Savoring: a Breath in the Midst of Busy

I've invited my old favorite stimulant back into my life for the moment after an almost six-month hiatus: espresso. Because I'm BUSY! I went from having page-upon-page of blank calendar weeks to having too much to keep up with! 
I have so much I want to share with you - stories, photos, epiphanies and synchronicity, Big Change, but for now I'm still running. (And damn it the laptop still needs some TLC by a genius, so computer work is greatly slowed.)

So I'll leave this space with a soothing Moment to savor: Sharing juicy-ripe cherries with my little sweetie on our front porch on the first official hot day of summer we have had here in Sacramento. 
Gratefully I was not multi-tasking; I was right there right then.

Images from Lumbini Gardens

I at least wanted to share some images with you, until I can get back here to tell you more about our recent trip to Lumbini Gardens in Baja California Sur, Mexico. For now, I'm preparing for another trip. This time to Oregon. Weeee!

palapa!!

Lumbini henna

La Ribera beach, just a mile or so from the property

A Moment: Savored

Gratitude: For Friends

Oh. So grateful.

A rite of passage, a coming together to celebrate loved ones, appreciate Nature, share meals, make music. And breathe ~ away from the hustle of the modern-day.

I am honored to be included in such a group.

A Month in Baja: the Beginning

I wrote this on the plane on the way to Baja last week. I didn't get to send it before we arrived and then returned, but I want to go ahead and put it out there. Not complete at all, but a start.

Flying to Baja for a five-day stay!

Haha. I'm laughing once again because it seems this story really wants to take its own time, to have itself turned over again and again in my mind and heart before I send it out in its entirety. I am in the air now, on the second leg of our journey, having just finished the most fluid, productive writing session I have had with this yet. Insights materialized and made their way into words. We were preparing to land, and I saved the draft and --- it disappeared into nothingness. Again. The second time that's happened in flight. I sure hope I can find a way to save this this time so that it actually makes it to you!

This story - of my initial experiences at Lumbini Gardens - is very important to me to write. More for myself than anyone else. As I've said before, it's a challenge for me to write about the Big Stuff. Small talk of the everyday type is safe and solid. The Big Stuff is.. important. Risky. I get tongue-tied.

Let me stop preambling and just get to it, for I don't have the time to write about it today, either, just as I haven't every other day. This may be the door-opening that allows for further insights later. And actual details as opposed to mere metaphorical waxings. ;-) And photos. :-)

Perhaps the most important thing I realized during our month-long stay in Baja California Sur, Mexico, was that, while a month is a long time for a vacation, and every day manages to pack in a million feelings and experiences, a month is not even a beginning for really getting to know a place. It's not even an introduction or a prologue; it is a first paragraph. Wendell Berry and Permaculture as a whole keep reminding me that to know a place takes a lifetime of infinite minute-upon-minute inhales and exhales of attention.

Much like a forest grows from a field with many successive generations of plants doing different jobs, my experience of the property called Lumbini Gardens has only just stepped into the pioneer plants - the "weeds" that make the way for redbuds, that in their turn shade the soil for the oaks. I braced myself at the somedays-seemingly-relentless winds, the sun that penetrates as soon as it makes a shadow, and the scorpions that not only crawled into my suitcase and across my foot, but also into my dreams. I am confident that these will be the brambles that are laughed about once our hands are dyed purple, and our buckets and tummies are full of berries.

We started our endeavor first thing with an intention: of remembering that we are the newcomers and guests here. We are not here to elbow the uncomfortable or inconvenient out of the way, but to ask the beings who already inhabit this place for their permission and approval. And their guidance: to show us how to survive and thrive in this environment that is so new and foreign to us. To humble ourselves to the roles of students and followers, not conquerers. Not even farmers, but partners and collaborators.

Growing...growing

Intentional: A Poem

Got a chance (and remembered!) to do some journaling while my sweetiepies were out. Started out bitching and then remembered gratitude. Ahhh. Here's what flowed. And then some.

Here

I am!

Awake,

I shine,

extending

the sunlight that radiates

from my heart.

I open

to Love.

I allow

for possibility.

Seeds take root,

blossom and fruit.

Vibrant.

I accept

support from Life around me.

It wants me to thrive!

I stretch

to welcome

Change.

Getting Out the Door

At the "Duck Pond Park." An outing with Papi doesn't quite count as officially "getting out the door," because he has so much self-generated momentum. But outside = outside = good.

See that expression on his face? That's him melting with papa-pleasure at his snuggling girl.

Tiny ducklings! (Only one is pictured.) Hear that sound? That's me squealing with the over-abundance of cute-itude.

Full sun doesn't make for the best photos, but I absolutely love poppies.

Fragrant yucca. Another thing I love: the incredible "Tahoe Blue" sky we get to enjoy in Summertime Sacramento.

Beauty in Motion: School of Sardines

At the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Thanks for the guest passes, Alyssum and Ben! :-)

I could have watched these sardines all day. They are just about the most beautiful thing I've seen.

(You could, however, leave the sound off. The sardines are much more soothing without the throngs of schoolchildren as background noise and commentary!)

My Mother's Day

This Mother's Day I treated myself: to a cheesemaking class at Love Apple Farm in Santa Cruz. We covered four different "soft" cheeses ~ chevre, feta, mozzarella, and ricotta, made with pasteurized goat's and cow's milk, and then raw cow's and goat's milk (surprise surprise: the teacher of the class prefers raw milk to pasteurized. She says it makes far superior cheese). Though I have made mozzarella and a couple other simple cheeses before, it was nice to have someone who knows what she's doing take me step by step. The highlight of the class for me ~ and, really, what tipped me over the edge to sign up for it ~ was that we got to milk a goat. Interestingly, during my high school years I lived on a dairy goat farm. But I never even thought about milking a goat; I had no interest and was not required to. But Sunday ~ what a thrill it was! And how intimate it felt to me, grasping her warm, very soft and silky udder and expressing warm milk. I couldn't help but talk to her and thank her. I think especially because Anjali and I are still in a breastfeeding relationship, it felt pertinent and close to my heart ~ on Mother's Day, no less. It was also a surprisingly simple movement to express the milk; perhaps it made intuitive sense because of shared mammal-hood. After the class, I waited for Sealion and Anjali to pick me up and was hanging around talking with the goats in their pasture. The farmhands walked up and invited me to help them milk the goats. So I got to milk a goat to completion, as opposed to just an introductory teaser, like in class. And then Sealion showed up and he got to milk too (Anjali missed out due to carseat naptime). Definitely an activity that comes quicker with practice. And I couldn't help but feel like a modern "city slicker," oozing with novel pleasure the way I did at a chore that was for centuries a mundane activity for many. I look forward to a time in the foreseeable future when milking time can be a habitual twice-daily chore for me, too.

A couple of the girls out in their gorgeous pasture.

Breathtaking location of Love Apple Farm, which includes a stand of mature redwoods. The horizon is the ocean.

Instructor Fiona in her kitchen classroom.

Embarrassingly cheesy (haha!) grin on my face ~ *blush!*

Hand-pulled mozzarella with four preparations: no-salt and barely-pulled, no-salt and pulled, salted and barely-pulled, salted and pulled. Can you tell the difference? The taste and texture were remarkable.

Chevre wheel decorated with edible flowers ~ nasturtium, viola, and chrysanthemum.

Outro de hilarity: what Papi and Anjali were doing while I was in class. ;-D

I notice the photos are cut off a bit when using Flickr.. I sure don't feel like fixing that...

Vultures: A Story

So glad to finally get to this; I told you I might, and I did! Here's to long return flights with a solidly-napping babe! Coffee. And a splash (or two) of somethin'.

As independent study credit during my last (official) year of undergrad school, I assisted Kentucky writer Normandi Ellis. I went to her home every week, did editing and cataloging for a book, and other interesting stuff. She was a powerful mysterious woman around 50 whose personal veil between the seen and the unseen worlds was thinner than most ~ perhaps by nature or by practice, probably a little of both. Her home was cluttered with time-collected detail ~ art, trinkets, dark velvet ~ and thickly dusted with incense and cigarette smoke, feminine and witchy energy. Normandi was a scholar of Egyptian myth. As she was writing her second book on it, it permeated her life. Around the first corner past the entrance, guarding a plush burgundy couch, her living room showcased a large print on papyrus of an Egyptian-styled vulture - gilt, black and red. I had grown up thinking of vultures as harbingers of decay. However in Egyptian understanding (as in Nature, truly), vultures clear away the old to allow for the new; A crone-wise harbinger of Change. The ancient Egyptian pantheon reveres a vulture-headed deity.

As I studied and worked with Normandi, I steeped my own subconscious deeply in mythology. I also found myself engaged to my four-year boyfriend, Gemini Cricket. More importantly (to us), we were readying ourselves (as much as one can) for a bicycle voyage from our homestate of Kentucky to the west coast of Washington state. As our departure (and wedding) drew close, we set out on a dress-rehearsal overnight tour of Land Between the Lakes in western Kentucky. That night after starlit pre-nuptial campsite fun, we lay in our brand-new tent, sticky with self-generated humidity. I dreamt in technicolor detail that that ancient vulture from Normandi Ellis's wall was scratching at our zip-up screened door. Pulling and tugging. Peck, peck.
Change indeed.
After that, vultures and buzzards appeared to me in my waking life as a friendly indicator that I should take note for potential life change.

Winter, seven years later, I tooled down an unfamiliar road, waving my hands and sing-shouting along with every word of Ani DiFranco's Evolve. It was an unseasonably warm and crisp day so I was able to open the window and howl at the countryside; I sing when I'm nervous. I was on my way to meet my mom for a meal and try to make like all was fine and "normal" in my life. I passed a tree ~ an old, tall, solitary fencerow tree ~ that was so loaded with buzzards, it appeared to be clothed in black leaves. I almost ran off the road.

That next Spring, Gemini and I filed for divorce.

Time passed. Wounds healed. Life renewed and blossomed. I forgot about vultures for a long while.

I set up the camp kitchen in the shady shelter of the neem tree for our first day of several weeks camping at Lumbini Gardens in Baja Sur, Mexico. The gusty wind made setting up the tent impossible and frequently knocked off my sunhat. Anjali sought the comfort and shelter of the Land Cruiser. While Sealion labored in the elements to establish electricity, there were things I could do to make our outdoor living area feel a little more homey. I made a batch of "limón tea," organized and wiped the desert dust off the blue-with-white speckled enamel plates. I separated produce that can be in open desert air vs. produce that must be kept in the coolers. As I worked, I noticed the long slow shadows of birds flying in my periphery and thought, "Uh-oh. I hope those aren't buzzards; that seems like bad luck." It wasn't till later that I remembered my connection with those prescient creatures. Everyday a few of them (they are turkey vultures down there) made their rounds, scouring with their senses the desert scrub that surrounded us on all sides.
"You too?" I thought to them. "Oh, good - so it's not just me; this is a big one."

One for the Sky

I say a Kentucky funeral calls for the proper inflight beverage.

An Impressionistic Etude

Of shadows of the same tree on walls throughout the day.

Getting Out the Door

Why is it so hard for me? Yet sooo necessary.

Gratitude abounds for a bikeride that found its way to my favorite spot in town!* The Capitol Rose Garden in full splendor. The sun hinted at its Sacramento summer intensity to come. As we sat on a bench in the center for a snack-break, intense perfume floated on the breeze from all directions.

Good medicine for mind, body, and spirit.

A ridiculous array of roses in all directions!

Meditation on beauty and breath.

Gossamer-winged friend.

Giggling at myself yet again, realizing how perfectly this fits in with my recent flower-sex theme. ;-) I swear, I just love flowers; sex didn't even cross my mind as I basked in this radiance!