The more you surround yourself with belongings, the more of the environment you control. The less you own the more environments you experience. ( maybe like many things, this is only true in some circumstances. It just occurred to me while traveling how much more I was experiencing by not having.
Still, realizing real life pauses are important.
My mind speaks
“We can never represent it accurately”
My hand is pressed, cold palm to forehead
My fingers nestle deep in warm hair,
curve their nails lightly into my scalp
like waves of the ocean, brush by the tides.
But my eyes pause,
draw themselves closed, clothed, contorted overload of the land.
light, too bright, when I remember outside is night.
New moon, too soon leaves the room
slides by, hides, so sly.
Sulk, slack, sit unseen.
Impressed with yourself for not wearing Maybelline.
It’s so obscene, you’re so damn lean.
Forgotten serenity, the entity of totality, til I’m almost ill.
Still, realizing real life pauses are important.
Pen poised, patient, prepared for the perfect timing to touch the paper,
to express a thought worth thinking (doesn’t happen a lot)
inking, indecodable, quotable quips.
Quick trip for some, an “oh yes, fun” then they “have to run”
always jump the gun… not saying I’m never one but what do they do once they are done?
I’d want a refund, but realize I refused to retrain my brain to refrain so I’d abstain~
Written 2002, Dec. 10th
sadly structures rarely represent realistically
rarely represent realistically
most meaning whittled away
and poorly placed
*refound, written in 2001.
Right now we are living in a primitive dry cabin. It does have electric, but no sink set up. Most dry cabins have a bucket to empty beneath an unplumbed sink, and a spigot tank on top to use as a faucet. Since we don’t have even a basic sink set up, or a stove, or an oven, I have to change gears when thinking of making a meal! A small toaster oven, a single element pot and a crock pot are my main resources.
Living this way really brings to surface how AWESOME crock pots are! With very little mess or prep I’m able to make a whole lot of good healthy food.
Fortunately we have a great u-pick farm nearby, and though I was a bit late in the season for picking, I still got some great local farm fresh AK produce. In addition, my boyfriend got a caribou this season, which we just finished processing. There’s meat in the freezer! Yippee!! So, as always, this recipe is a result of some goods I had on hand. Enjoy!
Crock pot on High for first 1-2 hrs, then Low until you are ready to eat.
(Can be ready within a few hours, but some veggies like turnip may still be a bit firm)
Water- 2 in.
1 turnip diced
1 crushed beef ramen w/ seasoning
1 caribou roast chunk
(place turnip, and ramen in crock pot with a few inches of water, then I stand the roast up in the middle and put future ingredients around it)
1 radish diced
1 carrot (rounds)
1 turnip diced (2nd one)
1 crushed chicken ramen noodle and seasoning
1 diced apple
3-4 C summer squash cubed (and rind & seeds removed)
Add all this to the crock,
White wine and Kombucha for some more taste sensation (fill to level of veggies, above for more soup like, less if more stew like)
On top of everything:
I added ground mustard, oil from marinated artichokes, some marinated artichokes, and roasted garlic.
And of course, taste as you go, adding whatever other spices you feel like!
Sometimes moving is just a motion
Sometimes meaning lasts just a moment
Sometimes monotony is just a mirror
Reflecting the mindless motions we make to give meaning to moments.
Recently we moved to a dry cabin that did not even have a sink set up. We did rectify that situation as soon as possible, but in the meantime we had to come up with creative solutions for dish washing. Since we now keep our dishes to a minimum to reduce clutter and dish load, it also means we have to each wash a single bowl and plate basically every meal. Without a stove top, or running water, or a sink! I came up with a multi- purpose solution. I had gunked up the crock pot making a delicious turnip, radish, apple, moose, summer squash concoction (which I should also write about soon, before I forget the ingredients!).
I poured water into the crock pot, put in our bowls and silverware and turned it on low with some dish soap. Within a few minutes warm water and a scrub brush turned out clean dishes in seconds. Then I scrubed the now submerged crock pot walls as well and Voila!
…as I dive, derive, arrive again.
wheeled by a feeling
fresh unrest undressed
dealing with etched out eroded bones
bursting with unburdening, done.
Dovelike tail spins, spun
as I dive, derive, arrive again.
Tho I shutter with shivers unuttered, I don’t stutter but
become unfettered, refeathered
is there ever a time
when everything comes together in your mind
the perfect tug unravels the yarn ball tangled thoughts into a single line
clear vision lays before you
crystalline in acceptance of everything?
deserving of anything?
I get glimmers,
though any attempts to hold on,
only makes the clarity retreat more swiftly
so i must settle, for now, for here, for this
for it is all a gift.
i will try to remember on days long forgotten,
that there was ever a time.
“We” are special until we think we aren’t.
It still takes two to tango, even if we never learned how.
faults are natural, they occur.
they occur in the streets, in quiet spaces, in blank faces, in every nation.
no one can explain it all, nor understand it all.
but traveling widely it seems the world’s majority people are seekers of good, are good.
may “we” not fall into their hatred
may “we” be bigger than that.
it is the number one thing I feel writing this, after being so absent for months. I would hope I was digesting, adjusting. perhaps that is true. I would like to see it so.
in truth, i hesitated even finding the words, as my mind searched to remember this place. only to find that the key was already unlocked. it has just sat here, waiting for me. patiently, as good things seem often to do.
but right under that feeling and maybe even pushing up from under, like a child using his arms to hold up the top of the fort, I feel joy. Joy that I remember the feeling of contributing, that I can get better at it. That love is worth sharing. That telling stories is part of who we are as people. That art affects.
Realizing this, I will try to begin, bare chested. Forgetting heaviness, letting go, filling up light airy lungs with good, with truth.