Beginning Again at the End of the World

So, yesterday was Sunday. On a wave of good feelings after having found some old files on Mom's computer, I took myself into Virginia, down through the canyon of leafless trees alongside Laurel Creek, on through Damascus and into the spreading fields leading to Abingdon. Margaret and Mike and the kids had left earlier that day on a road trip, and the students are off on expedition until Thursday. So with no pressures on deck, I drove off to see 2012, because, and I mean this with no irony, something that always makes me happy is watching the world be destroyed in the most cinematic way possible. Not because I hate the world, but because I love disaster movies and I love special effects, and when they come together this spectacularly I am filled with glee.

So, I'm in the car. And I've finished listening to my lecture series on Monsters, Gods and Heroes: A History of the Epic (which was great by the way, should you want to check it out) and I wasn't in the mood to listen to Regina Spektor which was the musical choice. Earlier that day I had packed up some speaker tapes and cds to send to my friend Chris, who needs them to decide if I'm flying to LA to speak at the convention, and I had found this old blank cassette.

I pop it in, and to my surprise my voice emerges.

Its one of the cassettes I made driving across country from Baltimore to LA when I moved there in 1993. I had picked up a handheld cassette recorder in order to preserve every passing thought I had as I drove away from a well worn life into one that bore no etchings. It seemed monumental at the time, it was monumental. I had been living a life in Baltimore that had taken on a kind of inexorable momentum that was leading me towards a future in which I just couldn't see myself. I was fading out of my own life, vanishing into a murky misty kind of phantom who walked and talked and every day became less a part of the world. At the time I lacked the ability to even know that, to see that, to feel it. I don't even quite remember now how I felt. Choices were made that were not my own, because I had lost the ability to make choices for myself, and I had begun to come awake in a cold cold winter of snow and ice and highways with hard ruts. Thats literal by the way, not metaphor.

So I packed up my car, and headed west. Outside of Atlanta I picked up the handheld.

So, now...16 years later, I'm listening to the young man I was observe his surroundings and ponder his future. To a soundtrack of background music including Kirstie McCall, Erasure, REM, Pearl Jam, The Smashing Pumpkins and occasional snippets of music from pop radio stations he passed along the way, I listened as he contemplated picking up hitchhikers, dealt with boredom, observed passing tourist traps, battled a cold, and in between, thought and thought about his future.

I laughed as I listened to this young man I once was swear not to make the same mistakes again, and I spoke back from 16 years in the future and told him "yes, you will." And I forgave him for those mistakes and forgave myself. I listened as he told me about how he would never get caught up in a job to the extent that it compromised this living of his life. And I said, "Oh honey, I'm sorry. You will." And I laughed. I listened as he told me that he would never again throw away his sense of himself in order to find companionship with a lover. "Oh," I said. "Really?"

He drove on and on. He stopped in Phoenix to visit his brother, and flew with him to the Grand Canyon. He became excited as he saw signs for California, and even more excited when he passed palm trees. I thought about his adventures there. I wanted to tell him that he would make a life there. That he would fall in love there. That he would fall out of love, and that it would hurt, but he would survive even when he felt like he couldn't. That he would be succesful. That his dream of living in a house overlooking downtown LA would come true. It would take time, but it would come true. I wanted to tell him that he would be lonely at times, but it would all be okay. I wanted to tell him that his dream of being a writer would come true in ways he was not expecting. I wanted to tell him to not drink so much. I wanted to tell him to not let silly little things hurt him so much. But I couldn't of course, and I'm glad. Because he had a grand adventure.

He talked about that. He talked about adventure. He talked about how the road trip hadn't turned out to be the adventure he wanted it to be, and I wanted to tell him that that was OK, because he would take other road trips and they would infuse him with joy. And they would be adventures. But more than that, he would have adventures unlike any he could even conceive of. He would find God staring down at him as he sat crying on a rock watching the sun set over Joshua Tree. He would set aside his fears and then encounter their embodiment a few moments later and stand and watch and marvel at the beauty of the pattern on the skin of a snake. He would roam his landscape with marvelous friends, the likes of whom he had always dreamed. And they would hold him up, and stare him down, and make him laugh, and soothe his burning. Such a great life, such a great adventure he was beginning.

Oh, what a gift. What a gift to hear this young man. What a joy to know what lay ahead for him. What a joy to understand how good, how true, how exciting life would be. So I think about my own bumps and bruises, and I think about a man, living far in the future, well beyond 2012, and he is listening to me now. And he is smiling. And he is laughing. And he is remembering. And he is telling me, "Oh, what a grand adventure lies ahead for you. You have no idea!"

--Dan

Tom

I attended a pot luck last Friday, the starts of a series of films having to do with climate change, money, 2012, global shift, etc. I almost didn't go because partly I've heard so much about this kind of thing, and I tend to come up feeling left out, no sense of how to apply any of the information in a positive way. But I thought I'd give it one more try, be willing to be open another step further. I thought maybe some connection would come along that could give me some further sense of direction.

I met this guy named Tom and we got to talking about this house he's building not far from where I live. He's trying to make it efficient and self sufficient and a possible teaching aid for the community. Turns out he could use some help, and since I'm only part time employed, I said I was interested.

I visited him Tuesday, and we spent a good three hours while he showed me the house and we got to know each other better. Interesting guy. Three years older than me. Done the hippie thing, the PhD thing, large scale compost system engineering in the UK... Really has a drive to give back to the community, share his knowledge, create something of enduring value, have fun and keep learning.  He's quite agile. A successful college football player who practiced ballet to help with his sense of balance and movement. Pretty well connected in town among other tradesmen who like to help each other on a give and give back basis. Very resourceful, doesn't mind making mistakes, likes big projects.

I started yesterday working for him. But he'd like to say working "with" him. We exceeded his expectations on what he hoped to accomplish. Worked well together. Going into it this time, I really tried to be aware of any concerns I might have getting involved with him. But we keep working things out to my satisfaction. I really can't think of any concerns I have, other than working 30 feet off the ground on rather questionable support structures. But he's relatively safety oriented, and heck, if it's my time to go, well, I go.

So this could be a very cool next adventure for me. Practicing in the construction trades, dry wall, flooring, woodwork, finishing, landscaping, etc etc. So far so good. And that makes me happy, finding something I can sink my interests and abilities into, that has some opening for perhaps long term investing and rewards in something I find meaningful, not too stressful, in the spirit of fun and learning and making positive contributions.

--Steve

lush tropics

Last weekend  I went back to Colorado to visit my daughters.  It was my first visit back since I moved to Oregon in May, after getting married to someone who lives here....My daughter Emily is 22, married and both she and her husband work for a church.  Julia is 19 and a sophomore at CSU studying music therapy.  They needed new clothes, tires, oil changes and since they are both valiantly trying to make a go of things (and in Emily's case working for God doesn't pay so great) it was my pleasure to throw all their needs on my lovely credit card.

Then yesterday I had a tooth ache and the dentist that I work for (as a hygienist) took a kajillion x-rays and I have a cracked tooth that needs a crown and 2 wisdom teeth need to be violently (my imagination)extracted because one of them has an abcess, though I can't feel it.

So yeah, I feel like I'm hemorraging money.

Last night I dreamt that my husband Mac and I were trying to get away for a tropical vacation and kept being thwarted by a huge wolf, an unhappy housesitter and some problem with transportation.  The wolf I can still see.  But I also see that I am now in a happy marriage that feels like a tropical vacation every beautiful day.  And yeah, sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and send thanks into the mess.  Thank you beautiful daughters who show me how to be strong and idealistic again.  Thank you kind Mac who makes me want to be kinder.  Thank you abcess, for, uhm, not hurting? 

I notice my interest and inability to always see the all in everything. The default tends to have me cut everything up into more or less of this or that and then to filter each through my preferences for how much of every quality I want more or less of at the moment I'm in contact. :-)

Meawhile, each is the Alpha and bloody Omega, shot through with disguises, so often looking in a mirror as though the one holding the mirror is some other creature entirely.

All this makes me both happy and disconcerted, alternately.

--Steve

still pursuing...

I have been cooking today.  A lamb ragu which will go over penne pasta and then some roasted, carmelized cauliflower for a side note.  Earlier, Mac and I went for a quick bike ride on this gorgeous fall day.  Tonight, the little Central Oregon symphony is playing Mozart and we'll be there for that.  So yeah, I love to cook and savor and listen to music and riding a bike is the best way to feel 9 years old again....when riding a bike no hands was so wicked fun.  Remember?

I was thinking about homemade.  How homemade can feel so happy and earthy and satisfying--a slower way....like how cooking ragu is a lesson in patience.  Adding half cup after half cup of wine, then broth, then tomatoes......reducing it all down to this mellow rich essence.

It's a funny way to get happy but it's completely workin' for me today.  Bon appetit!

Bridging the Cocoons

The ability to hold different points of view simultaneously. That's the skill to develop. Everyone getting to have their say and everyone being able to navigate all that's expressed for the full comprehension and appreciation of all.

Anything short of that brings resentment, misunderstanding, bullying, unilateral decision making, leaving others out, stepping on toes, disprespecting. And that's no fun.

I wonder why we don't do this better. Not wanting to risk losing the stability of our own positions? Inability to comprehend other points of view? Preference for one's own point of view over everyone else's? Not wanting to be bullied by others? Insecurity about holding one's own? Fear of boggling?

We are biased toward our own cocoons. Bridging beyond them is the great challenge. And that means being able to be open to what's going on in others' cocoons.

--Steve

Audiences and Artists

We're all audiences and artists in turns, and not always well matching. Some artists aren't even looking for audiences, yet audiences happen along to critique them anyway. Other artists are dying for audiences to the point of trying to force people to pay attention and show some respect! Meanwhile, audiences are hungry to satisfy their particulars, and quite capable of shrillness when artists don't happen to live up to the kinds of performances they're after. It's nice when artists and audiences happen to find a good fit with each other. That this tends to be rather rare, makes it all the more satisfying when it arrives. The rest seems about damage control, neither being too hurt nor too hurting, too outraged or outrageous, too crazy or crazed, however ill-fitting, one against the other.

It's hard to be any better or different kind of artist than we all naturally are. In fact, it looks bad even trying to be. The spider spins its web not to impress people, and yet, people may be quite impressed. A contestant on So You Think You Can Dance may be trying ever so hard to gain the approval of judges and audiences, and fail miserably, even if inside him self he's having a very good time in his internal reverie.

So, you know, it's touchy, this thing between performers and viewers. Not always an easy relationship. Curious finding the sweet spot between trying one's best but not too hard and for the true right reasons and not the ones destined to disappoint.

--Steve