The Painting Process

I just returned from a week in paradise.

I am still trying to assimilate the experience.  Esalen - with all the delicious food you can eat, most grown on the property, soaking in natural hot springs baths for hours every day, like minded people, classes, seminars and workshops in everything from dancing, yoga and meditation to the apes in Borneo.

It is a magic place. The acres of grass, flowers, fruits and vegetables that stretch out as far as you can see. The buildings that blend into the hillsides. The restful, somehow spiritual atmosphere, the kind and gentle people, the positive vibes, the sounds of the crashing waves from almost anywhere you stand, the feeling of peace and serenity.

I am here for a class called A Painting Experience.

The first night there was not much instruction except how to work with the materials. The paint brushes, the paint and the paper, which was the extent of the materials. And, what I think was the most important of instructions, no one could comment on any ones painting. No innocent good job's or I like that's. Nothing. No acknowledgements or comments what so ever.

It was a little scary. There was almost palpable discomfort and fear in the room. A lot of snickers. I had no expectations.  I have been working for a long time in my life to have no expectations, or at least to try to keep them to a minimum, to stay loose and give up control. Not being an artist I think I had a little of an advantage at the beginning. Some in the room had been artists for 30 years. I would think that would carry some expectations.

I swirled a big loose vertical red S shape on the paper. I don't know why. Then a yellow horizontal line. Not sure why there either.

There were a few accidental drips so I painted vertical lines with them and blindly continued that line theme. After about 1/2 hour of some more lines, some more drips and some more colors I added an eye because it looked like a bird. I kind of felt finished. One of the instructors talked with me awhile and I decided to add purple. I left the class that first night with my first painting hanging on the wall in the studio. I took with me positive feelings and a sense of accomplishment as I climbed the hill in the dark to my bed.

On day 2  I started painting again with red. We were to stand before the blank white paper and wait until a color or form called to us. I did a lot of standing, staring and painting with purple. I don't even like the color purple. This second lesson in my process became hands reaching up to the sky even though it started out as dressed up ladies shopping. This morning I felt a little more expectations on myself. After all this is the second class.  I was feeling happy about it up to adding the little hands that reminded me of dancing fish. Then, not so much. They just didn't 'fit'. They made me uncomfortable. I added what turned out to be hell fire with a black bottomless pit below. In the end there was the orange and red fiery hell but there were also vines and flowers up above connecting all the reaching hands.

So throughout the week pretty lady faces turned into wiggling, slimy snake hair and dancing men in fancy, colorful skirts became chained up with vines and eyes tattooed on their backs. The feelings ran the gamete between feeling a failure to "getting it" to not giving a damn. From thinking every ones paintings were better to wondering what in the world was that person thinking.

The nights brought many dreams, vivid and real. The days brought excessive energy or debilitating exhaustion.

Now that I have been back for a couple of days I continue to feel these extremes of emotion and energy.

I know I want to continue this process, where ever it takes me.

I also know I want to create an Esalen inside of myself.

Paradise

I am back in Monterey. In case you didn't miss me I have been gone.

I know it is beautiful here. I know this is as close to Paradise as it probably gets. I know the ocean and the sky are the deepest, richest  blue. I know the air is clean and the people are warm and friendly. I know there is culture and activity. Who in her right mind would pick the dry, dirty, old, invisible creature filled dessert, OR what's more, a not even level parking lot to wake up in compared to this gorgeous bluer then blue sea under this lighter, but still very blue, sky?

But, I don't feel any inspiration here. I feel a little closed in on myself, a little shrunken. So much sameness, so much routine. I don't need to look up the closest super market or pet store. I already know where it is. I don't need to wonder how I should position the house van so I can watch the sunset from the beach. I already know because I have already watched uncountable sunsets from that very spot.

I am always happiest when I am taking some kind of chance. Danger, or at least the absence of routine, makes me feel alive.

Authentic living follow up

OK, I am a sell out. I have been gone for almost a month minus 2 days and I have not payed to park even once. Last night I decided I would. I have been having trouble keeping my solar panels charged enough to keep my computer and cell phone charged. So I am at  Chumash  Lake and I paid $28 for one night. I got here at about 8 am so I would get my moneys worth. I am wondering if by not plugging in at all for a month I depleted my batteries so much they would not keep a charge. I don't think it is suppose to happen that way but I can't think of why else.

Here, I will be able to charge them for about 30 hours, empty my tanks, fill up with water and take a shower. Maybe do some laundry too. And run my heater since I have been SO cold since leaving the desert. I wish I was still there. I will return in Jan.

I figured out who I quoted on 11/13/10 about authentic living. His name is Robert Robbins. I listened to an interview by him today. Here is a brief list of some of the things he said.

Until a crisis people usually aren't being present and speaking truthfully.

The problem with saying, "I am going to go fix these people over there. They are really screwed up." Those people are looking at you saying, "I am going to go fix that person. He is really screwed up."

Put your own house in order.

Be mindful of language

People look out at the world and see the problems as needing to be fixed without realizing the mess out there starts with the chaos in here. If we shift what is happening in here something happens out there.

People are not 1. Being present
                        2. Paying attention
                        3. Listening deeply
                        4. Speaking truthfully
                        5. Acting creatively

Your life is your message. Your message is how you move in life. It is everything you do. Who we are. Showing up moment to moment. It is about who we are. Not what we know.

Life is an action game. Acting our way forward not thinking our way forward.

There is no getting THERE. We can only get to the next moment.

Being present is the game changer.

We can not feel less than. People are sharing their life's experiences. If you elevate someone above yourself you give them more right to express.

Everyone has an equal right to express their truth if they will own it.

You can't get through life listening to other people.

The responsibility of being heard is on you.

There is a difference between pain and suffering. Pain is when you close your hand in the door. A lot of suffering is because we in the western world have not healed the core issue of separation. We are still drifting, alienated from self and life, feeling discontented with life and being disconnected from life. We bring that struggle for wholeness out into the world. If we can move in the world at peace with oneself we can act in a more peaceful manner.

I am heading out to practice.

Changes

CFR brought me back to Santa Barbara. Thursday at noon. Then I will catch the bus and arrive at the Bankruptcy Court on State Street, which turns into a Federal court on Thursdays.

The trial of Fr Louis Vitale and Sr Megan Rice will be debuting at that time.

They were arrested on August 22, 2009 at a night test launch of a Minuteman III Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (hydrogen bomb delivery system) that went from Vandenberg AFB to Kwajalein atoll in the Marshall Islands. ( The same Marshall Islands that is one of only 3 UN member states to vote with the US against ending the embargo against Cuba every year. The 3rd? mmm - Israel.)

Fr Louis carried a written message that he had been given by the people of Japan, asking the USA to comply with the Nuclear Non Proliferation Treaty. He had just returned from Japan and had met many of the people who had signed the letter. They felt the letter needed to be delivered that night to hopefully help prevent this test. Fr. Louis and Sr. Megan stepped over the line when their requests to deliver the letter to the person in charge where purposely and repeatedly ignored as the hour of the launch grew closer. When confronted they dropped to their knees, reading the letter aloud to the official deaf ears.

The ultimate good vs. evil.

From Desert Voices - The Newsletter of Nevada Desert Experience - Vandenberg and the Ronald Regan Test Range conduct provocative missile and anti-missile tests frequently. Activists and even governments are showing increasing concern about the hypocrisy of the US testing advanced, new missile designs while expressing threatening outrage about primitive tests by North Korea, and threatening Iran (as yet, a non-nuclear armed state) with a nuclear first strike.

This video, made by Ben of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream gives a visual of the mind boggling number of Nuclear weapons the US has available.

The threat or use of nuclear weapons is illegal, and their existence violates every rule of humanitarian law, every principle of human rights to which all nations are committed.

Vandenberg AFB near Lompoc and Santa Barbara is but one site in the US dealing with nuclear weapons.

President Obama talks about the importance of nuclear disarmament, even as he and his administration are planning to replace and rebuild the nation's entire industrial capacity for nuclear weapons production at 3 key sites, with the goal of producing up to 80 new warheads per year for another 50-100 years.

One to be replaced is the Kansas city plant which makes 85% of the nonnuclear parts for nuclear weapons.

It is being planned to quadruple the size of the Los Alamos National Lab that makes the plutonium parts of nuclear weapons.

The US Naval Base Kitsap/Bangor Washington is a storage depot for nuclear weapons. It has the largest stockpile of nuclear weapons in the US. Eight Trident subs are home ported there, and each can carry 24 D-5 missiles, which can each carry 4-6 nuclear warheads.

Another expansion being planned and protested is the Y-12 Uranium Processing Facility at Oak Ridge, TN. The current output of 20 uranium "pits" per year would quadruple to 80 according to government plans.

There is also Yucca Mountain Commercial Nuclear Waste Repository and the Ronald Regan Test Site in the Pacific.

Creech AFB and the NTS in Indian Springs near Las Vegas controls the use of drones, or UAV's, unmanned Aerial Vehicles in Afghanistan and elsewhere, killing a disproportionate number of civilians in remote assassination attacks. This site is located on traditional Native American land. The Shoshones who live here have been exposed to low doses of radiation for over 40 years.

On August 23 the name of the Nevada Test Site was changed to the Nevada National Security Site. The press release from the NNSA states the new name "better reflects the diversity of energy and homeland security activities being conducted there." Neither the old or the new name contains the word 'Nuclear' or the word 'Bomb'.

New activity at the NNSS is raising international alarm  with the first "sub critical" nuclear test since 2006. Haruko Moritaki, co director of the Hiroshima Alliance for Nuclear Weapons Abolition criticized Obama saying " It is a sign that the US government is poised to maintain its nuclear development and capability while advocating a world without nuclear weapons. Such a contradiction is unforgivable. Furthermore, his approach can give countries like India, Pakistan, Israel, and North Korea an excuse to hang onto their nuclear arsenals."

The dollar amount we as taxpayers are paying for these weapons is about $5.8 trillion per year. (Although this was found with a quick google search and I think it is quit old and is probably much higher now)

 It is very difficult to comprehend figures of this magnitude.

*$5.8 trillion divided equally among everyone living in the US equals a bit more than $21,000/person.
*$5.8 trillion in one dollar bills stacked one atop another would stretch 459,361 miles to the moon and
          nearly back.
*If you attempted to count $5.8 trillion at the rate of $1/second, it would take almost 12 days to reach
          $1 million, nearly 32 years to reach $1 billion, 31,709 years to reach $1 trillion and about 184,579
          years to reach $5.8 trillion.

I think that would pay for a lot of food, social security, education and health care.

Back to the trial.

The two accused, one a 80 year old nun and the other a 78 year old priest were fined $500 and $1000 respectively. The priest the higher amount because he had 'been in this courtroom and before this judge in the past'. The judge stated she did not know about the sister's record. I am sure she would be surprised.

They did each get to make a statement, not during the trial but at the sentencing. It seemed they could speak as long as they wanted and say anything they wanted. They are both very articulate and told very compassionate and moving stories of how they came to be doing what they are doing.

Fr. Vitale told of when he was a young man flying bombers for the air force he was given an order, and when questioned given an assurance, that it was indeed an enemy plane and the the correct target to shoot down. For some reason they did not shoot it down and when they later saw the plane the passengers were indeed, not only civilians but little old ladies smiling and waving.

They both emphasized how these weapons of mass destruction are against International Law. And how,  the tests are damaging the coral, the fish and the environment in the oceans where they are landing.

It was interesting that as the judge went through the steps she needed to comply with in sentencing, she said one factor she must consider is what the sentence needed to be in order to be a deterrent. She stated she did not feel that anything, including jail time would actually deter either one of them, especially because in their statements they declared they were willing to do anything for the rest of their lives to draw attention to and stop these atrocities.

So thankfully, no jail.

Another interesting observation was the obviously complete nativity of the two young women who had detained them. They did not appear to know anything about the missile being tested. Right down to if it had even been launched that night.

Blind obedience. To be involved in such goings on and be so oblivious to the consequences.

So in the end, Fr. Louis was fined $1000 (plus a $10 blah, blah fee and a $25 blah blah fee) and Sr. Megan was fined $500 (plus a $10 blah blah fee and a $25 blah blah fee) and nothing changes.

I am sure it will not be easy for these two senior citizens who have dedicated their lives to doing good and living simply to come up with these large amounts of money.

And nothing changes.

The fish and coral reefs will continue to be damaged by missile test launches. The people of the Marshall Islands and the Native Americans in Nevada will continue to suffer. The citizens of the US will continue to pay huge amounts of tax money toward the further development, making of, deposing of, moving, cleaning up after, testing, protecting, and launching these true weapons of mass destruction.

The world will continue to look at us as hypocritical, ignorant and unforgivable. And Fr. Louis and Sr. Megan's punishment money will go to help support our broken system.

And nothing changes.

Joshua

Joshua Bell - famous violinist
Joshua and the battle of Jericho
Joshua Lederberg - Nobel prize in science
Uncle Joshua 
Joshua - one of two of the greatest grandsons in the universe


And, Joshua Tree National Park 


Joshua Tree National Park is 140 miles east of LA. We entered from the south directly off of I-10 at Cottonwood Spring because we had spent the last 5 days dry camping in the desert on BLM land. I had been to Joshua Tree back in the early 90's. I must say I don't think much has changed.


It is a huge chunk of land made up of the Colorado Desert and the Mojave Desert surrounded by at least six mountain ranges.


The entrance fee is $15, even if you are just driving through. There are several campgrounds that are really parking spots with outdoor toilets for $10-$15 per night. There are numerous hiking trails. 


No hiking for me today. I pretty much drove straight through because I was hungry and jonesing for a burger.


It is surprisingly beautiful and inviting. But it is desert. The literature warns us that people have died here from preventable accidents. It also warns us to stay away from abandoned mines, supervise children, carry water, watch for flash floods, and watch where you put your hands and feet.


There are piles of stacked boulders every where. The brochure explains them as beginning as underground volcanic activity that then rose from deep within the earth. As it rose it then intruded the overlying rock. It cooled and cracked and came in contact with groundwater, which widened and rounded the cracks, leaving heaps of monzogranite scattered across the land like careless piles of toy blocks. 

 This was called Skull Rock. It looks more like Homer Simpson to me.

As I rounded a corner there was a sign that said NO Stopping next mile. Then Bam, the ground was covered with a garden of these short little Chollas for almost exactly one mile, then Bam, they were gone.

Next came an army of trees. The Joshua Trees. The Joshua Trees tell a story of survival, resilience, and beauty borne through perseverance.

The tallest Joshua Tree looms a whopping forty feet high. It is estimated to be over 100 years old. These trees do not have growth rings like you would find on an oak or a pine, so determining their age is difficult.

And they die. They fall over and die. Of course they do. I guess the beautiful famous Joshua Tree on the cover of the the U2 Album has fallen over somewhere in this gigantic desert and died. Nothing lives forever. Not even the grandest old Joshua Tree.

3 a.m.

I am awakened by the wind howling outside the house van.

My bed is rocking back and forth like a sailboat on rough ocean waves as the wind waxes and wanes.

I picture the darkness outside, which isn't hard because Luney insists we sleep with all of the blinds open. The sky is covered with stars but the reality of the blackness right outside of my open window is a little unsettling. The desert stretches out around me for miles, empty, except for sagebrush, sand and creatures I can't see but must be there.

My imagination runs wild with the thoughts of the ants, the lizards, the scorpions, the coyotes, the bears, the freddy krugers lurking right outside. My pulse quickens and my heart lurches as the door rattles against the metal casing. (I am so glad I can't immediately recall The Blair Witch Project!)

Soft black kitty fur is resting close to my face but as it wriggles and stiffens and turns toward the window in alertness my imagination soars. What could really be out there if the intuition of a cat feels it? Quiet now, a lull in the wind.

We resettle into the covers and sleep until the next bump in the night.

Authentic living

What if 10 words could be the secret to authentic living?

Be present

Pay attention

Listen deeply

Speak truthfully

Act creatively

(I will let you know when I figure out where I read that.)

Settling in

There seems to be a certain amount of 'settling in' each time we land in a new living space. It is not intentional but I am noticing a pattern.

It is as if at first Tooter has to get use to her surroundings. She needs to feel level. To feel grounded. She takes a deep breath, eases in, her axles relax and sink into the ground.

Luney and I observe. We watch where and how far away and from which directions we can see traffic. We check if there is any way anyone can come upon us unawares. We watch to see if there seems to be any other inhabitants there before us, human or otherwise.  We don't explore outside much those first few hours. We watch the direction of the sun. Which windows it will shine in and at what time of day. Will it keep us warm when we need it and can we block it out if we get hot. We make sure we are situated so the sun can restore  energy to our solar panels in preparation for future needs.

Later we open the door and Luney ventures out on his leash. Oh, the freedom! What a happy cat! He stretches and yawns. He looks at me like I will be his friend for life and I am, at the present moment anyway, the most wonderful human in the world and he loves me! He sniffs the air. Another stretch and it seems he is kissing the ground we are standing on. He flops down on his side and rolls. And rolls. And rolls. This side to that side to his back. With all four legs sprawling  he looks at me again with so much love and says thank you. Oh, the small pleasures in life.

We do any cleaning we may need to do. How much depends on how long we have been on the move. I must confess this last stop brought a disgusting find in the kitchen sink. Grapes that I had washed 7 days ago. Ewwww.

If I have nothing planned,  and the sun is out, and it is warm enough, and it is not too hot or too windy, I usually lay in the sun and read awhile. By then we feel settled. Sometimes we stay a few days, sometimes  a week, until we all (we are a democracy but I am the decider) start feeling the need to move on.

Places to go. People to meet. Then we repeat the whole process.

I Am An Artist

I want to be an artist.

Never mind I have no idea what that means, how it looks or where to start.

Writers are artists.

Since I read a lot, I should be able to write, right?

There are a lot of blogs out there that fill a lot of niches. Some have beautiful photography, some give travel tips, some the writing is so deep and feeling it can make you cry, others make you think, others make you think - why am I reading this? Some make money. Wouldn't that be something!

Bear with me while I find my niche.

Sometimes it seems like I have so much to say, so much knowledge to pass on. Other times I know I don't and no one will be interested.  I certainly have no formal writing education, no degree in writing. How can I do something and do it well without a degree?

And maybe I need to write to prove I am still useful. To prove to myself and to others I have some purpose. Because right now since I am not working, earning and spending what good am I in this capitalistic society? Or if I am not taking care of someone or standing up for some cause, what good am I?

If I write this blog it won't really matter if it is good or bad, exciting or boring, or even if no one reads it. (as long as I don't know no one is reading it.) At least I have the illusion of a purpose.

I am not saying I really believe that I am useless. I don't really think I am here without a purpose.I really believe every person, every human being is important and unique. Even if we never accomplish or do anything except be.

It was just a lingering thought and I needed something, some idea, to write about.

Bottom line, I want to write, so I am going to write. Whether it is good or bad or even if it is understandable has nothing to do with it.

I need the practice.

Tolerance

After a stop at Borders to move Bush's new book, which came out today, to the True Crime section, I spent the morning wandering around The River in Rancho Mirage. I never did find a real river but as shopping centers go it really was very nice. Even the parking was high end. Big, which for me translates to easy in and easy out, flat, which translates to glasses of water, keys and cell phones remaining on the counter, not the floor. It was shaded, and relatively quiet. Everything a weary traveler could need except a garbage can to throw away the last couple days of smelly take out boxes and kitty litter. But, most importantly,  everything Luney needs to be comfortable and set for my day away.

I had gone through one of those free magazines and cut out a couple of coupons which would save me some money. So I had lunch at 20% off, free wine tasting, and a two for one Ben and Jerry's ice cream cone. While at Borders I bought a book about writing exercises. I randomly opened the book and did the first one I came to while sitting alone eating my lunch. I want to share it with you here. (It is MY blog)

I am eating lunch. The sun is burning on the right side of my face as it glares at me and brightly peaks around the edge of the festive colored red and purple umbrella perched above me. I can taste each individual ingredient in my 3 egg omelette. The bacon, the avacado, the eggs. Everything except the catsup which I asked for at the beginning of this meal but has, as yet, not been delivered. I can hear the traffic and the chatty voices of the jewelry clad, obviously well to do women sitting at the table next to me. The sound is muted by the sound of the water falling in the fountain, separated from me by a piece of glass although the shimmering blue seems close enough to touch. I am surrounded by brown and green and blue. But still, no red. Still, no catsup. The ice water makes the inside of me feel like cold tingling mountain snow while the outside burns like hot dessert dirt. Oh, here comes the red, I mean the  catsup, served in a little stainless steel bowl. Yeah, no big ugly bottles on the tables at this restaurant. I guess I am not quite as hungry as I thought I was. The remainder of the food, which looked and smelled so appealing a few minutes ago will fit nicely in the small white inviting cardboard to go box.

Well, enough of that.

Now, you must be asking what is the real reason Sandee would spend the day in a shopping mall. (I can not believe my friends would not question that small fact.) Well, surrounded by plantation style country clubs that make Pebble Beach look like a ghetto, sits the Tolerance Education Center.

This is what their website says:

My name is Earl Greif. I am a Holocaust survivor.
My life has taken me in many directions, I have traveled many countries and I have met many people. My experiences have given me a unique perspective on humanity at large. At this point in my life, it is my choice to turn those unique moments into a greater cause. I wish to educate. Ultimately my vision and sponsorship for education and tolerance will bring understanding to younger generations, a sense of unity for people who went through their own atrocities and forgiveness for those who violate the laws of humanity.
I am pleased to introduce the Tolerance Education Center to the Coachella Valley community and beyond. Hatred and bigotry still exists today, even here in the United States and it is very important to educate the public, especially the youth of tomorrow. Further, as citizens of the great United States of America it is our duty to remember and to understand why hatred exists. If there is no knowledge, there can be no change.
The purpose of our Center is to educate and inspire young people to understand the terrible consequences that result from intolerance and bigotry. We must abandon the idea of "them" and "us" to begin to see that man is only one.We will offer many volumes of books on the history of genocide including the Holocaust in Europe, the current crisis in Darfur, and other atrocities in the past including, Croatia, Rwanda, Armenia, and others.
Our collection of films will be extensive and will include personal testimonials from survivors with question and answer periods.
Our library will give students an opportunity to study and write their own papers on this subject.We will have computers and materials for their use and a librarian will be available to help students to circumnavigate the center


Tonight, and why I stayed in town the center is screening a preview of the documentary: 

American Justice: the Jerome Bowden Story with the presentation and Q and A by co-director Paula Caplan. The film is designed to alert people about one of the worst abuses in the U.S. - the execution of those with serious intellectual disabilities.

It seems the Tolerance Center and the building, which was obviously built for this specific purpose, is about a year old. There is a library of books that includes an array of topics that pretty much cover everything people can find to hate and be intolerant of. There are numerous computers, a little gift shop, and most impressively a theater. A theater just like at the movies at the mall. Not quite as large but can probably seat 125 people. Nice plush seats, a huge screen. 

The film and presenter were also very impressive. You can look up Paula at www.paulajcaplan.net. It turns out she was also the play write of one of my favorite plays that I saw at the festival over the weekend. She is an amazing woman. This is what her web site says about her.


Paula J. Caplan is a clinical and research psychologist, author of books and plays, playwright, actor, and director. She was born and raised in Springfield, Missouri, attended Greenwood Laboratory School from kindergarten through twelfth grade, received her A.B. with honors from Radcliffe College of Harvard University, and received her M.A. and Ph.D. in psychology from Duke University. She is the daughter of the late Jerome A. Caplan and of Tac Caplan. Currently, she is an Associate at the DuBois Institute, Harvard University, and a Fellow at the Women and Public Policy Program of the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard. Previously she has been a Lecturer at Harvard in Women, Gender, and Sexuality and in the Psychology Department. She is former Full Professor of Applied Psychology and Head of the Centre for Women's Studies in Education at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, and former Lecturer in Women's Studies and Assistant Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Toronto.


She has written numerous books including one about mothers and daughters which I promptly bought to be delivered immediately to my iphone and another now in press called 'When Johnny and Jane Come Marching Home' — about war veterans, how most of their suffering is invisible to most Americans, how every citizen should ask to hear a veteran's story, and how only by learning what they have to teach us can we create a national body of information that may help prevent us from going to war so easily again. It will be published in 2011.


You can watch the play she wrote, The Test, about Jerome Bowden on youtube or on her website. It is a heartbreaking and frustrating story of a 24 year old, probably innocent, black mentally handicapped young man with an IQ somewhere below 60 sentenced to prison and put to death by a corrupt and unjust U.S. system. A story that could come to visit many of us. 


For now, goodbye civilization, hello solitude.

Tooter the House Van

I really don't want to point out my oldness but does anyone remember the old cartoon of Tooter the Turtle? Thought not. I think it was the 60's. I have always loved turtles. I have a turtle tattoo and turtles all over the outside of the house van. Turtles are easygoing, patient, wise, steadfast and tranquil. (Kind of describes me, uh?) They are sturdy and have a wrinkled appearance. (No comment) They are the picture of longevity and stability with very long life spans. Turtles carry everything they need on their back. Their shell protects them from any foe. If  life gets to be too much they just hide inside. Kind of says it all. And if the house van is Tooter that lets Luney be a wizard even though he's a cat not a lizard.

TOOTER was a turtle. He was constantly unhappy with his current life and was in the habit of asking Mr Wizard the Lizard, who had magic powers, to change his destiny. Tooter would usually have something in mind that he wanted to be and he would say, “Please Mr Wizard, it’s WHAT I WANT TO BE!” Of course Tooters perceived perfect life never worked out. Mr Wizard would repeatedly rescue him saying, “Drizzle, frazzle, drazzle, drone; time for this one to come home.” After every return to his old life Mr Wizard would always give Tooter the same advice. “Be just vhat you is, not vhat you is not. People vhat do zis is the happiest lot.” Of course having just come back from some bad experience Tooter always shook his head and agreed. He never learned though.

The mother lode of it's meant to be

As the sayings go, 'All things happen for a reason' and 'It was meant to be'.

I do 'experience' these sayings every once in awhile.

Like when the check engine light came on costing me a day and 100 mile back track. keeping me from Mexico, but BEFORE I crossed the border. Or when, tired of driving, I couldn't find a decent place to stop in the desert, but as I pulled over to let a string of fast cars pass me, looked to my right and behold the paradise where I spent the next 7 days. Or yesterday when I finally found cheap gas (relatively speaking) but they were out, waiting for a delivery, so I spent the next 16 hours in the parking lot and to amuse myself read all the free local magazines on the little racks outside the convenience store. To my delight I found an article and an invitation for Women in the Arts.

An invitation to a  3 day workshop presented by The Los Angeles Women's Theater Project and being held at the Aqua Soleil Hotel, Mineral Water and Spa Resort in Desert Hot Springs just a short 45 minute drive and kind of in the direction I would be heading anyway.

For a $75.00 ticket the entertainment starts at 4:00 today and continues until Sunday evening, a three day celebration of women artists in theater, film, music, literature and visual arts. The special guest is singer-songwriter Janis Ian who will be in concert Saturday evening and teach a special master class in artistry on Sunday.

The film "Homo" will show tonight. It is described as exploring the world from a different point of view - what if the world was gay and being straight made you a minority? The film follows the lives of two heterosexual lovers as they fall in love in a homosexual world, only to be torn apart by society.

Also tonight "Gayby's Playdate." It is Playdate day for the "Under One's" at a community activity center. Suri and Melissa, two ten month old girls who are strangers to one another, have been assigned to the same playpen. Their discovery of vastly different attitudes, opinions and family lifestyles make for a comic and sometimes harrowing encounter.

And about 100 others! No kidding!  Come and go with me if you are in the area.

I feel like I have hit the mother lode!

CFR??

There are many reasons to love Santa Barbara.

It is beautiful city with all of the red tile roofs looking out on the blue sea. One of the reasons I love it is CFR. I know. What the hell is that? I took a class at Esalen.  It was a hurry up and pick something because work will pay for it and I am not going to be working here much longer kind of pick. And because I am feeling a little old, learning a better way to move and consequently maybe feeling younger sounded good. And how could I go wrong? It was Esalen. If nothing else food and hot springs baths are included. Hence the CFR? class.

CFR stands for Cortical Field Reeducation. 

CFR is based on the work of Moshe Feldenkrais. It is really very hard to explain but after 3 days I believed in it.

CFR is based on certain truths.

Physical injury and limitation always involve other levels of consciousness. 

Emotional, mental, energetic, and spiritual aspects must be addressed as well as the physical for true healing to occur.

Learning is healing. It involves bringing back into awareness that which was out of our awareness. 

What is or is not permitted to move in our bodies restricts our experience of life. These limitations result not only from physical injury, but are a direct reflection of our rules, strategies and beliefs.

Your life cannot be any easier than your movements. Reduce the unneccessary effort in your movements and you reduce the effort in your life.

Almost anyone can benefit. 

Those who have looked to the intellect as the answer, gradually relegating the body to the status of a vehicle to house the mind.

Those who are dealing with old injuries never totally healed or a lifetime of stiffness from sedentary pursuits.
Those who want to optimize their athletic and sports performance and reduce risk of future injury.
Those who have focused on the spiritual without realizing that a healthy body, comfortable with itself, is a clearer channel for meditation and intuition.
Those who want to regain the ease and joy of learning and moving they had as a child.

UNTIL YOU BECOME AWARE OF WHAT YOU DO AND, WITHOUT JUDGEMENT, ACCEPT THAT IT HAS BEEN YOUR CHOICE – ONLY THEN DO YOU HAVE A CHOICE TO DO OTHERWISE”.

It is the mind and the emotions that can distort information. Emotions that seem to be appropriate at the present moment may really be the recordings of old past wounds. Fears and limits that seem sensible in the moment may really be the mind living in the future, trying to protect us from some imagined negative outcome that hasn’t even happened yet. So we stiffen, shrink, contract, raise stress levels, and our body can no longer clearly tune into or resonate with its own truth. WE NO LONGER HEAR OUR OWN UNDISTORTED INFORMATION TO THE EXTENT THAT WE NO LONGER FEEL.

It is about all that. But it is also about laying on the floor and moving in a certain way and rewiring your brain so it comes naturally. It is not something you have to concentrate on.

That is how Santa Barbara, my current location tie in to Esalen, Ellen and CFR. Ellen was one of the instructors during the 3 day course. One I especially liked. She lives in Santa Barbara and has a small gathering of students every Thursday at 1200. 

Thank you Ellen.  I will see you again in a couple of weeks on my way back home.

The lake and reading

We parked for the day at Lake Cachuma Lake Recreation Area. It was beautiful. The lake, the sky, the weather, everything was beautiful and perfect. 


There is a day use area, an RV park, a boat ramp and boat rentals, showers, a store and gas station, a theater area, several kids play structures, yurts and a nature center. There is even a pool, although I didn't find it.  


One very unique fact about Lake Cachuma is that it is a source of drinking water to somewhere, so NO bodies can touch the water. No swimming, no wading, no water skiing. I can't help wondering how hard that is to police.

P.S. We paid our day use fee which is good until sunset. Having all that time I decided to read a little. After about 2 pages I began to feel really weird. Kind of fuzzy and dizzy and lopsided. And really tired. I thought "Could it have been what I just read?"  It was kind of out of the ordinary but I thought I was use to it. I thought I could take it. Then I thought maybe I am getting too old for this kind of reading. Maybe I, or my reading has lost its purpose. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe I am reading it wrong. Then I realized the truth. 2 pages is all I am capable of reading at a time. And now it is time for a snack and a nap.

Living the Dream Life

Well, this is it! My first real free day of my new life. Of the life I have been waiting for, in some way or another for 40 years, when I took my first job at Dairy Queen. I am hoping if I do everything right, according to some kind of plan, I may never have to work again. That's the dream.

The reality is, oh, so different.

My first day living my new free life. My first day of my 40 year old dream. I am sitting in the not very level parking lot of the Chumash Casino about 30 miles from Santa Barbara, which is where I plan to be on Thursday. Tonight at midnight, thank god, my pay check from my last days worked will miraculously appear in my checking account. Again, thank god!

When I left Monterey yesterday for the start of my new and improved life I had exactly $35.46 in my checking account, $18.00 in my pocket and a half a tank of gas. No problem. I am nothing if not flexible. I will just drive until my 1/2 tank of gas is near gone, add either the $18.00 or the $35 and then drive a little further.

At about the airport and highway 68, a friend and I, craving a burger, decided to have a last lunch together at Tarpy's. What was I thinking? 2 hours later I say goodbye with $35.46 in my checking account, a half a tank of gas and $2.00 in my pocket.

On my way through Salinas I stopped to pick up the windshield wipers that weren't available last week when I spent the last of my money making sure the house van was travel worthy. $65.00. (For windshield wipers?)  No problem. The owner will hold the check until Thursday.

I made it to Paso Roblos and added my $30.00 diesel at $3.49 a gallon. Don't the oil companies know I am really broke?!!

Back to living my dream. That gas is long gone as I sit here in this not so level parking lot with my out of gas light mocking me. Yesterdays $30.00 has not been deducted from my account yet so todays plan is to find another $30.00 of diesel and drive highway 154 towards Santa Barbara past Lake Cachuma and the Los Padres National Forest.

That will be free.