That is the meaning of Love

Srsly, two ads to skip through on YouTube?  And blog platforms selling space to third parties on your own site.  I think back to living on the road 2004. Brown sign road trip dropping out in the high elevations outside the Flatirons, west outta Boulder, Colorado.  We didn’t have internet phones then no one did.  We got around North America–south across Canada in the midwest, down Baja, Mex, in the south south west–all with a map.  And much instinct.  We learned about the metal tenseness at the base of the neck, that blinging pulse in the temples as signs:  DO NOT. GO. HERE.  NO.

This is when I discovered how good it is to be your bare self out there, how and why to lose your cleanliness to Nature.  How important this is. Power of fire against body that’s being made fresh by running snow water and from sleeping beneath stars. I was ten days at least up there bathing from tupperware tubs and cooking on the grill or propane burner or in live flame, and before that, there’s a river out of Fort Collins I swam in daily, and few showers between all this.  Sounds gross maybe to you but I am telling you, this part’s key.

It is Wednesday when I start this post, early morning.  I wake up to an unexpected cancellation and the space of S P A C E, ol Catfish got Van Morrison calling me you know, all sorts of Irish mist on the air and random internet radio or youtube music to match.  Tich nat hahn finds me, then, same flow.  It is right, aligned with the living heart that’s living its way out through me.  Now it is Monday and I will delete most of what I wrote Wed and Fri too.  Or not delete, just, file.  I am grateful I am writing this much again. I have soo freakn much cooking now under the surface, lots of hot coals baby and how coals what keeps the fire burnin all night long. And it’s been a while for me since the pitch of all that is pinned in place by the W o r d s and ohhh, the sea…

Roosevelt National Forest, Colorado, at a campground called Kelly Dohl is where I learned of the relationship to the W O R D S and nature, I dropped out and learned to speak e a r t h You carry Mother Earth within you. She is not outside of you. Mother Earth is not just your environment. In that insight of inter-being, it is possible to have real communication with the Earth, which is the highest form of prayer. In that kind of relationship you have enough love, strength and awakening in order to change your life. Fear, separation, hate and anger come from the wrong view that you and the Earth are two separate entities, that the Earth is only the environment. That is a dualistic way of seeing…  Tich Naht Hanh

After TNH and Van Morrison and catfish who run the same songs often, well then I found a pic from my homeward journey across Gateway 50, 2015.  Little two lane that runs from Sacramento to the Atlantic.  I grew up eyeing the sign in my little beach town that says Sacramento, CA 3073.  So for sure I drove it home when the winds picked up there in Laguna Canyon and told me to go.  Which is not the same story as this.

I went back to my sacred space today! and guess what no one was there! Haven’t been there all summer blughhh.  Except four did come ambling down with this awful telephoto lens camera and all the all the all the tourists showing up like this, these days.  But I heardfelt them coming then sensed at the birds and eel grasses thick as rope and slick got away and hid among the tidewaters where they could not see and then they, like most, decided ah nothing to see here and ambled off back from where they came.

I cannot believe how fast the summer went. I lost time, a bunch of it, after Gretchen and Joey though.  That just only now feels like it’s making some sorta space and sense in my heart, to be honest.  Like the sweet burn of breath when I am alone and confront September, the grey tones and blue green grey of only in Maryland in this certain place shade of blue green grey.


route 50 east, Colorado, 2015

On my way across 50 in 2015 coming home I had a spiritual experience again in Colorado, this time at the Continental Divide. On that trip, knee high in snow, standing among the fourteener’s I had this pristine reckoning with how much, how quickly, can change.  Then the next day how I watched the terrain slowly, steadily flatten out, and surely, I was east.  

I knew because I know her speak.

So to breathe in and be aware of your body and look deeply into it, realise you are the Earth and your consciousness is also the consciousness of the Earth. Not to cut the tree not to pollute the water, that is not enough. We need a real awakening, enlightenment, to change our way of thinking and seeing things. When we recognise the virtues, the talent, the beauty of Mother Earth, something is born in us, some kind of connection, love is born. That is the meaning of love, to be at one.  Tich Naht Hanh


Anyway I’m grateful for my soul tribe

Husband came to town. He stayed with me the first night even though the festival gave him a room for the weekend.  It was grey and partly rainy during the day then just gray and thick when he got here and by then night had, too.  We went to the island and bonfired and in the middle of singing Dylan–which cmon really when was the last time you sang Dylan around a bonfire so wholesome you know?  The mosquitos bit a sudden certain way, and the wind changed and I knew it would storm.  Get up we gotta go I said and by the time we were in the truck big droplets of rain were on the windshield.

From there on it’s sorta been Hurricane? Which is…tense.

In the morning I sewed a button on his shirt.  We made shmry jokes about proper husband wife roles.  After talking binary breakdowns and being severed from the earth’s one soul standing on our feet in the kitchen drinking coffee and honey tea for over an hour.  Wife showed up about an hour after that.

Mostly I am thinking today about love, and lovers, and I have had dear dear friends who are also long term lovers, and separate from that, long term friends, too, friends, I can look back on over the years and say wow, all this time…  And oh my god I don’t fail to fall more and more in love with these people, sometimes or maybe especially when I am not at all expecting it.

I’ve had some power times this year with a number of these soul fam people.  And how it always surprises me, those red hearts falling out of the sky over their heads into my heart, shoot blasting out of my heart, too, back at them into their hearts, but also back past their own heads, zipping red and pink gold glitter across the sky.  And the little round fireball of explosion of them this sets off in my own heart all over again for me to carry around of them.  Too.

Anyway by now we’re all at the folk fest which has many tents and is big in a small, charming way. We dance and experience music across the globe and different acts from around the state.  Husband is made for emceeing and he ought to host husband night back home in the city in one of his spots.  For real.  Repping his people it’d be right.  We eat and walk and yes dance more, me and wife, and mostly laugh a lot and I talk my big tripped out rambles at her which is part of what we do and then like, my Hank Williams side showed up and it’s all blue grey twilight out and so did the rain, too, then, show back up.  So we were on the way out,  listening to the Treme gospel brass band twirling our umbrellas, and I felt so zany and high all the way back to the tall pines.  We shmrrd on the couch and ate more food and then I kept falling asleep while I was eating, too.

Then yesterday was yesterday nymphs on the windy wild island but that is for us, not here, because like I said. W I L D and

I so wonder what this storm will bring.

Anyway I’m grateful for my soul tribe~

me an wife

Here’s wife and me.  When we were younger.

what i’m listening to rn put a light on generationals

September Love Song for My Elder Who’s Gone.

Like, no one ever said it would be this hard.  Grief.  Grieving.

Grieving  is one thing.

Living life an entirely other.

Here’s a weird thing.  The neurosis of writing.  Every time I take to the words again after it’s been a while I hear my haters.  My imaginary haters!!  HAA!  How funny is that?? Like they don’t even have faces for god sakes just like, outlines in thick black like a cartoon drawing of gray globs around my heart.  But those drawings sprocket rain and whispers above my head several inches if I am too still for too long once I start to write.  A spot there above my head and one in my heart that both fill with loud dark noise.

September blue so good it’s bad for how it breaks my heart.  Or rubs me funny where old heartbreaks left their permanent mark.  Meaning ok, so.  Besides being different, entirely, grief and living sometimes are the exact same.  September the sparkled blue of a draped naked sky, sky hanging there odd oneness of only itself. Gahhh September at the sea.  It takes my breath.

After the last sabbath this year I will close down Wild Women Wisdom because I’ll be teaching.  I am up to write in the late part of nearing dawn night, because the owl was hooting and it is first time barn owl’s been out my window since before it grew hot and so I sat and felt into the tall trees out the screen, felt into the sky vast night.   On Saturday after dusk in the garden cutting herbs we heard screech owl for the first time too, and immediately I made my friend a rosemary crown and we called that magic down.

Usually owl puts me to sleep but as can happen other times her insights flooded me and the words came on, and tomorrow is Beautiful Friday which is likecreative Red Tent day and so, here I sit.  I would like to write on this platform more and hope to, too, since my other site is almost done.

I was leaving the convention center Tuesday night thinking about Fish Powell and Boardwalk Elvis two very different but equally iconic elders in beach city.  They both died this year, Mayor Powell just last week.  I was at the convention center because that’s where people in recovery go in September.  Next thing I knew I was driving the loop in the tall pines because I needed to cry and the hush sound in the tall pines of insects and muffled stars is the first full stillness I ever knew and it still and always provides me at nighttime that same soothe.  Anyway I needed to cry because I missed Gretchen so dang bad but it took til all the way til I got home sitting in the driveway with the sunroof open in my car, engine turned off, for them to come.  Just the star breath that the pine needles breathe and my tears which hurt but felt like peace.

Because in her absence I just can so, so see who she helped me create.

I cried when Boardwalk Elvis died, too.  Just a bit, because it wrenched.  It wrenched in my heart because I know what it means when icons die.  EXPECT MUCH CHANGE.

boardwalk elvis

Boardwalk Elvis receives the key to the city, a week before his passing in June.  Image I saved from the Coast Dispatch, sorry don’t know which photographer to credit


September, beach city where I first fell in love with death. In that way that love and obsession get mixed up as the same.  I wrote about this once.   The first September I ever lived here clean, I couldn’t help it, I had to write about 1995 and eating spaghetti downtown at one of the carny’s I met working on the Pier.

She was a crackhead and that premonition gut chill I had after dinner and the thick throated back of the neck sweat I felt around drugs for the very first time.  The charm of quaking blue, those ten million different shades of sea and sky September days that fool you into looking past the wisp steel grey warnings that slip in side by side.  Winter’s sneaky tells.  It was the first September ice grey day and the first time I ever remember salt turning on me, too.  The distinct brine that always made me a little high.  How that inlet brine on a cold sky when humidity suddenly drops away will turn to sulphur and make you feel a little sick.

September you Fool.

And also, how nice it is.  I mean how bittersweet but real, so joy-ringed at the edges I am to see you.

My goofy heart.   Gratitude’s a funny sage.

Don’t waste a day of this, I so often used to think when I’d get off the phone with her.  I’ll never not hear-feel her voice in that certain special way in my heart. Somehow Gretchen always made me feel so powerfully equipped to live the best out of each day I get to be alive in life.

Anyway, I mean it, September. It’s good to see you.  Sky’s the limit’s a September medicine, too.   It’s damn good to have that back, because it’s true.


images this week, where i live