What am I doing, and why am I here?

Wow! How does life get away from me so quickly? I guess blogging isn't my life, but you know what I mean. The other day when I was out kayaking with my friend Sheila, I was telling her about some one's blog and she asked what blogging really was. Without really thinking about it, the words flew out of my mouth, "An opportunity for narcissism!" And, to a degree, I believe in my answer...there is much more to it than that, but there is certainly that point. My answer made me want to think about why I blog for a while before I got back to it. I still might have to think about it for a while.

wishing i had a waterproof camera

Yesterday my friend Sheila and I took the kayaks down the rio grande from alameda to montano. Other than sandbars and a few false starts it was great. I expected it to be fun, but I wasn't prepared for how peaceful it was. The river itself was very quiet except for when we approached overpasses. And we saw all kinds of critters; ducks, herons, south valley penguins, coyote, rabbits...it was way cool. and it was very nice to spend the afternoon with a friend I spend entirely too little time with.

yes, yes, I need to get a life...

ok. I have an addiction. An addiction to Magic the Gathering cards. Not so much the playing, although I definitely enjoy playing, and would play frequently if I had more people to play with, but it's the cards. And since I'm not playing that often, I don't need the plethora of cards that I have, but I keep getting more anyway. I think it's the Cracker-Jack effect...you don't buy Cracker-Jacks because of the Carmel corn, you buy them for the cheap piece-of-crap surprise you're going to get. I buy the cards because I want to see what 'surprises' I'm going to get. And, I will admit, I do enjoy building decks, but I play so infrequently, that I rarely get to put my ideas to use. Ah well, there are worse addictions out there...

jemez 012

Chris and I went to Jemez this weekend after I taught a morning motorcycle class. I hadn't realized how sick of city noise I was until we were out there. As we wound our way down a bank to the water, I found myself saying "I want to live right here". What I was referring to was the side of the dirt bank, laced with roots.

Even though the water was so loud we could barely hear each other at normal volume, the silence of the place washed away the stench of noise in my head. I see that part of my spiritual journey will be spending more time outside of the city.

spiritual malaise

I attended a spirituality class once. I was looking for answers. The teacher gave her lecture, but rather than giving me answers, it only created more questions for me. I didn't want to bombard the teacher, so I picked a single question, that I hoped would shed light onto all of questions. Her answer was, "Hmm, I've never thought about that before. I will have to take that to my teacher." I never did get an answer. And I am still looking for answers. I am happy for her that I was able to get her to think about something new, but I am also tired of being someone else's catalyst. I want someone to be my catalyst, and it seems like every time I search for one, this is what happens. It makes me feel, once again, like I'm having to be everyone else's mommy. I don't always want to be The Mommy. Or The Fixer. Or The One Who It's Alright To Go Off On Because She Won't Take It Personally. I am sensitive, I do have needs, and sometimes I need someone to hold MY head and tell me it's going to be alright. When I say "I could really use some support", I mean it. That exercise right there has taught me who my real friends are, and I was amazed to find how few my true friends are. (Props to C & J) This whole rant is the result of the journey to re-find my spiritual connection. I am going to a therapist who, more or less, specializes in helping people with their spiritual connection. I am going to pay someone to help me find my way back onto my path, and my former attempts have failed, left me questioning even more, and the fact that my friendships aren't what I once believed them to be, is a greater symptom of my spiritual malaise.

zen or not to zen?

At dinner I was just thinking about how I used to be very spiritually connected. Around the time I moved down here, I was totally in a state of Trust and Faith. These days, I have my moments of connection, and when I have them they are great, but then a lot of the time I am just so not there. I was trying to figure out what it would take to get that Connection back, but I haven't really come up with a good answer yet.

In my last job I came across a woman who is a psychologist, but she specializes in spirituality, and I was thinking that maybe it was time to pay her a professional visit. I can live with just about anything when my spiritual life is in order, and the truth is, I am doing fine as is, but I know it can be better- and it has been better. I want that back.

relapse

I wasn't going to do it, but I did. I called my mother.

She had called me on my birthday and left a message (I was out of town), and then she called a couple of other times without leaving a message. Guilt got the better of me, and it felt less straining to just deal with whatever dysfunction she might present than wrestle with my guilt.

Happily, we had a decent conversation. The gist of which can be summed up with, "I am really happy mom...and I'm in love."

"That is so wonderful honey; if my baby is happy, I am happy." 'scuse me while I retch. It's great that I have a mother who wants to be somehow involved in my life, it's a shame she happens to smoother me in the process...and it's a shame she wasn't there for me when I needed her. oh well, what ya gonna do?

Wo bin ich? (probably completely wrong grammar)

Back in the 90's the 'Neo Tribalism' movement was something that got a lot of attention. These days it is a word I rarely hear, but one that I think is important to explore. (Neotribalism is the ideology that human beings have evolved to live in a tribal, as opposed to a modern, society, and thus cannot achieve genuine happiness until some semblance of tribal lifestyles has been re-created or re-embraced). When I first encountered the term, it was used most often to speak of the young people who were covering themselves in tattoos...people who were searching for belonging, people who had no sense of their roots trying to establish a sense of coming from somewhere. As a 'melting pot' society, most of us have lost our rituals and traditions. Many of don't even know who our great grandparents were or where they came from, and thus we don't know where we came from. I suffer this affliction myself. I have odd bits of stories here and there, but nothing I can even corroborate. Having had this need to have a sense of where I come from, today I ordered my dna kit from the National Geographic Genographic Project, ibm.com/dna for anyone interested. Like many of us, I am a mutt, but I am hoping that, general as it may be, it will give me a better sense of (back)grounding.

thoughts from Taos

I have kept very little of my work, so most people I've met down here don't know that I was actually a pretty good artist at time. Perhaps another time I will share the story, but for now just know that I pretty muchly completely stopped doing visual art after I graduated from college. I could have easily gotten into graduate school with my photos or my paintings, but at the time the only career options having a MFA would give you was to teach, and at the time I had no desire to do so, so I didn't pursue graduate school.

I often think that I should start doing art again, so I go and buy fancy pencils, nice paper, canvas etc, but I rarely do more than doodle. Because of allergy issues I've only thought of getting a darkroom in passing. Of late, I have been seeing a lot of "art" that is done with a digital camera, so I have been opening up to the idea that digital photography is a legitimate art form. With that in mind, while we were in Taos, I started thinking about composition and took a number of pictures. Composition used to be something I didn't even have to think about...that is no longer true. Anyway, I took some pictures, some of which were decent. And I hope to take more, hopefully which will eventually be more than decent.

As per request...

Ok, yes, I did indeed try on a corset at Bubonicon, but only because it matched my kilt. Don't I look butch? (shut up)

the strange things mothers say

I believe I was in 8th grade when Walter Mondale picked Geraldine Ferraro for his running mate. The second that I found this out, I ran excitedly to my mother to inform her of this momentous occasion. Her reaction, a disgusted "A woman isn't capable of being president!" Now, I'm no political expert, but based on my *limited experience* I would say that the world wasn't ready for a woman in the white house in the 80's, and that is why he lost.

So here we are, 2008. When I went back to visit my mother in May, I intentionally avoided political discussions. It was her who brought up politics over mashed potatoes at the cafe. I don't care if it's Hilary or Obama, I am NOT voting for a republican after all the problems Bush has caused!" Coming from my mother who has always been a republican and a racist, I was quite bewildered and disbelieving of her comments. She also berated my sister who worships the ground that bush walks on in spite of the fact that her son, who had been honorable discharged AND already been over to Iraq, was called back to do yet another tour.

Times they are a changing.

people who inspire me...

so, on the trip we were walking to the main drag in Taos and we passed by this gallery. I wasn't really thinking much about galleries as most of them up there feature 'southwestern' art, and I have to say that I find most sw art to be quite...trite. So, I was quite amazed to have my eye caught by a gallery. The art in the window happened to be that of Kimberly Webber. I drug Chris in and we were astounded by the beauty of these works. The woman tending the gallery informed us that the artist worked with light, and she turned the lights down as she explained how the artist used multiple layers of 'earth' pigments, ie powdered gold and lapis to name a few. As the lights came down, the iridescent quality of the 'light' in the paintings popped out. It was an amazing experience, one that must be experienced first hand...which you can do here: http://www.oldworldfineartgallery.com/Webber.htm Later we learned that the gallery attendant was actually the artist. An incredible woman, and yet another person who inspires me to be more and do more. The image above may be a great tattoo to remind me of that...