Boston and Walden Pond

The weekend of September 20 was déjà vu--Hudson, Jeni, Deb and I in a sporty rental, heading to Massachusetts for a wedding. This was our second voyage together, the first having taken place in 2006 as we headed to Northampton for Alissa & Theo's nuptials. It's another mystery of the universe that we didn't learn to take a plane after the first time.

An iconic image of Deb, bright as the brand new morn', fresh cup of coffee in hand and lots to talk about!

This time around we were heading to Boston for Brenna and Jasmine's wedding. The wedding was beautiful, most so as a confluence of cultures. One bride Jewish, the other Chinese, and many other diverse couples on the invitation list. Brenna's sister said it best in her toast (paraphrased): "Let me introduce you to my family. Here is my youngest sister and her African American boyfriend. Here is another sister and her African American girlfriend. Here is Brenna and her Asian wife. And this is my Caucasian, heterosexual husband and our four children. I don't know how I became the rebellious one of the family, but I do know that because of my sisters, my children will live in a world that better nurtures love in all of its forms." Exemplifying this statement was a recent Massachusetts ruling that allowed Brenna and Jasmine, who are not residents, to be legally married in the state in which they met and fell in love. What a beautiful wedding indeed.

Jasmine and Brenna.

The flower girl, off exploring the pond and woods.

Jeni, Hudson and Deb.

With foodie brides, it was no surprise that we ate well!

Since it was such a short weekend trip, we had not planned to do any sight seeing. So we were happy when our dear college friend Hope offered to give us a tour of her historic neighborhood in the Old North Church area of Boston.

As a little background, we became friends with Hope at our alma mater, Hollins University, which seems to be a magical place for making friends with rare, irreplaceable, amazing women. Then, purely for the spirit of a road trip (seems to be a theme), Deb and I drove cross country for the pleasure of being Hope's roommates in Eugene, Oregon, while Hope studied architecture at the University of Oregon. It was there that Hope taught us how to rock climb, demonstrated the joy of road biking, opened our eyes to the comfort of feather beds, loaned us her clothing, books, bikes, anything without hesitation, cooked amazing spur-of-the-moment meals like chicken soup from scratch when we had colds, joined us for long mornings full of conversation and coffee and generally inspired us with her creativity, spontaneity, athletic ability, and deep, deep, depth of heart. Deb would share stories of driving out to CO one summer with Hope, where they partook in an intensive writing program at Naropa University. From what I have heard, they scraped by and generally starved, were uplifted by the aid of strangers, partook in new and courageous creative endeavors and cemented themselves in each others hearts forever. Later, Hopie upped the ante by marrying Dan, who is most at ease in spandex and on a road bike, and who is one of the funniest and sweetest people we know. A perfect match.

So you can see why we were excited to see Hopie and Dan in Boston. First off they showed us their completely renovated flat on the top floor of a building a few feet from the entrance to Old North Church.

North Church. On the steeple of this church, Robert Newman signaled with lanterns the approach of the British regulars; "One if by land, and two, if by sea."

Dan, Deb and Hopie. Look at the front door to the building, the old wood and that period light fixture!

The roof access. This is the reason Hopie and Dan bought this tiny, rundown apartment in foreclosure. Roof rights! The are working on permits for a deck on the roof now. In the other direction you can view the North Church spire. I wish I could share photos of the apartment, but was so overcome with awe that I forgot to pull my camera out of my bag. Open, full of light, exposed brick, thoughtful details--someone needs to profile their place in a major magazine.

Urban oasis.

Hopie and Dan plan to install a rolling library ladder when they build their deck. For now, Deb and I had to rein in our fight-or-flight instincts and scale a rickety metal ladder.

On our walk around Boston, Hope took us on a modified version of the Freedom Trail.

The "Spite House." The history of this house is very colorful. According to Wikipedia, the structure was built shortly after the American Civil War. According to local legend, "...two brothers inherited land from their deceased father. While one brother was away serving in the military, the other built a large home, leaving the soldier only a shred of property that he felt certain was too tiny to build on. When the soldier returned, he found his inheritance depleted and built the narrow house to spite his brother by blocking the sunlight and ruining his view..." Another source says, "Not much is known about the city's narrowest house. Legend has it that...its unnamed builder erected it to shut off air and light from the home of a hostile neighbor (also nameless) with whom he had a dispute....Believed to have been built after 1874." Hopie said that the owner built it to prevent traffic along his alley-sized property.

The Old State House. I think this photo really illustrates how wild it is to find this jewel of history nestled among enormous office buildings.

Another example of mixed architecture.

We took a break in a park, and suddenly realized that it was a legalize pot demonstration!

This was our first visit to Boston, outside of the airport. The verdict is in, we LOVE it. Such a beautiful city!
We quickly learned that the wedding was taking place a mere 11 minute drive from Walden Pond. This seemed a strong case of synchronicity to me, as Thoreau and Walden had been woven all through my current reading. Not to mention I was enamored with the book in high school, and named my Biology class duckling "Walden" as a tribute. So Sunday morning Deb and I headed to Walden Pond.

Walden Pond, September 21, 2008, approximately 8 am.

Deb and coffee meditating.

I went for a creativity walk around the pond as my meditation. See tiny Deb, on the shore? The sun striking mist from the pond's surface?

So many colors in the water.

The path Thoreau must have worn between home and shore.

Along my walk, I deliberated about picking up a pebble to commemorate the experience. The desire warred with my intention to break my pack rat habits. And I had been duly warned by Lucille Ball's experience in The Long Long Trailer, where she stubbornly collected rocks against her husband's wishes, and the mysterious added weight was nearly their downfall on a precipitous mountain road. I talked myself into a tiny pebble, dreaming about a future coffee table topped with a mosaic of pebbles, their places of discovery written in with a sharpie. I collected my pebble, not knowing that when I found the site of Thoreau's cabin, I would also find a massive pile of rocks, many engraved, placed there as thanks to Thoreau by the people who visited the site. I felt guided by an unseen hand. I balanced my pebble at the very top. The sun broke through the trees right as I took this photo. Synchronicity indeed.

The sunset on the drive home.

Richmond Hill; updates

I could have shot myself last Friday, for not bringing a camera. The sun was setting just so, everything draped in dramatic revelations and shadows. I was at Richmond Hill, in the gorgeous garden overlooking the City of Richmond, at the beginning of a 24 hour silent retreat.

Then I sat, and read this:

"But there is another kind of seeing that involves a letting go. When I see this way I sway transfixed and emptied. The difference between the two ways of seeing is the difference between walking with and without a camera. When I walk with a camera I walk from shot to shot, reading the light on a calibrated meter. When I walk without a camera, my own shutter opens, and the moment’s light prints on my own silver gut." - Annie Dillard, Chapter 2, "Seeing," "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"

So I sat, and the sun set, and a bat came out, and a deep silence, and I understood that I knew exactly how I felt about things.

After this experience, I highly recommend silent retreats. It is a rare—and I know you know what I mean when I say rare—time where you have nothing to do except to focus on your personal, spiritual health.

Other News

• Deb will be home momentarily, after pulling off another successful annual conference for Especially for Nonprofit Organizations. I think she has one of the coolest jobs on the planet, organizing business training for Richmond-area nonprofits, and it has been a beautiful marriage of skill, enthusiasm, and vision. I am lucky that she is leaving it to be on the road, running Reduction Design with me.
• Diesel Power of Virginia called, and the truck is ready, hooray! For those interested in technical questions about taking your home on the road, I can report that buying an old diesel truck is full of pitfalls. While the engine reportedly runs forever, the other systems need repair, and we have now spent as much in repair as we spent on the truck in the first place. So far, the silver lining is that this is still cheaper than buying a new diesel truck.
• I spent Sunday evening cleaning and organizing, and found that there are even more places in a 25' Airstream to store stuff than I thought.
• Satellite internet: still searching the web for a bracket to hold our eBay-purchased HughesNet dish and antenna together, and mount both on a tripod. Meanwhile, I continue to commute to the Stewart's flat in Richmond in order to conduct business. This is not a bad thing—without fail, I feel a complete gladness of heart every day when I walk into this haven.
• Carolyn & Jimmy Stewart are famous on the web!
  

Seeing Pennies

Speaking of Hollins alumna, I have finally picked up a copy of Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. As I read it I feel shadows in water and tiny explosions of light arching across my brain, which is one way to say that this book hits you with a POW! One story in particular has stuck with me... I have already, with awe, recounted it to a number of people... and I think that it characterizes the nature of this journey. From Chapter 2, "Seeing:"

When I was six or seven years old, growing up in Pittsburgh, I used to take a precious penny of my own and hide it for someone else to find. It was a curious compulsion; sadly, I've never been seized by it since. For some reason I always "hid" the penny along the same stretch of sidewalk up the street. I would cradle it at the roots of a sycamore, say, or in a hole left by a chipped-off piece of sidewalk. Then I would take a piece of chalk, and, starting at either end of the block, draw huge arrows leading up to the penny from both directions. After I learned to write I labeled the arrows: SURPRISE AHEAD or MONEY THIS WAY. I was greatly excited, during all this arrow-drawing, at the thought of the first lucky passer-by who would receive in this way, regardless of merit, a free gift from the universe. But I never lurked about. I would go straight home and not give the matter another thought, until, some months later, I would be gripped again by the impulse to hide another penny.

It is still the first week in January, and I've got great plans. I've been thinking about seeing. There are lots of things to see, unwrapped gifts and free surprises. The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand. But—-and this is the point--who gets excited by a mere penny? If you follow one arrow, if you crouch motionless on a bank to watch a tremulous ripple thrill on the water and are rewarded by the sight of a muskrat paddling from its den, will you count that sight a chip of copper only, and go on your rueful way? It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won't stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get.

Quote

You put the happy in my ness.

-Ben Harper, "Walk Away"

Best Budget Meal Suggestions

This past weekend we also had the pleasure of visiting and dining with our dear friend Laura Rossbert, mentioned in a previous post. She continues to be a font of inspiration for Deb and I both, and for innumerable reasons, spiritual depth being a big one. This post, however, is about her skill with tasty, healthy budget meals. Laura taught us how to make tofu taste great, inspired us to new heights with satay sauce, and last evening served a delicious meal of pasta shells, balsamic vinegar, oil, feta, and chopped green peppers, celery and tomatoes. Some lemon in your water for healthy digestion, rooibos tea for antioxidants, and voilà - budget AND health conscious. I love Laura. She is good for me.

In light of this experience, this post is an invitation for folks to post their favorite budget recipes, as well as tips for buying, cooking and storing in bulk!

Sally Mann, Celine Dion, Truck broken down and Airstream dented

A cool thing you might not know about Deb (and Hudson, Nathan and Alissa) is that they grew up in Lexington with photographer Sally Mann and her children. Sally Mann is also, we are proud to claim, a Hollins alumna. So, over the weekend we watched the HBO documentary, "What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann." It was fascinating. I noted that Mann photographed cadavers and talked about watching her father die without overt emotion, but the cancellation of her show brought her to tears. Her work is her emotional expression, all the more courageous for being under fire. I feel much less alone about being a tortured artist, and afterward set about taking photos while hurricane Gustav beat about our heads. You wouldn't know it from these photos, though, which all came out strangely serene...

Carolyn's "banister-near-the-bird-feeder cat deterrent."

Carolyn pulled this cowbell off of a dead sheep, which I did not know at the time of photographing it. Seems appropriate now, as death is very much a subject of Sally Mann's most recent work. Carolyn has an equal passion for the lives of small animals and for saving bits or whole specimens of their bodies when they are gone. She has the most beautiful, and often hilarious stories behind her collections. She also creates, among many things, stunning wall hangings of woven tree limbs, stones, feathers and bones. The other day I asked her if I could interview her on her perspective on death, life and art. I think it will be illuminating.

Looks like a synapse, doesn't it? A synapse of the sky. A God synapse?

The final edge of the hurricane passing over New Kent.

Deb and Buddy, still with his veterinarian bandana. Buddy is our mystery illness dog. Epileptic and spontaneously blind, but reliably sweet as pie.

Deb and I often take the dogs on a 3 mi round trip walk to the dead end of Route 614 and back. This photo illustrates our remote location. Quiet, full of trees, cicadas and birds. Speaking of, on Sunday I witnessed the most amazing show as hundreds of migrating birds briefly touched upon our section of woods. I watched in awe for a good 10 minutes before I thought, "Grab your camera!" But as these things go, the birds were gone within the next minute.

Deb and Idgie contemplate what direction to take.

In final news, the truck was scheduled to go in for veggie oil conversion Sunday evening, but it broke down again Sunday morning. We welcome the input from any diesel engine enthusiasts out there. As of last week, we have a new alternator and two new batteries, but the gas gauge swings like a drunk monkey and the check engine light is still on, as it has been since day 1. The engine now cuts out while in transit, leaving unhappy passengers stalled in traffic. Thoughts? Also welcome recommendations for diesel specialists in the Glen Allen/Nuckols Rd area, where the truck currently sits in a dry cleaner's parking lot. Oh! And I forgot to mention! The damn treadmill is still in the truck bed! At this point, I hope someone steals it.

We have also officially broken in the Airstream, as Gustav rained a large branch on her delicate shell and dented it, poor baby.



This morning I contemplate taking on an extremely demanding, but potentially well paying web site gig. Deb supports the case for sanity, but is willing to be by my side either way.

And, last news, thanks to a Christmas present from my folks, Deb and I saw Celine Dion in concert last night. I laugh at myself as I say this, as I spent most of my life being staunchly anti-easy listening and country. Now I love Celine, and I love country. She is truly a superb stage performer with a beautiful voice. Deb has opened my eyes to the divas. I cry when Whitney Houston sings The Star Spangled Banner. I've watched Kelly Clarkson and Reba McEntire perform "Does He Love You" live innumerable times. And I just can't resist Celine singing "River Deep, Mountain High!" I mean, if you could sing and dance like that, wouldn't you?

Dance in the rain

Don't spend time dodging the storms; learn how to dance in the rain.
- original author unknown, quoted by Carolyn Stewart

Bend a bit and hold steady

The other morning I woke up and immediately said, "Maybe we should have just put a camper top on the truck, plunked a mattress down and lived even simpler." This concern came on the tail of series of messages from our renters, via the property manager, about the main air conditioner not working. Our only real fear about this journey is our house, and some major financial disaster canceling everything when we are somewhere far, far away from Virginia.

In the last 18 hours I have had a welcome, positive turn in my outlook. A lot has to do with seeing a counselor about unrelenting belief that everything is and will continue to go terribly wrong. This year has delivered a lot of shake ups and I could not see joy for all the sorrow. I didn't think that the counselor had helped, really. I got a vague message about "find the deep roots in yourself that will survive, no matter what." To which I replied, "Oh, ok, any leads on where I might start looking?"

Last night Deb and I were again rehashing all of the potential financial disasters ahead of us, and I realized the obvious. That none of this has actually happened, nothing has happened that we cannot handle, and whatever happens we will handle it. We apply this concept to our relationship--to actively work towards each other--but we are not applying it to this journey. Suddenly, this all seems so much simpler.

This morning I read a great article in which the author survives a poisonous snakebite. Turns out Dana Wildsmith has had 3 additional near death experiences in her life, and it has only given her more courage to live. She writes:

Halfway up our big hill is an old oak that grows straight, as it should, for seven feet or so, then takes a sharp ninety-degree turn, growing parallel to the ground for a few feet, then heads for the heavens again. I call this our “signal oak,” after a legend I’ve heard of how local Native Americans once trained trees to grow pointing in a desired direction, like living signposts. My tree wasn’t yet an acorn when the last Cherokee left these low hills, so its sharp bend must be due to accident or climate. It could be that an older tree fell across its young trunk, warping it. The fallen tree eventually rotted away, allowing my signal oak to right itself.

I feel a kinship with this tree because I’ve felt death fling its weight across me now and again, and the best response I could think of was to bend a bit and hold steady until the load fell off.

Here's to survival, bending a bit, and holding steady until the load falls off.

DIY Honey!

Yes, yes, yes! Looks so easy!

Do you have travel destination suggestions?

I've gotten a few suggestions from friends about places we MUST visit while on the road. I'm sure there are even more suggestions out there, so this is an official open call! Please leave your suggestions in the comments. Stories relating to your experience at the destination add to the drama and suspense!



As for me, I have never seen New Mexico and I feel like it is a magical place. For being an ocean girl, the idea of a huge expanse of sand and sky is wildly appealing. Dramatic photos and Georgia O'Keefe have fed this fascination. Once, in a bar, a drunk woman I had never before met spent 40 minutes explaining just why I was a perfect match for the state. Obviously the fates are nudging me along.

An acquaintance suggested a hot springs spa north of Santa Fe, and I am all over this idea after my experience in the volcano-hot springs of Costa Rica. Deb has mentioned a Mexican restaurant, and something, I think, about a Buffalo Bill Wild West Experience. Yes, she was a bit shorter and younger when she last visited.

So, please post your experiences and suggestions, lofty and weird, edible or... not edible. Likewise, warn us against the bad and the ugly. We can't wait to see what is out there!

Web site concept

I rather like how this site design is shaping up. I took out the client logo, as this site has not yet launched, so imagine a logo in that space at the top center.

This will be a flash site, so the dynamism of the illustrations are really going to come alive...

Ann Marie Calhoun / Phish

Nathan was right. Watching this, I feel God.