Thank you, Carrie, and Treebones Resort, for indulging me.
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Noise is not merely inconvenient or harmful, it is an unadmitted and uncomprehended means to an end: compensation of the fear which is only too well founded. If there were silence, their fear would make people reflect, and there's no knowing what might then come to consciousness...the real fear is what might come up from one's own depths-all the things that have been held at bay by noise. --C.G. Jung
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It was nine years ago last month that I took myself to Big Sur for the first time. I disorientedly rang up my friend Swirly and asked her where she loved to go when she needed space away from it all, and this is where she directed me.
I'd had a second trimester miscarriage two weeks before I phoned her and those around me were worried that I would go up there and fling myself off of a cliff. Which, interestingly enough, was where I received the healing I required to move forward in the light, and in a new kind of strength that I'd never before experienced, alone.
Traumatic and blindsiding loss made me feel as though I was standing on a precipice. I packed some art supplies and my journal, and took the curvaceous drive up the California coast to the place where artists have been taking sanctuary for a hundred years or more. In many places the road comes very close to the edge of the Earth, reminding me of my fear of heights, my stomach flipping over as I snatched glimpses of the waves crashing on the rocks below.
The room I stayed in had nothing but a bed and a bathroom. No phone, no tv, no cell service. I painted, journalled, slept long hours dreaming of this baby spirit that had chosen to gift me with this experience before gifting me with motherhood.
On my last day there, I decided to stand at the scariest edge I could find on the roadside and rage out my grief-all of it-all the way back to childhood. I recalled what I'd heard someone say about heights reflecting fear not that we will fall, but that we will jump. I wonder if, for me, it was a fear of soaring...despite what was happening in my body and in my injured soul at the time. I remember feeling a tremendous comfort-that the sea was like a big bowl, a container that could totally hear and understand my rage, my disappointment and hold my tears for me. I grew louder and bolder, and still she rocked me softly. The sea lions below barked and cheerleaded. The turkey vultures circled overhead, not in wait for me to lay down and die so they could pick at my bones, but to take from me all that would become toxic if I held it inside. The scent of sagebrush wafted up and cleansed me. I can't remember a time where I felt more held and safe. I closed my eyes and felt the rubble moving under my unsteady feet, and learned to trust for the first time in my life. Tears of rage turned to tears of gratitude for my life, for all that was possible. I felt it for the whole world.
Often I am asked how it is I came to this work-to my connection with the Earth as a healer, and to the creatures. I suppose in some part, it began with this loss, and then an emptying. The void inside of me filled with light and I felt a strange commitment to want to give back to the Earth for the gift of being held when no one could hold me. I wanted to know I could always come here as if to an altar and find my illuminated self waiting at the edge, trusting.
It was lifechanging to discover that between just she and I, a relationship existed that could keep me in the light. That every part of her was rooting for me. Crumbling, barking, splashing, crashing...daring me to live well, to thrive, to be fully expressed.
I travel back every year to revisit the cliff's edge and to reconnect with my own light. Oddly enough, it only rained that year, and I visit in January or February, ritually. Twice I've been pregnant. Every time, I am rebirthed.
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Thank you all so very much for your sweet comments and shares last week over the loss of my cat. It was a very difficult time and I had to key into my intuition in a way that makes me pretty uncomfortable until I'm certain that it makes sense in the end. This is that part of trusting the journey that I get to practice a lot. I've been sensing him around us and it's heartening to know that his extreme loving energy is still at work from the other side. I've been snuggling up to his brother and sharing my thoughts with him, which is nice. It is wholly strange to be a one cat household for the first time in almost 16 years.
Last week I joined an enormous group of freinds in New York City to celebrate a friend's showcase at American Songbook in Lincoln Center. Jonatha Brooke played for us in an intimate theater with Dar Williams and we were all able to get together in one place afterward for some communing, which did my heart so much good. It was a whirlwind trip, but so worth it to be able to support Jonatha's big moment sharing tracks from her tribute to Woodie Guthrie. She is our songbird of Squam Art Workshops and it's been a highlight of attending and teaching there to hear her cathartic tunes these years. Her words and voice move me to tears every time I have the blessing to see her.
The very best part of rooming with and seeing some of my favorite girls is that we laughed, laughed and laughed more than I really believed possible.
I left for the city not feeling altogether humorous, which is one of my best defenses for the crabby-gloomies, and I came home feeling released and clear.
Silly Swirly.
Sweet friends.
Beautiful Madison Park.
Always in motion.
Always memorable.
And...it's so good to be back home...
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Thank you all so very much for your sweet comments and shares last week over the loss of my cat. It was a very difficult time and I had to key into my intuition in a way that makes me pretty uncomfortable until I'm certain that it makes sense in the end. This is that part of trusting the journey that I get to practice a lot. I've been sensing him around a lot and it's heartening to know that his extreme loving energy is still at work from the other side. I've been snuggling up to his brother and sharing my thoughts with him, which is nice. It is wholly strange to be a one cat household for the first time in almost 16 years.
Last week I joined an enormous group of freinds in New York City to celebrate a friend's showcase at American Songbook in Lincoln Center. Jonatha Brooke played for us in an intimate theater with Dar Williams and we were all able to get together in one place afterward for some communing, which did my heart so much good. It was a whirlwind trip, but so worth it to be able to support Jonatha's big moment sharing tracks from her tribute to Woodie Guthrie. She is our songbird of Squam Art Workshops and it's been a highlight of attending and teaching there to hear her cathartic tunes these years. Her words and voice move me to tears every time I have the blessing to see her.
The very best part of rooming with and seeing some of my favorite girls is that we laughed, laughed and laughed more than I really believed possible.
I left for the city not feeling altogether humorous, which is one of my best defenses for the crabby-gloomies, and I came home feeling released and clear.
Silly Swirly.
Sweet friends.
Beautiful Madison Park.
Always in motion.
Always memorable.
As always, it's so good to be back home...
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I'm home! And what an unbelievable time at SAW this year.
I'll be posting in great detail this week about what came up, what the workshops were like, what JUNE was like (!) because there are some differences between the Spring and Fall sessions. I have some announcements about other classes I'm teaching here on the west coast, and I'll share those really soon as well. Okay, here's a teaser. But I'll tell more. Soon. I just need to catch my breath and snuggle some babies up.
The feeling I came back with is one of such deep gratitude. Of course there'll be a list about that coming, too.
Enjoy this photo tease, in the interim. The snapshots are from my first blissful couple of hours there.
I pulled up to my cabin and fell immediately in love.
Then I walked inside and fell in love with our screened in porch.
Then I came home from setting up my classroom and fell in love with my roommate.
It's so good to be back!
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View coming up to tent at El Capitan Canyon just north of Santa Barbara. We're so lucky to have the oaks and sycamores be as abundant as they are here. They are so very strong and sturdy.
The writing tent. No internet connection, but an outlet was all I needed.
Snacktime.
Room with a view.
Even my toes were thrilled to claim time away to create. Those willow trees run all along the creekside in the camp. So beautiful. I found a branch with a right angle in it, and I'm just learning that the way plants grow, their directions have lessons to teach, too.
I stopped at my favorite point on the coastline between SB and home and caught sight of a seahawk, better known as Osprey. I'd never seen one before and I don't think they're common in these parts. They teach us to grasp onto what it is we're aiming for, and about commitments. He or she sat atop a lightpost looking down at the empty beach where I gathered shells and pieces of bone for a very long time.
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When I arrived at a recent destination, I relished the serendipity of what this point in my life feels like most often. I'd previously thought fifty was midlife, but now I realize that the center of the see-saw where I currently sit is the midpoint for me. It represents the apex of my lifetime of experiences thus far. While I hope to live far longer than eighty years old, there is something about the completion of fours that has me swirling into fives and landing smack in the center.
Five is the symbol of humans and of our sensory life. It often represents the opportunity to change direction. As a midpoint, it can denote mediation and adaptation. Fives can also signal a time of testing, and the presence of an inner struggle that will soon require a decision. They can encourage us to direct our sensory input and feelings into actual creative projects, or suggest that we regard our lives or activities from a more positive, satisfying perspective. Will we take advantage of the opportunity or continue to define reality in the same way as before? -Spiritual Tarot
Symbols of the crossroads are popping up all around me, to the point at which I just smile at each one. What else can I do but acknowledge that it feels as though I'm in the middle of a physics experiment?
I am most certainly feeling tested, in all areas of my life. I am absolutely struggling against tides that would pull me out of my ground and into the deep blue. I experience the full range of confounded to enlightened so many times in a day, that I often feel like I'm on a pre-menopausal ferris wheel at a carnival in the Bermuda Triangle.
I stopped at my favorite spot on the *central* coast on my way home to wander the shores, where at last visit, Ivy was soon to be born, as my belly was peaking at full moon.
The treasure that found me, like so many from the sea, spoke of the neverending cycle with no beginning and no end. It showed me that the midpoint is really not a quantifiable place on a line, but a fleeting moment of joy on a spiral slide to be discovered over and over. It reminded me, in it's luminescense, of the color and light to be found all along the way from here to there and back again.
Hands in the air, I am determined to make the most of this ride.
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So many great trailer names are coming in! These are the ones I'm considering:
Casita Lupita
Lunableu
Denmama
Foxy Shastafarian
Wild Ride
Denmama
Blue Howler
Wee Beasty
Bleu Velvet
The only way I'll be able to decide is to go spend some time in and around her and see what she thinks. I'll be wrapping this contest up by the end of tomorrow and will announce her new name and the top five goodie winners here.
Thank you for your help! I'll try to take more flattering pictures of the old girl, in the meantime.
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Susannah Conway has graciously allowed me to post at her blog, if you'd like to check it out. What an honor, as I've looked up to her healing path and creative process for years.
I'm thrilled with everyone's trailer name suggestions! Thank you! I'll be considering them as I design her interior this week, while meeting another writing deadline (read: avoiding). I love Echino fabric and I've fallen in love with this one, though I don't know if it'll make the curtain call. Perhaps pillows. Hmm.
I also really love this print called Fuwari Fuwari, by Japanese designer Nani Iro. Still, this is love at first sight. I have to make sure it will last. Fuwari means something like *extraordinarily gentle movement* :)
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I don't need to tell you how inspiring a trip to an artsy nature haven leaves me feeling. But I'm going to anyway. The flavors: panna cotta with blueberries and cream, crispy lemon cake with huckleberries and vanilla bean ice cream, honey glazed lattes, perfect huevos rancheros with roasted peppers... I'm still dreaming of them.
And the sights...green rolling hills, waterfalls, basking elephant seals, tourists in tank tops, crashing turquoise waves, tai chi surfers, sequinned skirt-clad lovelies running through the sand, plum trees in bloom, fat stripey cats, pink and orange sunsets...I can't get it out of my head, nor would I want to.
Deetjen's was extremely charming and I'll definitely stay there again. The restaurant is incredible, and the staff goes far beyond the call of duty. I've always stayed at the Big Sur River Inn, so it was nice to stay at this quaint and ghosty little joint. We had a woodstove in our room, so I got to play with matches and brush up on my girl scout skillz.
While I was away, my dad and Brandon pulled the trailer around the back of the property for me and she's now facing her major renovation that I keep quacking about. I'm cruising fabric for curtains and pillowcases as I write, I've moved the sewing machine into the living room so that I can work on the blankie while the kids do their frolicking in the commons, and I've set the date for her voyage up into the mountains. The kids and I will soon be practicing sleeping in there very soon.
I asked my Facebook friends to help me give her a name, as we've been calling her the Tiki Ti for years, after one of our favorite teeny bars back in our old Los Angeles neighborhood. She needs a wild one! Winner gets a mailer full of shop loot, please join in or come to Facebook and play.
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January and February are my favorite months to visit Big Sur. I've been retreating there alone and with friends for many years and I always feel such excitement when I start to pack my bags. For one thing, it combines the warm sand of our southern beaches with the vibe of an enchanted fairy garden, redwoods, tons of art, cozy canyon cafes, and funky, beatnik rooms.
In a nutshell, it's heaven on earth for my soul. I can feel myself reconnecting as I wind the car up the Pacific Coast Highway, into the hairpins that overlook the turquoise water with seals bobbing their heads up and down. I've done a lot of healing on those cliffs, and so I go there full of gratitude for what it is offered me in respite and soulfulness and open to what it's magic will impart this time.
I'm going with a friend to work, which basically means: play with cameras, brainstorm our dreams out loud, and drink wine. I can already feel that fluttery feeling of my soul calling up joyfully, knowing that soon we'll have our toes in the sand and the rest of the world behind us.
In my stead, I have an interview up at Katrina Dreamer, which I'm quite proud about, because I admire so much the work that Katrina has done and is doing. I had the good fortune of retreating with her in 2006 and it's been a beautiful sight to witness her courageously claiming her voice as a teacher and nurturer of the Earth.
I also really loved this blog entry by Lisa Field-Elliot, there is a raw truth burning in there that's stayed with me all day since I read it, which I'm still turning over on the flame.
Rachel, of 6512 and growing, is someone whom you will love reading, especially if you're a mom. She is hilarious and can turn the most mundane sequence of events into a tea-spitting, howling occasion. She's a gardening, homesteading and stovetop inspiration to shame even Mary Jane Butters, as well.
And if you don't quite feel as outdoorsy as you'd yet like to, check out the soulful experiment in communal living at Tipi Village, which I found after much time spent reading the archives at Ande's and Kayla's Rogue Dwellings blog. Take a look at the sewing machine they assemble their tipis on!
soul
+
wild woods
+
crashing waves
and maybe
a beer with the ghost of Henry Miller
=
my kind of weekend
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The Tiki Ti is about to get a little makeover as she readies her sails and points coastward in the month of August. I have to make curtains to go over the little bamboo rods and she needs a major cleaning. I think it may be time for vintage hula boobie girl to retire as an indoor knick-knack.
My curiosity is getting the best of me and I have to know something. Which for me means that I have to do it. Rather than read every book on the subject and do lots of research, what generally works best for me is Julia Cameron's "leap and the net will appear" theory.
What I'm talking about is the idea I have in my head to take the kids roadtripping instead of Miles first year of Kindergarten (which would begin Fall '11). My thought is that we can explore native cultures, native plants, create a field guide from our findings, include plenty of local food, and spend a good part of a homeschooling year traveling. It is my dream to travel my children. It is so important to me that they get to experience the wonders of the American landscape well before they are grown up and have little time to fit in a trip a year!
I have a year to explore, have conversations with you who homeschool, a year to plan destinations, create strategies to keep them calm and cool in the car while dealing, no doubt with flat tires, and all manner of roadside bummers. I have one full year to find those who have done it and lived to tell about it. I have a calendar to practice hitching up, pulling in, squeezing out, parking her at a grocery store lot, keeping the right food on hand, and what to do when bears come knocking.
Basically, learning to be the girl scout I've always wanted to be.
I want to offer my wild children a different path. I want to show them and teach them about their environments and the soil. I want to see them surf the Great Mother and learn to speak the language of the plants, stones and animals.
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Photo by Gabe.
Ten permits a day (for roughly 20 people) are given to visitors of Coyote Buttes in southern Utah each year. The Bureau of Land Management is so protective of this natural wonder that you have to enter a lottery in order to obtain the holy permits for a day hike. The Buttes are located within magnificent Vermillion Cliffs National Monument and extremely high on my list of git 'er dones.
Before my 40th birthday.
And then... the big dogs of Yellowstone.
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The Campbell girls have arrived in Boston and made our way to Connecticut today mostly drama-free. I thank the stars that the good people of Boston are SO HELPFUL and chivalrous. God, I love this town.
We stopped to nurse, eat a Dunkin' Donut and crash on our fluffy bed before heading out to a traditional Mehndi ceremony for the bride.
It was pouring rain when I pulled over in a company parking lot to feed this very patient and hungry babe. What a trooper.
I'm loving the humidity and cool rain here. I do not miss my California sunshine one bit today!
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I'm still totally digesting what I came back from SquamFest with. I genuinely am struggling to put it into words, but verbalizing hasn't been my strength lately, so I'm cutting myself a bit of slack.
I am feeling rather shot out of a canon to continue with the things I learned in Nina's class, and I'll soon post a photo up of my necklace and my unfinished book. The crafty aspect of this new medium (new to me) is appealing, but much more than that, I love how handsy the process is. Touching metal, pounding copper, the sulfury stinkiness of it all-I'm just digging it. I'm trying to problem solve, only in my head so far, and sort out how to apply some of the techniques I've learned into my mixed media wall art. I don't know if I'll be able to do it, but it's fun to think about.
I also loved seeing so many familiar faces round the lunch tables, though I didn't have much time being off-campus to socialize and catch up with everyone. It was just lovely all the same to be in a room with people I have created with before and have come to adore-and miss.
Gathering in order to raise creative consciousness and form connections with other creatives is so important to me. It is very easy to isolate as a creative (and as a mom) and it takes enormous commitment (and bawlz) for so many of us to travel as far as we did in order to participate in this special meeting of the minds. I think Nina's website, and Kelly Rae's, as well as gobs of others, have links to similar events such as ArtFest and Art & Soul, which might be closer to you than all-the-way-across-the-bloody-country-New Hampshire. (This in no way means New England doesn't rock my pants off-I'm just blessed to have had the time and resources to make the journey.)
My one wish would have been to have asked about on-site accomodations for my family. I'm peeved I didn't do this, because an inordinate amount of time, groceries and gasoline were spent travelling back and forth to Moultenborough to dine and sleep with my babe when we could have all been in the same place. For any of you who are attachment parenting or just don't want to leave your family behind for 5-6 days, I recommend exploring the option- the camp is huge, the food is lovely and the scenery incomparable. A couple of women in my class had their husbands join them at some point during the stay and they enjoyed the golfing, kayaking, etc., while we crafted away.
In other news, it was my birthday yesterday and I enjoyed some fine mexican food, as that cuisine is sorely lacking in the NE. So I'm 37 now, waddling about, larger at four months than I was at six with M, and needing to plan another birth. I told a friend today that this one is so different, I don't get to daydream about it as much because I'm busy entertaining the real deal in front of me. I have fear that the littlest one is already getting the shaft and that makes me want to tune in and focus on *him or her*. But when?
I have become one of those kvetchers who never has enough TIME! Or sleep...
Love to you in blogland...sleep tight.
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oh,yes, i met these women ten years ago on the planet sark message board before it became trendy camp sark when everyone i knew was postcardfairying and eatingmangoesnaked and learning how to be comfortable in her own skin as the appeal to do was replaced by a seed of BE which scattered all over the world and we began to talk-oh, the talks! long and deep and intimate with a charge underneath it that shouted, "we can do anything we choose!" with flames and invitations and returns to love and lost loves and marriages, too, twisted hurricanes and earthquakes and fires come and gone we still meet, this time on the milkiest tit on the west coast....my beloved big sur.
my beloved elements!
we rhoooule the whhhuuuurlldd!
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That is my little Miles trudging through the tundra "by self, Mama".
We have some righteous nature, sisters and brothers. You can gaze up the skirt of a giant redwood, snowboard fresh powder or surf gigantic waves, all within a few hours of Wherever, California. Friday we wandered up the Sierras a few hours to Mammoth Lakes to stay with friends and play in the snow. B & K boarded while the girls drank chip shots by the fire and occasionally ventured out for snowy shenanigans. It was such a relaxing weekend of wowing and aweing at the snow covered peaks lingering at 14,000 feet high. K & J volunteer on the mountain, find out more about the program here.
We ate the best American junk food on the planet in their company-chicken enchiladas and Mahi tacos at Roberto's, white spinich pizza from Mic & Willies and mouthwatering beanburgers and fries at Burgers. I ate more than I might for the rest of the week.
I feel full, recharged and ready for more fair weather adventures.
Bridge in Independence, CA.
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You can't have a son and not wonder just how much Judy Garland is too much.
M and I are off on another adventure. This time we are flying into D.C. to dine with this fabulous artist and her family, then pile into the car next morning and head up to meet another of my favorite hippy mamas and celebrate an amazing mama-to-be in Woodstock, NY. It will be a motherboy explosion in the Catskills if ever there was one.
See you next week!
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We arrived back from Oklahoma on Monday night later than we expected. Settling back in is always challenging for me-the suitcases sit with clothes spilling over the sides as chores from a week ago remain undone. Another day won't hurt!
It seems like life is flying past me at the moment. There is really quite a lot going on with us and with friends, but I can feel myself checking out-drifting away from anything but here and now. Miles is a bit sick and this morning I have a sore throat and swollen glands. My low immunity seems to be a theme this year. This week I've found myself wandering aimlessly back and forth from the kitchen in the past few days-what shall I take for malaise? Eat? How do I take care of myself again? Sheesh.
I received my copy of The Guerilla Art Kit, and Miles and I made 6 installments around town yesterday. I am exhilarated by Keri's ideas and her ability to take a simple concept and make a grassroots revolution out of it. Opening up and reading the first 20 pages completely changed the course of my day, and I have to wonder if anyone took our artwork home and how those who saw the work were affected. We used about 90% recycled materials, mainly the envelopes from junk mail and magazine inserts. It gave me a buzz to think of putting garbage to work, giving it a much more important job than it was orginally designed for. I enjoyed the exercise to determine what thoughts I'd like to put into people's heads as guiding principle for the pieces we assembled-it helped me narrow down what messages I'm, uh, living my life to promote as a result of my experiences and who I am-how intimate! Part of me wants to drive around and see what remains today! Trying to be a stealthy ninja spy while placing the art was fun, but I don't think the CIA will be recruiting me for any black ops divisions soon-I think someone spotted me twice! But what, fun-I am telling you. This town needs some color and liveliness, and we felt so excited to contribute to the mystery and fun of perfect strangers interacting with us. What a fun rush! Thank you, Keri-you are a beautiful renegade. I can see and feel how you are changing the world, one stick of chalk at a time.
I've got a copy of Real Simple (bit of an oxymoron for all the consumption they promote) magazine's special family edition. I snatched it up at Phoenix airport because as I held it, it magically fell open to Heather Armstrong's (affectionately known to her readers as Dooce, as if all of you don't already worship her offbeat humor-so why am I even writing this?) letter to her daughter. An added bonus is a letter from Rob Corddry to his daughter is featured, too. Jackpot. Funny stuff.
Here is a shot from Uncle Rick and Aunt Pamela's ranch on the plains, miles from anything but a super Walmart, where the gravel roads have no street signs and seed ticks rule your ankles...
Thems turkeys.
More photos of Indian territory when I return. Until then, go buy Keri's book!
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It must be the rain that causes this Portland phenomenon-because everyone I met in the fair city this weekend was so beautiful! My dear friend, Julie, pictured center, is soon to be married to the handsome and talented, Chris. This weekend we celebrated at her bridal shower. Laurel, left, made ginger-infused martinis and aptly named the drink "Til Death Do Us Partini". What a whirlwind of excitement and love for two incredible people!
Julie and I met each other over eight years ago-she and two other dynamic heroines in my world have been following each other around like sisters since we formed our Succulent Wild Woman group online at Planet Sark in 1999.
We have had each other to lean on, taking the edge off of difficult times and laughing our way through the good ones.
I love you, my Elements! And to beautiful Portland, I miss you already. See you for the wedding in May!
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