Saturday before the green market, june 25, 2016

Last night, exploring the neighborhood
I found Sisters Bookstore not 5 blocks from home.
And wandered my white face into this pool of kindness
and welcome and wealth of spirit.

Unity in Community.
Welcome new neighbor.
I was told I had to participate and sat down to write three new poems.
So, here they are.


NEW
I planted a garden
last night
late
when only the moon was watching
and memory of the butterfly bush
and the red flaming poinsettia tree
did not burn to a crisp.

i planted a garden
of small seeds and vibrant hope
no need for trees to watch
from youth to maturity

now are rich melons and sassy cucumber
globes that offer rich gifts
immediate for this time, this moment
sans future and past

still. possible.
simple. witness now.
new hope.


MY NEW DOORBELL

my new doorbell rings
like Downtown Abbey
sometimes in the still afternoon
i sneak to my porch ,
press the bell and skittle back like a sand crab
to be surprised by the sound
as a lean into my casual tea cup.

"welcome" i say, to the unseen visitor.
"welcome. come in. again and more
through this door.
to  my kitchen.
sit. eat. stare. weep.

look out my window
marvel at the stone
listen to the silent conversation.
listen, easy does it.

laugh at the whispering ones
eager to pull us back in time
for their completion.

we are here now
with a new bell
listen



HOME
Like a turtle from the Galapagos
sheltered in time I carried
my home on my back.

cowering, covered, sneaking treats
to the nest hidden memories
keeping them alive deep beneath
the shell, buried in the bloody fibers.

shell clattering against the steps
i dare to rub it now against the old bannister
scratching at  garden brick
new bedposts
and  behold...ghosty songs
seep from these walls
eager to get in and under

i rest my shell, ease the haul
soak in its release little by inch
and wash its then and now
 in the new rain that runs pink  til
it clears.

Saturday night. Twilight the garden. June 2016

It is twilight in my little garden.

There is a battered redwood box
placed there with hope
two years ago when I bought this new house.
And tho battered by
those who marauded this space
while I was gone.
The planting box waited for me.
And the soil is moist and ready.

Seven or is it eight years
wandering in the desert.
Living in boxes, avoiding boxes,
 finding boxes to jump into
and out of. To hide in and discard.
Such is the odyssey of transition.

At the mythical mansion two houses away
there is a young couple celebrating a raucous marriage.
Good luck to that. Harsh pounding beats sealing their promise,
The sound floats over me in my little compound..
that promise feels harsh and forced.
It is a different time.

 I take the packet of seeds, rip it open,
 dig the moist soil
and lay the row of basil
and lay the row of thyme and  time
and  oregano and origins
and parsley, paltry hope
eager to find the sun.

I have planted again.
Oh my.
I have planted seeds and
Up from the gullet and
round from  the eye balls and
washed the from wild beach
of my battered pumping heart,
the water surges
coming to moisten hope.

I have planted a first row of seeds
in my new little home

I remember coming from New York to Los Angeles and
marveling at how one could toss wildflowers or a rotten tomato in the
back of the house and blooms would grow.
It is what sustained me.
A new marriage then, the hope of a beautiful child,
a butterfly bush that flourished and a poinsettia that grew to a tree.


I planted again this evening.
The first time in maybe ten years.
I probably do not have the promise of a tree to witness to full growth
I live now with flowers and blooms and
things that come to the surface with more ease.

I am sixty six years old and have not a clue what is next.
But i do know what has passed over and by.

And hope still makes me weep.

Pokhara

Today we flew to Pokhara.
Fewa Lake with green waters and boats and oarsmen
And strong sun and less pollution and flocks of white heron in the trees
Drooping smaller than their CA cousins over elegant necks of slight pink and
Wings tinged with gold.

We found our oarsman and paid for our ticket
And hired the young man to row us across the lake to a spot Kate had read
About. Views of the Himalayas advertised! Vistas to ponder and the rest.
We got across the lake under our umbrellas grabbed for the sun and scrambled ..
Well maybe surmounted.., the stone steps.. And I arrived at the vista point to find the Trekker paradise if
Sticky tables and skinny lovers with the desperate eyes  tat come
From no money and lots of sex.

I ordered and awaited Kate's arrival
But alas , when I peered over the iron railing
There was Kate prostrate on the stairs mewing for sugar
And sustenance. The sun can do that !
So
We got her sorted out
Up the stairs
Seated at the splintered picnic table
Gazing at the view when the skies opened
The peaks descended in clouds of fog and we hurried inside
To claim our own plastic table clothed spot w
From which we could gaze at the rain and the rain and the rain and the rain.
Four hours watching the pre monsoon buckets on the green lake.
Like watching a nature movie.
How great!!
We finally made it back across the lake
Umbrellas up now against the sprinkling skies and headed back to or lively hotel
Where K heads for bed and I to the vey best 90 minute massage for 20 dollars I have ever had.
Oh and then vegetable kurma.
And thunder and ,igniting cleaning g the air.
And now bed because we have a 4 am call to see the sunrise at Sangrakot
And marvel once again at the peaks ... Clear of mist and happy for morning.0

Home again home again.... jiggity jig,, or not

I am back two days from my magical Nepali adventure.

I  bow-ed to the Gods who decided that my internet connection
would never sustain a full upload of a blog post. Instead I told that tale with
pictures and now am back for the next step and again..
the Gods are in charge.

Returned from a most provident journey of laughter and companionship.
Of elephants and pashmina's and the serenity of the top of the world.
Annapurna range and the scent of the Himalyas rising out of dreams and
majesty that are too real to really describe. Everyone has seen the images .
And me too.. but the scent of stillness is so enormous.
And the deep and abiding beauty of the hearts
of the many people I met in Nepal
stays with me. I don't think there was anyone,
 young, old, east, west, rich or poor
who turned aside without a direct connection, a smile from the eyes
 and a namaste greeting. A slight bow, hands together. A smile the dart from heart to heart.

Now I am back in New York.
So eager I have been to create HOME once again.
Buying a beautiful town house I have been waiting for the move in day
I needed to rent the house til I could move in this summer and in my naivete
have believed that I have found ease and home and easy beauty once again.
 The reward at the end of a difficult cycle of healing.

There have been dark shadows. from the start.
I have chosen to see them.. and still do, as
the wages necessary for the transformation and re-establishment of
HOME. A place where I can settle and root and give and receive beauty once again.
I continue to look at that. The wages of want. Hmm.

The purchase was easy, the home historical and divine.
Straight from the fantasy of some life I have lived one time or another.
I needed to rent it for two years to comply with tax codes but renters did not appear
at first, so I gamely furnished the place hoping to rent it to passing artists..
got the furniture , set it up. even had a short term tenan readyt and lo and behond,

a breathless family appeared needing a home, having the right look. So beautiful, though rushed--
she quieter and tough, hiding secrets. He ruling roosts with vacant eyes and a remnant kindness.
They were new back to the States. Creative. Hopeful. Needing a break  I thought,
 I trusted the universe and sold the furniture , said no to the artists said yes to their rental.

The perfect family to keep my home warm for me.
We agreed on an 18 month lease. Papers were signed,
vows were exchanged, furniture moved in, kids put in school, dogs purchased and
community meetings launched.
How lucky am I to have these beautiful people
hold my space for me. thought I.

But now, when it is time for both of us to take the next step,
 the  same desperation that brought them too me is
making them cleave too deeply, grasp too violently and fortress themselves in fear.
They are refusing to move from this beautiful home
which i wanted to share with them for a while.
They now squatting in place, maybe forcing me to evict them.
Them taking the love and security they found there and mistaking it for theirs.
Every day their fear makes their nails grow and roots them complicit with rotting roots and their terror at being able to make their way in the world.


The practicalities of return from Nepal
the food poisoning, the respiratory infection,
the two days in the humidity lying abed while others packed me up at exorbitant prices.
Now, a hotel room for two weeks at least,
storage for things, costs doubled, future uncertain,
finances open... and so it goes. And each moment comes and goes.


Lessons abound these days about refusing to live in fear.
The desperation of grasping at things to define and secure
a rocky universal energy grid.

So, yes, this is what my home has become for that family,
A place to grasp as theirs.. though it is not..
a place to define and secure themselves against their own fears.
which it is not.

It is inconvenient for me but desperate for them.
So, I send them hope.  Possibility. Confidence that they can build their own lives,
and not have to poison the possibility of home for me now.
Whatever lesson is mine will be mine and I do not fear it.
 Just open my heart more and more, send them love and hope,
pray that their toxic terror will not pickle the walls and ghost the stairways.
I wish them release.

I may have to fight to insure that release. They may need that and it is my job.
 I will not pick up their bloody talons nor  the flop sweat that they wrap themselves in
justifying their sadness, and the inability to care for themselves in the world.
Ah me. We so understand that.

I will do what is necessary to restore balance, 
pry away the violent grasping.. everyone's...
try to help avoid more violent piercings

Lessons all round on this one.

I will do what needs to be done and then see if I have found HOME at last.

Sunday night Kathmandhu

Another wonderful day of laughter.

We are blessed in our host here in this city
And have been having a fairly cosmopolitan experience of expats and folks who have devoted their lives to literally saving the  world.
Electoral commissions, juris prudence scrutiny,refugees projects,
O
The former kings orphanage. There are no end of people and causes that people this city  in their hope of literally saving the world.
Such a wonderful coterie and our hostess is more than generous in
Introductions and dinners and lunches and laughter and fun and fun and more laughter.

Yesterday we went to two farmers markets
Where we drank cappuccino and refused the fabulous French pastry and
Ex pat made cheese. Shopping and then dinner with a table of the most extraordinary women.
our new friend Jill is here from Canada on her small research grant
And just returned from the mountains where she literally trekked for two days on mountain paths to bring birth control training to village women expected to make the 7 hour trek on foot to a local birthing center.. The UN needs to keep its numbers up at the Clinuc.. Run by men alas.

Today lunch at Chez Caroline after we walked through a large demonstration of people from the south of the country who are protesting the constitution.. And that there have been excluded from the process. Over 2000 showed up along with Nepalese so,divers in riot gear and sweet grins. And a tank or two.. And we walked past and thru and through again having had a fine lunch and view  local papers and vsophisticated citton wear at Wonderfab.. The hit Panmunjom emporium.

We had to hurry back thru the protestors to get to Todai Massage, run by a Japanese friend if SHERI's.
The three of us had a 90 minute shiatsu massage by three deaf practitioners.. Whose hands were , when not kneading at knots , flying -- chatting away in Nepali sign.

Then home to a fabulous begin dinner and two more extraordinary world savers, and laughter and  ease and  well .. Wow.

Tomorrow our touring begins.
I meet Bipin at ten and go to the Sabah women to  weave my own pashmina and round the day off with a visit to the local shaman.

Ah this globe trotting g life.

Internet at last.

Staying in a Rana  palace here in Kathmandhu
Home to my wonderful friend SHERI.
First morning greeted by the appearance of a black eagle as
We had coffee on the terrace overlooking the gardens..
A real totem of what we have left behind in the states in our current political mess.

The terrace
Where I am told the house staff scrambled against the walls in panic
Attempting to get away from the earthquake that rolled and roiled thru Kathmandhu just a year ago.
Night before last a gathering of expats and quiet Nepalis to listen to meditative
Music ...two sitars  ,a tabla and a  mournful singer  to commemorate the second quake may 12 2015.
A room full of quiet memories and the music doing the talking.
And then conversation with the women who have chosen the expat life..
Journalists, members of peace and justice and electioral remediation efforts
Who live in Delhi and visit for  the weekend
Or Newfoundland and come to reconnect to medical missions
Or hail from The Netherlands and yet have lived here for almost thirty years doing freelance journalism
Or animal rescue education.and wonder now mid 50's  at the next step.

The city has piles of bricks and workers replacing them
With little earthquake standard construction and so goes the cycle of
Ignorance.  That is ignoring what is true for what is familiar.
A good reminder .
But then to do something simple like putting a brick back in place is heroic and real in a city where crossing the street is an act of  derring do.

We have rested  in luxury as we enter this adventure.
My friend Kate has joined me from LA and
We are letting the sights and sounds wash over us.

The driving is crazy and necessitates masks.
Today we  visit markets in the city to do the tourists job
Of leaving our money behind.
And tomorrow massage and yoga
And Monday I take my first weaving lesson with the Sabah
Community here in Kathmandhu.

I am busy and in company..
So the ghosts of travels past stay at bay
Except in the early morning when the early pre cursor to monsoon rain
Pounds the roof and the mist in the garden conjures enemies.

Kathmandhu at the Rana Palace

Internet at last and none too reliable
This is my third attempt to offer the thoughts of the journey so far.

We we staying with my generous friend  in her palatial home
Near the British School, past the Summit Hotel and across from the Secret Bakery.
There are no addresses that are acknowledged here. Instead landmarks and  totems mark journeys thru the city and movement to the next event.

Our first morning on the terrace with coffee and fruit cups of papaya and pomegranate salad
We are greeted by a Black Eagle. Yes smaller than the one we know as ours but sooty looking with a worn ruff. A fitting reminder of the political mess we have left behind in the US.

The terrace is also where the house staff ran during the earthquakes only one year ago this week.
Trying to climb the walls in panic as the earth rolled and roiled beneath  them . Twice.
Our second night here there  was a concert in the palatial living room with red and gold royal couches and prayer pillows in the floor where two sitars and a tabla offered meditative background to a mournful wail from the durkhat singer.


The room was full of quiet Nepalis and expats. Women mostly . The Nepali men mostly out of the country doing labor.. As remittances .. That is.  Money sent home from abroad is the chief contributor  to the economy. The other women in the room the mid fifties journalists and aid workers  who have made this city home. For now.

And the journalist from Delhi here for a weekend  trekking
And the woman from Newfoundland back to check in on a medical mission created a few years back
And the Dutch journalist wondering g if they will renew her visa again after 29 years After freelance writing and forming  animal rescue missions to save dogs  and donkeys and elephants in that order..

Today we hit the markets and do our duty and leave our money in Nepali hands.
Tomorrow massage and visits to the local shaman. Yes.

And Monday I visit the weavers of the Sabah community.
And Tuesday off- to Pokhara and the less pampered experience.

All is well and ghosts of travels past are at bay
Except in the middle of the night when the pre monsoon rains strike at the roof beating  a rhythm of time out if time .  And Nepal becomes China or Indonesia or Morrocco
And the mists in the garden swirl with totems and landmarks
And whispering Eagles.

Sunday, May 8

Thriling.
I am finally feeling the adrenaline jolt of possibility.
Maybe it is the two cups of coffee I just downed
while perusing Lonely Planets TREKKING IN THE HIMALAYAS.
Maybe it is the prospect of Annapurna, and maybe it is the
new perspective that will not allow me to trek the trails
as I might have done in years past... with a stroller and a husband
as we did on the Cinque Terra trail in Italy back in the day.

This is different, as age is different.
Different is exciting and different is frightening,
The body becomes a bigger companion on trips these days.
Making sure it is happy with the choices being made for it.
I have not had to think about that before.

And memory. That makes it different.
Staying in the moment becomes
exclusive territory for sanity.
Stepping on an international flight,  finding the old
passport purses, the ticket left in the suitcase lining from
The Galapagos trip, the crushed Pepto Bismol carton in
the cosmetics bag that went to India-- all these
objects threatening to hurtle the traveler back in time
to other moments, other intimacies and confidences.
The Icelandic hot dog wrapper from the most delicious hot dog
ever consumed. And there is that plastic laundry bag from Miraflores
in Peru.

Objects reveal character, I have said so many times to my writers.

This time, I am not gathering, I am imprinting.
And how very lucky I am .
I bring you all with me,
and feel more particle than package these days.

Back again.
2016.
8 years since the old life starting morphing to the new life.
New life, now morphing to the more life.

Tuesday. Nepal. Kathmandhu.
I thought I was done with that kind of travel.
But the horoscope says that Tuesday is the day of a past life gift.
And the ticket appeared, and the hostess, and even the travel companion.
So, my meaty body will jump on QATAR  Airlines,
and move through simple space and fly across the world
to see more of the inside of the world.

It is the place that appeared to embrace me now
So we shall see how hollow the hotel rooms
and how annoying the heat and how quiet the mountain tops.
My favorite book of all time, THE SNOW LEOPARD
sought the elusive icon on the mountain top
amid prayer flags and silent winds.
I have no such goals.

I am empty and go with emptiness.
Grace.
And thanks
Stay tuned.