Noticing the Fear/Hope Connection

Though I generally reject dualisms, believing them oversimplifications of complex spectra, hope/fear dichotomies and impulses are on my mind, informed by recent events. My last post, about the miners trapped in a Utah mine, is still abuzz in my brain, though the volume has decreased slightly over the last two days. But hearing about the earthquake in Peru added to my tragedy anxiety. Is Uncle W, visiting Peru, safe? Are his friends and loved ones safe?

So I called my folks. After discussing my uncle's whereabouts and planned travel itinerary, my mom brought up the trapped miners, how they've been following the story closely and my dad has been trying to keep himself from watching the news continuously. This came as no surprise -- every cave-in takes him back to 1965. She talked about the families holding vigil and the incessant hopefulness that propel tight-knit mining communities. Stories of mind-boggling survival circulate, like trapped miners in southern China surviving 23 days, fueling with optimism the eleven-day-long search at the Huntington mine. Hope persists, even for those watching from afar, bearing witness. Praying.

After hanging up, I sat outside under three gigantic cedar trees in my backyard, listening to birds singing in the trees and chickens cooing at my feet. I thought about how fear and hope wove together these events in my psyche. Fear for W's safety and the safety of those he loves in Peru, as hundreds of bodies are found in rubble; fear for the families whose loved ones are trapped. Hope for W's well-being; hope that plucky earth-diggers will survive.

I recognized how much I've grown, because now I'm noticing the hope. I persisted in such a fear-based state for so very long that hardship seemed to loom at every turn. Now I often create a Gratitude List upon waking each morning, almost automatically, but consciously. I live a blessed life, and I am thankful.

Focusing on hope, in the face of frustration, is my mantra for today, and probably for tomorrow too. Larger events put my challenged job searching in perspective.

Update: Just heard a message from my uncle, who reports that the earthquake's devastation was in the area he had visited and that he returned to the US two days before. N, the love of his life, and her family, all escaped injury. Blessings abound.

Update2: Another cave-in at the mine leaves rescue workers dead and injured. Mournful, I breathe, quelling fear for hope.

Trapped in Earth-Tunnels

Along with my father, I have a tendency to pay close attention to mine accidents, those inevitable consequences of digging hundreds of feet into the earth and putting humans there to blast and gather and cut away stone. I generally ignored the news this week as I settled into PDX and studied for the exam I took yesterday. Last night on the BBC news service I read about two US mine accidents and my belly rolled over.

No one in my family works underground anymore. But my connection to mining persists; I cannot shake free from the prickling awareness of what happens in the heartstone of Gaia, where we've tunneled and taken. Don't misunderstand by my word usage that I am vehemently opposed to mining. What would be the point of such opposition? I am acutely aware of why people work in mining and logging and for defense contractors. The food that fueled my lengthening limbs, the house that sheltered me, the books that expanded my sharpening mind - these were all acquired by the modest salaries derived from work I find politically objectionable.

But politics and personal family dynamics are a realm requiring deliberate navigation. How do I hold these seemingly disparate parts of myself? Will I continually mourn for unknown miners, trapped by tons of rock and soil, oxygen running low? Is that mourning a reflection of the sadness I feel toward the limited opportunities available to my dad and granddad? Grandpa's back was broken in a uranium mining accident in 1965, a cave-in that also crushed my father's 15-year-old shoulder. Dad's neck was broken in 1978 in a copper mine accident, and after recovering he went back to the mines as foreman. After Anac*nda shut down its Utah operation in 1983, he sought whatever mining work was available. Hearing of workers dying in a mineshaft fire, he'd rush to the mine to apply, knowing there were now openings. After being unable to secure underground work, as new veins and cheaper labor were harvested in South America, he moved on to defense contractor jobs, at Dugw*y Pr*ving Ground and then at Thi*kol. And how was my mother impacted by her husband's profession? How many times did she wonder if she'd see him again when he left for a graveyard shift as she put her small children to bed? How often did she expect to be a young widow?

There are things I recognize on a cellular level. Through my mother's body I recognize Oregon, the land here, as well as the proud hearts and minds of old-school loggers, who eschewed clearcutting and defended their work as promoting forest health. Through my father's body I recognize redrock desert, uranium dust, the smell of greasy manual labor, and the terror of being trapped in tunnels.

I wrote the following about a year and a half ago:

Sentimentality for the natural world could have easily overwhelmed me; gratefully, it did not. I am deeply connected to the western landscape in which I was raised and protecting the earth from abuse is a cherished personal value I hold. But sentimentality could never fully take hold because early on I realized that issues relating to natural resource acquisition and preservation of wild spaces are complex and require creative methods to find common ground.

My maternal grandfather was born in an Oregon logging camp, the son of a crew foreman. Before he died, my family took him to the forest areas of his childhood; Grandpa was shocked by the clear-cutting we found when venturing off the main roads. He recounted stories of his father covertly bringing forestry students to his camp, against the wishes of the company bosses, to advise the crew on healthier logging techniques. I thought about that story a lot on the drive back to Utah, realizing that my great-grandfather, who made his living from the forest, had a fervent desire not to see it destroyed.

While my mother’s family subsisted on the logging of trees, my father’s family endured by tunneling through the earth. My father and maternal grandfather worked in uranium mines in southeastern Utah, their very livelihood reliant upon a nuclear industry with undisclosed health and ecological consequences. I understand all too well why and how economic survival takes precedence, even in the face of extreme risk and physical injury.

In my family, balancing idealism and pragmatism was a necessity, not a luxury. As a child, I witnessed and participated in a working-class struggle for survival. Education was my ticket out of that cycle of hardship. However, I did not anticipate that education would create such an intense disconnection from my family. As my education and life experience grew, so too did my perceived sense of alienation from my upbringing. My beliefs have deviated from my family's, which has provided me the unique opportunity to recognize the validity and importance of a variety of perspectives and eschew ineffective dogmatic approaches.

* * *

I'll probably still continue to follow the progress in the mines. I can't seem to help myself. The simultaneous integration and untangling of emotion and worldview and cellular knowing is a lifetime journey; not something I expect will be quickly resolved. And for the families of those trapped, those praying for oxygen to reach their loved ones - I pray with you, eyes welling with tears. My body remembers.

Settling

Here's a picture of the first proper meal I made myself at my new home in Portland. Salad, pasta, wine, oh my! Add some Harry Potter and a beautiful location, and it was utterly pleasant, even though I used way too much rosemary in my sauce. Until last night, I was feeding myself antipasti, guacamole, Thai takeout, and PB sandwiches.

I've been in Portland a week now, and I am wondering if my housemate thinks I'm agoraphobic. I have left the house, but not much. Getting everything settled and unpacked and finding where stuff belongs has seemed important for my mental clarity. And it's amazing how much job-hunting and networking one can do in the backyard with a cell phone and a laptop. Plus, I'm studying for the exam on the professional rules governing lawyers, which I'll take day after tomorrow. Do I sound like I'm making excuses? Yeah. I am.

But tomorrow I'm going to study law at the anarchist cafe. Ironic, no?

Yes, friends, I am happy, I am settling in, and the wonder of actually living in Oregon is starting to not be the shock that it was at first. Moss belongs here. My body recognizes this place, and it feels like home.

SLC: Magical Organic Gardenspace

On our way out of town, the beautiful and multi-talented TW gave my parents a tour of Traces, the most breathtaking acre oasis in SLC. (TW describes the fact that she works at a place with her own name as another manifestation of the serendipity in her life.) Going there was the last stop I wanted to make as I set forth.

This spot is incredible. Farmer's market of organic produce every day! Edible flowers! Gorgeous floral arrangements! Lovely gifts and furnishings and organic gardening supplies in the shop! Heirloom vegetables, seeds, and information from those who tend the soil and care for the plants!

For those in or passing through SLC, you must - I emphasize must - visit this place, pick some fresh organic produce, directly pay the beautiful people who grow this blessed food with love, and know that we can feed ourselves from the earth beyond the sidewalk.

1432 S 1100 E. Summer hours Monday through Saturday 9:30 am - 6:00 pm. Sunday hours erratic.

I'm so relieved I didn't leave without learning about its existence; sharing the knowledge and love of this place will make me profoundly glad.

Farewell (Faring Well)

The choppy and disoriented tone of the last few posts may persist as I settle into the first Big Move of my life. Abrupt, jerky movements have manifested as nasty scrapes and bruises all over the lower half of my body from stumbles and lurches.

Remember to breathe, Moss.

The See-Ya-Later Party was beyond words. The love I felt, the bright eyes and tight heart-hugs, the laughter, the touching things people wrote in my self-proclaimed "SLC YearsBook." And tonight I just saw some incredibly beautiful and heartfelt writing by Chicory about moi and feeling our friendship in my core.

***

Now I'm sitting amongst boxes, filled with the knowledge that stuff, in general, is just superfluous anyway. Although toothbrushes are nice.

Relief >>> Anticipation

I survived the bar, but won't know if I have to re-take it until the results are posted 9/14. What an awful ordeal that was; I'm very glad it's behind me. And I didn't even have a seizure from the terrible carpet in the hotel ballroom. Two days of wearing earplugs did make me rather self-conscious and self-absorbed, as every swallow rang in my ears and my footfalls sounded elephantine.

Now I am frantically packing up twelve years of life in Salt Lake City. Tomorrow's farewell potluck party starts in the afternoon, so I have much to do in anticipation, plus the actual packing part. I load the truck and move Monday the 30th.

Slightly bittersweet, as I have recently connected with someone truly extraordinary, and naturally, living in SLC. But this feeling of liking someone a whole lot, and being liked back in turn, is incredible. Thank goodness my leaving prompted boldness on my part (what did I have to lose if she wasn't interested?), else I may have slid out of Mormonia without meeting its rocknroll-angel-goddess. But. That tragedy was averted, and I do have the distinct pleasure of Miss W's affection, and she mine. Yes, my friends, I am indeed grinning.

back to the boxes and packing tape

Downslope

Today I checked in at 7:40 am. We finished just before 7:00 pm.

Tomorrow: 6 hours of multiple choice questions. Over halfway done.

Verging . . .

. . . on tears. Rather freaked out. Landed in Portland a few hours ago; will take the bar exam tomorrow and Wednesday. Someone told me today I should consider myself lucky because the California bar is a day longer than Oregon's. Um, okay. Presto. I consider myself lucky. (!)

I've been really grateful for the friendly voices on the other end of the phone line.

Thanks to mama for believing in me. Thanks to sistah L for her support. Thanks to G for taking me to New Seasons so I can be stocked on good water, fruit, oatmeal, almond milk, and Stumptown coffee for the morning. Greasy eggs and bacon in the hotel restaurant did not appeal.

Thanks to B for her reassuring roommate loves and advice on how to handle my stress through physical action like the cross-crawl, eye exercises, and muscle movements. Thanks to J in Boston for being unfailing in his ability to make me feel better. I knew I could count on his pep talk!

And especially thanks to T for being the person she is -- calm and inspiring and beautiful and receptive and perceptive and open and generous. When I see/hear/think about her I find myself blissed out and buzzing and breathless.

Breathless, yes. Even as I try to remember to breathe.

8

When I woke up this morning I realized I have only eight more nights at the goddess house until I move. Four nights until I fly to Portland to take the bar; four nights after I return until I move. Wow.

Flowing to the Ocean

After her unexpected passing eighteen months ago, I wrote about the beautiful MissyB and posted one of her art pieces. One of the ways those who love Missy stay connected is through this tribe group. In that group we post memories and things that remind us of Missy. V posted a chant that Missy taught her and someone else linked to the YouTube video of Missy singing it at a show back in 2003. V later posted an extended version of the song to the thread.

At the Salt Lake ceremony honoring and celebrating Missy's life, people created squares that were made into a quilt. I added the phrase "flowing to the ocean" on a raindrop/teardrop because that song always gives me chills, kept running through my head that day, and felt appropriate. At the time, I didn't even know if Missy knew that song, but clearly she did. (Be patient, you can hear her about 2 minutes into the clip.)

Compilation of different extended versions:
We all come from the Goddess
And to Her we shall return,
Like a drop of rain
Flowing to the ocean.

Hoof and horn, Hoof and horn
All that dies shall be reborn
Fire and rain, Fire and rain
All that dies shall live again

(Chorus)

Air and earth, Air and earth
All that dies shall have new birth
Corn and grain, Corn and grain
All that falls shall rise again

(Chorus)

Sage and Crone, Sage and Crone,
Wisdom's gift shall be our own.
Crone and Sage, Crone and Sage,
Wisdom is the gift of age.

Chorus:
We all come from the Goddess
And to Her we shall return,
Like a drop of rain
Flowing to the ocean.

Minimizing

B and I went through the last of the storage, sifting through material remains from our early years together. Like Cassie's first chew toy and the time capsule we made in 2000. We were left wondering about our state of mind based on the random shit we included. There were more than a few giggles at tweaker craft projects given to us by family members and therefore elevated to maybe-oughta-keep-but-what-the-hell status.

Two filing cabinets are now on the curb for neighborhood cleanup. I used one cabinet as a sticker canvas. The heart sticker in the lower left is my favorite.

Flag Memory

Since I couldn't be at the Rainbow Gathering, with proximate participation in peace prayers, I stayed at home Wednesday and cuddled with my dog, giving her regular doses of Rescue Remedy to calm her fireworks freakout.

After letting the Independence Day vibrations settle for a day or two, I decided not to let the day go unacknowledged. But how? Then I remembered this . . .

. . . which I stole from J in LA's tribe page. His explanation:

I actually sewed the flag onto this shirt in college, when i still thought the USA was a cool place (like in the way that peter fonda was pro USA in easy rider).

then i accidentally ripped the flag. i put the shirt in the closet for years, thinking (a) i don't want to wear a flag around and (b) it looks retarded because it's ripped. then i realized i could make a statement with it. and voila. people immediately responded.

but that was two years ago. i don't know if we can still fix it...

** ** **

My disillusionment waxes and wanes in cycles. Some days I feel hopeful and optimistic. Others not so much. My dad is a sentimental veteran who persists in reminding me that I have no clue how lucky I am to live in this country. I don't think I'm unlucky. I just think we can do better. If we can't do better, then I'm especially disillusioned.

I was born post-Watergate. The first president I remember was a memory-challenged actor who spoke in passive voice to avoid accountability ("mistakes were made"). The first senate hearings I remember were Oliver North in his medal-strewn uniform. Followed by Clarence Thomas and an uneasy conversation about race, gender, power. I remember a videogame-esque war when I was in junior high. Didn't it last but a week or two? Oh, and the US didn't leave Saudi Arabia like we said we would? Hmmm. A blue dress and a blowjob splashed the headlines during my (not so) formative adolescence. Wasn't there more to the Clinton administration than that . . . ? I'm not sure. Maybe the whole country was inhaling at the time. The Supreme Court's selection of the Executive Branch in 2000, manipulation of emotion post-9/11, endless war . . . and people wonder why my generation is jaded. And it's interesting to me that I don't associate the flag with the country, but with politics. And yes, to me the two are distinct.

That's enough. Right now, I have to study for the bar.

Hetero-Only Sex-Positive (ish) Christians?

When I saw Anal Sex in Accordance with God's Will, I couldn't resist posting the link here. Other offerings include

Oral Sex and God's Will

Viagra and God's Will

Threesomes Within a Christian Marriage

Reader Questions and Answers

Masturbation - God's Great Gift to Us

A Proposal for a Christian Pornography

Bondage in Christ - BDSM in a Christian Marriage

Fisting and God's Will

I don't have time to check these out myself, what with bar exam preparations and such, so I can't really comment on them. But wow.

Cycles: A Year of Closure & Opening

Closure is not an event. It's a series of steps backwards and forwards, stumbling, slinking, striding toward wholeness. And from closure, opening is possible. Opening memory, opening compassionate and generous heart, opening possibility.

Finding closure has been a slow accumulation. As I realized at the E11 temple burn, after I smeared snot and blue makeup on D's tunic, I could only cry for a few moments because I'd already cried all my tears. Emotional closure.

Legal closure came by way of a divorce decree being issued in Salt Lake Third District Court on June 18. My marriage to B is legally finished. We are now divorced. And somehow, that legal closure, after all we've been through together and separately, gave me a peace I hadn't realized I was lacking. Administrative closure.

Over the fifteen months we've been separated, I've been rattled to learn how many people didn't even know we had been together, let alone married. That in and of itself may be telling. Of what, I'm not entirely sure. But we were together. We were married. On a beautiful Saturday in September 2000, twenty months after falling in love, surrounded by friends and family in our new garden, we promised to feed, clothe, grow with, comfort, and love each other.

Our relationship and our marriage were never typical, by anyone's definition, and two years after we were legally married, K joined our family. Over the next three and a half years, the joys and pains we three experienced individually, collectively, and in our respective dyads was intense. Incredible joy. Excruciating pain. Those emotional extremes inform and define the other, I believe.

I've been purposefully vague in my online writings about the relationship and family transitions I've been experiencing over the past year. (I consciously choose to call it a transition rather than a breakup. My reasons for that choice varied.) Part of my reluctance to address it directly was because my feelings shift radically, and usually they shift into a space of more compassion and understanding. If I were to have regularly recorded my thoughts and feelings, much of it would have been based in the agony of my process toward healing. While painful spaces and the kinds of words that result from those spaces are valid and accurately reflected where I was in the moment, I had no desire to capture and share those words any more than I already did. Shamefully, I often spoke words of blame aloud to anyone who would hear me. Despite those words of blame, I felt simultaneously blessed and grateful for the lessons B and K gave me and the personal growth I experienced as a result of the family structure I chose to help construct and the reality we three created together.

Paradoxical emotions and the clumsy communication of how I felt seemed to cause such pain in my circle of friends and in my interactions with my former partners that writing it down seemed patently unwise. But maybe writing it out would have provided some clarity. In any case, I spent the year with a cracked skull (yes, literally) and a lot of emotional terrain to cover. It's been quite a ride, and I am profoundly grateful for all of you who have supported and loved me in spite of myself. And to those of you who never took sides or saw the transitions we were experiencing as a war or battle, even/especially when what I said or did made it seem that way, I am particularly grateful to you for that neutrality.

In the past months, I've come to see several things. Firstly, what B and K and I did was brave. We were courageous. Our friend called us "pioneers," not as though no one else had ever done what we were trying to do, but because there weren't a lot of clear paths, and we were forging our way without many guideposts or examples.

Secondly, time and space were/are necessary for me to disengage. I fought against that for a long time, and that struggling only perpetuated unhealthy cycles. My upcoming move to Oregon will likely help with that disengagement and continued healing.

Thirdly, I can see now that we all did our best with the tools we had at the time. Perhaps sometimes our best was kind of pathetic in retrospect. But still, we tried. Would I do it differently or better were I to do it again? Of course. I have more tools now than I did when I started. My compassion for B and K and the roles they played in our journey together has grown significantly. My compassion for myself has grown tremendously as well. Without that compassion for myself and my recent acknowledgment that I did the best I could, forgiving anyone was impossible.

Now I feel capable of moving forward, of continuing the opening of my heart and throat, of deepening the healing. Though they aren't regularly online these days, and may never see this post unless someone shows it to them, I still feel compelled to end by offering my most heartfelt love and gratitude to B and K. Without them, my journey of the past eight years would not be the same. Thank you both for helping me become the person I am.

Namaste.

Brief Return

My eyes on the road, my mind wandering and exploring and discovering, my spirit expansive -- the two weeks I just spent away from SLC in Portland, the Oregon woods, the redwood coast, Nor. California, and across the Nevada desert were healing, informative, and somewhat exhausting.

I'm back in Salt Lake for a couple weeks as I study my little heart and brain out, preparing for the bar exam; packing, sorting, and minimizing my worldly belongings; saying see-ya-later to dear friends and family; and preparing for the New Life that awaits.

Of course, New Life is a moment-by-moment process, isn't it? Doesn't every second provide the opportunity for New Life? Sure it does. But there is something about uprooting one's life and all one knows, moving to a new place, and starting afresh that *especially* drives the point home - Choosing Newness. Learning from Old. Creating Space for Growth. Challenging Myself.

What a grand adventure.

Ape Diets & A Cell

I'm on Jinjee's list from The Garden Diet. Two things I saved from the list in recent months are this article by the BBC on humans who "ate like apes" in a zoo and the following video representation of the life of a cell.

On the Road

Been on the road since last Wednesday. Well, not on the road, exactly. I spent 12 hours on the road, driving all night (see picture below!), and have been staying in Portland with M. I've been in Oregon in anticipation of my pending move here, to interview and scope my employment scene, to set up housing, and I managed to get to a music festival the first weekend I was here, foregoing the Portland Pride celebrations in lieu of some burner/hippie/magic love in the woods.

This is what I look like at sunrise after a night I saw fall. Witnessing sunset and sunrise without rest is an awesome experience. I took this picture and the one above while driving along the Columbia River Gorge. My excitement builds and bubbles when driving along the river toward the sea, knowing it's taking me to my new home.

Campsite at Emrg N See, a four-day music festival at Miller Ranch, outside Salem. I met some lovely people, hung out with my new housemate-to-be, and was just thrilled to be in the woods.
And here's a shot of my new city, taken from the air tram connecting two hospitals on the west side of the river. Yes, I actually took the tram for the view. And because I knew I probably wouldn't do it after I moved.

Staff Love

I know there have been a LOT of fire pictures posted to this blog lately. But I've already confessed that it's an addiction/obsession. And this blog is all about self-indulgence anyway, right? I was so pleased Marky got these shots of me at my graduation party. I've been so poi-oriented lately that my staff was feeling quite neglected. So here's proof that I still love my staff. (Although poi definitely kicks ass ...)

Element XI 2007: The Emerald City

B and his crew spent six weekends and many hours building the Emerald City tower. Complete with a chill space in the belly of the structure and a ramp to access the stage on top (where RandyCandy, aka The Wizard, performed the first E11 wedding), the big burn structure was impressive indeed. Everyone kept calling it "the effigy" but I always thought an effigy was a dummy representing a person ...













Glinda (aka the lovely CoCo), welcomed us to the Emerald City. I was lucky enough to camp mere feet from the good witch, which undoubtedly cast blessed spells of goodness on my entire experience.














I was also lucky to have artistically inclined friends nearby when I needed help getting ready for the fireshow before the big burn. I was the throat chakra (see the cool choker I made?!) and if you can imagine a blue wig added to the mix, you've got the image of my full costume).


The Temple Burn

I've already posted pictures of building the temple; here's a couple great shots Chris C got of the temple burn morning. Yes, I didn't wash my face after the fireshow. I was a blue-faced grrl alllllll night long. And well into the next day, actually. If my smile seems a little off-kilter, it's probably because I smiled for the sake of the camera, but was undergoing an incredible transformation as a cathartic release rattled my skeleton and shook the bugs loose. Release!

The Pictures I Was Awaiting

\


















My roadtrip with J to the desert last month was amazing. I just got the photos of that adventure and want to post a few here.

A Mayan Temple of Ammo Boxes

Yesterday I helped R build 3/4 of the temple at Seabase for our annual Utah Regional Burn, Element 11. The typical temple crew fell through, apparently, and we made the temple happen quickly. I am burned to a crisp and exhausted now, but it feels so good to have participated in the temple building. Letting go of so much - of this place, of my hopes and dreams with regard to a particular family configuration, of notions about myself. This is a profound and fabulous release.

Backyard Burns

I'm obsessed. I can't get enough. I light up my firetoys at any and every conceivable opportunity. Like Friday night at J's party and Saturday night in my own backyard. Sunday night after leaving practice for the Element 11 fireshow, I stopped by Chicory's place and played some more in their driveway. Having already spun my new heavy poi for two hours in practice, I was a little off my game, but whatever. My fire addiction knows few bounds, it seems.

K took the photo above and posted more to her blog here.

***

Peering in the Rearview

Lately I've been gaining perspective on a particularly predominant storyline over the past twelve years of my life. I encountered Teafaerie, with whom I share several commonalities, and had the opportunity to tell that story to someone who didn't have preconceived notions, not knowing any of the players. In some ways, it was a little strange to tell such a personal story to a virtual stranger, but it was also quite liberating. From what I know of this person, she is very open and generous, and it felt okay being so forthright.

It was wonderful, to look back and tell the whole thing, from a brief overview of my first boyfriend at age 17, to coming out, to meeting B and practicing polyamory, to getting married, to meeting K and living in a poly family for four years, to extricating myself from that family and all the consequent emotions, realizations, and growth.

The messages I wrote were long, getting the whole story out, and I suppose in some ways my motivation for writing them was highly self-interested. I just needed some outside motivation to get me to sit down and really look at it from a birds-eye. My perspective right now feels very solid, and I'm noticing things about the way my body reacts to different scenarios and interactions. I'm paying attention to what works and what doesn't work for me. I'm feeling not only accountable for what has been but also willing and excited to make new kinds of choices for the future. I am eschewing regret and sorrow for choices and choosing instead to learn from has been and create my reality afresh.

Were some event to unfold at any moment and my life were to end, I have lived an amazing, incredible life. I have learned, I have loved, and the living just gets better and better.

As sappy as these kinds of posts sound, they are an accurate reflection of where I am. And to realize how far I've traveled on this journey makes me profoundly glad.

Blessed Life! I'm enjoying the view in the rearview, but even more excited to see what lies ahead, what I create for myself.

Infatuation

I am completely and utterly in love with this dog.
(many thanks to K for sending me these pics via cameraphone!)

Time Spiralizer

The three years it took me to finish my juris doctor flew by. Flew. Where did they go? It feels like yesterday that I was bemoaning my stress-induced cold sore on my first day of law school orientation week. And now I'm out, facing a bar exam in July, heavily indebted, and more disillusioned about The System than ever before. Nevertheless, these years have brought about a host of changes, internally and externally for me. I'm learning to open my throat chakra, to tell myself Truth so that I can be genuinely honest with others. I left the marriage/partnership/family that took me on my journey through my twenties. I learned to hold my tongue. I learned to listen, even when I had a LOT to say in response to what I was hearing. I learned to change my mind. I started to smile and laugh more than ever (this was despite law school, not because of it). I learned how to play with fire. I remembered that I am fun and that I deserve to be happy.

After my last final, I headed to the desert for five days. Moving to the Northwest in ten short weeks, I knew my opportunities for redrock mystery and wonder were limited, and I thoroughly enjoyed the hot days and chilly nights and of course spinning fire under a rising full moon.

Life is truly a grand and glorious blessing.

Oh, bummer! The photoCD from my latest trip has a huge heat bubble and won't read on my computer! I will have to get J in Alaska to send me another disk with the images so I can post some of my favorites from that trip here. In the mean time, here are a few shots of my fireplay at the graduation party at my house ...




This one is the lovely Gypsie in the foreground with me in back. (Thanks, Jeff!)

Things I'll Miss

I love where I live. For years I chafed at living here, only seeing the less-than-stellar aspects of this place. But now? I love it. And I'm leaving. These are things two I'll miss: this amazing geography and the City Library.

Edits, Transitions, and Evolutions

I set this whole blog aside for the better part of a year. When I re-read some of the stuff I've written, especially stuff last spring, I have to fight the compulsion to delete posts outright. Like the Commitment post from a year ago. Why would I feel compelled to delete? Because where I am, the ways I identify, how I live my life - these things shift. So while I'm not going to take the time right now to write about polyamory, commitment, and how I fit within those things, I did feel compelled to say that bottom line: I'm committed to being myself. To looking myself in the eye in the mirror every morning. To living as honorably as I know how.

And you know what? Celibacy isn't so bad, either. If there's anything I've learned for sure this past year, that would be it.

I've always loved this quote by Ntozake Shange:

i found god in myself & i loved her
i loved her fiercely

NightBeachFire

After driving twelve hours to Portland during the first weekend of spring break, I picked up my friend Melinda and we continued on another two hours to the coast. I spun fire all night long as the rain misted around us, soaking my wicks, and I burned up an entire gallon of white gas. Though my technique is rusty and I'm grossly out of practice, spinning fire through the night while the surf raged and surged behind me and the rain fell softly and the wind made the flames dance -- this was exactly what I needed.

fire fire fire

Click here for more from that day by another photographer.

.. Fluid

atoms
rearrange

shifting

auditioning novel configurations

entire regions infused with pain-memory
re fresh
re lease
re new
re form

so
i explore
the New World
inside my skin