Here We Go!

(imagine the title yelled with Jane's Addiction enthusiasm and inflection.)

(and after that, the soundtrack for this post is Ellen McIlwaine's "Wings of a Horse".)

Well, I have started so many attempts at writing this here. So many explanations and Grand Picture analogies, but they fall short. This is yet another piece of my life that I just can't effectively shake a word at to do it any justice. It just feels so epic to me and beyond the scope of logic and reason and what makes sense on the outside.

So I'll just say it:

Yes, we are moving to Mexico in December.

But before that, we're moving to Oregon. We're moving our American homebase to Corvallis, Oregon, where Sealion will have work, and where we will be living in a building just a few steps away from Gemini Cricket and family ~ La Señora Picante Honeybee, and La Señorita Pequeña Firefly. That's right; my ex-husband, and his wife ~ who happens to be the ex-girlfriend of my husband ~ and their kid. We're moving there the first week of September. And when we move down South for the winter, they'll be coming too.

And before all of that, we're all going to Burning Man.

Umm. In just a few minutes. :-)

All along as we've been planning this move to Mexico ~ way before the *exes* were even a part of the story, I have felt the need to appear as level-headed and solid as possible. No matter my beliefs to the contrary, I tend to spend an exorbitant amount of time imagining what other people think about me and what I do (and in the process trying not ever to offend anyone). To my inner judge, this Big Life Change just seems so off-the-charts un-usual, un-practical, and strange that I think I have attempted to overcompensate inside myself by projecting an Abbott persona to the Costello of a scheme we have going. An "I know it's Crazy, but I'm really not," kinda vibe. ;-)

Then my Inner Artist began to resurface. Drawing for the first time in decades, and shaking the dust (and oiling the rust!) out of my dancing hips. And before I knew what was happening, there was the slight hint of sage smoke on the air with a sprinkling of glitter: my Inner Artist wanted to go to Burning Man. The pragmatic tortoise that I had been channeling all this time fought this notion. She chastised, saying, "We can't go to Burning Man! That is just altogether Frivolous! We are trying to be Level-Headed and Practical! And on top of that, we just have way Too Much to Do before we move to Mexico!" My heart hurt and welled forth through my eyes. My Inner Artist would not let the idea go. I sat down with it and pondered. My heart took me back to my first year on the playa.

At the tail-end of a kaleidoscopic mind-and-heart-expanding journey, Sealion and I found ourselves in a corridor of colorful lights that danced in time with music that was blaring from all sides. The song: Seal's "Crazy." "Oh we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy." We jumped up and down dancing in exuberant acknowledgment. As I remembered this, it struck me, still resonating deep truth. Yes, moving to a big piece of dirt in the tropical desert of rural Mexico to grow foods following Nature's example, with nary a flush-toilet, or even walls and floors, building and making as much as we can from scratch and in such a manner that it will actually benefit instead of hinder the land and the surrounding community, is quite on the fringe of what is considered normal and "Sane" in Standard America today. We can analyze up one side and down the other the wisdom, folly, benefits and dysfunction that surround modern America and its influence on the world (and I bet you can guess my opinions on the matter without my having to go into a tirade about it..). But regardless of that and even whether we (deviants) realize it, deviating from the norm takes some energy. It takes an internal explosion or two. It takes a little bit of Crazy. And so it makes all the "sense" in the world that as I'm getting ready to make these leaps in personal space and boundaries, in levels of personal comfort, exertion, and interpersonal harmony and communication, that my Inner Artist ~ the one who connects the creative dots from heart to head to body ~ must re-connect with Source. Return to Center. Make the pilgrimage to Mecca and bow before the Goddess. Re-member with my whole being that I am She (the one I've been looking for).

Click the Reset button on what is Possible. And remember how to fly. My Inner Artist knows that to survive and indeed thrive in this Big New Life I would do well to let go of trying to seem Normal and Practical, and instead get a little Crazy.

Photos from Baja

Here's an album of our recent trip to Lumbini Gardens. Not in chronological order, and quite a few duplicates, because we were using several different cameras. But you get the idea: good people, good work, lots of sweat, spectacular landscape, and heavenly floating sessions in the ocean with accompanying incredible sunsets.

A Riff with Camera: Sunset on Ocean with Mountains and Swimmers

Here I am!

Hola!

I haven't been silent, but instead, forgot to sign off on the mic before another week-plus trip down to Baja ~ our last visit before we move there in December!

It was hot. The heat with its accompanying humidity was even more challenging than I expected. After several days I reached one level of acclimatizing, but I suspect there are many more levels to reach before one feels comfortable ~ like many of the locals I saw in San Jose going about their daily lives ~ wearing tight jeans and tight knit tops (and even sweaters! *gasp!!*) without sweat drenching through the whole ensemble or literally keeling over.

We spent the week ~ like the white-bellied creatures we are ~ under the blessed palapa, with urgently-acquired fans trained on us. Until the sun went behind the hills when we would enjoy with exuberance the short respite. At that point, every day, Sealion very firmly insisted he must stop working so that we could all go seek relief in the ocean until dark. Still with fans on high pointed directly at us, we slept in the tent on top of the sheet with sometimes only minimal comfort until morning when we would rouse as early as possible to be awake for a few moments before the sun beat down relentless again. The upside to this is that we needn't worry about sun shirts or sunscreen, because the sun was too intense for our gringo bodies to be exposed for more than a few minutes, literally.

"Impressed" was the word I came away with. The August elements left a deep and lasting impression on me.

Still, and yet, I look at the photos I took over the course of the week, and the ones of myself, and see that in every instant in every place on the spectrum of comfort-to-discomfort I was Alive.

I woke up with the sounds of the wild tweeting birds in the foreground and los gallos in the background. I breathed in and out with the sometimes-din of the cicadas as they seemed to embody in sound the humid heat. I scurried with the lizards under the junked car in the brush and frolicked with the jackrabbits as they rolled in dust. Sweat poured from pores I didn't know existed. And when the sun began to tuck behind the mountains my eyes were wide as I roamed the property with camera to absorb every contrast of long crisp shadow on desert surface. Then there was the ocean. My whole body drank in the ocean and I was the wave and the tide as it surged to meet the rising full moon. Every night I sat with eyes upturned in worship of the moonlit and starry sky. And when it thundered and lightninged in the middle of the night, my daughter and I dashed outside to dance hand-in-hand in the raindrops.

I was Alive with a life pared down to the elemental. Sun and shade, water and salt and air, dirt and wood and stone. Papaya and tequila.

Crafty: Boy and a Solar Water Heater

This guy right here? I love 'im. Not the highest quality photo of his process, but that look on his face? Pure handcrafting bliss of the highest level. That's the essence-de-Sealion, there. Heart-melty for sure.

Just as I have been obsessed with our upcoming adventure, certainly Sealion has been. His obsession manifested into a Batch Solar Water Heater to take to Lumbini Gardens. Every morning he could, he snuck out there early and worked as quietly as possible until a reasonable neighborly hour to make noise sawing, sanding, drilling, and I don't know all what else. ;-) Now it is finished, and poised in Brian's sunny backyard to see just how hot it can get. Sealion goes to check the thermometer(s!) on it several times a day to monitor temperature fluctuation. He's so adorably nerdy about it.

Manly chiseling shot con assistant.

Sanded and painted.

Upstairs neighbor, supervising.

Box with the beginnings of insulation.

Ahhh! It is complete! With the lighting it is kind of hard to see the tank, chained in place inside the box, with all other surfaces covered in shiny aluminum..

Bravo!!!

Return of a Dancer

watercolor pencil drawing by...me!

I share this with deep gratitude to Andrea. !

We're Moving to Mexico!

Anjali inside the tape that marked the outline of the palapa, which is now built.

Coupla' lunatics on their way back from doin' some work.

Outdoor kitchen bliss.

In the dirt.

Sunset on the nearby La Ribera beach.

Headlamp matched by moonlight.

We're moving to Mexico!

This is the sentence that keeps dancing through my head lately. Not just a dream, though I dream about it plenty; not just a fantasy, though it is fantastic to me; not even a goal, but soon: a goal reached. And when I wake up in the middle of the night to pee or by some noise outside our urban bedroom window, if I don't go right back to sleep you can be sure that I'm thinking about details of that big piece of dusty dirt in southern Baja.

We're moving there in December. And delightfully ~astonishingly~ there is a small band of fellow lunatics who will be joining us for a while to howl at the moon Baja-style. When we get there we'll be sleeping in our tent under the big palapa, while we build an earthbag structure to shield us from the elements at night. We'll be taking solar-heated showers and composting our poop. Adopt a flock of chickens almost immediately for eggs and scorpion duty(!), and soon after, some dairy goats!

From there the list of daydreams goes on and on. Happily, I have returned to journal-writing this year. It has been a fertile time to write. Very often I spend pages and pages visualizing the many (eventual) facets of living there at Lumbini Gardens. :-) Right now it is a flat piece of dust with a hill of cacti. But in my mind it is a thriving permaculture jungle oasis that attracts people from around the world to study and teach and build and plant and harvest, to make and contribute art, lively conversation, music and dance, around a table filled with produce we harvested after a rewarding day of cultivation and tending (Tiffanie romantic run-on at its best, right there!). I see my family thriving from being in a much more relaxed culture, and from simple, Earth-based day-to-day living. Hands in the dirt, skin regularly bathed in bright sunshine, sunsets reflected off the ocean, evenings by crackling firelight and starshine.

And in between are all the juicy, dirty, nitty-gritty details. ;-) Learning to live in a foreign culture. Really use a different language for everyday getting by. Learning permaculture ~ not just the theory in books, but played out on real land with its own particular medley of circumstances. Deciding from deep experience on favorite and least favorite parts of outdoor-based living. Animal husbandry. Living in the desert, and away from American West Coast city amenities. Haha. These are the ones that my mind gets cranking on if I don't fall back asleep at night.

It is at the far-reaches of what I personally consider possible. It is far from the existence I witness around me in Standard America. It is what I've always wanted. Beginning in my childhood when Laura Ingalls Wilder's books and visits to my grandparents' working farm were forever-imprinted on the landscape of my imagination, to college literature classes falling in love with the world and worldview of Wendell Berry, to recent times when all I see is pointing me back to the ways of our ancestors, this is what makes sense to me. This is what I see myself doing.

Alive!

this is a quote for which I haven't found the official source yet, but it is attributed to the Hopi Elders. It feels appropriate here.

...Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.

All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we've been waiting for.

Ahh!

I'm having such trouble *explaining* to you about all that I'm thinking and feeling lately! I sit to describe it and the words turn in on themselves and I'm left panting and searching with my eyes.

Perhaps I could instead share with you some sketches I've done for the first time in years to show you pictorially, or maybe a dance would describe it ~ because I've been doing a lot of that too. Or if that didn't quite convey it, maybe I could do a few cartwheels in an open sunny, grasshopper-jumping, clover blossomed field ~ because I've been doing a little of that too. Or even the old standby, the kitchen, has been housing quite a bit of activity in the past few days; maybe I could show you all the meals I've been jazzed to make.

Well, nope; I'm still not getting it by writing here. I just deleted several paragraphs of attempts. So I'll share the experience of the above photo:

Here I am on a hike in Tahoe on the 3rd of July. See that white stuff in the background? It's snow. The water I am emerging from is a collection of actively-melting snow. I stepped over the snow to get into the water. It was so cold. It took courage to work up to jumping in, but with the en-couragement of my husband (who had jumped in pretty much after my suggesting it) and my daughter (wading exuberantly naked), it was the only thing to do. And I'm so glad I did it! Invigoration x 100, there was no way not to know you're alive and be 100% in the moment as I clamored to the surface.

As urgent as it felt to get my head out of the water, as I was emerging, I was also thinking, "I wanna do this every day!" In an instant, every cell of my body was re-vived and coursing with exhilaration. I felt energized, but even more importantly, I felt sooo satisfied with, and grateful for, my decision to follow through and jump in that water.

And this is the way it is with me lately. Actively, purposefully, I have been practicing expanding my heart and making choices to move myself closer to Yes ~ closer to the natural animal life that is the birthright of all Earth inhabitants. It was, and remains an effort. But I am beginning to reap the rewards of this discipline. Each step that I take feels more natural, and every movement, instead of taxing me, is giving me energy! My awakening grows deeper by the day. I feel vibrant and lively!

I am an animal, alive on this planet!

And that's as close I'm gonna come to explaining it to you for now.

Let's not talk; let's just go fly in a sun-drenched morning meadow with the dragonflies.

Every Little Thing

There are so many huge things bouncing around taking space in my mind lately that it is hard for the words to slip their way through. I have about three lengthy posts going all at once and am stuttering on each of them. And more importantly, I am spending as much time as possible outside and away from this luminescent box. Still the little narrator does not shut up in my head these days. ;-)

I take things so seriously. Even though everything that we're working towards in our life is just exactly what I want, things still weigh so heavily on me. I could use some laughter or weightlessness therapy. You know that too-cute saying, "Angels can fly because they take things lightly."
Well, luckily the little person in my life adds much levity. So I thought this would be a nice little break in between all the heavy topics I seem to want to write about.

(And of course she croons this without help and then as soon as I bring up the camera she gets quiet but that is understandable. It still melts my heart every time.)

Thank you thank you thank you for the sweet reminder.

(And, um, yeah. I never figured out how to fix that last post.)

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