God may know the plan for me. But I'm not religious, so I don't go to church or ask to find out. I just wander through each day waiting to see what sort of crazy bolt of an idea pops into my head and then decide if it's wild enough to consider.
That's how I moved to New Zealand, backpacked SE Asia and ended up an unemployed, I mean on sabbatical, squatter at my little sister's house in Portland. It all seems like it was in the plan.
Just the other day, I was walking aimlessly around downtown Portland, mulling over options for the next step. The thought that the stress of attempting to plan and hike a section of the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trail at this time are too great popped into my head. What if I skip it? For now at least? I can do it later. It felt nice. Calm. Peaceful. Freeing.
So now I have a little more time in Portland, to see friends, work on Carrie's house and fix up my old yard that's being cared for by renters. I can leisurely make my way to Nodak, and enjoy the scenery on the way, rather than rush along in the American way.
What is it about the States that makes us all feel like we must be productive all the time? We must hurry? We must be accountable?
Though I've been back only two weeks, I've been busy nearly every day. I could make a list of all the things I've done (and I sort of want to, me with my love of lists.). It's considerable. People ask me, "What have you done today?" with the expectation that I will provide them with an adequate answer. I've been asked how can I be unemployed, wandering and thinking and working on whatever project I deem needs to be done.
It's not hard. Ask a teacher who has the summers off. I'm sure they're not sitting around twiddling their thumbs thinking, "Woe is me. I'm so bored." No, I think not.
I'm having the time of my life doing whatever I want.
Somedays, it's just simply noticing that there are birds in Portland. Or seeing the layers of bluish clouds in the sky highlighting the greenness of the hills and the colors of the downtown bridges.
Visiting Portland is like visiting an old lover. I know why I was here for so long and why it was so hard to leave. I don't know if I'll ever move back, but forever Portland is me.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
I am perhaps a loser.
I mull things over too much.
I get too excited.
I have too many ideas.
I fear love.
I hold my breath.
I keep life at arm's length.
I spin.
I flit.
I walk and walk til it all makes sense.
It never makes sense.
I get too excited.
I have too many ideas.
I fear love.
I hold my breath.
I keep life at arm's length.
I spin.
I flit.
I walk and walk til it all makes sense.
It never makes sense.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Traces of the past
"I'm still here," I thought, while patiently hiding in my old office waiting to surprise my friends who were finishing eye exams. Two quotes I'd taped to the computer screen, my handwriting on the wall- all the phone numbers I'd collected through the years, my name on the ophthalmology call list. It was nice to know I hadn't been erased.
We never really leave a place. We always leave a part of us, wherever we go, whoever we touch along the way. Maybe that's part of eternal life.
We never really leave a place. We always leave a part of us, wherever we go, whoever we touch along the way. Maybe that's part of eternal life.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Returning home - Kaiser
How do I say what today was like?
It started with a sunrise the color of orange sherbet. It's ending with dinner at Shanta's.
In between I saw Lourdes and her new addition, Calvin. How strange that one of my very best friends has a baby. It's like she's the same, but different. Kind of like me. We drank cinnamon tea in Carrie's living room and talked about life before she had to zip to the airport to pick up her sister. Calvin was sweet and slept most of the time or made funny faces with his tongue, not even crying when Oatie decided to bark at him.
After seeing Lourdes, I had the urge to go to Kaiser and see my old work friends, so I jumped in my borrowed red 1995 Passport and hauled myself over to work. I snuck up the back stairs and in the back door. Since I've still not mastered the inside voice, it wasn't too long before everyone knew I was there. I got lots of hugs and couldn't stop smiling. Even was a little shaky- it was strange to be there and yet everything seemed just as it was before I left. It's a funny feeling to return. I felt like I was home. For six years, they were my family in Portland.
Questions about my plans- "Are you coming back?" "What's next?" abounded. Not entirely sure myself what is around the next corner, I outlined my life plan rough draft, with the disclosure that nothing is set in stone.
I don't really know what is next. But as long as I am still happy, learning every day and sharing myself with the world, that is enough.
It started with a sunrise the color of orange sherbet. It's ending with dinner at Shanta's.
In between I saw Lourdes and her new addition, Calvin. How strange that one of my very best friends has a baby. It's like she's the same, but different. Kind of like me. We drank cinnamon tea in Carrie's living room and talked about life before she had to zip to the airport to pick up her sister. Calvin was sweet and slept most of the time or made funny faces with his tongue, not even crying when Oatie decided to bark at him.
After seeing Lourdes, I had the urge to go to Kaiser and see my old work friends, so I jumped in my borrowed red 1995 Passport and hauled myself over to work. I snuck up the back stairs and in the back door. Since I've still not mastered the inside voice, it wasn't too long before everyone knew I was there. I got lots of hugs and couldn't stop smiling. Even was a little shaky- it was strange to be there and yet everything seemed just as it was before I left. It's a funny feeling to return. I felt like I was home. For six years, they were my family in Portland.
Questions about my plans- "Are you coming back?" "What's next?" abounded. Not entirely sure myself what is around the next corner, I outlined my life plan rough draft, with the disclosure that nothing is set in stone.
I don't really know what is next. But as long as I am still happy, learning every day and sharing myself with the world, that is enough.
Monday, June 1, 2009
The Sun Magazine | Saving The Indigenous Soul
I came across this article in my monthly email from The Sun Magazine. It's free to sign up and contains some of the best writing out there.
The Sun Magazine Saving The Indigenous Soul: An Interview with Martin Prechtel
"If this world were a tree, then the other world would be the roots — the part of the plant we can’t see, but that puts the sap into the tree’s veins. The other world feeds this tangible world — the world that can feel pain, that can eat and drink, that can fail; the world that goes around in cycles; the world where we die. The other world is what makes this world work. And the way we help the other world continue is by feeding it with our beauty.
All human beings come from the other world, but we forget it a few months after we’re born. This amnesia occurs because we are dazzled by the beauty and physicality of this world. We spend the rest of our lives putting back together our memories of the other world, enough to serve the greater good and to teach the new amnesiacs — the children — how to remember. Often, this lesson is taught during the initiation into adulthood.
The Mayans say that the other world sings us into being. We are its song. We’re made of sound, and as the sound passes through the sieve between this world and the other world, it takes the shape of birds, grass, tables — all these things are made of sound. Human beings, with our own sounds, can feed the other world in return, to fatten those in the other world up, so they can continue to sing."
This article seems timely as we've recently welcomed Lily into our family. A family of women welcomes its first granddaughter, its first niece. My mom says Lily makes all sorts of faces- she's busy thinking and dreaming. Perhaps transitioning into this world.
An old Aztec saying is, "That we come to this earth to live is untrue. We come to sleep and to dream." Maybe I was also drawn to this article after vivid dreams of New Zealand friends last night. This morning I woke up wondering where I was and what had happened. And then became a little sad to realise it was just a dream. But the feelings were real.
I like the idea of roots to the other world, of reincarnation, of connectedness. If we are not connected, then why are we all here together? How is it possible to just meet someone and feel you've known them forever? Couldn't that be that we actually have met?
When do you feel most alive? Is it when you're accomplishing something? Or is it when you've gotten yourself out of the usual, into a transition area, a place where time feels slow, light appears altered and life is not what it seems?
I know how I am. Which may explain why I'm content to travel, to sow no roots and to let belongings slide off my back, so that I am free to keep walking. Walking through this earth, contributing to the song, and making connections every day.
The Sun Magazine Saving The Indigenous Soul: An Interview with Martin Prechtel
"If this world were a tree, then the other world would be the roots — the part of the plant we can’t see, but that puts the sap into the tree’s veins. The other world feeds this tangible world — the world that can feel pain, that can eat and drink, that can fail; the world that goes around in cycles; the world where we die. The other world is what makes this world work. And the way we help the other world continue is by feeding it with our beauty.
All human beings come from the other world, but we forget it a few months after we’re born. This amnesia occurs because we are dazzled by the beauty and physicality of this world. We spend the rest of our lives putting back together our memories of the other world, enough to serve the greater good and to teach the new amnesiacs — the children — how to remember. Often, this lesson is taught during the initiation into adulthood.
The Mayans say that the other world sings us into being. We are its song. We’re made of sound, and as the sound passes through the sieve between this world and the other world, it takes the shape of birds, grass, tables — all these things are made of sound. Human beings, with our own sounds, can feed the other world in return, to fatten those in the other world up, so they can continue to sing."
This article seems timely as we've recently welcomed Lily into our family. A family of women welcomes its first granddaughter, its first niece. My mom says Lily makes all sorts of faces- she's busy thinking and dreaming. Perhaps transitioning into this world.
An old Aztec saying is, "That we come to this earth to live is untrue. We come to sleep and to dream." Maybe I was also drawn to this article after vivid dreams of New Zealand friends last night. This morning I woke up wondering where I was and what had happened. And then became a little sad to realise it was just a dream. But the feelings were real.
I like the idea of roots to the other world, of reincarnation, of connectedness. If we are not connected, then why are we all here together? How is it possible to just meet someone and feel you've known them forever? Couldn't that be that we actually have met?
When do you feel most alive? Is it when you're accomplishing something? Or is it when you've gotten yourself out of the usual, into a transition area, a place where time feels slow, light appears altered and life is not what it seems?
I know how I am. Which may explain why I'm content to travel, to sow no roots and to let belongings slide off my back, so that I am free to keep walking. Walking through this earth, contributing to the song, and making connections every day.
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