Cliff Diving

I was inspired by you when

you said you were spiritual

I admire that in you

I can taste the residual

I haven’t been able to

hold onto that trait

since my brother died

12 years later and I missed my pagan dreaming

Flirting with spirits and concepts of destiny

Metaphysics, Superstrings, Manifestation

A big breathing heart no fears or damnation

You seemed so brave just owning it outright

No hangups or burdens just perceived love and light

In this knowing you embodied comfort and peace

Calm and tender, a sweet masterpiece

You were doting on me so much I was crushing

Went on a limb with a text that ended up pushing you

Over some ledge, my intentions misread

Intentions of connection, of minds intertwined

Like our bodies in bed, yours overlapping mine

And like that you were gone as I fell from the cliff

From smitten kitten to unanchored, adrift

A violent wave, an outcry of pain

Renewing a past I can’t relive again

My attempts at peace discarded and shamed

You seem to have already forgotten my name

Little you know of my empathic soul

How I’d howl with you until you were comfortable

But you hide in your den and abandon me cold

Until I have no choice but letting you go

Redwing 40

My minimalism mission meant it was time to go separate ways with my sweet Kelty Redwing 40 hiking pack that I got when I was traveling in Vermont. I bumbled around the gorgeous state and then took a long beautiful train ride down to NYC after about a month or so of walking the long country roads (getting chased by viscious cows), watching the leaves change every shade of red, yellow, and amber, and discovering maple everything for the first time. I took my Redwing to many United States, and rocked it especially hard in my grand finale state, Alaska. I traveled with it to Europe for 6 weeks of early winter all over the continent from Ireland to Hungary to Portugal and beyond. It is abundantly roomy and the compression straps can suck it down to feel like a daypack. It fits in the overhead bin of a plane, or under the seat of a train. When I’ve been lucky enough to get both seats on a long bus ride through Western Europe it sits by my side and I’d fall over onto it like a perfectly sized mushy cuddle buddy. Sometimes it was even my pillow on the New York Subway after a long day of urban trekking.

I have discovered that I have a little bit of a bag obsession. As I pare down in my glorious minimalism, I have found that I simply have too many bags. Too many ways to carry and stow and trek. I know this because most things, like my wardrobe, have been a cinch for me to downsize. I hate clothes for the most part. I am too rough and tumble to be fashionable. I get into an overwhelming tizzy when I have to shop for anything fabric related. Forget sewing! Textiles have a mind of their own and I can not handle the way they change form and shape without warning. Give me power tools over a sewing machine any day. I am OCD clean at home but what happens after laundry is washed? I can’t seem to find it in me to simply hang these things on a hanger and be done with the task. I dump the basket on my bed so I am “forced” to put them away before I go to sleep ~ but NO ~ this does not happen. Putting the clothes away simply never happens with ease. Later, tired and ready to go to bed, I grab the heap and throw it on the lounge chair and go promptly to sleep. The next day I am shuffling through the mad pile to dress myself and the shit goes spilling all over the floor. After a few days the dirty is starting to get mixed up with the clean and, DAMMIT, again, Amy?! Anyway, it’s a nightmare. So I promptly got rid of all but a capsule wardrobe in about 4 whole minutes when I decided to do the 100 Thing Challenge and go hardcore minimalist. So now I have no clothes. I have BAGS. Holy Cats! I’m a bag lady! Ummm…

SO. I was having the hard talk with myself and realized it’s time for some tough love. I simply must downsize, even my precious bag collection, for my ever inspiring minimalist lifestyle. As a Tiny House Movement Wannabe, it just makes sense. Less is more! How many hiking bags do I really need? I already got rid of 3 lightweight generic backpacks. Along with this Kelty I still have a North Face pack and my trusty Lowe Alpine that I got in 1990 when I first started hiking and climbing in the Pocono Mountains. Home turf Pennsylvania say whaaaat! I also have a gym backpack, a beach tote, a waterprood gecko swim bag, a messenger bag…needless to say there are many more vessels in my collection.

I’ve had a few things sitting on Craigslist for the past month collecting dust and trolls and I didn’t really feel like dealing with that forum so I decided to try posting it to a local Facebook garage sale page I recently began following. I couldn’t remember what I paid for it, at least $150, possibly $180. I posted it for $50. Then I looked it up and it is selling for new on Amazon for $264, and it’s an older model. Whoa! Did I pay that much? I never did think too much about what I spend on quality outdoor gear. I barely shop as it is so when I do go for a high ticket item it’s usually worth it. Still, even though I bought it in 2012, 4 years ago, all of those trips I took it on tallied to only about 6 months of use. I take great care of my gear. Wiping dust off with rubbing alcohol, shaking out the debris regularly, keeping the excess straps bound neatly to prevent unnecessary wear and tear. I always hang my hiking bags in the closet between uses, all zipped up and compressed, so pretty. I copied the Product Description and Bag Features from Kelty and posted it with a couple of pics. To my surprise I had a nearly immediate hit. A woman liked, commented, and sent me a direct message shortly after I posted. Well, that was fairly easy.

We agreed to meet at a nearby coffee shop the following afternoon. I slept as hard as ever since I’m now doing bricks to train for my first triathlon. I woke up at 5am ready to conquer the to do list and saw the appointment on my calendar to sell my Redwing. I suddenly had a hint of seller’s remorse. Not as much of a hint, really – more of an onslaught. “This thing is in excellent shape,” I thought. “Have I been underutilizing this bag?” “Should I sell the Lowe Alpine instead? The Kelty is newer technology! What am I doing??” I continued to wonder if I was doing the right thing as I dragged myself out of my house to deliver it to its soon-to-be new owner. Maybe she won’t like it. Maybe she will find it awkward. Yet, lo and behold, when I met her, I couldn’t help myself: my REI member-salesgirl persona came tumbling out all over as I excitedly showed her all the cool features. How it was so big and so small at the same time. The trick velcro side pockets that opened up for tent poles or walking sticks. The secret camelback compartment that opened through the top while doubling over enough to still keep the rain out. Comfy, slim straps for the female torso and an external spine that distributes the weight absolutely perfectly. So much back padding! The perfect bedroll straps, the countless carabiner loops on the bottom, the compartments, the top loading ~ OHEMGEE~.

It was a hard break up, but at the end, my knapsack was starting a new love affair. The best part came when she told me she will be using it to hike the Continental Divide!!! All of a sudden, I was ABOUT IT. YES. So much YES. “Prior to the trip, planning, preparation, and training can take anywhere from twelve to eighteen months. The trip itself takes about six months on foot, when averaging 17 miles per day.”** I am grateful to provide something so useful to this woman’s incredible journey and the look on her face told me she was super pumped! Kelly got her Kelty and I am stoked to know this Redwing has many more adventures ahead. Bon Voyage!

**continentaldividetrail.org

8.7.16

I kind-of had a boyfriend but I wasn’t totally sure if it was committed. I was being pretty flaky about the whole thing, not insecure, just still feeling single as I had been for so long.

I ran into another guy that I was meeting for some casual business purposes. He was walking with 2 brown girls. The girls didn’t pay me much mind at first. I was a rare white girl in this ethnic neighborhood so they were just feeling me out. As a humanist and civil rights activist I understood the need for this assessment and took no offense. I made light talk to show I was not a threat nor had any malicious intentions towards them. I was being myself, cracking some jokes and finding common ground, so they soon accepted me and started laughing and loosening up. I was grateful to get to know them more; everyone was pretty funny.

I then moved onto some other location. At some point I was hanging out with another guy and we had chemistry but I wasn’t sure about it so I left like I was going to the bathroom but never came back. I think I meant to come back, maybe, but, again, just following my compass.

Now a third man. This time we really hit off on a deep level. We were having a wonderful time talking about everything under the sun and then we started fooling around. It caught me off guard. We were falling deeply in love. I found out he was much older than he looked. He was worried about that but I thought he was beautiful and we were the same age mentally and maturely. He was financially stable, he was reasonable, sweet, funny. He just seemed perfect. He felt like *my guy*.  In the midst of our tender moment I realized that I was already in a sort-of relationship, and that I had kissed someone else entirely earlier and walked out on him. I suppose I disappeared on both men earlier. I became distraught, thoroughly confused. I ran out, my heart torn in a million pieces, unable to identify the difference between true love and obligation.

8.29.16

Krissy told me she was in town briefly – which town I’m not sure, but I was there too. I met up with her at a diner with a guy named “Ohio”, who was also from Vermont. I met him when I was originally there, and remembered him fondly, but I couldn’t remember his name until she reminded me.

She was distracted, so at first it was hard to catch up – she kept changing topics. But soon it was almost 3 o’clock and she had an appointment so I drove with her through the windy region that was swathed in red dirt dunes. It was a gorgeous drive, like Utah a bit but the landscape was not tall. Perhaps it was more like Mars. We got to the spot where she was going to performing her act – “falling into trash”. I didn’t know what that meant exactly but they were dropping heaps of trash from a helicopter and she was laughing and twirling as it fell around her. She told me she was ready to close the chapter of the past 2 years. Even though she was happy, she was exhausted. She didn’t say what was next. 

My flight was coming up so we had to part ways. I went on my way and “woke up” from the “dream” about seeing Krissy to go do my travels of the day. During this supposed awakened state I found a brochure for a small environmental group that was trying to re-route trash from the landfill. When you opened it, accordion style, there were about a dozen silhouettes of people decorated with shapes that were objects and costumes made from recycled garbage. I glanced through until I recognized her silhouette. I didn’t realize she had been doing this for a cause since it was related to her circus routine. I thought it was just a general performance piece at the time. I never saw the video that they recorded  that day, but it was cool to see this promo brochure and I was proud of her for helping with an important cause.  I was also amazed because I thought I had dreamt the meeting with Krissy and was now awake with this brochure, which meant that I found out about all this in a dream state and it was actually true. So when I woke up for the second time, but the first real time, I was surprised to discover that I had been asleep the whole time. Ha. Well it was good to see you, Krissy. 

Heaps

Every time I finished a load of laundry, another one appeared in the washer, just finishing. I would pile it into the drier and go to put  dryer sheet in but the box would be empty. Put the laundry in the dryer, look for dryer sheet, missing, exasperated each time as if it were a completely new experience, over and over again. I desperately wanted to leave the laundry room but the cycle was endless.

 

2.11.16

I almost missed the trolley. I was saying goodbye to 2 friends and I didn’t want to leave them. My luggage kept getting moved around. I had a large suitcase, my big black tote with the rainbow handles which was heavy and bulky, and another big backpack. It was hard to carry them all at once. It was impractical to have so much luggage. The first trolley stop was where we started our goodbyes but I realized my luggage was in a building closer to the next stop, so we ran across the city. I finally gathered everything and and we waited for the trolley but we had to stand in this tiny little area that was squeezed against a big wall and I was worried that we were going to get hit/smothered by the trolley because we barely fit in the space, especially with all of my luggage. When the trolley came I realized I didn’t have a token and exclaimed it out loud. A big and gentle woman at a picnic table slid 2 tokens toward me, one large, one small. I tried to decline but she insisted. I tried to take just one but she said it was after 11 o’clock, suggesting the fare increases at certain times. I finally started to climb on the trolley after several goodbyes and the conductor explained that the back section was closed, again because of the time, but the front section where we were allowed was having a technical issue because it kept spinning. This section was like a carousel. Normally they would only rotate if somebody was trying to get off or after people were seated and they needed to access other seats. But now it was stuck rotating pretty quickly and it was a challenge to get onto the spinning seats and try to get all of my luggage up there. I managed to get my large suitcase and the big black bag there but the tote with the rainbow handles was missing. I told the conductor that thought I had it but I left it inside and I’d be right back. She shrugged disapprovingly but allowed me to go so I started running because the building which used to be right there was now down the street through an alleyway with a series of curves and a dirt road with muddy sections and a lot of obstacles for me to tackle. I ran really fast and wondered if I had overlooked the tote, if it was still back by the picnic table or on the trolley all along.  I finally found it and started running back. I could see the trolley in my sights, and the lady at the picnic table. As I ran closer, I could feel the pressure of the trolley about to leave the station. I’m not sure if I even ever made it because that’s when I woke up. 

2.8.16

I was taking my houseboat to overnight camp.  Somewhere in the middle of the 2nd day of the journey, the first half began to sink. I was already out in the open with nowhere to go so I just took my chances to see how far I’d get. I was stunned to wake up in front of the place I was going. I went inside a bunk but the counselor, Jodi P., ignored me while she talked seriously to her kids. She finally recognized me and I asked if I could use the bathroom and get help with the boat. She said no she was too busy. I went back to the boat, downtrodden, and a huge current had come and swept it away. Mars was inside and I was frantic to save him but I didn’t know where the boat went. Rich W. jumped from the bank of the river, said it probably went to the rocks. We swam that direction to no avail. There was a set of bunkhouses in the way so I had to get back on the land to run to the next section of water that he might be in. Rich said he had to leave. I looked at him imploringly and started running up the hill to the next body of water I could get in. I knew the boat was somewhere along the perimeter, it was just very wide and I didn’t know my way around. Still I was determined to figure it out. I ran up the hill. Rich followed. 

1.24.16

I’m not sure of the order of things but I took a taxi ride and left a bunch of change on the roof. In another segment there was a minute girl with a broken leg. I think she morphed from some animal. Then when I was randomly standing with Matt with my bicycle for a time after the taxi ride, she needed help getting somewhere and I was the only option. We had to put her on my piggyback and ride on my bike. Before that though the other guy was really excited to meet her for some reason, like she was some kind of magical being. He was immediately “in” with her, in a non-romantic way, and praised her profusely. That made her question me because I didn’t give her the same praises. She said “you’re not like them. I can tell”. It was stern and cold and I thought she was disappointed and disapproving of me. I know she was a guide, a force, and a her judgment could send me to doom. I tried to assure her that I was a good heart. She thought I didn’t have a clean soul so I let her feel my heart and my neck with her palm to get my energy reading which was a little bit not great at the moment because something weird happened with the workday being too long or I don’t really know why, but I was tired and I was a little bit stressed out and I said “no it’s just been a long day. I’m OK I promise.” Then we went to leave and I had to work hard to get her on my back with the broken leg even though she was really small. She kept landing on the wrong part of my back and I needed her to go higher.  I said, “It’s because I’m sure they need you to be a pirate. Go around my waist”. She kept throwing her legs below my hips and sliding lower. I finally got on the bike. I went to get on the bicycle with her on it. The mounting was going to be tricky and the cabdriver came back. My money was still on the top of the roof except this time he said that I needed to get set up on a waiting list and then he would come back. So I started to do that and then another driver showed up and I explained to him what he was doing, that he kept coming back for gas but wouldn’t take the passengers. I knew the passengers inside because they were the same passengers that were inside and got dropped off last time I had taken a taxi ride. At some point I was also a snake. I was in a room and a man had a snake that he trained but it was still pretty wild. He kept it in the little foyer next to me while he prepared it for whatever he was about to do, and then he had to let the snake go until the snake tipped. When it would stand straight up he sprayed some kind of solution on it with a spray bottle. The snake saw me peeking around the corner at him. He was fine for a while, as long as I was very still and slow, but then I was sitting on a bed or a couch behind the door and I saw that he had noticed me too much so I tried to hide my leg and I shifted a little bit so that he couldn’t see me anymore. That made him upset and he came into the room where I was and started moving like he was going to bite me. I kept saying “take him take him away before he bites me get him get him away from me”. I was really really scared. I was trying to keep my heart rate low like when I was swimming with the shark but it was really hard. Then the snake keeper told me that he’d already bitten someone. That did happen with the man in front of me but I never saw it. He said that the snake chose to bite that other person instead of me. He was trying to show me that he wasn’t going to bite me but I couldn’t believe it.

1.22.16

I went to a pizza shop and ordered a pizza. It took 45 minutes. I accidentally got in the car with the driver who was taking a group home. They ended up at a party. The driver went to get something from his house. He was Czech and I liked him a lot. When he got there the electricity was shut off and this made him fall asleep. 

Finally was able to get him on the phone but we were gone for an hour or 2 and I was very upset. I hadn’t eaten and I left my wallet on the table at the restaurant when I went to the counter to see if they put my order in. I called and asked them to hold it until I got back but I didn’t know if they ever retrieved it from the table before someone else got it. When we finally returned I had no patience left. The restaurant was almost closed and the staff had changed over. The woman working refused to get the manager and said they would have to charge me for that. After asking several times and her continuing to ignore me I shouted very loudly to the air “I need a manager!”  One came and I tried to begin the story. I said, “I was here earlier and I ordered a pizza” she said “si, cons Dana”. Yes, I continued with getting stuck with the driver for 2 hours and all the things that happened. I said I want my wallet, I want my pizza, and I want it on the house. I didn’t want to get the driver in trouble. I still liked him.

Kelly A was also in my dream. I confronted her about blocking me on Facebook. I kept trying to soften her. It was the first time I saw her give a little. It made me hopeful.

Navigating Poland

IMG_8845-1

It’s been 11 days and 3 (or 4) countries since I left the US. I barely know where to begin to transcribe all of the amazing that has occurred since I landed in Dublin. The freshest memories are the newest so I’ll start here in the middle, writing from Warsaw. It’s pretty amusing how I spent my first few days getting sorted in this latest foreign language.

I flew to Gdansk, Poland from Edinburgh, Scotland much to the surprise of many fellow travelers I’ve met in Europe. It is apparently rare for an American to go from the UK directly to Eastern Europe, even skipping England completely. If you know me at all then you know I’ve never done anything by the book. I like to do things my own way and I especially like to stay off the beaten path whenever I can help it. My decision to skip over the pond to Poland was easy. For one thing, despite the fact that I am a typical American mutt, I’ve discovered that I am 1/4 Polish from my mother’s side. Coming from a broken family, I wasn’t raised with much culture or genetic awareness and I’ve recently become interested in unearthing the mystery and tracing my roots. It’s a funny thing not knowing much about one’s own ancestry, a bit like floating aimlessly while also being very grounded in pure biological humanism. I haven’t gotten too far into the search yet but it is fascinating to look around at these Poles and see similarities in cheek bones and hair texture to the extent that many look as if they could be my cousin. On a simpler note, the other incentive drawing me to Poland is that my buddy, Daniel, whom I met while we were both traveling in Alaska, lives here in Warsaw and it’s always fun to visit with a fellow traveler. We are a special breed and I always enjoy that unique brand of comaraderie.

Daniel has a job during the week so the plan was to meet up on the weekend. I found a ticket to Gdansk for about $20USD so that seemed like a good place to start on my own. Daniel suggested Poliskibus from Gdansk to Warsaw so I busted out my iPhone to check it out. Google Translate immediately popped up to assist but the translation was some combination of Polish and English, or at least it was some mixture of letters that appeared to be in either language, and the result was completely nonsensical. I fought my way through it for a spell but then I decided to cross reference the budget airline RyanAir and sure enough I found a flight from Gdansk to Warsaw for another $20. I booked directly on the app from a pub in Edinburgh while enjoying a half pint of Innis & Dunn and still succesfully avoiding Haggis…I’m just not brave in that way. When I got around to telling Daniel about my plan he enlightened me to the fact that the airport I booked, Modlin, is quite a long way from the city center. I didn’t really mind. I figured some days are longer than others and I’ve never been afraid of a little extra hike. It typically gives me time to catch up on reading and journaling.

When I flew into Gdansk I hopped on the 210 bus into town and it was about a 30 minute ride. The bus was a bit crowded but it was modern and easy to follow the stops on the digitized scroller. When Brama Wyzinna showed up I knew it was time for me to pop off and then it was an easy 1km stroll through the main plaza. My hosts were hilarious and kind. They made me pierogies and bought me a special honey beer that was delicious. I was provided with a bicycle the next day and biked down the river and all around the town. I adore architecture. I didn’t ever realize this until I moved away from Philly a decade ago and found myself complaining about the buildings. I thought it was an odd thing for me to be going on about but I realized how lucky I am to have grown up in one of the original 13 colonies with so much care and craftsmanship in the architecture. Many modern US cities have bland square buildings that were just assembled quickly and cheaply and it’s quite unappealing to anyone with a creative eye. The old buildings on the square of Gdansk are lovely and feel like a movie set. They are colorful, super tall, and flat in rows. At the top they are curved and had a real eastern european feel. I could go on but I don’t know enough proper architecture terms so you’ll just have to come some my photos when I get my cafe up and running. I’ll have lots of travel pics up as part of the main decor and I’ll be doing a series of exhibits from time to time.

Fast forward to my flight out of Gdansk which was scheduled to leave at 6:40am. I’m no stranger to early flights so I was unphased until I spent what felt like eternity trying to find out what side of the road the night bus runs. Everyone had a different opinion because Brama Wyzzina is a new addition to the night route and also there was some construction happening there. I had 2 reputable sources disagreeing with each other so I decided to walk around to the bus stops and see which one listed the “N3” at the stop itself. It rained all day but it was a soft misty rain so it was irritating but not driving enough to sour my experience. I walked to all the covered stops on both sides of Brama Wyzinna and none listed the N3. I then walked down to the central station and checked the 8 or so consecutive covered stops and only one listed the N3. You would think this was a relief, but it was on the same side of the street as I arrived and I was uncertain if I could trust if it was a pickup and not a drop off location, especially with the locals arguing about it.

I don’t want to spend this whole post complaining as that’s not my style so I will try to summarize the issue briefly. I’ve flown other budget airlines in Europe so I know it doesn’t have to be this way but this would be my 2nd flight with RyanAir and I was starting to discover the hassles that they provide. You can check in with their app but with a US passport they will not provide a digital boarding pass and then as I found out you have to pay an additional $20 to print a boarding pass at the airport. I could’ve printed it beforehand but I’ve never heard of such a thing before and had no foresight the first time. Additionally they want you to be at the airport 2 hours early for some reason. I thought this was all because I was entering the country the first time, but then it was repeating itself as I tried to prepare for my flight to Warsaw from within the country. This meant I had to catch the 4am night bus and the boulevard is so wide that if I missed it for being on the wrong side of the street then there would be no way to recover. I finally said screw it and ordered a taxi to pick me up at 4am. This would cost 50PLN, $13US. If I had done the conversion early I would’ve realized that my sanity is certainly worth that low amount but I was still having a bit of culture shock and was simply taking too much in to realize. Besides I typically like taking the local route to get that extra dose of culture but screw walking to an unknown bus stop at 3:30am.

I messaged Daniel in my exasperation and he informed me that the bus from Gdansk was only 44PLN and drops me at the metro line 10 minutes from the location where I was planning to stay. With the flight it would cost 50PLN for the taxi and the airport  was an hour out of the city and would take a shuttle to a train to a metro to get to my place. I don’t know the cost of all the combined transportation from Modlin to Warsaw but the answer was becoming clear: burn the flight and take the bus directly….like Daniel said from the beginning. HA!

SO! it took me a day to get in the groove with transport in Poland but a few days later I’m finding my way fairly easy. I’m living it up now, learning some history and local customs, a few key words, discovering the arts and local scene while meeting lots of fantastic people in cozy boheme cafes. Flow has been achieved.

Ace of Cups

If you poured yourself in a cup
I would drink you up like
A smooth sumatra blend
Like exotic Hawaiian Kona that
I’d have to refill
again and again and again

If you poured yourself in a cup
Some cool tall smoothie
I would suck you, swallow you
The straw discarded
So to smother my lips
With your juice and berries
So to drench my tongue
With everything that you are
Every molecule of you
I could ingest
My stomach rumbling
Digesting some and wanting more
While you move through me
Intimately
Slowly
So so beautifully

If you pured yourself
Didn’t let fear interfere
I’d be here
Drinking you
Gulping you
Thinking you
Giving you
Me
In a glass full of this
Succulent ass

We are already
Liquid
Fluid
The perfect swirl
Of soft hardness
Of dirty purity
Of atoms in the eve
Charged ecstatic electrons

We are past life reunited
Long missing then
Found and bound like wrists tied tight
Might I sight last night
For your reference, dearest
When we breathed each other
Exploded into a billion pieces
Floated into a million universes
Loaded countless lifetimes into our cells
And came home finally
To our arms
Interwoven and locked like
I will never let you die again
Without me

There is a cup on the counter
Drink me, love
Swallow me whole

Valetudinarian

I think of you every time I see 

A Hepatitis C commercial

It’s not because you have it

It’s because you think you have it

Every time you’re overtired 

You’re really adorable 

For a hypochondriac though

You giggle and you know 

You’re being ridiculous

At least you seem to know

After you’ve become rested

My mother’s hypochondria isn’t cute 

Especially when she lied about 

Having a brain tumor 

Because she was mad at me 

I don’t know why she was mad

Maybe because I “made her fat” 

When she was pregnant with me

She told me that once

It was hard to forget 

She forgot about her brain tumor though

When I checked in about it

A few months later

A concerned daughter

And she got mad at me again

For making up lies

And intentionally hurting her

Even though I have her tumor in a text

The commercial is over now

I’m not ever going to have kids 

I don’t want to get fat 

First

she was drawing a field with flowers and a stream. she thought it was real. then her teacher came up to her as she was coloring the grass green. she had been filling in the space, back and forth, methodically, attempting to cover any white paper that was peeping through. the teacher said, “does grass grow sideways?” Then, she learned to see.

Non-Profit Prophet

I am a non-profit prophet because I sort-of get it

I’m no sage

… but …

I do know that life is meaningless if

You’re obsessed with matching sets of silverware

Cultivating your nails and hair

And never spend time with your SOUL

I wonder how many people know about the lunar eclipse tonight

The clouds try to keep it out of sight but

I see through them

I zoom into them and float in the memory of the former me

The Sun & Moon become one and my ego becomes undone

I AM the starlight

The flame ignited

The right versus wrong

I am strong now

I remember my first Pow-Wow a few hundred years ago

Under the glow of this very moon

Except it was noon and as soon as the ceremony was over

I bent and saw a clover which breathed me in and released me as Oxygen

I went into the lungs of ALL men and women and for a moment

The world inhaled in unison

There was a Hushhhhhh

On the Planet

When they exhaled

It was this very moment

With the Lunar Eclipse

Kisses on the lips of lovers

Darkness under covers

A hummingbird hovers honeysuckle and time buckles, unnoticed

As a crest crashes in the sea

The former me joins the presiding we and we are the Essence

The past becoming the present becoming the future

While I try to nurture Collective Memory and

Soothe the wounds of denial

Filter through the forgotten file looking for the wings of man

The “I can” attitude, the cure for rude behavior

The savior within the self

I thought I saw forgiveness on this shelf but it seems to be missing

Where did all this greed come from?

When I was young I often spoke of speaking to the sun

I said that’s where my ideas came from

So my Aunt Dot said to me “you must’ve been born here 9 times already”

It flew over my head or

I took it for granted and then

Forgot it for a while until I saw it in her smile right before she left this planet

So while I’m still here I’ll try to outsmart fear

I will not fear being different if it makes me Grow

I encourage you to do the same

Take aim to remain within the realm of intense Adoration

Of every good willed motivation

Of the lasting vibration of eternal breath and the loving of YOU

You are WE, all woven together in the superstring

Which is why you feel me when I sing and

The song crosses oceans and causes motion which makes someone, somewhere,

Hum, or drum, or

Thumb through the pages of

The Forgotten File

And AWAKEN

Adventures in Shakespeare: Getting There {Throwback 6.29.10}

I’ve had many adventures since I left Austin, so many that it feels I’ve been gone for weeks. The train ride was awesome; I made a couple of buddies along the way that were handy in keeping things interesting, especially as cabin fever set in. The ride itself was much faster & more comfortable than I anticipated. I was directed to a lower cabin car which has wider seats, more leg room, & only 12 seats. This cabin had 5 riders besides myself so I had two fat seats, with more leg room than I have legs, all to myself, making a generally pleasant ride with the exception of “The Queen of The Train”: a woman in her 50s who rides the rails often and ruled our car with her giant vocal chords which were active most of the time and usually had nothing interesting to broadcast.

We arrived in Los Angeles at about 7am on Friday, June 6th. Considering I hadn’t had coffee yet and no food since the night before, it seemed like an eternity for me to get my bike out of train storage. The brand new box I put my bike in in Austin was beat to hell and buried under 30 giant boxes belonging to a family of 5 that were moving to California from the East Coast. I twitched in anticipation of getting my sweetheart out from under that heap. Finally, after a gazillion years, I ripped through the little pieces of cardboard that barely remained on my bike and swiftly straightened my handlebars and put my pedals back on. Passengers aren’t usually allowed in the receiving area but that didn’t stop me from test riding my bike in giant figure eights in the belly of L.A.’s Amtrak station. Now that my bike was working I was ready to go get lost, which I did swiftly!

I wanted to ride my bike the 13 miles to the hotel in Westwood but now it was 8:30am and I still hadn’t had coffee. Additionally, upon lifting my bags, I realized that somehow they were heavier than I planned for them to be. Some gremlin must’ve stuffed some extra tools in there while I wasn’t looking. So I asked around about a bus only to learn that the folks in LA are either confused or confusing when it comes to describing their bus system. After 3 failed attempts at understanding the bus in my caffeine free state, I tied my luggage onto my bike rack with bungee cords, did some strange maneuvering of my limbs, and managed to get on my bike. I then used nothing but will power to make it go, without falling over, through downtown traffic, during rush hour, all the while kicking myself that I didn’t shell out the dough for some paniers to balance my heavy load. My GPS picked this moment to go apeshit and kept telling me I was in the middle of a dirt field in Indiana and other blatant lies. Literally, Indiana. Again I had to rely on the vague descriptions of the people of Los Angeles. OK Go straight. Turn left on 7th street. Got it.

After 9 wavy uphill miles of 7th street where I crossed 3 freeways and hit a dead end before finding the street I was supposed to turn on from there, I had to practice my broken portunol (a rare mix of portuguese and spanish that I learned in Brazil) with an old Mexican man walking his granddaughter to school. He told me I was ass backwards. I turned around and went a few blocks while questioning my language skills. A lady was watering her roses and spoke some English. She confirmed that I was ass backwards and gave me a bottle of water for my crazy/stupid bike ride. She didn’t exactly say that, but her face said it. Somehow the 9 mile return was also a steep uphill. I mean STEEP – like really really hard without a load & impossible with 60 pounds on your back. Was it 60 pounds? It felt like 60 pounds. It was too early for this, I didn’t have enough water, and my bags weren’t packed right so any further description of this segment would just result in a lot of cursing.

I finally found myself downtown again and GPS was toying with me as to which bus to take. I was a couple of blocks from where my droid was telling me to go and standing directly beneath a bus sign that said Westwood. I decided to listen to the sign. The fascinating adventure of bussing in LA shortly ensued. Lifting my monstrously heavy bike with the bulk of my belongings strapped onto it onto a bus where the driver is too pissed off at her lot in life to lower the bus was only the beginning. Yay, more pre-coffee oddly shaped exercise for me. Huff. I get on. She hits the gas pedal and immediately starts yelling at me that I put my bike on wrong and it’s going to fall off. So I stand there, helplessly watching it wobble and waiver while waiting for her to stop driving like a maniac so I can go fix it before the bus rolls over it. “Get behind the yellow line!!”, she screams as she continues to torture me for three jerky, stop & go, city blocks before stopping to watch me lift, twist, & lift my heavy life properly onto the bike rack. I finally get to squeeze me & my overstuffed turtle shell of gear through this sardine can to ensure my place among many indescribable smells & sounds. I try not to look completely overwhelmed but my eyes are bulging and I spastically keep leaning forward to see the names of the upcoming streets, hoping & promising to turn my back on atheism if my stop comes soon. I think I picked the busiest bus with the longest route in LA, and for all the whining I’ve done about how Austin lacks diversity, let me just say, I found it all on that bus. That delectable intimacy lasted about 45 minutes.

I get off the bus and it wasn’t soon enough so I continue to turn my back on god. The hotel is a mere block and a half away and I begin to feel relief but it is snatched out of my heart when the grumpy old imbecile behind the counter tells me my room isn’t ready and he doesn’t know when it will be as he practices facial twitches which indicate that I am the bain of his existence. He was almost as much of a brat as the bus driver but I have yet to get coffee and all those smells on the bus have made me testy and impatient. I proceed to gently put him in his place for being a bad human. He backs down and helps me put my belongings into a storage closet. Me & my empty bike go out for coffee. Finally.

After two hours of ambling through the UCLA area my room is ready. I unload, catch up on some breathing, and soon I’m driving with my long lost cousin and her precious offspring. I spend the next two days getting to know my young, thrice removed cousins and biking the area. My favorite ride was to Santa Monica Pier and all along the beach down to Venice. The bike path is just the right distance from the actual scene that you’re close enough to laugh at it without actually having to touch it. On the way back to the hotel I stopped for Persian Ice Cream which is potentially the most divine flavor I’ve ever tasted. Then, ZAP!, I’m off to the jobby job in Thousand Oaks. Getting there, accomplished.