Greetings
from Idaho!
What!!
Another year! Feels more like I've being steam rolled than gone
with the flow! My third, at Glencrest as I call home in Boise 'burbs.
Horses still in pastures 'tween me and Hill Road. I'm working on
a crude shade (pleased when neighbor Gary immed. recognized its gorilla--er
guerilla--style--bamboo poles set in buckets filled with rocks, pvc pipe
lashed horizontally) around the hot tub to deflect headlights that shoot
straight from the road, as well as lights that beam when leaves drop from
shade trees around homes in the foothills. Last year I wrote holiday
news as leaks plopped into yogurt cups along the bedroom window sill--down
to just one cup a year later. Neighbor Paul--bless him--helped me
troubleshoot. Caulked around the outside of the new windows of the
first summer's remodel. Recently chimney sweep Greg Duffy added a
storm collar to the redo of the wood stove chimney that was part of August's
major remodel. I optimistically removed the buckets by the stove.
No rain/no leaks for practically a half year!--if 1/2" counts. My
angst over leaks paled in comparison to the deep funk that overwhelmed
me during last summer's adventures with bees (see August). My attitude
towards our tiny winged "friends" that make honey will probably never be
the same. (See: barred teeth.) "Winged friends" is now up there
with serious misnomers like "friendly fire". Ach! What with
major deaths, a rather heavy duty year.
SHORT FORM 2003
Jan.
Non winter. Mexico!JJ
Framing and matting J.
Regular at Wok Inn Noodle. J.
Feb.
Missed gospel workshop while in Mexico! L.
Non winter continues. One cold week. UU's Our Town J.
No home improvements continues. Me nombre Elena.
Mar. Concordia
Choir. J Hot tub meltdownL.
Mom dies March 14th-- Minneapolis; Durango; Nevada.
April Snow!
Dan potluck #2 J .
Easter in Boise: Journey of the U
; women's’ tea; Ralph Nadar; espagnol con Laura. Discover
Wendy's oriental salad.
May Retreats.
Char dies May 5. Rain, rain, cool. Folklife/Seattle - National
Living Treasure Pat Wright's Total Experience Gospel choir.JJ
San Jose!
June Tassajara;
camping under oaks J.
Home J PeasJ;
bok choy lost, earwigs won.L
Home. More power outages; neighbors Tom and Linda move L
way north! Silver City geology field trip! Sage Hen Meadow;
writing. Time for chest openers-- where did all the yoga students
go?
July 4th of
July paddle/dump. Green nose; communion. Heat, heat,
heat L; summer hibernation;
more writing about mom and Char. Blue Bunny Knee Deep in chocolate
J.
Outages continue. NYC? ha! Rosalie at the Botanical GardensJ.
Aug. Remodel
with Bill! J
Blueberries missing again. Lesbian loop. Sawtooths, Diamond
D; Mars peaksJ. BEES.
L
WASPS
L. Prison!
Birthday wake up.
Sept. Another
awesome Buddhist raft trip J.
Bozeman JL.
Still warm, moved inside, upstairs, after East coast trip; resumed hot
tub. Leslie Field's; Eisley revisited. Yoga downstairs.
JHS--Russell Hicks.
Oct. Diet
alert. Zinnia and honeysuckle finally bloom
J!
Last of rhubarb
J.
Leslie James retreat.
Nov. More
floors, more yoga, more framing. Chan meets Bose. Double Thanksgivings.
Messiah back at NNU.
Dec. Presario
updateJ. Solstice
at BreitenbushJJ. Honoring
the Medicine. Laughter--Bremerton; BellinghamJ.
LONG
FORM 2003
January.
Kathe wandered over from neighbor's Gary and Cindy's this New Year's Eve
gathering to burn resolutions in the wood stove. Recall enjoying
the fire and talking to myself reasonably well. Just ain't
the good old daze!
While normal homeowners rip and paint, I began digging out a lifetime of
rolled up and stashed prints, framing and hanging. At the bottom
of the family round top trunk were Degas prints from childhood and watercolors
from Aunt Peggy I had no recollection of whatsoever. Every frame's
different for a set of Muir prints acquired during the '70s through High
Country News. Framing my life, as it were. Ongoing again this
winter as I write. Prints now march up the stairs. (See photos below)
Could be the number one customer of thriftshop frames; tried many to find
a few winners (only to change mind again and again).
Even though this was more or less a winter that didn't happen, recalling
my promise to take a sun break from Boise gray skies, headed south to México
for dos semanas(?), on one of Emmett farmer Señor Don's informal
tours. The produce and pies at his produce stand in Horseshoe
Bend, Volcanic Farms, are my "local" favorites. The two Donnas make
awesome pie crusts.
See "Travels page" for the full adventure. Unlike others, didn't
get sick 'til I got home... Comida de México no esta/es por
moi. [Mexican food ain't me.]
February.
Since I missed the gospel workshop while off in México, visited
Miracle Temple one Sunday--small black pentacostal church en route to Eagle.
Mercy, did I hear singing! But I'd already been to the Vineyard that
morning. Several more hours was more than this white girl could handle
regularly!
When I recovered from México, began Spanish classes through
Community Ed. Me nombre Elena. Grateful for two excellent,
compassionate instructors. Listened eagerly to Sandra Cisneros' Caramelo.
In
inglais, naturally.
Went down the street one winter evening to see a wonderful production
of "Our Town"; the Unitarians have found their calling. Little did
I know I was being prepared for March.
Notes: cold week; yoga classes bigger.
March.
"Concordia Choir"--neighbors Tom and Linda and I made a grand evening of
it; I was smitten! Not long after, Tom troubleshot my melted down
hot tub--he'd just installed theirs. Little did I know they'd take
theirs north by September.
The middle of March was eclipsed by mom's death; travel to Minneapolis
to meet brothers; to Durango to scatter ashes. The rest of the year
I've waded and wandered through the experience of losing the final parent,
in a heavy fog, working through thoughts, now on a new web page to Mom.
April.
After such a mild winter, a spring snow. Basque Buddhist Dan hosted
another fun potluck. I was traveled out, glad to spend Easter in
Boise at my increasingly fond of local church. Boise Vineyard's Easter
agenda included a last supper with pastor Mike, a Friday sunset walk--no,
definitely a hike--to the cross on the mesa behind the penitentiary, complete
with re-enacted dramas-- impressed by Barabas. Told myself if I survived
the hike, I'd treat myself to dinner at Chan's. I'm in year #? realigning
feet, limping. The bribe barely got me to the top; hobbled down while
folks sang. Sunday-- sunrise bonfire with full moon and appearance
by Mary Magdelene. Powerful week.
After all these decades, heard Ralph Nader speak to crowd of BSU students.
About time!
New Spanish teacher, Laura, teaches at the prison. Hmm.
About now, discovered Wendy's Oriental salad.
About now began bringing home starts of heirloom Brandywines, my favorite
tomatoes, from Toby's nursery in Eagle. The first group froze, huddled
by the hot tub, later ones nipped.
May.
Not done with death this year, my dear, complex Boise yoga master Char
died after a long, long journey. Hosted a small circle for her daughter
and students 10 days later.
Notes say rain and cool. Little did we know we'd scarcely see rain
again until late fall.
Another church singles events; delighted at the strange combination of
folks.
Lovely meditation retreat at Boise's Nazareth Ctr with Thich Nhat Hahn
students/teachers Peggy Rowe and Larry Ward. Opening afternoon I
celebrated "selling" the beloved corolla wagon after a year of renewals,
ads, maintenance. What a deficit project! The weekend before
we sat with Zen teacher Layla Smith, San Francisco. Raining Buddhists!
One day as I drove along preoccupied, chewing on the anger that caused
someone to vandalize all the statuary in the nursery I'd just stopped in,
one of the world's slowest drivers managed to get a school zone ticket
with no kids present. Immediately understood how helpless we can
feel. Fun breathing through that one, writing $130 check, about two
weeks of yoga income. Guess this explains my passion to do prison
ministry.
The night before I left to spend Memorial weekend at Folklife in Seattle,
planted the frost nipped Brandywines (tomatoes) with a prayer.
Another Folklife with National Living Treasure Pat Wright's Total
Experience Gospel Choir, Marli, Marcy, Susan and friends. Particularly
enjoyed the Maritime theme--films documenting Italian seafaring tradition
brought to Boston; life on Cranberry Island. Met Gloucester MA fisherman/museum
beneficiary Sam Novello. Tom Lewis back to sing. Poems by fisherman
Leslie Leyland Fields (see favorite below); tales by seafaring men and
women riveted me. Once again shrieked with laughter at Johnnie Moses'
stories. My feet can resist contra dancing (but not the music); but
nothing can keep me off the Balkan floor except for falling all over myself
trying to remember Elena Mome, etc. End of each day hostess Marli
and I ran into each other as we limped onto the #16 bus north. Sunday
morning I always enjoy stopping by incomparable Kathianne Lewis' memorial
service. "Her" CSL choir sang at Folklife this year! By Monday
evening I was utterly spent. Seattle's such a treat that I was exhausted
having a year's worth of fun in one weekend! Watching Ballard Sedentary
Sousa band with sitting baton twirler Edith Farrar, droll as ever, is hard
work! Fortunately most of the acts are one of a kind--couldn't take
another like 'em, or more than once a year!
Recovered at Marcy's new digs in Bremerton before driving onto San José,
for adventures with old friends and workshop at Tassajara (See Travels).
June.
Great visit with Simian co-webster Paul and mate Christina in San José.
Fine yoga/meditation retreat at nearby Tassajara. Followed by blissful
camping under California oaks. [See Travels] Home to harvest
first ever garden peas. Earwigs subdued even rhubarb! More
power outages (sprinklers down; lost newly transplanted lavender that had
been doing so well--no water while I was out of town). What a neighborhood!
Alas, no 2nd annual neighborhood yard sale (my garage probably couldn't
have taken it). News that homeowner assoc. lead Tom would be heading
north sobered me. Delightful Mining Museum field trip to Silver City.
Just like the geology days of old, being with rock hounds (and their hounds).
I've missed hearing terms like pegmatite and rhyolite! Added later:
but I learned the sound of crunching mormon crickets--first saw them in
NV; crunched miles of them on the way down from Silver City.
No June visitors this year! What! Boise not a major destination!
Family'll never drop in! The only hope are friends.
Rehung mosquito net tent on the back porch--relocated bedroom for summer.
Yoga world--chest openers sound good; but where are all the students?
Returned to camp in Sage Hen Meadow, full of magenta shooting stars and
blue camas. Carcasses have been scattered, vegetation recovering
slowly from abusers. Began sorting and writing through the experience
of mom's and Char's deaths.
July.
Heat, heat, heat. Went into what felt like hibernation, except, of
course, summer. Cowered inside, air conditioning running unprecedentedly
long hours, attic fan working overtime; writing, writing, making sense
of two big deaths.
Beets won't sprout; earwigs did in bok choy; none to take to Chan this
year. Barely enough arrugalu to flavor Wendy's salads.
4th of July Bear Valley campout again this year with Helen and friends.
More confident in the kayak this time; dumped immediately, losing
water supply! Highlight of the day--maybe summer--suddenly realizing
Helen and I were about to paddle beside two river otter! Shushed
and pointed frantically. By the end of the day, could barely climb
out--so dehydrated. Pasta and tea were a miracle recharge.
Left campers and their beers early to witness yoga and dance buddy Ted's
wedding mass back in Boise. Two strong memories: inadvertently picking
my nose with the ink of an exploded green ballpoint on the way to St. Mark's;
and not being able to resist getting in line for communion from Ted, holding
the wine. Hopefully Father Jiro forgave me; didn't have a clue what
to do.
While mom's outdated, faded to pink plastic kayak was still on the car
(making me look like an outdoor jock), enjoyed a 2nd late night moonlight
paddle near Montour, with friends of Idaho Outdoor Sports.
Scoffed unsympathetically at New York City's outages. Idaho Power
trucks idle around our Gary Lane Meadow subdivision routinely!
Discovered Blue Bunny Knee Deep in Chocolate.
Mom's Durango friend Rae swung on the back porch one evening while traveling
through. A year after Evette visited with her nose in Tolle's
Power
of Now--I got it. Wow! Also enjoyed Botany of
Desire; potatoes and apples will never be the same. Notes
say we heard ever wonderful Rosalie Sorrels at the Botanical Gardens, one
hot evening. That night and others, beautiful sunsets from all the
fires in the West again. Ironically, some of the most breath taking
sunsets I saw were from the parking lot of the new Walmart down the street.
Often dashed in on my way home, under cover of darkness to avoid day crowds.
More than once thought of snapping sunset with Walmart photo. Confess
hiking in and outa Walmart's my primary exercise.
Favorite waitress/friend Christina at Chan's took another job; gonna miss
her.
August.
August was consumed with contractor Bill (overheard him at church saying
he remodels) redoing the downstairs; making decisions, writing checks.
(Since paint bubbled and peeled in August's relentless heat, never crossed
my busy mind to inquire about heating new floor, which has since become
yoga space. Much as I love having hardwood, deeply regret not seizing
the opportunity. Dena wears gloves this winter!)
One hot, hot weekend, ran away to McCall to camp again with Unitarians
at Ponderosa State Park. Payette Lake was pure bliss, perfect temperature.
Stayed in hours. This time I was assigned to the Lesbian Loop.
Interesting, measuring my words around a fierce, shaved headed, tattooed
young woman in grad school, her buddy and the usual beloved furry best
friends. The campground huckleberries turned out to be the only ones
I saw all summer.
Yoga students saw to it I seriously overdosed on birthday cake and ice
cream after class. That night, in no uncertain terms, my body threatened--cut
it out or die painfully.
Birthday outing to explore Sawtooths. Listening to New Dimension
tapes, took the RAV onto new mountain roads. Camped 4 nights.
Mars, as close as it gets, loomed huge. Coming upon the Diamond D
Ranch--might brother Scott's family ever stay there?--reminded me of my
magical childhood memory of Water Valley dude ranch in Wyoming.
Back home it slowly dawned on me bees were beelining in and out
of the garage eve--to a hive somewhere in the garage walls. After
I semi successfully tried to caulk and board up the entrance, I learned
how angry the bees were. They chased and stung. Being nailed
by the eye was particularly painful and memorable. In the past stings
have been no big thing; this time, immunity was down; body reacted strongly,
swelled, knotted and ached; nausea, depressed. Whatadrag! Oh,
how I hated
home owning, missed renting. Worse than leaks!
True, the week I moved in, I realized I'd signed up to patrol wasp nests
the rest of my life--now this! No wonder women marry, I thought!
On the net, read only a beekeeper can remove bees once they've chosen a
home. (Neighbor bee keeper Tom had just left for Alaska--leaving
me his bees perhaps?) Moved yellow "Warning, toxic fumes" banner
from front door across sidewalk so the unsuspecting wouldn't be attacked.
Began using back door, wearing hooded coat, heavy pants, gloves, socks,
black net mantilla over face--this, in the 100 degree heat--as I went from
house to car, car to house. At night, covered from head to toe, nervously
slipped out front with flashlight and fly swatter, murdering bee by bee.
Hated warring, feeling like a hostage, what seemed like lack of sympathy!
Condo friend chuckled; another expects boss to deal with such things.
The beeline slowed.
Not only bees, but wasps, attacked/stung as I scuttled along the fence
to the back. People insisted I didn't know a bee from a wasp or hornet;
little did they know I had a world class bug collection and Mr. Emrick
for junior high science. This, in regard to why wasp spray does not
affect bees.
Likewise, I know a squash bug from a lady bug. Until I had a garden,
though, I did NOT know what squash bugs do--unbelievable! This year,
the instant they appeared, I squooshed, defending a volunteer squash of
unknown variety, then used a tad of Safer spray recommended by a contractor.
Held squash bugs at bay, but not earwigs.
Compared to coping with bees, visiting prison was a piece of cake.
Some time in August, finally arranged to visit my spring Spanish teacher's
English class at the private prison! The felons, as she calls them
fondly, were at least as attentive as yoga students when I did a mini song
and dance presentation about relaxation. For whatever reason, I relate
to folks who screw up and get caught. Not long after I was in the
same classroom on a Sunday night with a Unity Church volunteer to observe
how he teaches Cady's Lessons in Truth. Since one should only
visit once, I'm working on official orientation and forms. Months
later Laura emails that the felons ask when I'm coming back.
September.
Another early Sept. awesome Buddhist raft trip below Cabarton with Mike
Tonesmeier, just-as-the-weather-shifted. Mike's got a lot to share.
Camped over at Sage Hen that night, awoke to fog. No owls, 'yotes
or elk heard. But out in the meadow when I'd arrived chomped two
moose! That's a first! Glad they could find something after
cows moved in.
Following weekend, dashed north to Bozeman--such a fine drive--to hear
Zen teacher Reb Anderson again. My local host turned out to be a
fellow I'd worked with briefly at Harper-Owes in Seattle, spring 1989,
before heading up to Kodiak! A newcomer to meditation, Clain dropped
out of the retreat early; I lasted longer, wondering where Reb "was at"!
He lost a bunch of us!
Mid September, proudly picked my first 2 scrumptious if heavily cracked,
giant Brandywines, which survived the slight frost nip in my especially
arctic backyard. (Everyone else harvested tomatoes all summer!)
Flew to Massachusetts, visited Hemphills and more (see photos) and
recharged with qigong master Ken Cohen at Kripalu Center. The first
morning, we experienced more Buddhist meditation than a weekend in Bozeman.
Live and learn. Returned inspired, with recharged body, mind and
spirit (despite Kripalu's severe vegetarian food).
Back home, although it continued unseasonably warm, moved bedroom inside
and upstairs "for the winter that didn't happen for sometime". Turned
hot tub back on. Began holding yoga classes downstairs in the new
space (photo below).
Tomatoes were waiting and ripening! An especially late stay of frosty
execution allowed the bumper crop of late setting Brandwine's to make it.
(See photos.)
Found Leslie Leyland Field's online. Now have her book of poems with
the stunning "Consolation of Sinking of My Poems" I'd heard at Folklife
(see below). On a literary role, triggered by lawn mower Cliff's
story about his hands, revisited Loren Eiseley. Dug out collection,
finally found favorite story in All the Strange Hours. I'd
share the title, but Cliff appears to have split with it. Charming
rascals I have known.
Astonished to notice in new high school reunion booklet Russell Hicks and
spouse living in my backyard--Idaho City!
Brief moral test when I discovered contractor Bill hadn't fully cashed
one of last summer's large checks.
October.
Carolyn Sutherland's straight, compassionate presentation about health
and diet at the health fair was just what I needed to understand last
summer's health wake ups, the damage I've done. She checked off everything
on the allergy sensitive list. I've overdone dairy, wheat, soy, corn,
beans, sugar and caffeine, sweet vegetables and fruits. No more Knee
Deep in Chocolate 'til I get it together! Can I do it? Also
inspired by (Spokanite) Heather Ming's Falun spirit and faith; how I wish
we had a local qigong practice group my speed!
Foot feeling significantly better from relentless hip work. Back
walking some, inspecting late summer on the Greenbelt.
Eerie mild fall. Rhubarb on a roll--2 seasons behind--tasty rhubarb
scones and sauce. Thrilled when (the one) zinnia from Tassajara I
planted in June, opened one yellow bloom just before the big frost!
(See photos.) And, the hardly-bloomed-all-summer honeysuckle I evidently
planted in the wrong place when I arrived put out fragrant blossoms!
Brandywines kept turning pink! Became a tomato hustler, generally
hearing a horrified, "We've got Tomatoes!" until Mary Alice and Dena helped
me out. (Mild fall also extended the season of "friendly" wasps and
bees.) Chard made a comeback; sorrel was unaffected by earwigs.
Still inspired by June stay at Tassajara, enjoyed Ed Brown's Tomato
Blessings/Radish Lessons cookbook; online search for the most excellent
bamboo grater he raved about. Though I may used it on occasion, Chan
of the Wok Inn Noodle, remains my favorite cook, his unimproved restaurant,
my home away from home. I keep a yoga magazine and Sentinel in the
car for stops there, but often end up reading Local and Life sections of
the Statesman or chatting with whoever's there.
Brian invited Tassajara Zen teacher Leslie James back to Boise for a wonderful
retreat. The small group I've sat with more often than not the past
4? years continues to learn/wrestle/practice--currently with generosity.
Potent food for thought at this time settling mom and dad's estates.
All year long, weekend on top of weekend, Boise individuals continued to
invite favorite "rimpoches" from all over the world to Boise--I swore teachers
outnumbered students! I'm part of the communication problem--no closer
to being at peace with Boise's assortment of sanghas and Idaho's anti community
consciousness than ever.
Another warm October weekend, church singles walked around Idaho City.
I gnawed semi wild apples. Some of us detoured through an unforgettably
colorful junk shop. All prowled the graveyard for hours, studying
markers and getting to know each other--we're from Idaho City; Nevada;
Holland... Of course ended at the ice cream parlor-- blueberry and
coconut were favorites. Before heading home, found high school classmate
Russell Hicks and wife sitting down for pizza in their Forest Service home!
We'll re-une another time.
Finally had Carla and Joe over one Sunday evening after threatening to
do do for literally years! All enjoyed eggplant (courtesy Vineyard
garden) parmesan with tomato sauce (local, nat). Now that I rarely
entertain, I'm rather nervous!
November.
Most excellent floorman Robert Taylor finished remaining downstairs floors.
A true Buddha, Robert chipped away by hand at the bathroom floor for three
days.
For a few weeks, folks seemed to be making up for missing yoga all summer,
and before the holidays hit (well before Thanksgiving, I'm sure you noticed).
Enjoyed the energy of full classes. Regardless who does or doesn't
show up, I'm always the one who learns and benefits. Ever grateful
to have yoga in my life, to help balance body, spirit and mind.
Another traffic ticket. This time under the seat belt diaspora (wonder
if that's the right word).
Although I still have the reputation for traveling a lot that was Before
The House. Home, home, home this fall. Among other reasons:
to defend house from flickers trying to break into the attic vents--halt
squatters who don't clean up after themselves. OK to drum on drain
pipe, but not OK to excavate and relocate. Neighbor Matt (who can
see that side of the house--I can't--says he'll shoot the ___. Gulp.)
Homeowning's bloody biz.
I have a house; the house has me. Sure, can sub yoga Saturday, whenever.
Still framing and reframing favorite art and photos, obsessively.
Found matching frame for Aunt Peggy largest watercolor. Dug up decades
old set of small eskimo prints. Decided I couldn't live without hanging
old paneled window frames like Tracy's; found pair. They're upstairs,
but may end up down. The house has few windows (none on either side).
They'd be nice any number of places.
Almost forgot--yet another home improvement under my XL leotards
After only 3 years and months of unscrewing and screwing, selected
and replaced all ~50 kitchen/bathroom cabinet handles. (Never came
up with definitive count.) More sharp corners, snagging and ripping
conquered!!
Another
rollicking potluck at hospitable Monasterio's party home. Another
pot of garden squash soup--the unidentified volunteers are quite tasty,
thank you v. much. (One well meaning visitor to the garden warned
they were ornamental, casually picking and tossing one aside! Friends!)
I, who also aspires to entertain, often have no one show for mere meditations
at my monastery! Of course I don't wait on folks with expresso and
wine like maestro Monasterio! Dan has The Benedictine gift of hospitality,
but doesn't know it!
At Wok Inn Noodle, Chan and I talk books; he also adores music, has a keen,
discriminating ear. One Monday night, I brought by the new portable
Bose on the way back from community ed dance class. He's built a
music center along one wall of the restaurant, atop large Fisher speakers.
The centerpiece is his pawnshop AIWA. It does sound good. "Not
bad", he gently evaluated the Bose, the toy I'd waited all year to try
out in the Hillside cafeteria. I declared it a stunning success in
the big room, just like Sue said. Now I can play Gabrielle Roth CDs
loud enough to dance to! Chan's Everything Restaurant. Moo
shu pork to Mozart.
As soon as I heard Chan's latest set of thriftshop tapes--Christmas Meditation
vols. 1-5, I was smitten. It's cheating, but I dashed to Amazon to
order used copies, instead of stalking thriftshops, which I'll do anyhow.
As they arrived from distant states, played nothing else over the holidays.
Despite the promise of a big turkey gathering in Bellingham, spent another
Thanksgiving in Boise. Neighbor Gary and I attended a strange-only-in-Boise
interfaith service in the a.m. That afternoon I took brussel sprouts
(always a test), cranberries, table and chairs to a first ever church singles
Thanksgiving potluck. Strange too, but wonderful. I like meeting
ordinary people, seeing if I can get folks sharing, eating brussel sprouts.
That evening, moved to the opposite end of the social/political/conversation
spectrum with the Unitarians down the street. After asking the hostess'
partner about the recent gay clergy debate I'd missed, learned Woody'd
volunteered at the Ontario (OR) prison 5 years--my favorite subject!
He told wonderful stories and encouraged me without a moment's hesitation.
You'll love it--they'll love you and you'll love them, he said outright.
Support doesn't get any better than that. Bless the Unitarians for
letting me tag along on their liberal shirt tails and bless the conservative
Vineyard folks for letting me enjoy their teachers and passion.
This led to meeting neighbor Ron Coleman, volunteer chaplain at maximum
security, Vineyard affiliate, and volunteer with Chuck Colson's Prison
Fellowship. Ron didn't bat an eye when I said I practice and love
Buddhist meditation! Hope to tag along with him as well as go in
as a student of Buddhist meditation! Allah is good!
Northwest Nazarene University sang The Messiah that weekend. Missed
out last year. What I missed this year was my fault. When I
noticed someone slip low in their seat, my yoga posture went out the window
and my head lay on the back of the seat. Next thing I knew, alumni
were pouring on stage for the Hallelujah chorus. Rats! I love
the Messiah! So be it; promised to take better care of myself during
the insidiously stressful holidays. No more holiday shingles episodes!!
December.
Listening to Christmas Meditation CDs was soothing, but early December
was survival, waiting to "escape". Seattle has nothing on Boise's
weeks and weeks of gray inversions all winter. Seattle's damp and
green; Boise's gray and brown. Baked stollen for neighbors, sonnebakkel
cookies for Stuart. Thought about mom and how I'm now the family
and female elder. Baked another turkey for a potluck at church,
but didn't go caroling, having tromped around the lit up Botanical Gardens
in the rain the night before. Ginger from church held a tea; mercifully
she didn't care that I didn't want part of the gift exchanges. Mercifully
too, the mini cream puffs were about my only brush with a table full of
sweets this holiday!
Favorite Kodiak thriftshop cranberry sweater with patched sleeves, and
plaid flannel pj bottoms became my yoga and daily uniform during gray December
(which extends into Jan., Feb...). This fall our fine fitness club
supervisor came to her senses, resigned to focus on private appointments.
Life is uncertain. The new coordinator ("has a great body" I was
told) asks us to work harder than ever. The image of blood from a
turnip floated by. Ha.
Holiday collective unconscious sends me wild. Every year I make sending
off gifts (like taxes) into an ordeal. All around folks smugly get
it done in October. What's stopping me!
Contractor Bill recommended a techy to update the locking up Presario.
Returned to the wild retired Marine (at least I'm an honest
A.H.,
he says) for finishing touches.
The more I read Jung and Laurens van der Post, the more I crave honesty.
Jung, van der Post, Christian Science and cook C.C. Chan got me through
the crazy holidays, helping me remember who we really are, what's really
important. Not a time to look around for answers. "Avert your
eyes" has become a favorite mantra!
Did my part to light up the neighborhood. Matt and Tammy have icicle
lights on one side of me; Sally's house and yard are decorated. One
warm afternoon just as I was about to abandon trying to hang icicles
lights across the peak of the garage, Sally held the ladder.
Bless her. On a roll, brought home 2 bags of 1/2 price lights from
Salvation Army. The weeping plum in front begs lights. If I
can figure out how to use the one and only outlet, some year there may
be more.
Finally escaped to Breitenbush Oregon for Solstice. Healthy
food--too healthy?--no phones, internet or to do lists (outside of
relaxing).
As always, napped, soaked, read. Made it half way into Ken Cohen's
long awaited, excellent Native American masterpiece, Honoring the Medicine.
For
whatever reason this year's visitors (including a couple other returnees)
connected above average. The Arcata woman played the piano while
the widow from Virginia and I tried to sing along. So fun!
Solstice evening my stomach revolved--I mean revolted--did both--too much
overeating vegetarian food, bread and such. What I'd give for a bowl
of Chan's chicken soup! Missed the program, but woke feeling better
next morning. Except for Morning Circle with Jamshed, passed on early
classes with young community members. Final morning, cameras, smiles
and hugs appeared. Hadn't laughed so much in ages. Never got
to the stack of yoga magazines or Jung book! While in Oregon, church
with Mary; however sense of uneasy fit this time. Couldn't get over
all the fancy clothes. For the first time, realized Boise Vineyard
might be my true home church. Gulp. Who's changing?
More sharing and laughter in Bremerton, Seattle and Bellingham.
Always hustle--a night here, an hour there, didn't even sniff salt water.
As I wrote last year, "Never enough time, but then, who comes to Idaho?"
Tasty Christmas ham dinner in Bellingham, lotta laughs. We all agreed,
Katy-Carl-Gary-Jo and I were all in rare form! A piece o' my heart's
west of the Cascades. I'm soft on open minds, "progressive" attitudes
and diversity, yet it's good to live inland, where I'm rooting deeper and
deeper, like a rhubarb that'll be hard to dig up!
Good evangelist that I'm becoming (I am?), hustled home to church, not
realizing a rather big storm was moving across the West. Made it
fine, grateful that years of Colorado winters taught me the non negotiable
lesson to slow down in snow and ice. Not so, beau coups upside, crunched
4WDs and trucks. Good practice praying. Roads weren't bad,
unless you refused to slow down--America's hardest lesson?
$*$$$$$$$$***$**
Ever on the inner journey, especially this year. Am giving
myself whatever time is needed to work through losing final parent.
Perhaps magnified because dad died at my age this year. Strong sense
each year is a windfall not to be squandered. Laurens van der Post
(Jung
and the Story of Our Time) says Jung referred to the inner journey
as "a far more difficult and urgent journey modern man was called upon
to undertake into the unknown universe of himself". While Idahoans
kayaked, jet skied and hunted, enjoying the region's natural assets, for
months I hunkered down bigtime, much of it during record breaking heat
and fires, with thoughts and "pen", squinting at life and death.
It fit with the physical journey to align/balance hips that have twisted
my walk, feet, spine and shoulders for decades. Slowly standing straighter
and stronger. Maybe someday put the old Kelty back on?
Another round volunteering community ed classes--yoga, occasionally
qigong, dance. In the new downstairs home space, two very small private
yoga classes; 3 mornings classes at Boise's only still family owned fitness
club; bi-monthly noon class on Orchard Ave. This fall began organizing,
dusting off, looking through Char's old yoga magazines. Reading and
occasional workshops keep me studying, if not teaching, yoga full time.
I love it (and qigong). Weekly pilates classes too, with trainer
extraordinaire Mary Kay. Between Siler's book and MK, slowly getting
a clue "Why pilates?", reconciling yoga and pilates. I like a good
puzzle. Meanwhile I'm a most grateful small time yogini in progress.
Books.
Inevitable this crazed writer would have mini-reviews on a books page.
(See my Books web page) The year began with delightful Siberia
Bound. Followed by a martial arts story,
Way of the River;
both
Bo Lozoff's remarkable books. I'm fascinated by American Buddhism,
particularly as the story of the San Francisco Zen Center lineage.
Dropped back in on favorite travel writer and cynic Paul Theroux.
Love of the sea brought around Leslie Leyland Fields. Rarely reread--Curve
of Time surfaced, magical as ever. Once I started listening to
Grisham's
The Summons, looked for excuses to drive anywhere!
Love a good moral study. Ach, so many books! As contractor
Bill said on another subject-- we're so greedy! Amen!
Fetching books and CDs online with a click raises the uneasy subjects of
instant gratification and small is beautiful. Painfully aware of
losing the battle of living in the world but not being of it. Thanks
to excellent teachers and retrieving intuition bit by bit, I understand
the painful Truth of why I'm fractured, lack discipline... Simplicity
v. toys, one form of spiritual dis-ease. My prayer for the new year
is to practice living and eating simply, from the heart; to mend discontinuities
between belief and practice into wholeness.
Another year of sometime Saturday morning meditations, sipping green tea,
yakking with coffee drinkers still known as Dharma Bums. Tuesday
evenings are now "Floating Cloud sangha", since we can't figure where to
meet. Returned when the Clouds began discussing Shunryu Suzuki's
Not
Always So, which I love. Always need Don Ruiz to remind me:
"Take
nothing personally".
Buddha to Jesus. Singing and studying at Vineyard church. Crave
hearing no nonsense truths weekly. Vineyard pastors continue to endear
themselves--I'm both deeply touched and tickled with laughter. I've
never experienced such outstanding leadership (and I've been told what
to do by gobs of folks over the years)! Why does this work?
Something's very right. Call church good enough. (Gotta revisit
New Thought's understanding of today's talk on John 5:16. Yikes!)
For balance, grateful to socialize with Unitarians, Congregationalists,
meditators. "Love thy neighbor as thyself", I volley to all camps,
especially my own.
Inordinately (to borrow the great adverb from Kingsolver) grateful for
Chan's home away from home. Many a Friday or Saturday night I brought
book and waited 'til orders died back before enjoying sizzling rice soup
and egg rolls. It's a one man/one waitperson show. Sometimes
I'm still there when Chan turns off the exhaust fan and brings over his
plate of fried rice--to my table, or another. I sense he misses sitting
down with a large staff after a full evening. Years ago he had 3
restaurants, lines out the door! Now there are evenings when only
2 regulars stop in! Although he enjoys cooking family style, he graciously
serves fiercely independent Idahoans. Missed Chan (and his cooking)
so much after Christmas that I phoned and came down the night after new
year's with candles, food and left over hot cider. The waitress left.
By candle light, we ate spinach dip and crackers, shared respective travels,
waiting for the electricity to come back on! Knowing Chan, is like
being with Jesus; he has a host of friends. Treats everyone as a
child of God; walks the earth softly. He'd argue, of course.
May All Beings Know Love and Peace; Be Feed, Clothed and Sheltered!
Love and Peace,
Jeannie
