Heat seeps into pores
walk beneath Moab’s towers
tasty food beckons.
Moab, Utah is a tourist town and we’re staying here for two days. These photos capture a little of the feel of the town. As for tasty food, I had a portobello mushroom M.O.A.B. (Mother of all burritos) at Miguel’s Baja Grill. And I finally experienced the velvet taste of mole sauce covering the huge burrito.
The Pain of Packing.
Tears well with moving. Loved space melts to memory. Adventure awaits.
For the past two weeks I have been consumed with packing, the photos speak 1,000 words. This is the biggest move of our lives and has required that we literally give up a lot of stuff. In many ways, moving is a little like dying. We’re giving up things we’ve grown attached to, leaving a home we loved, leaving people we’ll never see again.
We’re going into a new and unexplored land. Fortunately, though, we have heard from people who live in Homer, we’ve seen pictures of it, so we can look forward to this new home. On Monday, the movers arrive and pack up everything. On Tuesday, we leave the center of the Universe, Hopiland, and begin our 16 day journey to the cosmic hamlet by the sea, Homer, AK. I look forward to sharing this adventure with you.
On full moon nights, for some strange reason, I often feel very tired. Or maybe this time, a week of packing books and moving stuff for a garage sale has left every bone in my body weak and exhausted. So, the following poem is quite appropriate for today.
Sleep is my lover.
He embraces me
with warm darkness.
The hush of
his quiet breath
over my mouth
in surreal dreams.
Yesterday morning, as I did my yoga, I felt a stab of sadness and loss because we are leaving our spacious three bedroom home in the “center of the universe” Hopiland, to begin a new life in Homer, Alaska, the cosmic hamlet by the sea. Also known as the “end of the road” because the Sterling Highway literally ends when it hits the sea on Homer’s Spit, the second longest spit in the world. According to wikianswers, “A spit is a landform made by the deposit of (commonly) sand by the movement of tides. One end is attached to the mainland and the other is out in open water.”
And why are we moving to Alaska? The community hospital there wants me to join their team as an OB/Med-Surg nurse. I will be doing exactly the same work I did at the Hopi Health Care Center.
Now we are packing, a very arduous process for two writers, a visual artist, and a storyteller to pare down 15 years of living together creating art and stories, collecting dolls, buying clothes. But, moving to Alaska is a very expensive journey, so we have to let go of a lot of stuff.
We’re also driving over 2,000 miles. We’ll be leaving Polacca, AZ on July 3rd taking a leisurly drive stopping in Moab and Heber City, Utah; Twin Falls, Idaho; Baker City, Oregon; and Yakima, Wahington. In Bellingham, Washington, on July 12th we’ll catch the Alaska Ferry for a 2 ½ day, three night ride to Haine Alaska, with our car on board. Then we drive about 200 miles through the edge of Canada’s Yukon Territory, and then into Alaska for another 700 miles or so to Homer.
You can actually see the Spit in live time by clicking onto this link – http://hallobay.com/Web_Cam.htm and see what it looks like now compared to the photo above.
Yesterday, nostalgia overcame me as I culled through my letters file, going back to the late eighties. I see how time has flown and wonder why we who used to share so much, so seldom speak or write today. Is it true that time is speeding up or that technology and distance make friends become acquaintances?
Of friends and family
and passing time
line by line
days gone by
treasured and told
words on paper
But, on the other hand –
A new energy
pushes me forward
like the morning sun
rising over the mountains.
Cannot be stopped.
This surging tide of motion
propels me like
straight into the heart
It’s been a few weeks since I had the time to participate in Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday. Below is the prompt and the short story that just came to me immediately. Enjoy.
You’re young. You are standing in front of a shop window watching something on the black and white television inside. A woman grabs your hand and runs down the street, pulling you along…
Mama always let me stand outside and look at all of the TVs when she went to the appliance store. Usually, I could see all of my favorite cartoons, or maybe Superman. But, today they all had the same thing on them and I couldn’t understand it. There was the high school my big brother went to and soldiers with guns stood all around it. I didn’t have to go to school today because I had to go to the dentist. Then Mama had to go to the store before she took me back to school. She came rushing out of the store and grabbed my hand.
“Mama, why are there soldiers standing outside the high school? Did someone invade?” I felt smart using that big word Mike explained to me just yesterday.
“Boy, come on and hurry up, we got to get home before trouble starts.”
She practically dragged me across the street, she was running so fast.
Of course, that night, it was the dinner conversation, about the Negro kids who tried to get into the high school. And that was when the seeds of my career in Civil Rights law began.
I’ve been writing this blog from the Hopi nation for almost two years. I began sharing my oral stories and have evolved into sharing my creative writing, which seems to attract more followers. But, the winds of change have been blowing daily in Hopiland for over a month and they have blown into my life. Once again my husband, Brian, and I will soon be off to another great adventure. Look to receiving more details soon.
For today, I’m sharing a short poem, based on a photograph I saw, as I’ve never been to Egypt. This was published in an issue of Poetry Iowa several years ago.
Sunset on the River Nile
Gold fades into orange-ebony shades
Night descends gently as mother’s hand
pulling a quilt over naked chests.
Centuries of dreams repose in liquid arms
where tears fall dry as salt on silent sands.
I got this blog from La Vie Et La Danse. I was shocked and saddened to read it and think others should be aware of what is happening in Turkey.
To my friends who live outside of Turkey:
I am writing to let you know what is going on in Istanbul for the last five days. I personally have to write this because at the time of my writing most of the media sources are shut down by the government and the word of mouth and the internet are the only ways left for us to explain ourselves and call for help and support.
Last week of May 2013 a group of people most of whom did not belong to any specific organization or ideology got together in Istanbul’s Gezi Park. Among them there were many of my friends and yoga students. Their reason was simple: To prevent and protest the upcoming demolishing of the park for the sake of building yet another shopping mall at very center of the city. There are numerous shopping malls in Istanbul, at least…
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Photo by outontheporch.org
Americans began commemorating the deaths of soldiers after the Civil War in different states. On May 30, 1868, the first national commemoration was observed when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. Since that date, over 360,000 soldiers are now buried in Arlington Cemetery, and each year soldier volunteers place a flag in front of each grave.
My vision is that we build a future in which we will be able to celebrate the victory of the peacemakers. Let us create a world in which we no longer arm our young men, and now women, to die in battlefields that are more and more becoming about maintaining the wealth of a few, rather than truly protecting the welfare and freedom of the many. Let us also use this time to commemorate the deaths of the millions of innocents, women, children, the elderly, who never carried a gun and are the true casualties of war.
Can justice and order by force of arms ever bring peace?
Defeated tyrants tortured remorse is not real peace.
Ideals and truth, like the value of one precious life,
are lost in the economic discourse that limits peace.
Science and research can answer a thousand questions
except a method to implement universal peace.
Everyone should conquer their own greed and ignorance.
Clear compassion must divorce selfishness to find peace.
Striving to be a beacon of light amidst the dark
She who writes seeks diplomatic words to promote peace.
Joyce, I call her after the nurse
who gave me this curling beauty
an unexpected perfect Christmas gift.
Quickly her roots screamed against
the narrow black ceramic vase
as she towered tall
but I wanted her small
wax halted her height
so her leaves
Grass green, fern deep leaves
lift upward praying palms
roots rest now on stones
in a perfectly sized pot
to feed her