Tag: queer writers

anne rice helped me find my superpowers

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it is that time of year again, the season of the winter solstice. this year i really want to come into it much more prepared, to be more intentional with it than just a quick meditation, light a candle, and welcome the light to come. so i have been contemplating what it is i need to let go of to bring in what i want to move deeper into my life.

so, a couple of days ago i woke from my dreams with many things from my past that i can now see differently and therefore can let go of and also celebrate. i woke energized and charged with a sense of direction as i moved through my newish ways of beginning my days. all the things i do before i allow myself to touch devices that bring in the outside world. on this particular day, the first piece of news i read was that anne rice had transitioned from this world. she was 80 years old. she had a stroke. that was the only piece of news i read then as my mind was only full of all the ways the works of this writer had influenced my life, perhaps in ways i am just beginning to understand.

i don’t remember where i found her, but i think it was at a used book store. the first book i read was…well honestly i can’t remember if it was queen of the damned or her first book on her family of witches. when i find a writer that brings parts of me alive, i just start reading everything they have ever written. i do know that i read the vampire books, not in order. and yes, i did read her books under other names. books that were categorized on different degrees of erotica. books that were about so much more than sex, but about all the different ways we people can relate and potential reasons one may want to. eyes were open. mind was blown.

i stumbled on this writer, already popular in the gay community, as i was coming out and trying to understand what that meant. i knew it couldn’t be just about who i slept with or how i was when i was in a relationship or my love for vampires and witches. there had to be more to it than that. it was way before i would understand just how much i want to tear down the binaries of well everything. it was her writing more than anything else i was reading at the time, especially gay and lesbian writers, that being queer could mean that i moved and viewed the world with a different lens. that being queer is a type of superpower i can use when moving through the world. that by breaking this binary into pieces the world could explode in color, sound, smells, tastes, bodily sensations….the sensations are limitless.

her characters, no matter what realm they existed in, lived deeply. the ones who, at first seemed weak or vulnerable, were actually the strong ones, the ones who carried the others in challenging and difficult times. she showed that we, that i could hold these contradictions all at the same time. the way she wrote these characters into being inspired me to go outside of my comfort zones to find deeper more lasting comfort. not some false sense of security that capitalism offers. she helped me understand why i could not find comfort in the ways that i was told would bring joy and success. and that i am the only one who knows how to find them.

i have always been a type of loner. i deeply enjoy doing things by myself, but i think it was her characters that gave me permission to do the perceived dangerous things alone. i would go out dancing, alone to meet my friends. i would dance and dance…learning to express my young newly queer self. i would leave a happy sweaty mess. if it was one of those fortunate nights where the dj spun just the right tunes that i left exhausted and high from the beat and rhythm of it all. i’d leave just before closing and find a place to just walk the back alleys of deep ellum, exposition park, or turtle creek. i would listen to the night winding down. the smells of a hot summer day hopefully cooling down. i’d walk until my heart calmed or i found a fountain to cool myself, then i’d drive to a parking garage, climb to some rooftop, an abandoned building, or an empty construction site. anywhere that i could get up above it all and watch the sunrise, usually with the cure in the tape deck of my car as the soundtrack of the moment. i’d sit there with sweat still dripping down my neck, my shirt soaked, my muscles wrung out, happy. once the sun would hit my face, i would get up to face what was next. usually, a shower to get to class, maybe a breakfast date, hopefully, sleep.

but i think it was her characters that gave me permission to do this alone, and then later backpacking and bike touring solo. the things i’ve been told weren’t safe for women to do not just by themselves, but without men. from outdoor adventures to walking or biking my city’s streets alone late at night into the early morning. i did try to go with others a few times, but then i would find out later that they brought weapons to the places i find peace, or they would spend most of the time questioning our relative safety. so, i stopped bringing people with me. if they wanted to meet somewhere, cool, but, nope, i am a solo adventurer with the exception of very few people.

one of the many things i loved about anne rice’s stories is her attention to everything. her depth of research is astounding. when i first read cry to heaven, i could truly imagine the unique sounds that the castrati opera singers performed or the smells of the vienna canals. she was able to find the only recording of one of the last castrati singers ever made and was able to give great detail to the quality and depths of their voices. she could describe places i have been and have lived to such a degree that i knew exactly where she was talking about. i could smell the unique scents in the depths of heat in new orleans as well as the bone-chilling cold that could happen there when temperatures drop and humidity stays high, so i knew i could trust how she described experiences i have never had, and probably never will. she kind of became a new type of history teacher for me before i found howard zinn.

she has also taught me, in very deep levels, that a fascinating person can be very complicated holding deep contradictions in wonderfully beautiful ways. i always knew her as someone who wrote about vampires and children who were vampires and witches and the deep dark nights of mystery and the otherworldly. then one morning i woke in new orleans early, before all my friends that i had road-tripped with, so while they slept i went out for a cup of chicory coffee and walked the garden district. i found a cute bookstore and naturally went in. as i walked around i heard a voice off in the kid’s section, sweet a storytime!? sure was and who was reading to the children who were so enthralled in what was being read to them but the one and only anne rice! i was caught up in this experience as well. how can one go from writing exit to eden to reading to children? we are not meant to be put in boxes and labeled. we can be many things and we can hold many identities all at once. we get to move through this world appreciating and loving so many different aspects of the world around us. it is how i gave myself the space to love going to hear chamber music just as much as i love going to a hardcore punk show or industrial rave. i can love dark goth and energetic dance mixes. i can be complicated and dive into depths that even i don’t understand, and she helped me find those places because she also held that for herself and for her characters. i also learned here to separate the writer from the person, the artist from the human.

there was a point where i stopped reading her. where her stories went to places i was not prepared to go. it happens. i have had this experience with many teachers, and friends. people move to different places, and i found other writers who picked up and helped me find other worlds within me, other worlds to explore. her transition from this world to whatever is next, reminds me how much i am because so many others have risked, have been vulnerable, have challenged the way things are to imagine how things can be, how we can be, how we can relate to one another and live in a way that uplifts the possibilities as opposed to smother and suffocate them.

as i was about to finish this post, i found out that bell hooks also transitioned, then so did e.o. wilson.

i don’t know how to put into words how bell hooks influenced me, my thinking, my education, my time in the university setting, my inability to stay in higher education. two books by bell, teaching to transgress, and all about love influenced me deeply. there are so many common themes in both books. one almost inspired me to be a teacher, but instead helped me move out of institutional education. the other taught me what love could be, how to begin to move this one powerful word from a noun to a verb, inspiring me to also move from being a noun to being a verb.

bell hooks showed me by how she lived and wrote that it is possible, indeed necessary, to live what we affirm, that our lives must be lived as an example of our politics. that my life is not just a theory, but a life to be lived. i could go on and on about how she inspires my to this day on how i look at the world around me. she reminds me that moving into a life that views the world contrary to the institutional lens is a painful transition, that there will be internal and external complications. but there is also great joy especially when we find pals doing the same.

i can not imagine who i would be without so many writers, storytellers, singers and songwriters, movie makers, and artists of all sorts to open up the imagination of brilliant lives. i am forever grateful for all of them, especially the ones i get to call friends, comrades, coconspirators, accomplices, those willing to go down the dark alley, the unknown path to see what there is on the other side….

thank you all for i am much more alive because of every last one of you and that is a gift that can only be repaid by living the dream they inspired in me and to attempt to inspire others to do the same in their way.

may you all enjoy the coming light

headwaters and land acknowledgments

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seems like anywhere i have ever called home or at least rested for a spell, has had a body of water that soothed my wondering soul. some water feature that i could pour my troubles, my dreams, my fears, and my grief into all to be transformed into healing and envisioning. i have been fortunate enough to find the source, the headwaters, of most of these (once i knew that was a thing i could go find).

in the town i grew up in there was the cottonwood river. we had many adolescent angst chats. it was a place that i would find refuge when i didn’t know where else to go. mostly it was a place where no one knew to look for me. one day i did stumble into a classmate there. we ran in totally different circles, but always seemed to have each other’s back where we did overlap. we were both, unknowingly, dealing with similar situations and agreed that the water was much better therapy than the school councilor.

the next river i remember looming large in my life is the so called missouri river….the mighty mo. it separates the kansas and missouri sides of kansas city, the city i have probably spent the most days of my life so far. once i learned how to get down to it, you couldn’t keep me away…and again a place no one thought to look for me. i have yelled, cried, screamed, loved, snacked, happy houred, biked along side, camped near, and dreamed by this river. i’ve watched it flood the city and farmland. i’ve seen it eerily low in drought. this week i went to this river’s headwaters, where 3 rivers become one, moving north before it heads south again towards the mississippi river before flowing into the sea.

knowing i was only an hour and a half to this river’s beginning, i knew i would go there before leaving this area, but i postponed it knowing it was going to be emotional, problematic, beautiful, nurturing, and troubling. that i would be troubling the waters sorta speak.

this is where louis and clark followed the river from st. louis. this is where they stole sacagawea, and so many other people and so many beings found their way to the extinction protection list. i looked up on the native lands app to see who’s land this was stolen from. they list: apsaalooke (crow), salish kootenai (flathead), and cheyenne. i have also seen that shoshone-bannock, niimpiiuu (nez perce), and a few smaller bands of these tribes (these sovereign nations) have moved through this land, and i am sure many many have since it is considered part of a major northern route through this continent.

this venture lead by these 2 men…well i have no words. i have no love or awe of their journey, or the corp of discovery. they fall into the same category as columbus for me. and if it were not for indigenous people helping them out, they probably would have had a much different report to give jeffferson. in-fact, as i was pulling into the headwater park, i was listening to a story on public radio about a guy who was 1/2 native and 1/2 anglo of some kind and became a translator for the corp because he knew the sign language of many of the native tribes, or so it is said. louis and clark loved him so much for his graceful gestures he used to translate that they had him give the report to jefferson. after his job with the corp of discovery was finished he bragged that he was so loved by the ”indians” and could communicate so well with them that we was going to return to 3 rivers and resume trapping with no fear of the local ”indians”. upon his return to 3 rivers area (the headwaters of the missouri river), we was captured and excuted by those same “indians”. poetic justice perchance?

the moment i stepped out of paco, the truck, i could feel that this was a special place, that this was an amazing gathering spot for so many beings. i could envision the bison, the elk, the bears, as i watched a herd of deer bounce through the prairie. then i think of the beaver. i imagine this land and how it must miss the beavers with their dams that would help retain water, thinning the trees, creating habitat for fish for the bears and the eagles and the cattail. that this place was so huge so abundant, so open that it had to be a regular place to gather, to stock up, to trade, to commune. i mean, it is where i would want to meet my pals after making it though a winter with my smaller more intimate clan. a place to run, to tend to orchards, to harvest in prep for the next season.

to be honest, i was in awe to be in such an amazing place, also broken hearted thinking about how the supposed discovery of this land by the corp led to so much violence to the people to the land to the water (i naturally tasted the water and it was already tasting of gas and industry even though it was more clear tham i have ever seen it in missouri). i found many places to sit and gaze at all the rivers and tributaries that flowed into this one mighty river, the mountain ranges that hold the snow that feeds these waterways. it is an amazing and powerful place.

all this brings me to land acknowledgments. i don’t usually do them. i agree that they are the least we, as white folks, can do. but if they are so important for us to do, why are they at the end of our ig, twitter, blog, facebook…posts? shouldn’t we lead with this information, this orientation, instead of some kind of institutional version of an endnote? land acknowledgements without actual change to our behavior is still just a form of feel good pc culture that doesn’t really do anything.

now before people get all pissed at me, i support anyone who is doing anything, and i have certainly not done enough. that being said, we could all do so much better. we must work towards some kind of meaningful reparations. that it wasn’t just stolen land, and genocide. that recreation as resource extraction is also a form of violation to the land and water, a disruption of a balance of life. i have been listening to and reading indigenous activists on how empty land acknowlegments from white people feel. and when i listen to podcasts and interviews with bipoc folks, and land acknowledgements (as well as language, gender expression, anything they want us to know before a discussion begins) starts the conversation. it isn’t just at the end in the show notes or a side topic to how they recreate in the out of doors.

those of us that find refuge and safety in spaces without walls. where we can see the sky and hear the wolves. where we can still find clean water to drink from a waterfall, find enough wild greens for a meal and a friendly ground to rest. where you can remember that it is natural to walk side by side with the deer and elk and even the wolf or coyote that finds YOU safe to walk beside. to look into the eyes of a lone antelope while on a lone run in the foothills. to swim and bathe in a cold mountain stream along with a rainbow trout jumping for that buggy lunch.

i have no real answers to these questions, mostly just more questions and a few ideas. but i can remember when i realized that i wasn’t out to recreate, i was out to commune. it was the day i was on a hike along an amazing river. it was suppose to take me to a specific waterfall where i was to return and complete a certain set of stats. instead i found a nice place to sit and watch the birds move up and down the river. i listened to a woodpecker while watching fish jump. i watched one tree wave at me, knowing that was my aunt saying sit, listen, breathe, be

there was nothing to check off a list. nothing to complete. no agenda. i sat for hours. i read. i listened. i took a nap. i watched the clouds and the rolls of the waves as the light shifted until the cool shift told me it was time to move again, and find something more than snacks to eat. my heart was full. my spirit cleansed. i could face another day. in other words, i felt for just a moment what it is to belong. to be with

sounds of delight

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i woke in the middle of the night with the sound of wind blowing the trees outside my window in every direction. i’m not sure if it was the incoming storm that made me take notice or if it was the absence of silence. it is so quiet up here until a storm comes in. the wind really rolls up this valley, with the hope of bringing snow or moisture of some kind. today, it also blows in reflections of the soundscapes of my life over the past few years.

as i have moved from place to place and activity to activity these past 5 years or so, i’ve been struck by the sounds that i fall asleep to and the ones i wake to, and the ones that were companions through my days. as i begin re-reading undrowned by alexis pauline grumbs, and working through the ideas, the meditations she presents on black feminist lessons from marine mammals, i have also taken up the practice of waking early and listening to the darkness, in the darkness. what am i listening for? it depends. her practice is to listen for/to her ancestors. at the moment my practice is just to listen, to still my mischievous mind. what i have heard is all the thoughts, but when i do manage to get quiet i hear the elk eating the grass and flowers right outside my window. i hear the bull elk calling to whomever they call to. now i can hear the slight changes in their call depending on how separated the herd has become. this practice has also reminded me of the other beings i have heard through the years when i have been in this morning and evening practice that moves as the sun moves. i actually miss many of these beings deeply and have begun thinking of them as ancestors.

the first sound companions that come to mind were in oregon. i use to wake to a bunch of crows. the humans living in our house began to be able to tell a difference in the sounds certain crows made. one crow, in particular, was able to copy the beeping sound of a neighbor’s car as it was locked or unlocked. it had that beep down! i can’t say i miss them, but i remain more fascinated by crows than i previously was.

walking then biking down the pacific coast, the ocean was my constant companion. it was spring then summer and fall. i watched storms roll in and began to know that she was bringing storms or calm by the shifts in the sounds she created, the rhythm adjusting my rhythm. it was the mysterious near silence that often filled me with awe. one morning waking to fog rolling down the mountains of baja towards a smooth and calm ocean; the surfers sitting on boards on a sea as smooth as glass. the silence was thick. as thick as the fog. as thick as the coffee made by a local woman on the side of the road. thick as my head that wanted to keep going, but…well it made for a good day to mark the turnaround point of that venture.

the next big bike adventure, i don’t really remember the sounds of nature. i was in full suffer mode. the voices in my head followed me around the country. heat exhaustion, tick examinations, mental torture fests day in and day out as i wrestled with unprocessed emotions, grief, depression, thoughts and feelings from the past i don’t even know how many years. in retrospect, i can see i hadn’t dealt with a depression that had set in while still living in portland. the sounds i do hold close to me from that trip are all the conversations and visits i got to enjoy with close friends and oh so many strangers. without those moments, i don’t know where or how i would be now. sounds of community come in many tones. but also there were fireflies, lightning bugs, sparkle butts…whatever you want to call them, and as hard as i tried i could never hear the sounds of their flashing beauty that i have since learned is how they communicate. dusk filled with their messages flashing around the grasslands fills my mind and kinda makes me want to dance.

i think it was las cruces where the sounds of beings got me really going and connecting me to place. first, there was the family dog. i’d be awake waiting for the rest of the house to stir, and i would hear the little pitter-patter of the pup running along the tile to go outside. that sound always got my day moving with a smile. and then there were the birds of all kinds. but it was when i started spending every night out on public lands that connections connected.

i can still remember that first night sleeping out and hearing the coyotes as i began to drift off. eventually, i would learn how to hear their call and response across the valley, especially just after i would experience the sunset. then i would wake just as dawn cracked and there they would be again as i greeted the morning and sun. then it wouldn’t be long before i heard the magical amazing sounds of the desert quail. oh how i love hearing them as they moved around. as i learned the contours of the land, i could picture their fun shapes as they run through the sagebrush and up and down the landscape, disappearing into some bush, all in a row as the adults herded the young ones to safety.

these two beings, with their sounds connected me to the movements of the day. first, it was the sun’s movement. which as i paid more attention to how it moved across the sky by day, then, also by season as it made it’s way south and then back north along the ridge of the organ mountains as the seasons swung us in time. then i could feel my body doing much the same. i started to notice when the moon would rise and set and where. i could start to feel these cycles shifting in me. i would rise each day to greet the sun and be sure to watch her move over the western horizon. if i missed one or the other, i felt off. when i was able to catch all of it, the sun and moon rise and fall…well no matter how challenging the day was, i knew, i felt complete in ways i don’t know if i can explain. all of it complete because of the sounds of the other non-human beings around me. naturally mixed in there were the sounds of various birds migrating through as the seasons moved. the more i paid attention, the more that revealed itself: the sounds of lizards on rocks, the wind moving through a canyon, cows on blm land…

as i began the move to the worst job i’ve ever had, the coyote sounds were traded out for wild burros. i was camping for several days in central arizona and i knew that the area i was considering camping in was full of these wild beings. i began to really love waking to their braying in the early morning, and even if i woke in the middle of the night…they pretty much communicate all dang day, and i really enjoyed it. i had to leave when the sounds of atvs drowned out everything, including my random thoughts.

where we lived in arizona for the worst job ever (i know i need to write about this and i will) i rarely heard coyotes. we did see lots of my beloved desert quail, but they were so quiet. connections there with nature were challenging. i guess this is what happens to a landscape that has just been so extracted: mining, tourism, ranching…the sounds of nature that i do remember the most was the wings of the ravens when visiting the grand canyon, also, the one condor i did finally get to see glide across the sky. there was also the sound of wind…so much wind that brought so many dust devils. some of these fleeting vortexes would get so big and powerful they lifted some of the large canvas tents from their foundations or ripped the sides in half like a piece of paper.

next was montana, at the northern entrance to yellowstone, it had been fairly quiet. i walked along the amazing yellowstone river and its confluence with the gardiner river. i began to hear the shift in water levels, or the way the wind moves down the valley and across the water, or the fish jump, the birds’ wings as they fly in to catch a meal. i see and hear wildlife everywhere. but shortly after that first moment in early september, you know that moment that the sun has moved just enough that you witness shifts in light and shadows. this moment marks fall for me every year, not the calendar, but that moment i see that the light shifted. it is one of my favorite times of year. anyway, not long after that moment of movement, the elk, always present, took over the town. and just like that, it is rutting season. the bull elk are with the rest of the herds moving in this area, and they are very talkative. it is now their sounds that fill my days and nights. if i pay attention, i can hear them move around the valley. it is helping me connect with this shift in season. just before i left i was gifted with the sound, finally, of the howl of a yellowstone wolf. my one wish while here was to see or hear a wolf, and i got to experience both. talk about feeling connected!

it is these sounds that pull me in and connect me with the ebbs and flows of life. it is what keeps me from spinning out from the world that has felt in constant chaos. it slows me down and makes me pay attention. these connections fill me with a deeper sense of community. helps me answer my questions on who are my ancestors, and what are they trying to tell me. helps me feel part of something i can not name when i hear the massive cliffs lecture me on all the things. or when i hear the stories whisper in my ear from the wind. or the awe-inspired when i finally got to witness a wolf walk right by me as i prepared to walk the same trails they follow. these are the moments when i know i can greet my aunt, my grandparents, friends and lovers, people i’ve known in this life, and those i’ve never met, the animals who have walked with me, and pals i haven’t talked to for a while. a place that no matter how lost i feel in life, i know i am on a good path full of many who have passed before reminding me what a damn fine life i have.

these are the events that fill me with delight.

they have also filled me with the beginning hints of purpose and voice. these sounds bring to light the times i have been silent. when i have not used my voice, my experiences, my truths. there are many reasons for these silences, even when i shouted “silence = death” during the early days of the AIDS pandemic. even with all the times and ways i have chosen to “come out”. this work i have been doing in the dark silence is becoming my next big adventure and is what will be influencing the changes in the writing you will be finding here in the future. i hope you come along with me, as we are all connected.

pride…a complicated relationship

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pride

we have had our moments

my first pride parade was an accident, actually

i was on the university photojournalism crew. we were on our way to cover members of a popular hair metal band play in a fundraising softball game. we stoped to get some food and there it was, my first pride parade…houston texas. one of my instructors sitting in a lawn chair right across the street from me. we waved. we may or may not have had a special encounter one day as i was leaving the racquetball courts….

as time went on, and i came out more and more about more and more, i got involved in pride events from organizing to activism to arguments to disillusionment. the corportization and the capitalization of pride….

but tonight

tonight i went to a pride party in flagstaff. it was a bunch of drag queens, mostly from RuPaul’s drag show and vegas (a mear 3 hour away) and chris cox was the d.j.

drag queens are not my favorite entertainers. i just never really got it, still don’t to be honest.

but

they have always and forever been at the forefront of the queer liberation movement. they have raised more money for so fucking many causes. whenever anyone in the community needs money, it is the drag queens that get it done. and they are also the ones that get the shit for everything…assimilated gays and lesbians afraid of what the mainstream community will thing of them if they lead the parades or are visible anywhere but the bars. what if kids are there, people will get the wrong idea of “our” community…blah blah blah. fuck that. p.s. there were kids at this party, and they had a blast. they were even welcomed on stage to dance

do i wish that the music was not the same tired songs? yes, yes i do. do i i love to see people jump up and down and sing along? yes, yes i do.

also, most of the one’s i’ve watched are people of color, so there is that added to the mix of community dismissing. tonight, being the first Juneteenth celebrated as a national holiday, we had even more to celebrate and brought intersectionality to the pride table.

tonight i was finally able to dance like i haven’t danced in a very long time. i walked back to where i was staying drenched, my body wrung out. sweat dripping down my neck, off my hair and onto my face. i breathed deep. i smiled

tonight i remembered what it felt like to step into a queer bar where i didn’t (as much) have to figure out the normy social norms.

tonight i ignored the straight couples clinging to one another for dear life (it always seems to be the men with arms wrapped around the woman and i thought it was because they are afraid of them getting away, but maybe it is because they are actually afraid of their own temptation with so many good looking men around? but tonight i ignored them)

tonight my body remembered how to move

i bounced and twisted as my knee rose to my chest and my heal spun me around just as the other caught me to push me back the other direction. my arms my elbows pushed and pulled me. it was like a type of prayer feeling the rhythm and tension of the music. i have missed this. i have craved this

being in my body in a way that celabrates and is joyous in its movement.

tonight i am happy

tonight i am

sunrise

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i know it has been awhile since i have written anything here. it is not for the lack of adventures, not by a long way. i just haven’t known how to write about them. the desert changes me every time i take a breath of the magical air. the sand and grit gets into my pours. the light shifts how i see. all of it absorbed into my being…it changes my perspective. but i think i figured out a way to start talking about it, and i will let the sunris explain.

today paco, the truck, and i woke up in a different town for the first time in over a year (well except for a little backpacking trip to the gilas that may or may not included my 2nd encounter with search and rescue, but that is another story for another time).

i wanted a get away. a place i could get some writting done, dig deep into some research that i’ve been pecking at for awhile now, and sneak in a hot spring soak…..or 3. so i pointed the truck in a direction and drove for a little over an hour. and booked a little bungalow for a week. they call it a bungalow, it is a tiny little one room with the kitchen and bathroom all in the same space, but it is mine for the week and i am very happy.

in conjunction

so today i woke like i usually do, before the break of dawn, litterly. the sky hadn’t even changed from it’s mightnight blue yet. so i made some tea because, well i am a mear few steps from a fully loaded kitchen, and don’t have to break up the ice in my water jug. i take the steaming cup outside for some breaths as the sky shifts into a new day.

and for some reason, today, it hits me. how long have i been doing this, greeting the sun? when i tell people i’ve been up for hours, some have actually laughed at me, my silence could only mean i was asleep. them not realizing i’ve heard them get up, make the coffee, turn on the tv or radio. that i go to sleep in a way that allows me a glimpse of the sky, even if there is no way for me to see east, i watch the light shift. i lay there and think, stew, embrace the stillness, the quiet that i won’t find again for hours upon hours.

but today i am wondering when this started? i know it wasn’t those years in the pacific northwest where i went days without seeing the sun, just different shades of grey merging in and out of a darkness that never really got black or deep dark blue of the night. it certainly wasn’t all those years of tending bar, closing co-ops, late-night social times where i would see the sun rise as i finally ended my day.

sun-moonrise

that is a different kind of witness to the sunrise, watching it come up as i go down. it is almost like a relay race, or an exchange, ok you are here now, i can go. as if i just had to make sure there would be a day even if i failed to participate. and i was rarely alone in these moments. someone from the night’s adventures, maybe the whole crew. as if the rise of the sun could signal us to eat breakfast then pass out from exhaustion and glee.

no. this greeting is something completely different. something almost magical. mystical. i feel cheated if i miss it or the rare grey day hides the moment. there is something that grounds me in this moment of this greeting. i feel connected, at least for a moment, to the greater world, to my breath maybe? to the bird songs perhaps? to the coyotes howlng one final time before they scamper off? the owls that make the occasional appearance? the hope of rain in the clouds? the message in the wind? the deep booming silience found in the desert? to the something i can not name but am deeply indebted to for the magic of this world we get to inhabit?

what i am beginning to realize is that this is the moment that puts me firmly into my body. it makes me pay attention. i hear my breathing, wanting the breath to be clean air. i take the first drinks of water to break my fast of the night, and i want it to be clean water. i set my mind on these things so that the choices i make for the day are so that i and all the beings seen and not, heard and not, that we all have clean air, water, food. that we, as we end meditation with, be at ease, know peace, and be free from suffering.

sparks and rays

this practice of greeting the day to start my day, a new day of new potentials connects me to me, and thus me to my environment. this connection holds me accountable to my responsibility to hold up my end of the agreement of interconnectedness. and no matter what happens the rest of the day, i have this moment to hold me as a place of gratitude, relative safety, and a type of love. and i can not believe i get to receive this gift.

all this has infected how i move through my adventures these days, as well as how and what adventures i am choosing. and now i think i can write about them.

as always, thanks for reading

blue

ometeotl

adventures with covid-19

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it may seem odd to think about living during a global pandemic as being an adventure, but its helped me move through it this way. it is an event that is changing how we organize our lives, interact with one another, and how we think about the ways we move through our lives: physically spacially spiritually thoughtfully intentionally, who we were before and who we hope to be after. how will the adventure effect us on the other side.

part of this being an adventure, perhaps, is choosing some kind of agancy in how i respond, aka choose my adventure. i am somewhat fortunate to, despite my great slacker tendencies, have a job in an essential business that is a co-op and not a corp. so i can still work and have a choice not to. i live in a state with a proactive governor who responded quickly, so there were/are resources available for people. hell i even bought a nice old truck just as businesses were being shut down. this huge piece of the adventure totally effects the choices i make as i continue in this adventure.

another aspect to this adventure in covid, for me, is i didn’t actually think i was going to experience this part of the climate crisis. sure i knew i would live to see the rise of the calamaties. i acknowledge that we are, and have been experiencing a great deal already: the rising seas, the increased intensity of storms and weather patterns, global political unrest. i guess i just didn’t think it would all start to happen all of a sudden so soon. i should have. i’ve been keeping track of this for long enough. i suspect the reader in me expected all the things to happen in chapters, or acts like a book or movie, not simultaneously…silly human.

a key part to how i am deciding my adventure is my level of privilege: a healthy (if a young 52 years), white, can pass as cis woman when people don’t identify me as male, i have a good grasp on having a healthy diet, access to clean water (for all the reasons this is important), fairly good mental and emotional health, have supportive people in my life… i have continued working so far, family took me in to recoup fund after bike tour so i have a roof over my head. and if weather really does play a part in this, we were already experiencing spring as it came to the southwest, so, that.

how is this situation impacting me? superficially i havent’ been hiking or exploring the area as much since places have closed down. i haven’t been able to go visit family in the spring. my skin is raw and cracked from hand washing and sanitizing. my thoughts have been derailed from projects to reflection and re-evaluating my health and well-being. the last thing i want to do is bring anything home to those who have graciously opened their home to me.

one thought loop i can’t get out of my head is reflecting back to the start of the hiv pandemic. who didn’t want to close the bath houses? or not wear condoms/practice safer sex? who was in denial? all the conspiracy theories and false narratives that fed fear and hatred. much of it continues today in various pockets. i don’t have any deep thoughts here, but i do recognize some serious similarities when i see white men not wanting to be told what to do.

my deeper thoughts are for the present future. now that i have woken up just a little more, i believe this virus will be with us for a while with or without an immunization, which who really trusts the government to inject anything into our bodies right now? and that immunization won’t be effective against the next big epidemic that comes our way, and one will. sooo wtf?!

well one day as i was walking, i remembered the words that came to me while camping by an alpine lake several years ago: “get lean, get clean, get strong”. i’ve pondered this several times, tossed it aside when inconvenient, but mostly ran away from it. but now? now i am embracing it, and it is probably the basis for how i am participating in this adventure.

almost as soon as this started around here, late february/early march, i started a running program. at first just getting out for a bit, then started the couch to 5k program, and this sunday the 10k program. it feels good to be running again. i don’t know how many times i’ve tried a new running program and been sidelined from an injury or pain. but this time everything has been good so far. well this week i had foot pain, so i am backing off a little….i’m susceptible to tight calves that lead to foot issues.

i’m cleaning up my diet a little more. it was pretty good. i haven’t had pizza or burritos since i left oregon (this is big, those were basic food groups for me). the only beer i’m consuming i get to-go from local breweries and limit my intake mostly because i’m one and drunk now). most of what i am cleaning up is what goes in my mind and heart. and this, i believe is what getting clean and strong is really about: clean thoughts and strong heart (lean is excess baggage and minimalist life not food and body so much). learning this is a heart/respiratory virus, i boosted foods, herbs, and activities that support my body, and continue to do the research.

i’ve learned to reach out to people when i feel the wave of an overwhelmed heart begin to shut me down and allow forms of ineffective fear creep in. i’ve made deals with a friend that we do this for one another. for the biggest fear i have around this? we won’t learn from it, as a culture. we will expect an ineffective failed state to give us a magic pill that makes everything go away, and that won’t help us one bit when the next pandemic blows into town on the wings of a virus that is typically kept in check with the delightful balancing act of biodiversity. my next great fear is that we will just go back to the old normal that continues to exploit the global resources that we have no business messing with the way we do.

but when these fears aren’t pinning me to the floor with only the stark white ceiling to respond to, i am excited and inspired for not just what comes next, but all the creative ways people are responding, acting, choosing their community adventure.

examples you ask? well how about biking and running communities doing virtual races/runs/rides? using these as fundraisers for community needs? at the co-op i chat with people (using physical distancing) that are getting groceries for neighbors/family/friends. i hear podcasts by herbalists that are sharing what they know about these kinds of illneses and what people can do for themselves and those in their community…so community action, that is what excites me. that we can do deeper community organizing and care work. to know what our neighbors need in a time of crisies, whatever that crisis is.

one action the federal government has inspired me to dig even deeper into, is local consumption. now, if you know me this is something that is always on my radar regardless of the adventure i am on: food, bike shops, bookstores, newspapers…so i have kind of made a deeper resolution to up my local game. i’ve been doing research on when i “need” certain things where will i get it.

so to sum it all up, like all adventures i embark on, this one too is about going deeper into myself to learn more about my personal edges. to learn more about myself and how i interact with the world i am a part of, the community that i am interdependent with, what skills i need to learn or become better at, or didn’t even know was a thing to know. these are the things i am excited to bring forward with me, what about you? what changes are you making that you hope to bring to post adventure?

eugene

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so much has happened. eugene, surprisingly inspiring for me. i spent 3 months here, and once i gave up on the idea that i would or should get a job, i welled up with creative ideas. plus, PLUS, i arrived to adventure buddies, and adventure we did!

first off, i don’t want you think i barged into my friends’ lives for 3 whole months. i have my faults, but that i did not do. i did reach out to the local hostel and did some work-trade for a bunk, so i guess i did sort of get a job, but it was 4 hour shifts 5 days a week, so not so bad. and it was super easy for me to request to work/not work certain times to go adventure. also, i met even more people moving around this world in different ways for so many reasons, reasons i will be exploring in many ways.

as for the creativity that opened up in me once i recovered from logistics hangover, i am still amazed at how much i am giving in to it. it could be the space i am creating and plans i am laying out so that i don’t spend precious mental space worrying and fretting. but i have started having dreams at least once a month about ideas and directions that i want the book/story/potential series i am working on. things i haven’t been able to work out during waking hours.

i have also taken the time to teach myself how to draw, or should i say let youtube videos teach me to open up to the possibilities that i can create with pencils and pens..maybe water colors. i have never let myself do this. art supply stores intimidate me. i have looked at art classes, but was shy and afraid of not being good enough to share, and they always make you share.

so i have taken one of my dry bags and filled it with my journal, sketch pad, and a pen and pencils…my little art bag. it is so fun. sometimes when i am on a hike or some such fun activity, i don’t always want to write, or the words won’t come to describe my thoughts and feelings, so i draw it. i has effected all aspects of my expressive outlets. my photography benefits as i adjust for lighting or looking for the small details. same for my writing. if i am imagining a scene to write about, i can sketch out not just what i see, but people, lighting, feeling tones for the place come to life sort of speak and fill in what i’ve been missing. its great! also, it is yet one more thing that i can use to procrastinate what i am “suppose” to be doing now. so win win!

adventures! so many!

first, i got there and eugene was having a late summer pride event! it reminded those of us who came out in the 80s and 90s of those smaller community prides we use to have. ones that were free instead of 20 bucks or more and use local area entertainers instead of big names that blow the community’s budget for other things. i do appreciate both for different reason, but definitely love the smaller community feel.

my fellow bike adventure friend took me on a bike path tour one day. showing me how to get to the river trails, what streets are good for getting to favorite breweries and bike spaces. then he left to visit family and left the two of us alone to mischief. the other pal in this crew is more of a walker, so we walked all over the town. he showed me how to get around to the parks and buttes to walk and wonder. we went to the museum, heard some music, and he introduced me to some of the friends the two of them had made since being in eugene. this was the first time the 2 of us had so much time with just the 2 of us, that we really got to know one another even deeper. such a special time i can’t even express.

the adventures i had in eugene were mixed with solo and buddies. it has been so long since i had an adventure buddy, i forgot how much fun it could be. the adventures i had with my friend in kansas city was remarkable, but it was piece of my longer plans. also, with all the flooding, the planing was different. so planning micro-adventures with someone was just so fun.

eugene does have a wonderful public transit system that reaches out to nearby communities, including the mckenzie river ranger district, so i took a couple trips out there to wonder the river woods and hot springs. we took the bus down to cottage grove to bike the covered bridge route and play around those little towns. all for the cost of a regular bus ride of $1.75 or $3.50 for a day. i also rode my bike out to springfield fairly often for the fun of riding the river trail out to have a beer or for big queer yoga on friday nights.

i can’t say enough just how beautiful this valley is. how easy it is to so any different unique nature places from ancient forest to high deserts and mountains. hot springs and ice cold rivers.

i do have to say getting back to the trails up and around the sisters wilderness was pretty great. my buddies had decided to get in a backpacking trip before school kicked back into gear for the year. so we decided to rent a car and i would drop them off and we’d camp out together for a night. then i would get another car and pick them up and we’d have a little hike and adventure on the way back. there had been a fire recently where i walked them into the start of the loop they were doing. it was eery for sure, but still so beautiful. i feel fortunate to have experienced this forest in both situations, and to see the freshness of the fire mixed with the growth already returning. it was so soothing to be back up there smelling those piney forests and absorbing high altitude sunshine. catching the views of the first snow setteling on the peaks of the sisters’ peaks.

sitting by those high altitude lakes i was able to do more internal exploration of what is my responsibility to these areas that i both recreate in, and have reverence for. it is where i am refreshed, renewed, and fills me spiritually. it is a deep relationship that i feel whatever “wilderness” i am in, and it should be, needs to be a reciprocal relationship. so what is my responsibility? what do i have to give back to these forms of kin?

settleing in eugene for the winter is certainly a tempting thought, but there are many dark sides to this little city, besides nike. certainly here was the first time on this trip i truly felt unsafe. it was the topic of many conversations i had here. it was a tough topic to talk about because it could go in many ways and we wanted to make sure that people knew that we weren’t talking about the fear of the high rates of houseless folks living on the streets and in tents by the river. it is mostly in white men and not just the drunken frat boys. there is a high rate of people on meth and other drugs that are unpredictable who will do about anything for their next fix. it is a complicated topic that goes deeper into a myriad thread of our social ills in this country.

on the flip side, i think that being in eugene was more of a coming home than being in portland for a few weeks, but we’ll talk about that when i do a portland adventure wrap up. but that will be after our overnight to the coast #optoutside!

philly

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where to start.

i could go the linear way…today and the next…i could group it into activities…my thoughts i had there…humm

well let’s start with getting oriented and see what happens.

i left off with the arrival to philly, getting the basic rulelessness of philly and eating dive take-out chinese food that really hit the spot. i met the roommate and the house doggo. we caught up a bit before it was passed time to get some sleep.

i woke and listened to the city around me, then i got a text from with-in the house. it surprised me at first, but eventually i came to enjoy the quiet interactions from the comfort of soft clothes. usually it was an update on work schedules, ideas for the daily activities…

everyone went to work and it was just me and mr. dog. to get my bearings i went for a walk around the neighborhood. i found the local punk coffeeshop/cafe with lots o’vegan options (p.s. i really enjoyed this place and it was below a super cool bike shop that mostly i watched people of color go up and down the stairs with every day bikes and wearing regular clothes). i also found the all vegan donut shop, (yum), and the local co-op that i had heard a great deal about (not all good not all bad).

at some point i texted another friend of mine that i lived with for a minute back in the portland years who had moved to philly. we made plans to get together while i was in town. we had a good catch-up and they let me know about a couple of actions happening around the city that i would end up going to.

this first day (and most days i was there) the sun was shining. it was hot, but not humid and super hot. this part of west philly reminded me of portland 10 to 15 years ago. especially north portland. perhaps it is because of the cusp of rapidly encroaching gentrification of a historically black neighborhood. i could see myself trying to find a way to spend the summer here. these first few days it was super tempting to look at job and housing options for the season.

that night we met some of my friends’ friends for happy hour at the taco place and chowed on vegan nachos and margaritas…yum. the conversations were fun and lively with lots of laughter and smiles. it is always nice to get to know my friends other friends, especially friends who don’t live in the same place i do…to know friends are well cared for and loved is a wonderful feeling to me. also, one of the women hails from russia. while in n.c. i read part of a book on the oral history of punk music in russia that my friend did the cover art for. she actually knew some of the bars and places in the book. it was a super cool connection.

our days together were spent in lovely relaxed (to me anyway) ways. we went to the museum. saw a wonderfully disturbing exhibit as well as the rocky statue and footprints. it was remarkable to me how many people come to the museum just to see the rocky statue, so much so they moved the statue from the top of the stairs (you know where he ran up in the first rocky) to down and off to the side of the stairs. we walked the historic streets of philly (once crashing the filming of some t.v. show we had never heard of). we talked and caught up on what’s been happening in our lives, our minds, our hearts. we ate good food, consumed good beverages, and had lots of fun.

the moments we were off doing our own things, i walked the streets of philly, explored so many varied parts of histories that philly holds from pre-revolution to social justice actions, including an action against ICE that i went to with the other friend i have here. all the walking and wondering, the pouring over maps that listed important names as the names of parks or centers: malcolm x, paul robeson, du bois, MOVE, and mumia just to name a few. i tried to get to the edgar allen poe house, but just couldn’t get make the time for all the things.

one day i was walking around the historic area where independence hall is and the liberty bell, historic homes that had “servants quarters” i.e. slaves. i rounded a corner and spotted the “first bank” of the u.s. it stopped me in my tracks and i read the plaque. it talked about how it was proposed as a way to pay of the huge debt that this new founded country now had due to the war for “independence.” within just a few blocks i would run into at least the first 5 banks in the country. the last couple i ran into trying to escape the area. i was overwhelmed by the obviousness of the connection between war and banks and the merchant class and just how much we have not changed at all, the cycle this country spins to keep the capitalists of capitalism in control of the labor class. i needed to get away and clear my head.

there is a park by the house of the statue of liberty so i found a shady place and sat and calmed my thoughts and did a favorite activity of mine, people watch. there were people of all backgrounds speaking many languages, and i could not calm down. it was much more like a punch. normally this is a scene that warms me from the inside, but with the fascist want-to-be dictator that the u.s. has as a president right now, i was embarrassed (?), saddened (?), pissed for sure. that we as a country of immigrants (unless you are native american), that we would do any less than welcome those seeking refuge with open arms, is outrageous to me. granted these were tourists with some level of privilege ($$ everything in independence area cost money to enter except the liberty bell), and most likely would not have border issues when trying to return “home”, but i held some doubts for sure.

it was decided that we would take a day to go to the roommate’s parents house in jersey to swim, and break the city’s heat, so refreshing. what a great idea, go play and splash in a pool during the heatwave. it was a super fun day. we swam. we drank. we ate. we played games. we watched a couple thunderstorms roll by. we drove back to philly during another storm, tuckered out. i fell into a deep sleep.

i woke with the urgency of needing to make plans to get moving again. i couldn’t stay in philly. maybe i will return one day. there was a deep part of me that wanted to stay and see what i could get involved in, but i had a deeper need to get back west of the rockies. no matter how hard i try, i am not an east side of the country kind of kid. also, i could tell by the conversation i had with many people that i would most likely fall in to the cycle of working too much to make ends meet and consume things i don’t want to in the long run, and not make the time and space for the creative ventures i am trying to get started and move ever more forward.

eventually i found the route that would take me west. i chatted with my pals in oregon to make plans for my landing. and then i relaxed into my final few days in philly, and this led me to some great conversations that helped me work out some of my thoughts i’d been having while there.

my friend and i had a conversation one night about whether living so close to the deep history of the neighborhood, and racist history of philly, lent to having a sense of responsibility to that history? it is related, i think, to how i feel about living so close to nature and feeling a responsibility to protecting and making responsible choices in how i move around in my life. i mean, i can’t imagine white people calling the cops on black folks while having a picnic in malcom x park…just sayin’ but if gentrification keeps happening…

another night, at the first micro-brewery in philly that is right next to the punk cafe, i chatted with the bartender. he had recently returned to philly after going to school on the west coast. he was able to give himself the time and space to return and and come out to his family and the challenges of being a young gay black man in west philly (and the world). we talked about many things, including the similarities he is witnessing from his time in oakland and being back in philly around gentrification, housing, and wages.

but make no mistake, my last days weren’t all politics and heavy conversations. i ate a lot of vegan foods…went to the straight edge pizza place for amazing vegan “wings”. i had all the vegan treats i could get in my mouth. we went to an irish punk bar for some tasty vegan snacks and good beers. p.s. i do love me a good irish punk bar.

the morning of my departure was to be early, so we said our so longs the night before. i had decided to bike to amtrak instead of waking my friend and loading up the car for a ride to the station. this would be the only time i would bike in philly, and i am glad i did. i had been wanting to ride, but touring bikes are not really city prepared as everything is quick-release aka easy to steal. i rode away in the early morning during rush-hour traffic in busy bike lanes. it was a beautiful morning and a nice ride.

while waiting at the red cap post to be directed to where to load my bike i met a nun from a west philly church who encouraged me to get confirmed or something like that, just to be safe, like an insurance policy for my soul i guess. she was very nice about it. i told her i’m more along the lines of buddhist. she assured me that was ok, but i should still get to a catholic church. she reminded me of what dorothy day of the catholic worker movement might have been a little like. i also met a couple that would be on the train with me all the way to sacramento. little did we know what was in store for us in the coming days.

a couple of side notes. after getting into eugene, i read that the chinese restaurant we went to closed it’s doors the end of that month. rent was getting too high. the owner told the story of his family coming to the united states, and the support he has had since arriving in philly.

i also learned why a pizza shop i had tried to go to a couple times, but had a paper note that they were closed. seems that the staff believed the owners had fired a black employee for racially motivated reasons, so the staff locked up shop. the sister bar/restaurant did the same a couple days later in support. well that explained my confusion, and also reinforced my feelings that people were taking actions and not just sitting in meetings talking about the theory of racist management practices.

i can’t express just how much i am grateful for this friend, and this visit. we’ve known each other for over 20 years now i guess. we met when i lived in syracuse, and this is the second time we visited in person since i left ny. there are for sure gaps in our knowledge of the others’ experiences in those years, yet our friendship has stayed important and strong to us both. who knows where we will meet next.

i can’t wait to tell you about the adventures i’ve been having in oregon!

from the south to the east

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from my friends in north carolina, i did a one-way car rental to a city with a train station to get to philly with bike in tact. as i pulled out of the rental car place, i stopped at a local brewery to get my bearings and have a snack. i hadn’t exactly decided which way to get to charlotte, or where to stay when i got there. at the brewery i sat outside with a view of a creek, and in the distance i could see what i found out later, a huge community garden. this little town has much to offer.

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as i sat there looking, thinking, and planning the woman next to me struck up a conversation. i’m not sure how it started, but she said she had recently decided to “go vegan” and this place has some great options. soon the conversation switched to community and how conservative the next town over is. her “boy friend” joined in for a little while. he is a health educator in the school district and the conversation got detoured a little. yet, we got a little deeper into the perception people out side of the south have about the people who live in the south and just how wrong that is, and it is true and troubling.

i think this falls into my idea of political false sense of security, and the pacific northwest, and all liberally identified towns/cities are guilty of this. it is part of what the denial has led to the flourishing of fascists hate crimes in places that refused for so long to believe it could happen here. anway, it was a good way to get sent off and out of the south, but first charlotte.

well first, cherokee north carolina.

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i should have taken more time here, like a day, and gone to the cherokee nation museum run by the reservation. i should have. instead i drove through the town. through the gross tourism businesses with awful names and mascots and symbols. i did stop by the park by the river and watched the families swim and cool off even while it rained. it wasn’t hard to imagine this relatively flat open area of the river being popular as a gathering place for various families and “tribes” of the cherokee pre trail of tears and genocide. i walked the banks until the rain got too heavy for a comfortable drive.

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the short time in charlotte was fairly uneventful. i didn’t ever really feel comfortable in this town. i got into town and found the amtrak station, then where i would return the rental car, the searched for a cheap place to stay that was an easy logistical equation to solve…that included a place to consume good food.

it was quickly apparent where infrastructure money went with just a short drive from the train station through downtown. one side had pot holes that would eat a car, the other smooth paved roads, light rail lines, and bike lanes. i had to find a way to navigate both. i checked into a cheap hotel, dropped off the car, walked to an interesting place for dinner….a brewery (are you really surprised). this space was actually pretty unique. it is in an older wherehouse type district, but all the buildings look more like airplane hangers. where i pulled up a stool is actually shared by 3 breweries, and is huge. there is so much space inside. outside had all kinds of “lawn” games, fire rings, and picnic tables all being well utilized. inside had t.v.s (so many t.v.s in in american pubs i.e. public spaces). they also have a video game lounge with fancy gaming devices and big screens. seems like a neat idea to merge breweries into a space to share resources (including a pretty good menu) but with different style beers.

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i must confess, though the walk was only going to be 20 minutes to the hotel, i took a lift ride. i was so tired, and the sun had just set, and i had to be up around 5 am to check out and make my way to the train station.

the morning was gorgeous. it was still so hot, but the sunrise and moonset created so many amazing colors in the sky. i ended up taking the light rail as far as i could through downtown, and then biked some residential backroads i found to avoid as many road craters as possible in the dark. got to the station early only to find out we would be leaving at least an hour late…and the train adventures began.

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i ended up 5 hours or so late into philly. thank goodness for friends you like the night life, and taught me the first rules of philly, break all rules.

when she picked me up at the train station, she just pulled over in this odd little nook, we threw my bike and bags in the car. she then explained that people in philly do what they need to do, to accomplish what they need to accomplish, especially parking.

as we entered west philly (baby) she pointed out some points of history and places i may have heard of, the world cafe (npr), osage street (the one time america bombed itself. you may have heard of the MOVE 9)…my tired eyes tried to take it all in while watching the lights and cyclists bike the city, as i relaxed into being back in the presence of this person who has known me for so long.

naturally we double parked to pick up the food she ordered earlier. as she jumped out of the car she quickly turned back and said, “don’t talk to strangers!” what? laughing, that is kind of what i do!

philly is going to be fun! stay tuned (i listed to a lot of whyy)

retracing good times

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as i clean up and insert pics in this post, it is raining the nice specifically pacific northwest kind of rain. you know, it is too heavy to go with out a jacket of some kind but not enough to zip it up. the kind that drives drivers nuts because you can never get the wipers just right, always too slow or too fast.

we had been watching the weather, hoping and getting excited as the chance for rain increased each day. last night we i mused that i felt like a kid a christmas, excited for the morning to see what would happen. then the morning, it happened. while we were out for breakfast. we looked out just as we were about to walk home. so wonderful. and it is suppose to continue through the day.

ok so here i am going to start writing about all the good times that got over shadowed by the challenges and struggles i face, for there was so much fun and laughter, and that is what kept me going….

so

once i saw thelma and the sleeze where going to be playing at the hanger in carbondale, i was tempted to hang longer. finally some music i love and relate to. but really that was all that was tempting. i was able to eat pretty good at the co-op, but it was time to go. so i bus tailed it outta there.

the overnight in knoxvile, as i have said was fun. the city market area with the art, and food, and bike race monitors, fountains for kids, and being designed as a pedestrain “mall” was super nice. to walk and wonder without having to worry about cars is always a treat.

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the walking and wondering with freedom encouraged more walking wondering and exploring. i went up streets, down street. i wondered alleyways and shop windows. all the murals in the alleys led me to more alleys and city perspectives.

i’ve always loved alleys. it reminds me of being a kid. the first house i remember remember as a youngen had an alley. we cut through to friends’ houses, playing hide n seek, check what games friends were playing before they knew we were there. it was also the furthest view point for adults to find us, or for people to think to look for us for any reason. it is also a great way to check on the neighbors’ gardens. then there is the unused, dirt floor garages that no one used except us for shenanigans.

i’ve only had a few homes since that had alleys, but i always enjoy them. portland had some good alleys. wondering pals who enjoy meandering through alley ways are priceless, and it is good to know i have a few.

it seems, based on my little trip, that more cities are utilizing their alleys for more than just a place for dumpsters and smoke breaks.  i have found wonderful mural art projects, one might call city art-scapes? i like it. here in eugene google maps often sends seem through alleys. and some store fronts/brewery entry points are in alleys. so good.

so from knoxville, i went to asheville. i made the big decision to stay a week in ashville. it was the week of 4th of july….not a fan of this day of nationalistic celabration especially how nationalism is playing out these days. so i hunkered down in asheville with some international travelers and misfits. also the women’s world cup was entering the final rounds and there are fun places to watch such events here.

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the hostel i stayed at is in the heart of downtown, down a narrow alley like street actually. everywhere i went was .4 miles (aka a 20 minute walk) according to google maps. i was near vegan restaurants, a co-op, so many good breweries, coffee shops and 2 tea shops, multiple book stores, music venues, and a vegan punk cafe that was so flipping great on so many levels. it is kind of how i imagine the red and black cafe could have been if they could have held it together better.

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rosetta’s, the punk cafe, had an upstairs and a downstairs if you entered on a certain street. the upstairs is at street level one street over. the upstairs is kind of told school order at the counter kind of place with self serve stations and a beautiful copper pipe and tile water station that i wish i had taken a picture of. downstairs is like a regular table service kind of place. both have the same menu.

i had such a hard time deciding what i wanted. everything being vegetarian or vegan, and most things could be made vegan. would it be nachos? comfort food? healthy bowl? salad? or what really sold me on the cafe the pay it forward rice and bean bowl.

the pay it forward bowl, actually called beans and rice under the heading everybody eats, is set up as a sliding scale meal and they let you know how much pays for the meal to what would allow someone else to eat if they didn’t currently have the currency. i think this simplifies the whole sliding scale healthy food and water as a right not privlage kind of action vs. philosophy/theory. it is offering an option to a community while holding boundries that allow them to stay in business without giving up their ethics and values so that they can contribute more. it is a fine line and a tight-rope to walk. also the people who worked there were all super nice and not at all snarky the whole time i was there, everytime i was there, regardless of who they were serving.

then there is the actual setting of the place. great art and murals on the walls, walls and stairway FULL of poster and flyers of events, bands, actions, community groups and organizations, calendars for other places having punk rock trivia fund raisers for trans folks at the southern border needing/wanting leagal or/and basic needs met. a zine library was in a very visable corner next to the condiment stand. it was clean with out being starial. it is a place i felt comfortable in as a dirt-bag and as a cleaned-up kid out for a good meal that wouldn’t make me feel like a sell-out for eating out.

the places i watched the world cup were fun and energetic. i high-fived strangers. we held one anothers palces as we went to the bathroom. we made a group food run when we realized bloody mary’s started before we remembered we hadn’t been awake long enough to eat. it was one of the few times i was around some sporty dykes that felt super comforable to finally talk about our sports-ball experiences while in school. most of us, at least in my age group, we pretty shamed out of sports, especially team sports. may be why i prefered individual sports like track. let me be and i will run my ass off, stretch longer while everyone else hits the locker room. or finish faster so that i can get in and out before the rest of the “team”. i was tired of being made fun of or being baited about attractions or crushes. i loved the sports, but i hated all the rest that went with it. eventurally i just used an injury that wouldn’t heal (pulled muscles in my knee training indoors), and needing to work as a reason to drop out. very real reasons, but if i had felt supported/safe, who knows. i’m also not a very competitive person, so probably would have still quite. seeing the portland thornes play during pride weekend one year, that was pretty special. seeing professional women on the pitch and in the stands be out and open…rainbow thorne flags…it was something to experience. i felt much more proud there then being at the ubber corporate sponsored “pride” parade held earlier that day.

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one evening at the hostel i met this interesting woman is in her late 60s and is just discovering the joys of solo travel, and is toying with the idea of becoming untethered herself. her husband died a couple years ago, so why not sell the house and move into some kind of camper type situation and see the country. she spent her time at the hostel asking anyone she could how, why, where they venture, whatever question was on her mind. it was fun to see her open to so many possibilities.

i also met a guy who practices chinesse medicine in l.a. he comes to asheville every so often for continuing education. turns out we know some of the same practicioners and share some of the same theories of healing. i left him some of the foods that i thought might not make the hot journey to my friends.

i did really fall for asheville. i can see the attraction and why people have reccomended it to me so many times. i have thought about it as an option. i checked out cost of living, housing, jobs, access to nature and wildness. it could be a livable city option for me. yet something just seemed off. not quite right for me. it is a big city. bigger than i expected and full of tourists, like actual tourists and not just visitors, so…there is that. but it is closer to some great pals that i got to have a wonderful visit with.