Dear Friends,
Happy Holidays 1999!
Warm Greetings to You and Yours midst our November heat wave—we’re suspended in Autumn! As though it's “on hold”. Gold leaves and blue sky again danced along the river, as I walked in short sleeves today. Who knows what it'll be like by the time I finish the daunting challenge of reviewing the year! Weeks are galloping towards the holidays, and here, as always, I sit paralyzed, in disbelief, this year, feeling like spring! If I'm lucky I’ll get Thanksgiving cranberry sauces and Christmas fudge made! So warm think I’ll take a drive in the mtns to hunt for hot springs and car camp (all 14 hours worth of night—gulp).
Ah, 1999 (flipping to notes). Forgot! Year began with 2 full moons in January! Brandie and I and 4 teens were driving, dropping down into Death Valley just as the New Year’s Eve full moon set and the 5am world peace meditation began. Surreally beautiful—hadn’t been in Death Valley since early ‘70s. B. asked kids for a few minutes of blessed silence. I was beyond tired from the all night trek with 4 farting boys. The following 3 balmy days and nights were a fantastic treat.
Next note says winter too cold and gray to talk self into practicing qigong by the river. After a delightful Christmas, brimming with gratefulness (first time Id "stayed home" for holidays in decades) winter blahs hit real hard mid January, despite taking science of mind courses.
Bright ray: awesome Idaho Dance Theater performance, kids dancing in plaid pajamas to Bob Dylan tunes like “Lay, Lady, Lay” had us sitting on the edges of our seats.
Another note mentions the New Year's potluck with my retired women's choir, Lyricas. Parked the toyota in with the new Buicks and other huge, traditional little old lady cars. My yummy jicama- carrot-beet salad—an unfamiliar item—was untouched amid mushroom soup hot dishes and jello “salads”. Suddenly one woman recognized the jicama and a few brave takers went back! Chuckled as I overheard an “I've never tried it and I'm not going to.” Just like kids these Idaho women: Yuck, vegetables!! Excused self during the white elephant ordeal to scout blackberry thickets along the canal. New motto: Just say No, Never again, to gift exchanges.
Note: ‘Bye to Emily and Frank, new friends pulling up stakes after frustrating time away from the coast. I can relate! Their eclectic parties (of us outsiders) in their beautiful old Baptist church/ home will not be forgot: never before, anywhere, have I used American sign language and Spanish; met Arab, Turk, Japanese, anglo and black in one gathering and this was the OR/ID border!
February. Winter. Discovered reading again, even watched a couple videos (“Jupiter's Wife” and “And Now My Love”). Re-lived Calabria, Sicily and Sardinia as I listened to parts of Paul Theroux’s The Pillars of Hercules. His description of visiting exiled composer-writer Paul Bowles (who I've never heard of), dying in Tangiers (wherever that is) is typical, incomparable Theroux. As wet gray winter dragged on and on, read and indexed back issues of yoga and science of mind magazines! More reading I loved: Graceful Exits (death stories of eastern masters); Monty Roberts’ The Man Who Listens to Horses; even re-read ever so lucid Carolyn Myss.
At long, long last, hospice training. Trundled west of the Cascades to train with Dannion Brinkley’s Compassion In Action volunteer group whose focus is no veteran should die alone. Blissful weekend, surrounded by love and support from like minds, while getting to the bottom of a lot of personal issues. Dropped in at Center for Spiritual Living (CSL), the church I love in Seattle, meeting a nursing-home nurse who excitedly told me more touching stories of his experiences, encouraged and supported me. Back in Boise repeated training with local group; told 'em I couldn’t wait to tell ya’ll in my holiday ltr about volunteering to be diapered (clothes on, nat)—news is hard to find in February.
Surprise: Albertson’s College’s excellent production of "Die Fledermaus". Nearly fell off our seats snorting and hooting (occasional Idaho references woven in script). To think this outstanding, bawdy show was at a church school in ID! Real sleeper, like the ID Dance Theater.
Marchcontinued gray and grim, so when Farmer Brown, one (cloudy) full moon night--another blue moon--when only a few dissipated kids showed up for drum circle, offered to show Brandie and I his new strobe lit dance floor upstairs in the barn, I couldn't believe my eyes. This gentle Brethren indeed has a beautiful wood dance floor edged with old theater seats, crowned with revolving mirrored ball from skating rink, strobe and laser, where his church sponsors dances for 12 step groups. As the laser danced, my head swam with yet another surreal Idaho adventure! This man of peace holds the vision of creating community on his family farm, at one time an Indian meeting ground, in a Mormon-high tech region. Blessed Be!
About that time realized local science of mind church was no longer a good spiritual fit and I wouldn't be missed as a volunteer in the office. Much as I wanted, it just wasn't working out. Comments like “Why would I ever want to go out to Farmer Brown’s”, from an active elder, awoke me that I was probably in the wrong place. Again.Spring
Open to more opportunity than Community Education to practice and teach yoga, suddenly became paid yoga teacher, having, on a tip, cold called the fitness club in Eagle (moving out of the egg farm where I subsequently interviewed) into a fine new facility. Turning an already steep curve into an overhang!
April. Couldn't resist returning to Seattle Opera House for another powerful CSL Easter service. Plus lovely, soul restoring, beach walk and visit to Deception Pass. Have developed rather unsociable reputation since sniffing salt water has become a greater priority than trying to track down eversobusy Seattle folks. They have no idea how strong the call of the wild is in my blood, much stronger than negotiating city traffic.
End of May, returned to Denver area for more fine qigong workshops with master Ken Cohen, a much needed recharge to get me practicing after the endless winter. (Missed Seattle’s Northwest Folklife for the first time in 14 years and lived!) Once again books on tape provided excellent company: outstanding reading of Flame Trees of Thika had me chuckling—can still hear the monotone “No.” from the husband no matter what the chatty wife asked; always wonderful Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace. Stayed part-time in trusty tent in Lorrie and John’s charming Denver backyard, during classic, unstable (read: stormy), front range weather. George Fredericks came up from Colo. Springs for mini-Simian/Illini reunion. Dropped by Dr. Lorrie’s graduation celebration—old buddy Lorrie now PhD!!! Fascinating how years mellow and change us. Another night enjoyed India(n) food to live for with John and Lorrie. Before leaving the area, gathered an armful of superb rhubarb from an agreeable Boulderite whose door I knocked on. Boise is the only place I've ever lived without a source of rhubarb!
Outside with Ken, May '99Trail Ridge Road closed in my face—poo. Can’t remember the last time I saw it. Classic high clouds shudda warned me. Instead, spent a wonderful couple of nights on the Flat Tops, til the next storm unleashed and brought me down from 10,000’.
June. By the time I was home it was June and Patches, neighbor Pam’s cat, and her kittens were allowed out. (December note: Patches has a new look: permed whiskers and eyebrows--musta visited a candle!)
One evening at yoga I looked in a mirror and saw one of those old fashioned children's illustrations of a Mr. Toad (a well-fed, neck-less toad wearing vest and pocket watch) looking back. Eek. An image I can’t shake: toad/frog belly!
Throughout the endless gray winter I had been simultaneous dreading summer heat. Figure that one out! Summer turned out to be more agreeable than my first, unbearable one. Only camped downstairs for 2 or 3 weeks, rather than months. Attempt to use waterbed aborted—back just changing too much—and anyhow, laying on an unheated bed in 130 degree heat, still isn't the answer for the top half.Summer July. Drove over to Wilsonville, OR to Living Enrichment Center (LEC) to attend a facilitator training. Grand “bunk” mate and good circle of folks. My consciousness remains coastal. Loved attending Sunday service with Mary Manin Morrissey again, as I had 2-3 summers before when I discovered her. Afterwards hustled down to Eugene to the famous Oregon Country Fair, figuring after all these years of wanting to go, even attending the closing hours would be worth doing. True. Turned out to be the perfect transition: from training about creating community to being with people walking the gentle, loving talk of community. All I’d heard about the magic of the fair was true 10 fold (nothing like Folklife, however). Wanna return.
Camped way back to Boise in perfect weather, reviving an earlier love affair with Oregon. Peak camping experience at lake on main highway to Santiam Pass. (In the a.m. found out why I’d so easily got a great campsite.) But not before having a lovely evening swim, watching golden-eye ducks in snags. The Night to Remember: fortissima frog chorus drowned out everything (generators, dogs) sending me into a deep, froggy sleep I’ll never forget. Wanting to listen as much as possible, I’d wake, listen, drift. Truly music to my ears! Late, late, the frogs stilled and long before dawn, a new, familiar sound began: the thawp of overhead helicopter logging! Beat it out of there, logs swinging overhead, sweet dreams in my noggin.
Back home reading by Boise River one evening, suddenly realized I was hearing a familiar little call. Looked up to see mother? mink herding and calling 3 kids, as she transported them, one by one, in her mouth, upstream along the edge of the river. Closed book, thrilled to be in the middle of every day drama in the life of a mink! Heard their calls from the river as I walked towards home.
August. Teaching several weekly yoga classes at fitness club(s), summer style, sometimes with only 1 or 2 folks (personal yoga trainer?). Always attending (my second year) a couple classes/week from treasured master Char. I'm like a parrot: learn something with Char; try it out on innocent yoga drop-ins! Having been so critical of teachers all my life, it's a humbling turnabout to be there now. Challenging, v. rewarding. Remains personally crucial to keep aligning own body-mind-spirit. For the first time in 10 years, a tangible change: now able to touch finger tips, behind back, on one side in "Gomukasana"! Transformation, cell by cell, lasting, but oh, so slow! See!
Photo by Mary--OM!!Sometimes “teaching” is terribly fun. One drop-in woman had me howling with laughter as she described moving from Seattle back to her husband’s home (Boise). She had him reverting to a red-neck, like a vampire changes at the full moon! Since I can’t complain about Idaho to Idahoans, cracked me up to hear some one say the unsayable. Yah, conservative is an understatement ("My kid can beat up your honor student" is a bumpersticker fav.) So I focus on the startling surprises like…
Attending sweat lodge by the freeway through Boise, with a circle of fitness folks from one club. Luckily, the facilitator had a good sized toad belly too—we laughed at the irony: 2 earthy blobs in baggy t-shirts wedged between buff body builders, male and female, muscles bulging, wearing little bits of coverings. Hilarious! Sweating until sweat ran salt-free, sleeping dreamless, was wonderful.
Finally got out camping, this exceptionally heavy snow year. Click Travels below for more than you'd ever want to know about my birthday camping trip, and others (unrecorded: painful defeat near McCall--mosquitoes won) . End of August a memorable wind blew in, temperature plummeted. Summer--fini.Autumn
September. Outing to Olympic Peninsula for tai chi retreat. The true retreat was enroute, gathering and eating fresh oysters, swimming and kayaking in Hood Canal on a beautiful, warm morning. After the “retreat”, spent several days at Katy and Carl's, eating simple food (well, there was the fresh blackberry pie we made) without having to hike straight up a cliff, sleep in a child's sized bunk, or do anything whatsoever. Now that's a retreat!
Back home, after waiting, sitting for 3+ hours, I relabeled the ordination of our minister: ordeal-ination. Probably all I’ll remember (besides slipping out for Chinese food at 9:30pm) was announcement of the honorable delegate from the “Congressional Church” (the Hemphill childhood Congregational Church perhaps?). Idaho!!
October. Lyricas rehearsed diligently for an old fashioned concert. The hardest part was showing up, dressed in our piano key print vests and "real" shoes (had to take off the toe rings) balancing 4 doz. cookies on platters (which of course all slid into plastic bags), notebook, etc. Director Leona’s guest Broadway musician, Robert Newman, was a show stopper. Tape tells me it was more fun to sing than listen to us!
Fall still beautiful, rendezvoused with old Seattle friend Peter in Oregon, camping thanks to gracious private landowners on hunter-free land, with access to closed-for-season hot springs. Blissful weekend, kind of a Shangri-La experience being in a private valley with no locks, no barking. Adventure: after decades in The West, finally nearly stepped on Big Snake (rattlesnake). Just like in the books, heard, then saw. Impressed Peter when I reversed direction mid-air. Prayer works, Peter. Noted heart did not double time like when the tree fell nearby last year. Beautiful weekend; didn't wanna come home—Oregon, sigh. 20 minutes late to teach first Fall session community ed class.
Sometime this fall with a lotta help from friends, finally got ThirdEyeDaho website up. Inevitable for this obsessive writer. Feels like I'm published even if I'm the only visitor! Click around and come back soon!
Beautiful full moon weekend for another Ken Cohen workshop in Grand Jct. (Again, click Travels below.)
At last, hospice opportunities. Bliss to be with a woman who died the next day; just what I’d waited for all these years.
Note: Mormon church requests trick or treating be done on Saturday, not Sunday.
November. Swatting fruit flies during CPR training. Endless Fall continues. Tibetan monks come to Boise (click Journals). On the heels of which apt. owner says Down with my lovely prayer flags, 5 colorful little squares I proudly hand painted last August and have hung on the "porch". Ida-Hoh! Thanksgiving with old housemate Curt, in my old stopping ground to the north (breaking a 20 year Bellingham tradition), kind of a bon voyage as he moves back to Boston.
