Art Home New Orleans

On my ride home tonight, I passed a home that caught my eye. Cinderblock statues, metal monoliths, and a creepy fish in the corner really drew me in. On the front gate of the house was an Art Home New Orleans sign. Researching the house when I got home, I was so struck by the idea of encouraging living museums.  The two weekend event encouraged the community to come out and explore the diverse taste and style of the New Orleans creative class. Its appreciation for appreciation sake, the real time homage to collection and arrangement.

Decade's End

As any sagittarian could identify with, everything is pretty literal in my life. The last day of my twenties, one day before a new, fresh start to a decade, I came slamming to the end of my twenties. I peaked past the edge and thought it was clear. The girl skidded to a stop and if she had reacted maybe a split second sooner there would have been no impact at all. But there was impact. A crash just like the robotic toy crash sequence orchestrated with friends a few months earlier. I wept in my mother's lap after. I made it through.

After the accident, no one hurt, insurance to deal with, tickets to deal with, the anxiety set in.  I haven't had to do this before so paranoia seemed to be the most obvious reaction at the time. Debt. Law suit. Accident. Too hard.

But not after too long, I remembered that I saw my horoscope in the Times Picayune saying that I would be dealing with something that would affect my wallet. And I laughed, because I realized that I am supposed to learn something from this, because most importantly this happened on the last day as a 29 year old woman.

I breathed. I prayed. I surrendered. The lesson I learned is that stress is going to take the forms of so many different things, everything is going to always feel like its happening all at once, and the important thing to remember is to not take that out on anyone else.  The lesson I learned is that exploration of the self, breathing, being present are the practices of everyday life that give strength to us in times of stress like fender benders, insurance claims and traffic tickets. It just makes me smile though, the thought of going out with a bang.  Symbolically, I'm taking this opportunity to surrender the hysterical sense of humor of the universe.

I did it! I survived!

Solar Wind Disappearing

11 years ago on December 13, 1999, NASA released a report about a, roughly, two day span in May 1999 that there was no solar wind detected by earth. The solar winds decreased to such a point making it possible for scientists to observe and study actual electrons flowing to the earth from the sun's corona. So the scientists think they were getting the electrons to the similar state that they are on the surface of the sun.Actual electrons from the Sun, not diffused, not banged around in transit, even better than the real thing! The study goes on to describe an incident that they think is correlated, calling it a polar rain event that affected the North Pole with a steady glow of an aurora on May 11. This is extremely atypical for the time of year in the North Pole because the decreased amount of energetic electrons typically do not allow for the aurora effect. The lack of solar wind allowed for so many electrons to enter the earth's magnetosphere that the electric magnetic field of the earth's swelled to 6 times its usual size. 

"Normally, our view of the corona from Earth is like seeing the Sun on an overcast, cloudy day," said Dr. Jack Scudder, space physicist from the University of Iowa and principal investigator for the Hot Plasma Analyzer on NASA's Polar spacecraft. "On May 11, the clouds broke and we could see clearly."

Quote seen at the Chateau Bourbon

Letter to Senator Vitter

I got an E-update from Senator Vitter today and I really can't stand some of the issues he takes up. He is a dishonest, slime ball in my opinion. But he really believes in what he's doing so I have to respect that. Anyway, periodically I respond to his updates and this is my most recent retort:


Dear Sr Vitter,

I am writing in strong opposition to two of your viewpoints listed below. As a voting tax payer in Orleans Parish, I think that the DREAM Act and all that it stands for is in the truest intention for fulfillment of the American DREAM for all immigrants that have come to this country. I am appalled that this Act would cause any partisan splits. Immigrants educating themselves and/or serving in the armed forces intend to stay in the United States, not to get an education and split, they want to fulfill their American dream and BECOME VIABLE TAXPAYERS to pay for our ever escalating military budget and other exigencies. Maybe if we didn't have to fund a regressive military effort, maybe if we became a country of producers rather than consumers, maybe if our focus would shift from arrogantly maintaining world superpower status to making certain we aren't rotting from within, we wouldn't need MORE TAXPAYERS but in this point in history I would think a Republican elected official would see the value of substantiating our coffers with as large a tax base as possible. STOP BEING SHORTSIGHTED and BECOME A TRUE LEADER THAT WE CAN BE PROUD OF.

My final point is with regards to your position on US involvement in international bailouts. Completely agree with you there. However, as you put it the US has the largest stake in the IMF, therefore the most pull in the policies and regulations administered from that source.  Stating that the reckless budgetary trends are bringing countries into debt, it would be prudent to investigate what trade policies, international financing maleficences and other WTO/IMF/World Bank restrictions brought on this 'reckless' behavior. And further more, I do not think it wise for the USA to start throwing debt rocks through our glass house. We are at another critical point, with Republican leadership balking at excessive spending or any kind of spending, it will be telling to see how our debt calculations are going to play in DoD and DHS funding. In my opinion, its clear that we are also exhibiting reckless budgetary trends.

Please start looking at the big picture, we can't really afford anything less.

Regards,

Bluebird

Jellyfishing

 Six month painting project is complete!

Jellyfish, Power Animal, Symbol of Acceptance and Faith

By Ina Woolcott 

The transparency of the jellyfish teaches the inner source within each
of us. We have an enormous amount of power within us to draw upon. We
can turn on the light even in the depths of darkness through the
wisdom of the jellyfish. It often shows up just when you believe there is
no hope left.

It offers a spark to energize and
illuminate. Powerful!

***************************************************************

Jellyfish's medicine includes - sensitivity to water energy
(emotions), understanding of the value of floating rather than
swimming through trying emotional times, proper use of softness (not
being rigid), ability to become untangled from the webs of peril in
life, acceptance and faith.
Jellyfish hold acceptance and faith, knowing and trusting that All
That Is will provide the necessary for them to survive.

These are the only creatures that rely on movement for the sustenance
of their lives - they have almost no ability to move on their own,
depending oceans currents and the directions of the wind to move it on
the way that it must go.

As they move in harmony with the currents of life, they show to us how
to flow with the natural forces of Mother Earth. There are some
ancient healers who hold the belief that the tapestry of true
spiritual knowledge is held within the transparent form of the
jellyfish.
If this is your power animal, maintaining balance in all areas of your
life is an important lesson for you to learn. When the jellyfish swims
into your life, ask yourself if you are flowing with life in a
balanced manner or whether you are wasting too much time drifting
aimlessly and not enough time actively crossing the currents and
heading toward your goals. Watch yourself attentively and study the
jellyfish, then balance can be achieved.

Military ramblings

With all the recent buzz about DADT, a sampling of marines were surveyed as to whether there would be an issue with openly gay active duty soldiers within their ranks.  I am offended that a survey like this was even administered. What if that survey, instead, questioned whether there would be an issue with openly Italian active duty soldiers, or Jewish, or whatever. Imagine don’t ask don’t tell was about religion instead of sexuality. But now that I say that out loud it doesn’t seem like we’re heading too far from that anyway. According to the survey, the majority of marines reported that having openly gay soldiers in their ranks would affect morale and would be negative overall for the force. Is it reasonable to think that because we are willing to question the legitimacy of gays in the military that we will soon be questioning the legitimacy of Muslims and those that practice Islam in the military?

There is something so arbitrary about excluding people from military service based on specific non-physical attributes.  My theory is if people willingly submit themselves to such a lifestyle, willingly strip their physical identities – hair and clothes -  for the uniformity of soldier solidarity, and willingly take oaths of fidelity and integrity to the cause of furthering the American agenda, then it doesn’t really matter what color, race, creed, ethnicity or sexual orientation this military force is comprised.  They’re all given the mission to hold the course of our American world superpower epoch.  And at this point, with massive rifts looming over the path forward for domestic governance, WikiLeaks airing out dirty foreign policy laundry, and economy-destabilizing wars in progress, I think those who hold strong to the notion that American colors don’t run should also want to fortify our military coffers with as many able bodied persons as possible. 

the unity of all

The unity of man and the unity of all
Magnifies the disconnect of the unity of me.
Walking to that edge and knowing it exists,
The next step is blind and no less guided.
If my part is the sum of my whole
To accelerate my leap would be to subtract infinite moments of clarity.
The learning curve we allow, the mistakes we make, the decisions we embrace;
Echoes of light, shadows of sound and shivers of mist into cavernous solitude,
Rearranging intentions.
Brought to that edge though turning back,
Assured the reprieve merely complicates iterations of self.
Form, eventual space held within,
The sum of the parts, of the whole of the part,
The stop and the start, underscores the unity of it all.

Economic Crisis

I find it curiously odd, that our economic growth is directly proportional to the amount of dollars spent per capita.  Though I am struck by the pervasive theme of wealth and status directly correlated to accumulation, throughout human history. When hunting got scarce, in the old days, was that dawning of economic crisis? Probably so.

Our modes of tracking our well-being as a country rely on material accumulation of houses, cars, and commodities to be leveraged for even further financing. In these times of austerity budgets, furlows, cost-cutting boot strapping, am I to believe that if I could just spend some money that all our economic problems are going to go away.  It is unsettling to wake up to radio programs relaying information about our economic viability being directly related to my desire to spend my money.  So much talk of the economic crisis, that it makes it certainly attractive to freak out in growing despair for the lack of prosperity projected for the future to come.

But in actuality, I think this rhetoric is symptomatic of the reasons why we are in these economic dire straits in the first place.  The emphasis is still on our consumption rates, and how much of our money we are re-circulating to keep our country afloat.  Is it possible to fix a problem with the same actions that brought the problem on in the first place?  To do my part, I need to throw my cards in the game, take on a house note, car note, put money in the stock market, and play the game the way the game was meant to be played, that's what the context implies.  From what I'm understanding, if I actively choose not to spend my money then I am actually hindering economic growth for our country.  Part of the complexity also has to do with the fact that economic forecasts use general terms like 'spend money' as if to suggest my willingness to buy a cup of coffee will jump start the economy, though in actuality there are no qualifying references on what this money should be spent, JUST SPEND IT.

I am ready for our paradigm shift.  My utopian solutions are to put less emphasis on what we do not have and more emphasis on what we do have. When it comes to survival, I think its pretty safe to say that    humans like all other species will do what they need to do to keep surviving. And there are plenty of people in America that are doing just that, surviving, to keep shelter, food and warmth. But for everyone else who is doing better than just surviving, I think its our duty to put this paradigm shift in motion and move away from the notion that economic prosperity equals material gain.  

So what do we have?  We have creativity, conversation, laughter, each other.  We have a beautiful planet, with gifts of color and smells of nature that can remind us that we are parts of this whole.  My heart goes out to all the struggling families, out of work, barely putting food on the table.  That's no joke.  But as the schism between the materially wealthy people and the materially poor people widens, I think its important to recognize what exactly this current economic crisis is. This is a true opportunity for us to de-emphasize material accumulation.  This is our chance to bear witness to rhetoric that states that money cannot buy happiness.  This is the start of a paradigm shift in which the rich wealth of shared human experience shall emerge as the true gauge of prosperity.

December 2005

My thoughts jump into the East River
and lap onto the shore of that island
lost to the all too distant future.
And could you please just turn the noise down.
And I would really appreciate it if you could turn the noise down.
And please just turn that noise down.
I hope that this is convincing on its own;
and I can find that special wool to mask the hundreds of others
who've felt this same way.
I'm clever enough to push this off as my own.
My own that is completely unique and in no way
connected to your own.
And their own.
Because you can't realize I didn't make this up.
That its just another one, a lot like all the rest.
And it really isn't that good.

Tallest Woman on 23rd Street - Nov. 05

I wish I was the tallest woman on 23rd Street.  I want to be so tall that I could stand at the edge of the East River and look west down the congested two way past Park Avenue, past the Flat Iron Building, past the YMCA, past the piers looking west and farther west until all that is too far away eases into an amorphic blur.  If I were that tall, I could stand at 6th Ave and tab how man cars were coming from Canal Street.  I could tell the people below when it was the best time to cross, even if that thimble sized LED man doesn't agree.  If I was the tallest woman on 23rd Street,  I would take a super bouncy ball and make it bounce across the Hudson River.  I'd do downward facing dog so that traffic could pass under me, and I would let the smallest kid in every kindergarten class in Manhattan sit on my shoulder.  I would use my height for good, and not for, the cliched, evil.

But I can't lie, I want to be so tall because I'm that selfish.  Because if I was the tallest woman on 23rd Street, I wouldn't be cut off by reckless pedestrians.  I wouldn't have smoke blown in my face by careless addicts.  I wouldn't hear 'fuck' every 6th step.  I wouldn't watch a commuter, a jogger, an eater, a maintenance man throw their soiled napkins on the sidewalk.  I wouldn't smell the twitching neglect of homelessness and I wouldn't feel like the complexity of 23rd Street was above my attention.  I wish I was the tallest woman on 23rd Street because I'd rest my head on a building on the south side of the street and drape my legs of a building on the north side, put my hands behind my head and let the sunrise frantically turn to mid-day, turn to twilight, turn to midnight, all over my gigantic body.

Subway Busking

Dredded locks bounce irie vibes
Your guitar tempts every coy corner, lures curiosity to your amp.
My heart mingles with your voice in subterranean depths,
Accented verses alternate, eventually replacing my throbbing pulse.
Bob Marley's essence laps gently high to low while
Sandaled toes, skirted legs, tank-topped torsos dilute the potion for their own.
Bodies stir it up to rhythms familiar, exotic, ancient;
Minds saunter lazily as uptowns fade to the halt
when center stage screeches back to platform 3.

Ravenous Words Penetrate Prey

My goal is to make people listen, not for self indulgent/selfish reasons. I want others to hear why there is pain, why there is joy, why there is torture. I want others to know passion and to discover something that makes their hearts race and their fingers fidget and their eyebrows raise.  An uncontrollable gasp that follows an indescribable moment in someone's life when they become completely, unmistakingly enraptured in the moment; an instinctual moan of approval occurs, to be helpless to their unconscious wiles that need to be released by mmms and uh-huhs or nods of approval.  This response is unforced, unrehearsed and indescribable to others, it has to be released at moments when your mind, body and soul fuse into pure ecstasy and a cataclysmic orgy enervates and invigorates your animalistic tendencies to penetrate your core.

my struggle is that line between spiritualism and civic engagement...

My spiritualism is leading me to general ideas of basic rights of man, however i am also keenly aware that truth for me is not truth for the next guy, etc, and I'm also keenly aware that my truth is no better or worse than the next guys...so that's the catch, how am I going to engage in civic processes, tell you or anyone else for that matter that you are wrong for fearing illegal immigrants and I am right for not fearing immigrants, or I am right because I think healthcare should be accessible and we should have to pay commensurate taxes to ensure this and you are wrong because this is not what you think. And then we're going to legislate one version of this truth: either yours or mine...you get what I mean, I don't really know how to resolve this. Because the way I'm seeing it, the only changes I can feasibly make are with myself, and the decision not to get engaged with the broken system. I'm kind of treating it the way i treat the 2nd graders, when they act rowdy, rude, disrespectful and out their mind, I ignore them; ignoring them shows them I don't care for that behavior and they better come with it and fix their faces or else they don't get my attention. I'm standing on the sideline right now, choosing to not engage, wondering why I should pay attention to this shamble of a system, when there is no such thing as compromise, merely varying degrees of us vs. them. I'm not interested.


One thing I do know is, as a country that was 'founded' on the ideas of 'freedoms' especially religious freedoms, I think its really really ugly what we as a populous are choosing to pay attention to and extremely shortsighted

Plant Life

It amazes and astounds me to think of plant life plunging forth from organic nutrients growing towards the sun and from the earth. Is it possible that each different plant is unique because of different characteristics of the soil in which the plant is growing? I think palm trees have fire cracker soil that makes the plant explode with shocks of excitement. I think live oak trees have the power of the Mississippi that cemented the soil currently nourishing its tendrils and dangerous curves teasing the ground.  I think that flowers smell sweeter near cemeteries.  I like to think that plants have a way of processing out all the goodness, badness, positive and negative energies of the literal and figurative stuff that leach into the ground and air.  Plant life is the earth's literal erections of life seeking light and food sources.  And finally the notion of the mother earth giving birth to these plant beings.  The life source being the earth, the light source being the sun, the food source being water. Everything plays its part and everything is crucial in the overall success of plant life.  Simplistic, yet holistic, and, even more so, maybe somewhat prophetic.  Just in the sense that plants seem to have existed the longest in this world, they seem to know the trick of successfully continuing the species.  Perhaps, this alone merits exploration into potential lessons to learn.

Investment in Human Capital...tell your Congresspeople

Dear Congress(wo)man,
I am writing to you to make the case for a stronger dedication from our policy makers to investment in human capital.  The reforms we truly need in this country would re-prioritize how our money is allocated. The focus would be on making certain we as the people of this country are able to not only survive but prosper.

As an educator, I am horrified at our country's unacceptable commitment to investment in education.  The children of today will be our future residents, voters and leaders.  You have to understand that we are doing these children a disservice.  A disservice by choosing to allocate money to securing borders, the borders of our country and several others;  choosing to increase funding to the justice department, to perpetuate incarceration rather than rehabilitation; choosing to invest in fear rather than in ourselves.

I implore you and others in Congress to get us on track to by supporting policy that facilitate and encourage financing investments in human capital.

Regards,
Virginia Brisley

Lessons in exigencies

Interviewing can be stressful. Its meeting a new person who is evaluating you for a position as their work-mate, worker, and fulfillment of working standards. I left an interview today feeling that I hadn't adequately proved to my interviewer that I could exceed her expectations for the role needing to be filled.  I sweat, the questions she asked needed college courses dedicated to the topics.  I talked in circles and said words all together in a row, but I wasn't saying anything in particular.  Its disappointing to take a step to the side of yourself while you're talking and realize that you are using words to evade the fact that you do not know the answer to this question and need some time to stare into your brain, preferably off in a corner alone staring out the window, to get to some conclusive solutions.  Instead I stammered, painfully reading the lack of interest and imminent rejection in the interviewer's eyes.

Why did I feel so unprepared for this interview? Answer - I'm dealing with a lot of change.  I can understand that, easy enough.  But I wanted to explore the more subtle choices in the morning that lead up to the time of the interview and how these particular decisions may or may not have influenced my performance in the interview.  Taking a non-judgmental walk through my morning, I pinpointed several pivotal factors that stuck out as important. Firstly, I wanted to wake up at 7am to start my morning early. I set my alarm for 7pm accidentally the night before. Secondly, after I woke up at 7am I wanted to stretch.  Because my alarm was not set for 7am, I woke up at 9am. The interview was scheduled for 11am.  Lastly, I was stopped on the road to direct a driver to N. Roman.  No clue. Then he said its near a street that I thought was in the neighborhood behind us. So I directed him to turn around and head back to where he came from. As I rode two blocks further, I crossed N. Roman. I apologized to him in my head the whole ride to the interview.

As I stretched in my yard, a few hours after the interview, my mind unwrapped the improbable queries asked of me earlier.  I think I realized those answers were already there, I just made it more difficult for myself to access them while I was on the spot.  In the future, I'm going to pay attention to days that I decide not to stretch, or if my alarm isn't set correctly, or some other nuance of the day and how that plays into the outcomes of my day.

The hard part is dedicating the effort to steadily work on oneself in order for one's existence to be as easy as possible; the more work put in, the easier it gets.

Time Distortion

Yesterday, distracted and affected, I tried to teach a clock reading lesson to the 2nd graders.  I drew a gigantic clock on the board, and we went over how many minutes were between the big numbers. Then I drew the big hand and the little hand and we started telling time. I confidently noted that the big hand tells us what hour we are in and the little hand tells us how many minutes past that hour it is.  And we went on to draw our own clocks, telling time using this paradigm.

One problem, that's not how to read a clock, its the other way around.

I cited this example as a manifestation of my distraction to a girlfriend last night while I wept for unrelated reasons.  She replied that if the 2nd graders only have to worry about you helping them distort time than they are doing pretty well.

Sept 27 Horoscope

Sagittarius – You know, money is not a bad standard to judge your dreams by. I know you like to think you’re above the baser motivations in life. You do it for the love, not the money. You’re in it for the adventure, not the bottom line. I get it. But one of your major evolutionary lessons with Pluto in your money house for the next fifteen years is that your ability to fight for the little guy, soar with the eagles and generally heal the entire world is directly proportional to the resources at your disposal. Put more plainly: how much good can you really do if you’re always struggling to feed yourself and pay the rent? Without resources your dream isn’t a plan, it’s a daydream. So I want to give you permission to reevaluate your life strategy in terms of the bottom line this week. What do you need to change about your thinking in order to allow in the income you need to take that next big step you’re dreaming about?


From D.K. Brainard

Sunday Afternoon Bike Ride

Fixed a flat and took a joy ride:
Bywater apartment hunting
Remnants of past storm's debris
Midcity fly by
City within a city's city
Over the interstate
Broadmoor's jarbled streets
The architects delight
Carrollton and down towards the river
Uptown quietude bends at the water's edge
A straight shot down to town
Garden District, Warehouse, Arts to CBD
No hands riding Bourbon
Eighteen miles round trip

Flying home

Last night, I met a guy who works for a bike magazine. He and his marketing people were coming down here to NOLA to give away 30 bikes to people who wrote essays about 'Why having a bike will change my life' and also donate bikes to an elementary school. They are going to do the give aways on the steps of City Hall. He also told me that he was able to take a bike ride today so I told him to go to City Park.  I told him 'thank you' for donating bikes to my city and he seemed really confused why I would be thanking him. 

Isn't it so amazing how much is happening at any given moment, I'm so glad I eavesdropped on his phone conversation with his parents, I wouldn't have ever known that such generosity was unfolding...it happens so much in the empty spaces <3

Summer Vacation - Chicagoland

The next afternoon I was rolling my way through the Hudson Valley, to start the next leg of my voyage.  Chicago-bound.  Blissful and sore, I happily rested on my way to my family.  A particularly popular route, this train was noticeably more full than the New Orleans-New York train. I sat next to a teenage boy traveling with his parents. An American teenager through and through, annoyed to be still dependent on his parents yet asserting his independence through blaring headphones, I welcomed his disinterest in my story so that I could focus on recharging myself after such an eventful weekend.

Reaching Chicago a mere 45 minutes behind schedule, astounded, I gratefully climbed into Jenelle’s car.  We got breakfast and continued to gush about the wedding.  Everyone was out of the house when I arrived at midday to my family’s house.  The adults at work and the kids at camp, I made myself comfortable preparing for the force of the combined enthusiasm of an 11 and 7 year old.

I hung out with my niece and nephew for a week, reconnecting with them everyday after camp.  My mother found a walking tour book of Chicago. We amended that by driving the suggested routes. Wicker Park, Bucktown, Old Town and the Gold Coast neighborhoods all had beautiful architecture and all proved to be uniquely important to the overall development of the city.  I saw my sister and brother-in-law rarely through my visit because of their work schedules.  However, I did manage to bike throughout the city.  One of my bike trips was to the pier where the Aquarium, Planetarium and Field Museum are to see Jenelle’s favorite view of the city sky-line.  Another of my bike trips was to Wrigleyville where Jenelle, her college friend – Eric, our rez roommate – Heather, and I met for dinner.  I probably biked over 20 miles of the city’s pristine bike lanes.

My mother and I also took a drive to Evanston on one of her afternoon’s off from work.  We headed along the lake, admiring the gorgeous Americana classic mansions of Chicago suburbia, and further along into the town of Willette in which a Ba’hai Temple stood.  At first look, I thought it was a Jewish Temple.  Something about the lettering and the apostrophes, it looked like it could be Hebrew.  But as we toured the grounds, I discovered a brand new religious ethos that I had no concept of existing prior to taking that drive that day.  There was something very magnetic about the Temple’s presence. It drew me in.  There is a visitor center in which many questions are addressed about the ethos of the practitioners of Ba’hai.  Apparently the central tenants of this philosophy focuses on the acceptance of all beings on earth as one tribe of many.  That all religious thought - from Buddhism to Christianity to any other religion in existence – are right, they all lead to the one truth of a higher power.  The placards with interracial, inter-age, inter-sex couples stated that Ba’hais seek to end world poverty and work for global equality of standards for human rights.  The ideas really spoke to me.  I couldn’t figure out why I never heard of this group previously.  I also couldn’t figure out why, of all places, this glorious temple - with pristine lawns shaped like flower pedals encompass the structure drawing the circular energy into the center and up through the dome of the Temple – is in suburban Chicago.  And on top of that, the Temple was built with only contributions from the parishioners, no political or economic affiliations.  Who are these benefactors, so wealthy, so focused on peace and eradication of world poverty, and why does this seem so underground.

In the visitor center, I bought a book explaining the history of Ba’hai through stories of its prophet.  It started feeling close to a cult so I retracted. But there is a Ba’hai group in New Orleans and I got their contact information so I might sniff them out down here.

Jenelle arrived in Chicago to her mother stating that she is planning a surprise birthday party for her.  Tim Ritz, Eric, Heather and Pete, her siblings, and Matt were all in on the surprise.  Pete and Heather were out of town for Heather’s sister’s wedding.  Matt was by chance in town from NY.  Tim Ritz had just been in Brooklyn still convinced that I stole a taxi the night before the wedding. Eric and Jenelle went to Rutgers together and he lives in Chicago.  The surprise happened at Mickey’s Pub and I went to the 4200 block of Clarke instead of the 2400 block.  I was an hour and half late.  No one picked up their phones.  Then my mother did, and she began directing me to Mickey’s Pub.  Mid-way through my frantic disgust of being lost, sitting at a stop light I saw a biker get doored.  I said Mom I just saw a woman get hit by a car door.  Thud.  It was awful, one minute she was upright, the next she was on the ground. Thud. I heard it from the 50 or so feet I was away from the scene.  I stopped being up tight about being late for Jenelle’s party.  The biker got up, she looked a bit shaken up.  She wore her helmet and she didn’t look like she was bleeding but she would enjoy some really nasty bruising.  She was up like a champ, her bike was a bit mangled.  I continued on Clarke hanging up with my mom and shaking off the amplified sound of the car hitting the bike and the woman hitting the ground.  It was all too close to home since I fear the day that happens to me.

The last night in Chicago, my family went to the dog beach.  I love when we all do something together.  It happens rarely these days but feeling all of us together makes me really happy.  The dog beach is probably one of the happiest places on earth.  The pure joy and glee that dogs feel on this beach spills over into tangible excitement.  Dogs get this shimmer in their eyes when they are happy and feel free, its hard not to smile.  Its also hard not to smile when you can tell that a dog is also smiling.  Sitting on the beach watching all the dogs play freely I smiled.  I looked to my right and a medium sized retriever pounced on me. Pinning me to the sand, hurtling over me and running a circle around me, I think he felt my glee and was attracted to it. I think he wanted me to play with them and have fun with them.  I think he knew how much I’d enjoy that.  Sitting up, laughing, I look over to the water and see my sister in hysterics.  She caught the whole thing too.  We looked at each other and laughed.  The sun set and we all went home.

Summer Vacation - New Yorks

I boarded the first train out of New Orleans on July 1 at 7am. Heading north, by way of Atlanta the pregnant train lurched toward New York and the first leg of my summer vacation began. I chose to take trains for the first half of my trip from New Orleans, to New York and then on to Chicago. My choice was twofold: experience the country by rail and reduce my carbon footprint while doing so. Halfway to DC, the conductor got on the loud speaker to announce that we would be stopping in DC for an extended amount of time to switch engines from the current diesel engine to an electric engine. My carbon higher ground fallacy was instantly replaced by my growing affection for rolling through the American country side.  I brought sandwiches, fruits and nuts. I bought beverages: coffee and juice. I forgot a sweat shirt but had my sarong, so had some form of coverage. They gave me a pillow.

In Alabama, an Indian man sat next to me. He was headed to DC for the long weekend. He got on the train in the middle of the night and we didn’t start talking until we were about 30 minutes outside of DC. He is studying at Clemson, pursuing his graduate degree in Mechanical Engineering. He’s been in the country for about a year and heading to DC to visit a former classmate from India. His first time in DC.  I proudly showed him the Bollywood film I’d be giving Lauren and Brian for their wedding present. He obliged accordingly by telling me about, and writing down, the title of the sequel to that same film.  We shook hands as he departed for his weekend in the capital city of the United States.

I got to NY a mere 3 hours late, 33 hours after leaving New Orleans, spectacular in Amtrak terms.  Just in time for rush hour, me with an unwieldy amount of mismatched bag sizes and shapes, NY en masse collectively helped me to successfully navigate despite the obvious baggage hazards. I met up with Janna, who finished her last day of work and was cleaning out her office. I got to see her out of that office and into her summer.

From Wall Street to Coney Island, I found the Belski-Russ pre-party. Fireworks, beer, laughter, reunion, shoot the freak, wonder wheel, beach glass, joy. It all coalesced and I was so happy to be home. I rode bikes to the soon to be newlyweds homestead with Lauren, Jess, Mike and Jeff. And Lauren talked resolutely about keeping her name because, shit, its her name!

I had trouble sleeping that night, so I finished the other gift I prepared for all the OLL-ers that would be at the wedding – a movie to commemorate our time together on the rez.  Finished that, but still seemed uneasy.  Jenelle and I had a good talk and my nerves settled. Jenelle and I talked till past dawn and saw Kate and Will out, beginning their wedding prep work for the flower arrangements. I slept for maybe an hour or two.

Wedding rehearsal day! We were to be at the Boathouse for 1, 1:15 at the latest, do not be there after 1:30.  I got my baggage settled at the place I’d be crashing at, one of Kate’s friends has a flat in Sunset Park and was out of town for the weekend.  She also has a grey cat called Gusto, who made everything all right. Amanda, Cary, Jenelle and I crashed there for the weekend.

Walked through the ceremony, and I became keenly aware of the ritualization and ceremonial celebration of Lauren and Brian’s love. The night of the wedding rehearsal was a little messy. Open bar at Sunny’s, a dope spot in Red Hook, Brooklyn.  I indulged. And wore three inch spikes. I felt badddd. The wedding wasn’t until 7pm on July 4 and I didn’t have to be at the boat house until 5pm.  I offered to help hype-man for Pat while he mc’ed the reception.  I was also told of a party that would be happening after Sonny’s at Brian’s house. Or I possibly just hoped for that and convinced a car-load of people to storm the groom’s house post-Sonny’s.  Following this impulse, I also asked Alexis to meet me at Brian’s place as well.  Arriving at Brian’s after the car-load, I realized that I might have editorialized the party sentiment and Brian reminded me that it was in fact the night before his wedding and not his bachelor party.

Amanda and Cary reached the apartment in Sunset Park in the early afternoon the day of the wedding. Amanda and Jenelle rehearsed the song they were to sing at the reception, ‘No One’ by Alicia Keys – Amanda on vocal and Jenelle on guitar.  They practiced while Pat and I met in Sunset Park to work out details for the flow of the reception.  Time was winding down to the wedding. I arranged flowers and saged the boathouse before the guests arrived.  As guests arrived I offered them sage clearing and Jenelle offered them a tuning fork clearing.  It was great.

I had only previously considered the event to be a party to draw together the various cohorts accumulated throughout their lives into one communal and collective gathering. And it was!! But it was also so much more!! We collectively gave our intention to Lauren and Brian to support their loving relationship, and they vowed to do that for each other. Jenelle wept. I was struck by the purity and organic thoughtfulness displayed in the ceremony making it obvious that every detail was intended to reflect the love that Lauren and Brian share for one another.  They had a photo booth at the reception too!  Then the Beatles played!!

We went to Lauren’s bar afterward and drank until 4.  I sat on the pavement with Colleen and Ellen and lit sparklers while they told me ghost stories from their lives in Virginia. I sat at the bar with Ben and Joe and laughed while they sloppily sputtered about nonsense. I danced with Javier and Amanda while they started a Soul Train.  I drank with Steve and Jenelle while Steve recounted his vision for his mock-encyclopedic venture into medical misinformation.  I lovingly pet Christine’s puppy. As we climbed into the cab heading away from the scene, we heard a horn blaring at Pat for riding his bike in the middle of the road.  Reaching Sunset Park too tired to struggle with the blow up bed, Jenelle and I slept on top of the deflated bed. 

Drinking all night, the excitement of the trip, a warm New York summer morning all peeled me off the vinyl blow up bed five hours after plopping down on it. It was 11:30 at this point. I sat at the kitchen table, struggled to focus my vision, looked down and noticed a note requesting us to be out by 11:30-12. I woke everyone up and like champs we were out by 12.

Day after the wedding. Lauren’s parents hosted a brunch at the Park Slope brownstone they rented for the festivities. Lots of the previous night’s attendees were there, bleary eyed and blissfully touched by the force of love that we all mutually experienced in bearing witness to Lauren and Brian’s union. Its as if we all got married to each other that day.  We did in fact vow to Lauren and Brian that we would honor the sanctity of their union in our actions.  So we did more of that at the brunch. Sharing stories, pictures, hugs and farewells.

Amanda, Cary and I brought Jenelle to the train station where she’d begin her journey to Chicago. With Jenelle en route, Amanda, Cary and I went to Lauren and Brian’s house to soak up just a little more of their wonderfulness. They packed, we shared more stories and laughed and laughed. We all went to eat Mexican food.  Saying goodbye to the newlywed couple, wishing them well on their travels to Nicaragua and generally enjoying the high of the celebration, we got into Amanda’s rental car and they brought me to Harlem.

Three days of open bars, late nights and insanely compromising shoes, I got to Harlem ready to keep it moving with Janna to celebrate her recent extraction from corporate non-profitism. Alexis, wanting to shake her tail feathers, also met us in Harlem. 

‘Bobbito in the Barber-shop’ was a classic, straight off the street hip hop show on the infamous Hot 97 throughout the 90s. It was on Sundays at 7pm, something like that. Bobbito, being a cultivator of all things cool, showcased various up and coming artists that we as the masses should throw our attention towards. As hip-hop evolved and corporate culture subsumed the form in NY, his show became less and less relevant.  Artists didn’t need the street cred that Bobbito could offer, they needed the prospect of signing bonuses that record labels promised. So being the knowledgeable woman she is, Janna knew of a spot that Bobbito dj’s at monthly. Alexis, Janna and I headed to 115^th and 1^st. The music was great, my energy was low, but Bobbito was vibing and I felt so happy to watch him dig through his records.  I took a break for a while outside and noticed a garbage truck on the corner.  It’s logo said, “Its all about garbare” I asked a guy coming out of the bar “Is that a typo or am I just not aware of what garbare is?” He looked at the truck, laughed and responded, “I think it’s a typo, but I also think they’re business model is flawed.” I realized the complete sentence read, “Its all about garbare, Its all our bussiness.” He walked away as I giggled.

Last day of summer vacation

Today is Labor Day. I started my summer vacation 68 days ago, hopping on a train heading north. Exactly one week ago, I said matter-of-factly that, ‘Next Tuesday will be the official end of my summer vacation.’ I declared this with dwindling savings, a summer of art projects, no job, and no notion of potential paying opportunities.  Articulating the intention to close this chapter so clearly, propelled the domino effect of positive reinforcement that I, in fact, am doing everything exactly the way it is meant. Such reassurance is empowering and enlivening. 

Three interviews, two definite positions. One rejection with the door closing but the window opened a crack. ‘I’d like to stay in touch so that if there is a good fit we can work out how you’d be brought into the picture.’ Absolutely.  The last week of summer and I secured two paying jobs.  A couple more weeks and I might have had to make some decisions. I have a cat for crying out loud, I mean tough decisions.

I woke up on my last day of summer vacation to Ilan crawling out of bed. Ever since I needed a place to crash when we would go out late at night in high school and I would not have survived coming home that late, we’d slept in the same bed.  We’ve known each other 16 years. My soul brother. He visited for the long weekend. He is the window into my testy, Chris Farley-loving, poke-ya-till-it-hurts side.  He left at 10am, I could have slept until noon but instead I laid on my bed and decided to build anxiety around the fact that I’m taking a significant pay cut and have to find a more modest living situation.  I have student loans. I need to scale back.

So I fretted, my head at the foot of the bed, twisting my back to stretch. My mind chatter screeched to a halt. I will make it work.  I have chosen this path, I have chosen to work with kids again, I will make it work. I realized that I would rather work and enjoy my work life rather than work for spending money to do things that I’ll enjoy outside of a work situation that I don’t want to be in the first place.  I decided to be happy with what I have right now, right in front of me.

My job is to focus on doing the best I can as a leader. I think what happened was that I began projecting my fear of not having enough monetarily on the quality of my performance for the kids I’ll be teaching.  Meaning that I know initially I’m going to be hustling to figure out how to afford moving, a new apartment, my student loans, eating…a whole new budget to figure out because I’m completely switching gears.  And so knowing that this initial phase of my transition will take some savvy money management, I was fretting about compounding that with the fact that I would have to lesson plan and prepare for my teaching gig, that likely I won’t be paid for this preparatory work, and weighing the value of my time against these facts.  Should I get a job to maintain the level of comfortability I’ve come to know -working in an office like my degree has so aptly trained me, being the highly functional management material that I am?  Or should I take jobs to fulfill separate interests that which I’m inclined and have never previously pursued?

Instead of building anxiety around not having enough, I’m building excitement for meeting the new people I’ll be working with and the new children I’m going to instruct.  I think being connected to the children in a community is the most direct way to feel the pulse of the people as a whole.  They mirror all the good and the difficult stuff that surrounds them.  That’s why its so rewarding and so terribly hard sometimes.  I remembered that there is a reason I want to be around children again and there are steps along the process that need to be taken to build a foundation for a career in education. I’m working those steps. I’m really excited for this next phase to start.  Summer Vacation ’10 was one for the ages.  Its so gratifying to know how much I’ve seen and how much it all seems to stay connected.

Thoughts on Death

As a child, I wanted to know what it felt like to be cut bad, to see if I could handle the pain.  I would stand in my mother’s kitchen, take a swig of Tangueray and try to cut my face with one of the good knives - a nice, small slit across my cheek or above my eye. I could never make myself press hard enough. So I would press as hard as I knew I’d be convinced that I wasn’t being a scaredy-cat with the amount of pressure I applied, or didn’t apply. ‘This knife must be really dull, I was pressing hard.’  I’ve heard people say they cut themselves so that they could feel something, anything; or they cut themselves because they wanted to physically feel as bad as they felt emotionally.  I tried to cut myself to know how much it would hurt and so that I could have a cool scar.  Never did get a scar, never did slash myself, but felt like if I ever did puncture my skin I would be so cool and therefore look really tough. ‘I could wear a band-aid on my face, and every one would ask what happened and I could say I got cut in the face with a knife.’

And when I thought about death, I would try to imagine being present one moment and then not here the next. I wondered if it would hurt, how I would handle that kind of pain. I wondered how people would act at my funeral and who would attend the event. I didn’t think so much about the after part of death. I was comfortable with the understanding that people go away after death.  Whether it be heaven, hell, purgatory, or some form of spirit here with us on earth, I was clear that people go away from human form, and that made sense to me. It was the during part of death that I tended to focus on.  What does it feel like to die? It must hurt.  What if I get shot?  What will the bullet tearing through my skin feel like? What if I get stabbed? I hope I get attacked from the back, I don’t want to see myself get stabbed.

Recently, four twelve year old girls killed themselves on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.  The deaths all within a month and a half time span. I lamented, ‘What could these girls have been feeling, to feel they wanted to put an end to feeling at all?’ My sister speculated, ‘Did they have a pact together?’ Maybe they wanted to feel what death felt like.  With this in the forefront of my mind, I again wondered wildly about how much it hurts and nervously tried to push myself to my edges to feel the separation of life from my form. 

And then I had a wonderful thought.

I thought about child labor.  I thought about child labor being the most stressful, strainful, painful and excruciating creative process to my knowledge. I thought that for all the labor of love, the end product is a whole new life.  Childbirth is the sum of the total amount of devoted love that all generations and lineage connected right there to that moment of bringing new life into our collective consciousness offer to that new life.

Then I realized that of course death hurts. It hurts in the same way that it hurts to give birth and to be born.  It is the transgression to the next phase of consciousness and it is the during that seems to ripple out the most pain to those directly affected.  Respecting the cyclic nature of life, I’m comforted by the thought of the processes of birth and death relating so closely in my mind.  I’ve been told that we exist and persist in cycles but the cycles are three dimensional and they go round and round and up and up like a spiral.  I also feel comforted to know that it is the during part of death that gives us our tough life scar that we take into our next phase of consciousness.  

Bokonon

I met you on the sidewalk.
Wait. Let me rephrase.
I've known you for awhile,
But you found me through my tears.
Swirling, awe-inspiring speck after speck.
The Cat's Cradle engaged my neck
I saw it, I know I did I had to bend forward.
The traffic ceased, the birds had no song,
Legoland was held still.
Respect was being paid.
The noise makers knew better than clangor
to crowd my head with their clatter.
Its not often you speak so loudly.
Hand to my head, I had to make
your words echo.
Knees bent and eyes squinting, there's
no way I was missing this.
For those ten minutes, trips away from
home became voyages to greatness.
'Your purpose is to keep finding me,'
your voice so clear
fading into my own.

Lonely

Lonely, extremely lonely.  Friends are the affirmations and reaffirmations of your own sense of self.  Without those said friends around being the constant reminder that there is life outside your own head, when you don't have that, there is a small voice within continually trying to break you down trying to convince you that the only reality is that which is happening inside your head.  Its not making any sense right now:
I'm lonesome.
I was looking in the wrong places.
I'm surrounded.

Ode to Miles

Miles in my ear, I can have no fear.
The trumpet blares, it consumes the stares
Of lives lost and souls found.
Sunny days don't seem too bright
When winged hearts take flight.
Miles in my mind, where do you go
When you've gone too far?
What will you find,
When you forgot what's lost?
Miles, what have you done?
Blues replaces blood in veins.
It's no wonder heartache stains.

Lessons from Joe Strummer

1. Always celebrate your awesomeness - the first song written by Joe Strummer was about how awesome he is.
2. Punk ethos - You gotta do it for yourself because no one is going to do it for you.
3. Greed - It ain't going nowhere.
4. People - Without people, we have nothing.

Precedent Setting Cases

As we transition out of this phase of American History, end of combat in Iraq and soon to be Afghanistan, what is going to define our needs, what voice will be the loudest and what that going to sound/look like.

You can have anything you want; but you can't take anything.

Sage Creek Campground - May, 09
Midnight trails, clouded, silent
Hoofs trafficking eons of claim to this turf
20 mph, high beams, eight glowing specks -
must be the campsite.
With a thunderous startle
they make a break back to a time before gravel roads.

African Proverb

'Until the lions produce their own historian, the story of the hunt will only glorify the hunter.'
-African Proverb

Galveston, April 08

Battle lines are drawn,
Showing her might brawn;
Wheeling back the clock,
Hypotheticals gain valuable stock.
Last stitch effort to hold her at bay,
Synapses and faith prepare for the day;
Overwhelming, overtopping, recapturing the tainted crown,
Build it higher while stripping down.
Ward her off from greedy plunder
Pursuant of systemic blunder.