Rapture and Recycling

Wild week: crazy day. Where to start! High winds and drought drove brush fires across New Mexico- and I passed great swaths of charred country as I headed for Amarillo. Move on to Joplin, which I drove by this morning. The highway near Joplin was teeming with trucks saying "Mobile Therapy", "Disaster Relief Team", "Help on Wheels" etc. There wasn't a healthy tree left along the interstate, as crews worked to clean up the uprooted, mangled, splintered remains of once lovely plantings. Rows of stumps, like the tomb stones in the national cemetery in Santa Fe, just wait by the roadside for- what? Chains and tractors I'm afraid. Rip them out. Start over. I have managed to pick a good week to drive thru tornado alley- but suddenly New England is torn apart. Springfield MA.? Not Springfield, Mo.? Bizarre. What's happening? Blooms of jelly fish wash ashore in Florida over the holiday weekend, stinging children and others playing in the sand and sea. 30 minutes outside St. Louis- in the homestretch for my motel- I started hearing this rising and falling hissssss- radiator? Oh hell. Over the hum of the a.c. and the book on tape I could hear it- and louder when I cracked the window. Damn. Pulled onto a side road, turned the car off and got out. Deafening. Cicadas! And let's not forget the forgettable non-Rapture this last week. Oops. Did it occur to any of those who had arranged care for the pets they'd be leaving behind when they ascended to the Celestial Inn and Suites- that they had not been wrong- that that was indeed the Rapture? And they hadn't been invited? Double oops.Okay, let's get real. Or at least really appreciative of what's on terra firma. For instance, this morning in Oklahoma City my motel was next to a Cracker Barrel Restaurant and Gift Shop. Ever been to one? While you wait for a table, you are stuck in the gift shop- and it is a fine place to pass 20 minutes. Or 5. I scored Green Tea bags for my sister- "Scripture Tea"- each bag comes with a bible verse. And a wonderfully tacky hand held, battery mic that lights up and illuminates your face in rainbow pulsating colors while you sing. (I know a little girl in Saratoga who'll be extremely happy!) They had Moon Pies, candy in vintage styled boxes, books on tape, and rocking chairs to sit in while you waited for your table...or you could buy one and strap it to the roof of your car. Then the high point of the day- bringing my beloved dog into the hotel tonight- to ascend to our own cloud # 206. Sometimes elevators don't phase him- but tonight- as soon as it began to go up- he went up on all his toenails and skated around like a spider with too much caffeine. Nearly wet my pants. Later I walked him around the little neighborhood behind the motel- and thought about my parents, as newlyweds, coming to St. Louis for Dad's first teaching job at St. Louis Country Day. The school occupied the land where the new airport is, so visual memories are buried. The dog and I passed rows of little bungalows, cheek by jowl, and it dawned on me that I was conceived right here- in Saint Louis! A few weeks before Christmas vacation 1951. What do you know! I don't think it means much- no miraculous conception or anything- but it was a nice way to end a week fraught with wind, bugs, tornados, stinging sea slimy-s, and raging fires. Brimstone it was not, but maybe an admonishment from the planet to behave ourselves. A new reader of mine, Blayney Colmore, wrote to me: "If we end up being a brief- if noisy- phenomenon in the geologic history of the planet, as hard-headed consideration might conclude, I wonder if consciousness may turn out to have been an unproductive and self-defeating avenue because it caused us to believe and act in ways that separate us from what we are irrevocably connected to." I agree- I have always assumed the earth would absorb and recycle us- as it does detritus of all kinds. A brilliant but nervous friend of my son's frantically asked his mother when he was five- "I need to know what comes after people!!!!! What comes after people??????" What did he mean? "Well- we know what came after dinosaurs- what comes after people?" Can't even wait and see! Meanwhile, we clean up the tornado damage, and dance with our dogs in elevators, and replant trees and crops, rebuild our barns, bury our dead, drink Scripture Tea (while giggling), learn how to use less and give more, bow to our neighbors and bow to your corner. We keep dancing. Perhaps most of all- be ever so grateful to be conscious for this experience- and at least try to live consciously. Maybe I'll get to come back as a praying mantis.

Adventures of the Wandering Toast

An explanation: About 5 years ago I was at a weekend meditation retreat in Connecticut. The teacher, Doug, comes from Boston a few times a year and his students in the area gather for the weekend to sit and to listen. In my case, also to squirm, itch, be impatient, cranky, and wonder why I was doing this. I am not one of Doug's regular students. I went on invitation of the host- and it was held in her wonderful, rambling farmhouse.

I meditate at home, sometimes in my local group, and while the rigors of sitting for a weekend with a teacher might serve me well....well, I don't like it much. But there was a bright spot that weekend. The routine was to sit for 40 minutes, then walk- very, very slowly around the room a few times, then move to a fast walk, then back to slow, then back to sitting. The room we were in was also the library- with a huge wall of books. The host was a buddhist, an Episcopal minister, therapist, traveler, an extraordinary gardener, and fabulous cook. Her library reflects all of those interests, organized by subject, then alphabetically.

During a slow walk section of the morning, as I passed the books, my eye caught the title The Wandering Toast. Then I'd moved past it, but was left wondering- was it a travel book on bread in foreign lands? A cookbook on all the things you could do with leftover toast or stale bread? A recipe book on jonnycakes- and other carbs meant for the road? The rest of the circuit of the room, at a snails pace, was excruciating! FOCUS Eliza- follow your breath, forget about the book! The book on....unleavened bread that the Jews developed? I did truly try to be a good meditator... or I would try once I got my hands on the book during the break for lunch.

As we approached the bookshelf I was positively salivating with curiosity! Would it be in the cookbooks? In religion? In travel? We sped up to the fast walk and I missed it! ARGH! Let it go- I told myself. Behave yourself! Try to keep on track here- feel your feet, feel your breath, listen to the room, be here, now. I was useless.

We slowed down again in time for me to non-chalantly scan the books as if I was just stretching my neck.......The Wandering Taoist.

Ever try to restrain belly laughter? Forget about giggles. It was worse than being in church as a kid, or watching a classmate sneeze milk out their nose in the lunchroom.

Taoism is about balance: yin and yang, life and death, darkness and light, joy and sorrow. There is peace when there is balance between the yin and yang. Well, I was beginning to see that The Wandering Toast had saved me from taking myself a little too seriously that weekend. My son Dave told me I am not really a buddhist- I'm a Taoist. I think he's right. In fact- I think I'm the Wandering Toast!

Last night I went to a party in this warehouse here in Santa Fe with my friends Bill and Helen for some great barbecue. Helen runs a terrific used bookstore, and Bill is an artist. He's in his 80's, and wheelchair bound from polio- but it doesn't stop him from engaging with life in a big way. The warehouse is owned by Pablo and his wife. He restores cars and motorcycles, and he rides a big trike. The yard around the place is a graveyard of old cars and motorcycles. Pablo's wife designs and makes the clothes for the Bishop of Santa Fe. Her sister Pia looks like a rocker, and designs religious jewelry. Lots of bikers at this party, an enormous (6'6", 280 lbs?) bagpiper from Boston, another couple learning to play the pipes, an older gay couple from across the street, the three of us, some other couples, and the most beautiful Spanish woman I've ever seen and her husband. A rather astonishing mix of lovely people.

Somewhere along the line Pablo has collected a bunch of wheelchairs. The party game of choice for these folks is wheelchair limbo. For the record- Bill thinks this is hilarious, tho he doesn't participate. The bar they go under is metal- none of the light bamboo stuff. Balancing on the 2 big wheels, they inch forward under the bar- scooting their butts forward as the bar gets lower so they can tip back farther. Then they do it in reverse- approaching backwards. Gotta do it both ways. Lots of wipe outs. Lots of applause and laughter. The other ongoing game was that stacking game with blocks- where you remove one block and place it on top. Again- lots of wipe outs, lots of applause and laughter. Lots of balance.

We went back to Helen and Bill's around 11, and watched this dvd on Tony Bourdain's visit to ElBullie- the famous Spanish restaurant, whose chef Bourdain has always made fun of- Ferran Adria- "the Foam guy". We finished the evening watching Tony totally succumb to the extraordinary talents and inventiveness of a chef who mixes chemistry with culinary arts- the moment with memory.

What a night. Talk about balance. Talk about fun, food, friendship, laughter. The Wandering Toast is happy. A little hung over...but very happy.

When I was a young girl, I had me a spaceman

There's a Bonnie Raitt song going thru my head- "Angel From Montgomery"- great song- go listen. I'm on the road again, between NY and New Mexico. Last year at this time I was packing up in Santa Fe to drive back. Anyway, when I was 19, I had me a spaceman. The first real love I had was with a man about a decade older than me- an artist. I was thinking about him a lot today. He was "a free ramblin' man" as the song says. We rambled around the country together that summer, in an old VW van of course- it was 1971. He was one of the early video artists, and was also a great observer and appreciator of rural America, its people and their peculiarities. Ace Space Company was the name of his artistic venture. He spent his too short life telling stories about his travels in a brilliant piece of audio/visual performance art called "Next Exit". He graduated from the VW camper to a Dodge van, and moved on to a series of larger and larger RVs that housed his recording and performance equipment, his guitars,and whichever of his friends were sharing the adventure with him just then. For awhile he did a Video Postcard segment for some national TV weekend show- where he'd do "postcards" on alligator wrestlers, people who built their house-castles out of bottle caps, or an old southern guy who was sure if he braided his beard just right...and pulled it up onto his head just soooo...that he could levitate. (He was still perfecting his technique). Ace could listen to these people, and draw their stories out of them with total seriousness and respect. As a result- he had the most wonderful, bizarre, unique friends all over the country.

Anyway, I was driving west today, and there in the sky above me were crossed jet streams- a big X. That'd be Ace saying "The road...how I love the road." and winking at me- relaxing me for the next 2000 miles of road ahead. Why the X? Back in 1971 a Canadian (I think) artist wanted to do a piece involving correspondence art- then a big thing. He wrote to many artist friends, and asked them to send in a B&W contact sheet (remember 35 mm film?). They would all go into a book he would publish. Whether we were supposed to use an X somewhere, or whether that was Ace's idea I don't remember. Ace had background in graphics and book design (MFA Yale) so he meticulously planned out every shot on the contact sheet ahead of time- who would be in it, where, order of shots, etc. We cut out a 3' tall X out of canvas....the birth of The Amazing X. It appeared in many subsequent pieces and conversations over the decades. We took it around the then tiny, sleepy town of Crested Butte, CO. where Ace owned an old house, and photographed the X nailed to the side of the great breakfast joint in town- with the cook next to it, and at the leatherworker's, and with this person and that. I climbed over barbed wire into a field so he could photograph it with the cows. I photographed him at the town highway dept.- sitting in a front end loader- payload up- with the X limp across a heap of gravel. The contact sheet was brilliant. Ace did just the right amount of careful prep- but was willing to totally wing it if a better opportunity presented itself. He had good instincts for turning down the road less traveled when the planned road wasn't too interesting.

Me? I decided to spend the first night on the road about 10 miles off the interstate, in a sleepy little town. I admit- I have the misguided tendency to think that west of the NY/NJ metro area is...well, Kansas. This turned out to be a tiny town, all lush with spring, and too many churches to count. It also has the largest high end Outlet center I've ever seen. So much for this road less traveled! But the day was full of wonderful memories and an old friend smiling in his rear view mirror in the sky.

The Burial of a Saint

Quite a while since I “Blogged”. I’m not one to Blog you to death- but the adventure continues in odd ways which may hold meaning for others along similar paths.
Back in Rhinebeck, the leaves are pretty much off the trees now. Daylight Savings had thrown us into early darkness, and everyone seems stunned, and mumbles about the winter solstice in December- and how we just have to make it until then. Hunh. This reminds me of the phrase “ I can make this work” – which always makes me wonder why something should be work when it could be…joy or at least neutral. I realize that the phrase doesn’t mean that the outcome will necessarily be less than satisfactory- but it still gives me pause.
9 a.m. and I feel like the sun is already setting. It is low and dull in the sky, but at least with the leaves down we get all there is of it. This is one of the lovely paradox of autumn and winter- less light-more light. The world opens up. Long vistas appear where a wall of green stood before. Nice.
This summer I bought a little statue of Saint Joseph to bury in my front yard. Apparently this helps a house to sell. Real estate around here is slow in these economic times. Friends on the southern side of town also have an old farmhouse on similar acreage for sale. They are both designer/architects, so you know what shape their house is in…compared to mine that is. They too have had lots of lookers, no nibbles- just like here. I’m in no hurry- and find myself settling in for the winter without too much complaint.
But back to St. Joseph. I bought the statue on-line somewhere, in August. It continued to sit on the shelf in the Adirondacks all fall, and now it sits on the kitchen counter here. I have said the requisite 9 days of prayer before burial…and still it sits on the counter…not underground. The prayer that accompanies him says- be careful what you wish for: it always works. Hmmm. I think I am just too tired of moving around to get an offer on the house right now. In fact, I took it off the market yesterday – will put it on again in April. It isn’t that I have changed my mind about moving; I haven’t. Flew out to San Francisco last weekend to see my daughters (one played Hamlet- on Alcatraz at the old prison!) and as we flew over southern Utah my face was glued to the window and my heart ached at the sight of the landscape below.
Here is what I know:
1. I don’t want to take care of the exterior of any more houses.
2. I don’t want to have to find someone with a tractor to mow the fields.
3. I want to be able to walk out the front door into a neighborhood.
4. I want to have the option of hearing live music at night.
5. I will still have my cottage as an east coast roost- so I should stop worrying about seeing old pals here.
6. I am unhappy about upcoming ice and sleet. I have already seen trees coated with ice on Monday up on Rt. 90. Not happy.
7. Even though I dreamed about skiing last night- I’d rather do it in Santa Fe, and be home in ½ an hour.
8. I could make Rhinebeck work.

There it is again. It dawned on me this summer that Rhinebeck is great! Terrific in fact- for all kinds of people. There is no reason to badmouth it (especially if I want to sell my house!). I wrestle with feeling spoiled that I just want a different something. Novelty. Another pair of black pants, a different blank book, a different set of towels, another tea kettle, a different ____________ and I ponder whether it all boils down to a feeling of “lack”. Pema Chodron talks about both fear and hope coming from a place of lack. Am I hoping for a new life? Am I afraid I’ll miss something that happens here? or miss a life that might happen there? Or is this a brave thing? an interesting thing? an adventure worth pursuing? and a longing for balance that seems to pull me there- as it has since I was 15.
I’ve been dragging myself over the coals for a year now- maybe longer. Soon the ground will be frozen, and the trees will bow with snow and ice, and another year will have passed. Am I just a coward? Is that it?
Did I just say the ground will soon be frozen? Wait- I have one last bit of gardening to do- a certain statue needs to be planted- head down, facing the street. I’ll take the plunge, cross my fingers and see what it all brings. I go back to Pema- whose husband once told her she was the bravest person he knew. “ME?” she said- “I’m afraid of everything!”
“Yes, but you do it anyway.”
Going to get the shovel.

Shift in the wind

Remember at the beginning and end of Mary Poppins, the Captain in his crows nest down Cherry Tree Lane notes a shift in the wind…and knows some big change is in the works? Today, my last day here, the infamous spring winds came up in a serious way. We’ve had some windy days before…but not like this. You can’t see the mountains at all- in any direction. The whole city is masked in a red fuss. The car door nearly flew off its hinges when I went to run a last errand.

It’s been a very odd day. Since I was particularly efficient yesterday, most of the cleaning up and packing was done. I was at loose ends. Chantana arrived at 9 am to help me clean the place. Chantana- what a piece of work she is! From Thailand, and 45ish. She came in wearing high-top black sneakers, dark blue "distressed" tights, denim bloomers with a little ruffle at the edge, a long, black lacy shirt with a high ruffled collar, under a vest of some kind. I think there was yet another layer…. Kind of of Sassoon-ish hair. Totally great. Climbed right up on the kitchen counters and started in on the tops of the cabinets and light fixtures. I just let her have her way with the whole place- and kept out of her way! She came here from San Francisco 15 years ago to visit and never left. We have identical cars, she loves to hike, and according to Bobbie, my landlady, she is a fabulous Thai cook! Definitely someone to keep on my list of folks to call for an outing next time.

Chantana was gone by 12- and again I was adrift. Too difficult to hike or even hit the dog park til the wind settled down. I could have stood out side and got free micro-abrasion on my skin- but the house is now spotless and I’d have tracked sand in. So I just sat with impatience to leave, reluctance to leave, and just noticed the quality of those emotions. There was nothing to fix- didn’t want to distract myself really, so I just sat with it….until I got too bored and antsy, and found a copy of G.I. Jane with Demi Moore and watched that. Ha!

Late this afternoon when the wind finally settled down, Tooky and I walked the arroyo all the way up to the highway and back. The birds were out from under cover, celebrating the quiet evening with a lot of song. A big raven flew right down over my head, cawing at me. When I first got here- the ravens followed me for days when I walked out there. Made me nervous (Hitchcock) until someone reminded me that they are a symbol of change, or transformation. Today I was glad one came back to say goodbye.

Tomorrow night in Liberal (KS), then Independence (MO), then Terre Haute (IN) then to Oberlin (OH) to stay the night with friends. I e-mailed him to let him know when I was coming. Told him I liked the progression of Liberal, to Independence, to Higher Ground (Terre Haute). Asked him what Oberlin means??? He responded… “Shitting near the rose bush.”

Perfect.

Scenes from the wild southwest

Took my pal Juliet up to Ghost Ranch and Abiquiu yesterday- stopped in here for some trout tacos- great- on the way over to Ojo Caliente- where we soaked in the hot springs while the wind whipped around. That's Ojo on the left. Little tan house is the soda spring, to the left of it - outdoors at the foot of the hill is the lithium spring, and to the right of the house- outside- is the iron spring-with the rock walls. My favorite is the arsenic spring- much hotter- OW hot- which is off behind me. This is the only spot in the world where those 4 minerals springs come out of the ground at the same place.
Juliet heads home tomorrow, and I get ready to begin getting myself ready for the drive East. Looking forward, actually, to 5-6 days of the hummmm of the road, and just quiet. A necessary transition I think from this world to that world. Next Saturday I'll be pulling into Terre Haute for the night. But tonight it is dinner at Jinja, then off to the Lensic Theater to hear Puerto Plata- a Cuban band of the Buena Vista Social Club caliber. Nice Saturday night in paradise!

Many Buddhas

I guess the reason to have a Blog is to Blog…which I haven’t been doing. Today we have a grey day- the first rain I’ve felt (except for 17 big fat drops the other day that blessed me while I was pumping gas). Seems like a good day to write a little, since hiking would be soggy.

I’m in my final 2 weeks here in Santa Fe. The 30th my faithful dog and I will hit the road for “home”. Not quite sure where home is, anymore, though. There were many reasons for spending the winter out here. The first was to get out of New England’s ice and sub zero cold. Second was to have an adventure. Third was to see if I might want to move here. I escaped the harsh winter, had many adventures, and am, in fact, seriously pondering the move.

I am totally between worlds right now and trying just to be here, now, while I am here. Thank you, Ram Dass. I am one of those people who multitasks. Or pretends to. Neurology shows that when we “multi task” we are really just bouncing back and forth between different activities/thoughts: they are not happening simultaneously. It is actually much more efficient to stick with one thing at a time, as a lot of wasted energy spent is spent in transit, so to speak. Try convincing any mother of small children of this…good luck. When I catch myself figuring out how to pack a particular clock, worrying if friends will visit, or imagining the negotiations with buyers for my house (which isn’t even on the market yet), the Buddha I wear around my neck gets to chuckling. I hear him, but boy is it difficult to let it all go. Sometimes I feel like I am being irresponsible if I haven’t covered every possible problem before it happens. And come up with a solution.

Luckily, I have a couple of ‘reverse-Buddhas’ in my life. You know the type- the well-meaning friend who will ask “But what if your son gets hit by a car??? Can you get there in time???” or ‘Aren’t you afraid of plague? I hear fleas out there carry it!” And the truly subversive one… “Gee, it’s so expensive to travel, I probably won’t get to see you much….” These questions (some of which I ask myself) bring out the healthy side of me, thank goodness. Some questions I do need to cover; Can I get to family and friends in a reasonable amount of time? Is Santa Fe a community that will support me in many ways? The rest can wait. My job is to put one foot in front of the other, and be present with all of it- my emotions, fears, hopes, responsibilities- all of it. There’s a lot I haven’t figured out yet. I don’t need to.

There’s this man- Swami Satchidananda- who founded Integral Yoga. He says “You will never find everlasting peace: you already have it, if you just stop disturbing it.” I love that. I think of all the plague, looming death, potential loneliness, etc. that I could surround myself with, and I think I’ll choose not to!
The sun just poked out, and my new friend Bobbie called to see if I wanted to go out for lunch and then hear some Cuban music at the Museum of Folk Art. And my friend Juliet is coming to visit this week. AND I haven't seen a flea yet.

I rest my case.