Valentine's Day 2012

The heart beats on toward our destiny. 30 years ago today my mother died; her heart
finally stopped at age 45 after a lengthy struggle with cancer. I think
of her now and I wonder what she would make of me and my happiness and my good fortune; would she like my silly paintings and my gardens and my friends. She knew me only when I was hurt or confused or angry and remote. I am sorry for that now and there is a twinge in my heart for what might have been between myself and the woman who brought me into this world 60 years ago. I like to think that we would have liked each other by now. I imagine that we resemble each other and that our tastes are similar and that we share a suspicion that surprises always lay just around the corner. Happy Valentines Day, Mom - I love you.

April

April fuels my love affair with low tide.
Like no other element the shore romances -
Face kissed by wind and
Feet hugged by stones
The subtle trickle of ebbing waters
lures me traipsing miles along the edge
of the island.

Eyes dazzled by shimmering waves
fill with tears.
Gratitude and joy that there are
clam shells and eel grass

And sorrow, too, whispers thru me
Our life here is so brief
I cherish this moment before the tide turns
and the flow toward shore begins again.

From there to here...

Adios southland, hello Nordland of the north.

Cold fingers are a small price to pay for a relaxed
neck and belly. I feel relaxed because the quiet welcomes
and soothes, and the forest looms and reminds me of the
largeness of life.

It is wonderfully stimulating, the transition of travel. A departure prepares us for arrival and our destination gives us plenty of chores to do, items to find, memories to savor.

It is a life style of contrasts - how better to know gratitude than to know the contrasts?

One home is at sea level, damp and green and cool where a forest meets the beach.
The other is amidst a high desert valley, hot and dry and urban.

One place is quiet, the stillness punctuated by sounds of wind and birds calling as they skim the surface of the water or soar the tops of the firs and cedars.
The other place is full of sound, furious with traffic, barking dogs, pounding music and jets and helicopters flying low in and out of the valley.

In one place I wait for weeks and months for the sun to appear and remain long enough for me to seek a few rays in which to bask - the life of flowers is eagerly perused.
In the other place, el lugar del sol muy fuerte todo el dia, I seek shade and admire weeds that grow from ancient adobe walls and roofs, and marvel at enormous trees that feed on the waters of underground streams.

One place has food different from the other.

One place has waterways and the other has one way streets

One place is populated with pale skinned people wearing fleece and socks
And in the other, people bare their skin and their feet and glow toastier shades of tan and brown.

In one place i am not particularly tall or large, an average white middle aged woman among many - my peer group is sizable in the Northwest.
But in the other i am gigantic, grandota, una guera muy alta, la extranjera Norte Americana.

Its fantastic, thank you so much!

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Best wishes and Congratulations - Have a prosperous and good year.
I am particularly amused with this year, The Chinese New Year of the Rabbit - the Metal Rabbit, to be exact. The last year of the METAL RABBIT was the year I was born in 1951 - little did I know then that I would someday be living in Oaxaca, Mexico asking for red rabbits of the vendors who wave their painted wooden bookmarks and toothpicks at me. A few years back I decided to ask for red rabbits, which at that time seemed to be quite rare. If they had any I would buy them and if they did not then I was off the purchasing hook for the time being. Last year it seemed there were many many more red rabbits for sale. I figured news traveled fast up and down the Andador and all around the Zocalo - "pssst - red rabbits are HOT!". I read this in my astrology today report for the upcoming year:
"Let there be peace, and let it begin with me, is the Rabbit motto." I like the sound of that!

There are so many places on the planet that I am content to never visit.
Any place with sand fleas is near the top of the list, no matter how picturesque that place may be, like Mexcaltitan in the state of Nayarit, Mexico. How could it not have some kind of pesky vermin, if not sand fleas?

I do remember a time when I longed to wander and it never occurred to me that I might encounter disagreeable factors like malaria or dysentery or bug bites or forest fires or earthquakes or poverty or ignorance or sinus headache. I blithely ventured forth and enjoyed the scenery come what may. Once I put aside the use of alcohol 20 years ago though, I noticed that my comfort zone became more important. Perhaps because there was no longer anything to soften the edges, numb the pain, distract me from accepting the 'what is', I learned to blunt my desire to wander impulsively.

These days I far prefer to enjoy a book than to book a trip of any kind. Picture books are great, my imagination does all the work, and I am satisfied to enjoy short, sweet, sober journeys. El Tajin, anyone?

El Jaguar Zoo de Oaxaca

Yay, I finally made it to El Jaguar Zoo in Oaxaca - for several years I've meant to get out there. A couple of years ago, when we got our car, I told Elo, our former caretaker that I would take her and now its too late, she cannot go and I have regrets.

I took myself out there early one morning this week and walked the paths of the rather impoverished effort alone but with Elo in mind. I know she would have loved to see the animals, especially the Jaguars - a pair so plump and lovely that they look like large pampered pets. The endangered species on display in this zoo are grand and can be seen without bars for the most part - some of the smaller animals are in cages with cyclone fencing.

As always, I felt sad for the bison - and the irony did not escape me that the sponser's sign in front of their pen was for McDonalds. And, oh, the surprise of seeing a grizzly bear, all golden and sweltering in her thick fur coat, stopped me in my tracks. I watched her bathe in her shallow pool, rejoicing in the cold water - I hope she dreams of salmon coursing up brilliant streams in the land from which she came.

When I left the zoo a small family begged a ride to the highway. I asked them what was their favorite animal and she said the giraffe, which I also loved. The gentleman said "El elefante, tan grandote". I was so surprised - I never saw an elephant in that zoo - where is it and how did I miss it? I have a reason to return.

From the Southlands

Arriving Oaxaca in Fall is a little like holding my breath under water - i know its just for awhile but it feels as tho it could last forever, a simultaneous sinking floating sensation. Every year the shock changes a bit - the smells are less pungent but the noise is more ferocious. Our pace is fast lane swift compared to the amble that is the mindset here. It takes weeks to adjust to it all, the elevation, the timing, the language, the light, the noise, the water, the heat or lack of it.

Its good to notice that everyday I surrender more and complain less. What is the initial resistance about? I love it here, But I love it there, too, on our island in the north. Here I am gleeful as I prance barefoot in the dawn on a rooftop overlooking the city - there I am cozy within the silence of the forest that grows along the shore. How wonderful is this, a life of contrasts? Is there a word for it?