It was then, and remains now, the oldest, most worn out, rattiest, cover duct-taped, edges gone book I own. But at least its signed by the author.

What was it about his stories that shaped me over the years? The redhead worship? The strong female lead throughout all of his books? The rich philosophy, the pedantic ramblings, the mossy, kelp-like undergrowth, rich with brainy minerals?

Throughout some dark times Mr. Robbins kept me sane. He kept me insane as well. Laughing at the tragedy, crying at the ecstasy. He kissed me, and he slapped me. Each time a book was released, I would sigh with relief, that there was a chance, a fat/juicy/hotdog w/ketchup&mustard/hold/onions &pickles of a chance, that I was going to find kinship and symmetry in this crazy mixed up world, and it would allow me to be here, on this earth just to try, for a little bit longer.To keep existing.

Sure, not all his works made me bow down at the altar of Literature. And no, I’m not the sort of fan who’s tried to learn everything about the Author. Yes, I went to a reading/new book release once. Yes, I looked briefly into his personal life.(he has kids,has been married, etc.) But the most interesting probing I’ve done was look into the authors/stories that inspire HIM. Whoa, did that give me a view into the Brain Most Revered.

and this little, carved out part of the universe, that pays homage to my own thoughts, that gives me voice and soaring freedom of expression. This Little Pail, is named in tribute of him. It’s been 15 years, and when I crack open those books now, I see myself. I see the shaped parts of my caverns and valleys around a few tenets, inside those wacky books of his, that I hold quite dear. Pacifism. Laughter and Pleasure. Dance. Magic. Mayonnaise. Stilts. Sex.Privacy.Aging. Children. The Pacific Northwest. and last but certainly not least, my origins, as a redhead.

My proudest moment in regards to the Man himself?

When I did go to his book release, it was for Villa Incognito. The book explores the question of the Mysterious, and the many answers we have not, cannot, or won’t yet, explore.

I raised my voice with difficulty. “Is there a secret of yours, of the mysterious, that you are not very proud of, and would you share it,with us?”

My reluctant mentor, stared at me in respect, the room went quieter still, and he said nothing.

Related Reading

• Ode to Redheads-Tom Robbins
• Post-Burning Man Report-The Redhead Review
• Weekly Special*Burning Man Art Festival*
• Unusual Gifts
• Who do you answer to?
• On being a Bicyclist

I haven’t been back, really back in the saddle of writing since early December. I probably shouldn’t tell you that, as you may not have noticed the HUUUGGEE gap (gulp) but since I missed my own damn anniversary, I thought I should get down on bended knees and freeakin APOLOGIZE.

BABY, I’m sorry! I know I missed our one year anniversary, but you mean EVERYTHANG to me, baby, please open the door! I’m SORRRYY~!! How many times I gotta say it?

*pause*

*sound of door unlatching*

okay! So now that the groveling is over. What can I say? December was a blur of a Cute Boy, Old Friend who Came back Into Promises’ world. Then there was Other Cute Boy I met at Christmas Time, even though I had a Cold. Then came a quiet and solemn New Years Eve, and Day. Then came all kinds of ping-ponging with Cute Boy #1, which led to yanking around of Cute Boy #2 (sigh, poor thing) and now Cute Boy #1 is gone, and Cute Boy #2 remains. Oh, and I had bronchitis for 2 weeks.

So you see, there was really nothing going on.

But I’m happy to say that BEFORE all that, there was a boy named Jocko, who we all NOW know…dum dum duuummmmm! Is actually a fraud and a con man, yes! See my other post, here.

I have been at my new job (technically a transfer) for the last 3 months, and even though I work harder, for less pay, and took a demotion, I am so stupidly happy to be rid of the mental anguish and constant humiliation, its all I can do every day to not kiss my boss, and dance a jaunty irish reel, right in the middle of her dangerously overloaded round table. Still, it’s amazing the feeling of being out from under someone’s deadly triangle shaped fingernail.

I’m back to researching adoption, and insofar as Love goes,decided to Let Go of the Idea of A Man for Promise. For now. It’s too hard. Period.

The cat is good, the house is good. Family has endured some rough trials, see here.but I’m working on the acceptance there. My sister is leaving for France very soon, and I’m SOOPER excited for her. Never had a vacation. I know, I know, what’s THAT about! Go Sisterness to the mountains, to the cheese, to the seductive language, and the warm hearts~! Watch out for dog poo!

I’m a bit tight on money these days, so spending time reading indoors until Spring peeps out of its bear cave. Headed to Portland in late March, very excited to see Best Friend and Baby. Perhaps visit a family who’s adopted that I’ve already interviewed.

Thanks for bearing with me! and *raises glass*, here’s to the first year of MLP, and hopefully, many more!

Related Reading

• Not enough time
• What’s news

There’s not enough time to fix it–to mend over the broken, ripped stitches.Or to make new, luminescent ones.

There’s not enough words–I have to shout just so you will hear me, and even then, I’m abbreviating it so you will get the gist.

There’s not enough ways to talk–talking brings on coughing, which brings on the racking, ripping, burning horror in your lungs bursting up, and the image of you bent over, throwing all your weight into a handkerchief, like your lungs were a companion-docile animal who turns and bites you without reason.Then keeps on biting you.

There’s not enough privacy–when you can move at all, it’s from bed to the bathroom, to the living room chair, in front of a 6 ft screen, surrounded by hutches filled with glassware for guests that never come, plastic moveable tables holding daily pills, various oxygen machines, cough drops, and the remote for the TV.

There’s not enough touching–I can’t get to you to hold your hand. I can’t sit near you to wrap my arm around your shoulder. To do so causes uproars and exclamations, moving of furniture, clucking, fussing, what a production, a chorus of  “Are you sure?” ’s. Like touching him could blow him into the breeze like a wil-o-wisp. The danger of intimacy.

There’s not enough time, you tell me. To sort through the 10,000’s of video footage shot over the years, to mark,label, and date the vacations. I need to do that, you say. If I can get out from in front of the darn TV. That’s you, to a T. You say darn, instead of damn. To go through old photographs, send them to the right family member who featured in them. To sort through the cumulation of a life, and preserve it in such a way, that it might be seen through, beyond the veil and illusion that this person marked time, was in history, that this person lived and breathed, loved and lost, witnessed, and was seen by others who love him.

There’s not enough movement-getting you to the kitchen table was a major breakthrough in the house. How on earth can it feel, to have your breath, your chi, the very essence of human life, slowly fight you, getting stronger over you day after day? I can’t even sit on the porch with you and watch the stars.

And what would I say, if I didn’t have to scream it, if I could touch your hand, if your lungs weren’t the enemy, if we had privacy from the well-meaning worrying fuss? How can I tell a man, who’s never raised his voice to me once, how sorry I am, that we are just plain out of time? That the vast canyon of his Beliefs and my Beliefs, that How he was Pushed Away while I was Young, and How I was Raised, all these factors now stare me in the face–as I look helplessly, silently, and lovingly at the man who I called Daddy.

——————————————————————————————–

I worshipped my dad from my earliest memories. I thought he was the sweetest, kindest man I’d ever met. I can still say that, actually. It’s amazing, but true. I was caught on Christmas Eve, gorging on weakly-concealed chocolates stolen from kichen cupboards. I’m talking A LOT of chocolate. His idea of punishment? “Go sit on your bed for an hour.” Seriously?! Where are my books are? And my soft blanket? and the CAT? THAT’S PUNISHMENT?? I was ecstatic. Best hour of my entire.childhood.life.

Mom and I moved out of state shortly after their divorce, and I was devastated. I missed him terribly. He became the beacon in my heart for all good things, a person and a refuge for all my conflicted, angry, impotent feelings that children have when they want control over the crazy events going on around them. I was fighting with the New Stepdad all the time, especially after my sister left home.

I used to go to school, pissed off and fuming, and walk to the payphone, and dial Daddy’s number. I know it by heart, I’ve known it every single day of my life. It’s 805-835-8508. I liked dialing the numbers. I liked knowing that if I needed to, I could reach him. Some days I needed to dial more than once. Or twice. However long it took me to calm down. I never did call him. First of all, I didn’t have change. Secondly, explaining to my mom that I’d called my dad would be a betrayal, and I couldn’t afford to do that in an already divided home. Third, I didn’t trust I could tell my dad without him doing something about it,and he definitely would have done something about it, which would cause more troubles..see Item 2. Fourthly, and this was only admitted on rare occasions to myself, he was too busy, and didn’t want to hear from me.

Eventually, around freshman year of high school, I stopped calling, even on those ghost calls from payphones. I went through some intense experiences in high school (don’t we all), and finally decided that getting impersonal checks on my birthday and christmas was making me acutely uncomfortable. I wrote a long letter when I was 17, explaining that I wanted him in my life, but not in a halfway, distant manner. Either get in or get out. I asked him if he knew I liked antiques? Long dresses? that my favorite color is red?

He responded two months later, and said Yes, he did want to be in my life. Shortly after, he sent me an antique candy dish. I’ve prized this possession above all others in my house for years. It sits in my front living room. Even after its perilous journey, stolen from me by a vindictive former friend, recovered and circulated back through a mutual friend who didn’t know it’s origins..it remains a symbol of beginnings..of love.. and reaching across the distance.

——————————————————————————————–

A few short years later, I found out that Daddy is not my Daddy. He’s not my biological father, and illegedly, he didn’t know this either. I felt lost, and terrified. How did this happen? How can you tell a man, the child you’ve helped raise, sent money to, loved, lost,grieved, and fought back to gain, isn’t actually Yours?

That’s a different story. What happened is that I told him. Gently. He laughed at me “Honey, is this what you’ve been so stressed about when we talk? I had my suspicions you weren’t mine when you were little. But I decided you needed a father, and I could be that for you. You are my little girl, and you always will be. Now, can I please come and visit and we can have a nice time?” I could hear the smile in his voice. The acceptance. The love, and protection. I said, Yes, I will see you tomorrow.

We’ve had the most honest, quiet, sweet relationship since. His family always embraces me, even when our views on lifestyles and choices runs black to white. They include me on email updates, and invite me down constantly. When I called on Father’s Day last year, he teased me about whether or not he was ever going to walk me down the aisle. It was such a fatherly thing to say, I teared up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loving him has never meant sacrificing my own happiness, or having to follow his expectations. Being his daughter has brought me support, love, honesty, grace, and patience. When he has responded in anger, he was pushed into a corner and had to do so to maintain his integrity. His reasoning is solid. We do not see eye to eye on everything, and I haven’t had even remotely the time I wanted to bond further, but I cherish, CHERISH the memories I do have, that wash over me again and again, as he fades from his human experience.

I love you, Daddy. May the silver shine in you, be reflected in me, forever.

Related Reading

• Um, better late than never? Happy Anniversary, MLP!
• Damn, its time for True Confessions week
• About a fire-three letters
• Rally Car Montage

I am having the roughest time lately with UNDERSTANDING my own heart. What she wants. Where she goes. I feel a general fog around my path, that obscures even the simplest decisions. I used to SEE with a blaze of fire and insight. I could dance circles around the indecisive, the wishy-washy, the unambitious. Now I find myself slowing at any old physical or emotional speed bump in the road slowing down to 2 mph, when I could be going 15.

Constantly QUESTIONING.I feel insecure. Fragile.

Something like this happened two years ago, around the same time. I’m wondering all the time, is it a weather thing? Is it a battered heart thing? Have I over-extended my trust? Can Promise kindly step up to the mic? Is Promise here? Has anyone seen her lately?

*pause*

*sounds of people shuffling*

I mean what else can I do but wait? ride it out? Sure I could apply the band aid of retail-therapy to this sucker, but how do I get the neosporin-for-the-soul in there if I wrap it up tight in repressive gauze?

Fragile Future

Bear with me. I’m trying.

Photo credits-

http://technabob.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/fragile_future_2_lamp_2.jpg

Related Reading

• You make me feel like Dancing
• Magik-Peter Murphy

When we look back at moments like these with 20/20 hindsight, and ponder the Path Not Taken, the conjecture comes easy. But when you are actually IN these moments, the fact is, the right road just sort of drifts into clearer focus.

Even though it’s supposed to rain today, I think I can see the road, for a little ways.

Photo-

http://images-0.redbubble.net/img/art/border:blackwithdetail/product:mounted-print/size:small/view:preview/2405332-6-foggy-country-road.jpg

Related Reading

• Soul Family
• Second Chances

I’ve been experiencing pangs around this one. Pangs of the not-married, don’t-have-children, haven’t-opened-my-business variety. I feel the distinctive loss of frailty. The loss of ignorance. If I wanted to, I couldn’t even pretend now to be innocent. The days of angst and anxiety are truly gone, and with them, the bleeding heart poetry, experimentation,the recklessness, the discovery of new music, etc. It’s not that something incredibly amazing isn’t in it’s place. The confidence, a sense of place in the world, purpose, and capability is intoxicating in its own right. And my body is looking mighty Fine for a 35 yr old, or so I’m told! But I feel the ebb and flow in a singular way, and the vaccuum it leaves behind.

For the most part, birthdays are a celebration to me. I don’t think of it as getting older; just that I was ever born. I consider it my day to shine, to glow, to burst out in glorious chorus of Love for Self, for Spirit, for Fate, and my fellow loved ones.

Last year’s birthday was a crazy one. I had a wild hair about going hang-gliding, deep underground caving, and a dinner party for 20 thrown in. All those activities were breathtaking (note the pun) in their own right, but the birthday itself was precipitated by some heartbreak, romantically. This “trauma anniversary” was flaring up again just before this year’s birthday.

Because I had gotten so wild last year, I decided this year, despite it being a milestone, I wanted to stay mellow,and hold very little expectations. To treat the time-marker with grace, and gentleness. More of an embrace, less like arm wrestling.

So I had dinner with my mom on Friday night (Birthday was Sunday), which was awesome. She and I are in the times of our lives when we can meet each other, where we are. We are good friends, old friends really, and now just enjoy the space and company so freely available with the other. It’s so diamond/gold/titanium precious to me, I can’t overstate it enough.

I also spent some time with a boy I was dating- hiking, brunching, and lounging around, talking. It was sweet, and so wonderful.

I went to help my neighbor with her dinner party, chatted with guests, and then headed home to change for a milonga. I got on Tiny Black Dress, and arrived nervous and breathless. I love to tango Aregntine style, but hadn’t been in over 2 years. I met a new friend there, an astounding handsome and charismatic man , and we flirted/danced, talked and laughed.

The actual birthday had a make-your-own sushi party, and more than double the amount of people showed up than I expected! I really thougt it would be a quiet gathering. It was raining, so well all packed into my friends’ cozy house. It was very pleasant. I did all the things you are supposed to do on your big day-look nice, have great food, smile from being loved, and smoke hookah.  

Overall, I am still walking the road. And I will go on walking, despite the age I feel, or the cultural times I’m in. And really, it’s my dreams that make the walk so rich, so colorful.

Right? 

———————————————————————————————-

Tonight I’ve watched
the moon and then
the Pleiades
go down

The night is now
half-gone; youth
goes; I am

in bed alone

–Sappho

Photos-

http://brainyworld.com/wp-content/uploads/oldoryoung.gif

http://www.1st-art-gallery.com/thumbnail/116023/1/Young-Woman-Before-A-Mirror.jpg

Related Reading

• Quan Yin-in the dark
• Gratitude & Manifestions
• Data Dump
• Unusual Gifts
• Magik-Peter Murphy

Warning off*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Timing, Drive out, Diggerbot and Set up

I left on Monday morning, with my friend Diggerbot in tow. We were traveling together for the mutual benefits that such things bring-sharing gas costs, company, and the excitement of burning together. Really, the burn begins to happen for you in the preparation, and my friend endured many boring emails of detailing the route, the 15 minute increments of our travel itinerary of loading and unloading days(Virgo! Can’t help it!), and a wee anxiety attack I had two days before the burn. It didn’t help that I was dating two really great guys, and wasn’t sure how they were going to receive the whole playa wildness possibility. Which could include sex.

So Monday we drove out, had a great convo, and made record time, considering we took I-50 instead of I-80, due to scary construction delays. We then sat in line. I say it so casually, you can hardly tell the anger and desolation in my voice. WE SAT. IN LINE. FOR 2 HOURS. GOING 1/4 OF A MILE. We started with the crazy techno music, attempting to keep us in the “spirit”. Then we degraded to mellow song stylings. We were kidding ourselves. By 1 hour and a half of locked traffic, I switched us to blues, and it seemed to suit our mood well. All semblances of sunset was gone, and we were dejected, tired, and pretty irritated with the City already. And the dust was not being kind, either.

After setting her up in Hushville, double and triple checking she was cool to set up on her own, I headed to my first location ever at Burning Man, as it has sentimental memories for me of my first year. DiggerBot and I were each camping separately, we just drove out together. She needed it quiet. I needed it to include meeting new people, and lots of Art. So I also signed up for some ambitious volunteer shifts. Airport, Greeters, Playa Info, and if I could fit it, Lamplighters. I did two out of four, as it turns out.

I checked a few locations, and people were saving spots for friends in theme camps along 7, 7:30 and 8 & Chaos. (those are street names.) Finally, I found a spot at about 8:15 and Chaos. Started to unload the van, and set up the tent. My savior, my rescuer, and my saint, was named Monsoon, and he saw how alone, tired, and altogether needing of help I was in-so he pitched in gently, putting up poles and following direction well. He was a CHAMP. I will never forget him for that. I finally had a good sitch-the van was unloaded, my bedding was in and comfy, and the tent was up and full of costumes and kitchen. The only major downer was the mirror, as it had shattered in the middle. I set it aside to deal with it upon exit. That’s exactly the kind of thing that would have stressed me out in the past, so I was happy that my mind didn’t fixate. Whew!*

The van stayed relatively cool, but I woke in the morning knowing the first priority would be to get the shade over it, and the tent as much as possible. So I set to work, and gently coaxed various neighbors to help with aluminet, pop up, concrete stakes, and rope. It came together slowly, but by 11 am, I had a sweet little set up-see?

Volunteering

I wanted to really be a citizen of the city this year, and see more of the back scenes of how the city worked. Wasn’t exactly ready to commit a full week, but still, help out in an area I wouldn’t normally think of. I managed to get in a Playa Info shift, an Airport shift, and attempted Greeters (went out there and everything), but it was Annual Naked Day, and this fair skinned bloom can’t go naked on the playa. I’ll faint. I had also volunteered to bring fresh veggies for a potluck later in the week, as well as work an Information Booth on the Playa (see previous blog re. Info Booth) but the Info booth never happened due to a  spontaneous wedding.

The potluck saw the arrival of my veggies, but not me for another hour, as I was delayed across town.

So what of the successful ventures? Playa Info and the Airport?

FANTABULO-WONDERAWE-TASTIC-NESS.

The airport folks were super chill, laid back, and really easy to talk to. I met my mentor, Mr. Mom, who was so sweet and sassy to me. Everyone was such a joy. You could feel the family in air. I was scheduled to work 2 1/2 hours, and was in the shade, at the end of the day, with a chair, so I sat back to just enjoy my time. All everyone asked me was did I want a  ride in a plane? I said, I didn’t care, I just wanted to help out. And I meant it, too. But after about 1/2 an hour, a lady came bouncing up to me and said,

“okay! you are done!”

I said, “What? I don’t want to be done! I like it here!”

She said, “No, silly. A pilot wants to take you up! and considering how expensive the fuel is, you should take the chance!”

So off I go to meet my pilot, who was ChipSprings. We chatted, flirted, and I climbed into one of the tiniest holes I’ve ever been in, and donned cartoon sized headphones. He asked me if I wanted the window open. That’s when it dawned on me-I was going up in a 2 seater plane!! I could have the window open!! I said yes.

So we take off (not as scary as I thought), and he gave me the wheel (first I said No, then Yes. ) and I banked us in an arc over the city. I couldn’t help thinking that people come from all over the WORLD, just for this tiny little stretch of freedom, this little spit of land in the middle of nowhere. and yes, we hate the storms, and yes, we endure overpopulation, and yes, we mis-manage our bodies and hearts, but from here, it all looks so easy. So natural. No wonder the aliens are confused by Human Behavior. From on high, it makes no sense at all.

I didn’t manage to take aerial photos of the city, but I got some of sunset at the airport. Here they are. Also,this orange fence is  literally, “The Border”. and here’s a shot of Mr. Mom.

So Friday I went to work my shift at Playa Info. I was late. by half an hour. ExuberBounce ripped me a new one, and then threatened death, followed by dismemberment. If I’d been more arrogant at that moment, I would’ve gotten that they were kidding. But it was all delivered so seriously. I met a man named Scary, who really wasn’t, and he took me under his Wing. Showed me the Light. Paved the Way. Etcetera, Etcetera. What followed for the next several hours was a tarot reading, makeout with PornStar, spinning of the Wheel of Fortune, eating and drinking (I was sent on a mission for more beer) and oh yeah, giving out of Information. I had a BLAST. It was one of the highlights of my burn, and I totally want to do it again.It was an excellent fit for my personality. ;D

Near the end of my shift, a man came up looking pretty out of sorts. He had done everything humanly possible to locate someone at Burning Man, to no avail. One of the other volunteers just shrugged and said “Sorry, man, that’s BM for you.” Which we had to say all day, because really it *is* Burning Man.  But there was something particular about how this final bit of news was affecting our Friend, and I could see it in his face, in his demeanor, and in his energy. I came out from behind the counter, put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Hey-Are you ok?”

And out comes this story-he’d been looking for his friend all week, didn’t know anyone, was feeling super overwhlemed, and….

at this point he starts to kind of lose it. So I gently told him he wasn’t alone anymore, because we were friends now. His name doesn’t matter, because I forever will think of him as Lambchop. We arranged to spend the afternoon together, and I had a great time, riding out bikes, calling out to people, seeing art, helping break my camp, and just talking.  I later found out he met tons of people that night, and utterly blossomed. I’m happy to have been able to help him,  and in doing so, enriching my own burn.

So overall, massive thumbs up. I highly suggest both venues-Airport-Border Control and Playa Info Oracle.

Body, Mind, Heart

I had my first experience with dehydration this year on the playa. I also had my first herpes communication on the playa. I became a bit of a Day Burner, unpredictably.I also was in the worst dust storm I’ve ever personally been in, having only heard about how bad they can be from others. ;P Really, I’ve been spoiled in years past.

The dehydration was confusing, as I didn’t know what was happening to me, the signs being so subtle. I didn’t figure out I was missing electrolytes until very late in the evening, after having tried everything else (rest, eat, vitamins). The herpes conversation was precipitated by some complex emotions, mainly about whether or not being sexual on the playa was going to be a factor for me this year. But I ended up in the company of a truly remarkable, astounding gorgeous, considerate, thoughtful man named Silver. He handled the conversation fairly well, and we navigated a way around the risk factor. It was a passionate, potent, sweet, and achingly sexy experience I won’t forget for a long, long, LONG time.

The dust storm came on the tails of a failed attempt to launch the rocket, and I was on my way out in the open playa to the Temple. I was also high as a kite, thanks to my friend Gravel Panties. I remember feeling helpless, yet exhilerated. I could hear my own breathing, and feel the dust rise up and swallow me whole, like Moby Dick of the LakeBed. I could also feel that it was not a short storm, this one intended to come and go in bursts for the better part of the night. I made it to the Temple, and spent some time gazing at the color, structure, energy and lights.

The sheer energy of compassion and loss, the acceptance and the love was palpable. I couldn’t stay long, as it threatened to dissolve me entirely, and I had an itchy body feeling that told me to keep going, get dancing. It was my last night on the playa, and a full-ish moon.

So I rode out to 10:00 and DNA, and spent some time at the club Nexus, (which was bass dirty, and headspace loving) before deciding to ride the entire Esplanade. On Friday Night. The next several hours defy description, but it was unbelievably bright, corny, random, and Firey trip-tastic. Everything was so silly! I ran into a few old friends, chatted a bit, and moved on looking for friends. I made it to 3:00 before deciding the roads were wearing up my saddle sore fanny, and headed towards my friends camp at Fuckin YAY!

The rest of the night was an exercise in Love, Friendship, Dancing, and Sensory Happiness. I felt like even though I came to Burning Man alone, I confirmed that if I have an open mind, I am never alone. I knew this from travelling Europe alone 10 yrs ago, and travelling alone through the Pacific Northwest, but was unsure about BM, due to the cultural climate, and the harsh desert conditions, which can drive the most reasonable person, a bit batty.

One thing I am proud of, due to Neutrogena’s sunblock, I never sunburned.

Neighbors

Where I ended up camping was between 3 large camps,.One was the Flying Spaghetti Monster Temple (Ren Faire folks from all over CA), what I’ve been calling the Urban Planners(based in SF), even though they are not, and the Veteran Burners (not sure where they are from). I was welcomed, embraced, fed, loved, hugged, adored, and trusted by so many of them with their thoughts and hopes. I CHERISH my experience with them. I tried to give as good as I got, in hopes that it would continue an infinity loop of Love in the universe. Diva the hookah and I ended up with the Veteran Burners one afernoon, and they made me a TIARA. Good Lord in Heaven! ( Tiara pictured)

The FSM folks fed me dinner every night, and that’s where I met Silver. He made the most incredible shower, and here’s a picture of that-

and here’s some shots of the logo-blocked RV’s by the Urban Planners-

My neighbors gave me a sense of community, a sense of home. They made it safe, but interesting, to be near them. They were Family.

Two older burners, named RockSolid and Daphne, gently and sweetly accepted and welcomed me like a daughter. They told me stories of Family and Loss, of acceptance and Love. I gifted Daphne a necklace that meant alot to me, and she <<literally brightened up the entire block>>.

Other tidbits and final meditations

I left Saturday morning, before the Man burn, and Temple burn. Diggerbot and I both wanted to get back early, and I wanted two days to re-acclimate. In the simplest terms,my burn contained ‘just the right amount of Wild’, which is true, in essence. I ended up staying in two nights(slept one night for 10 hours!), and going out two nights. I really had most of my experience during the Day.Which wasn’t bad, but it was certainly different.

I missed my best friend terribly, which was the one downfall. I do think our friendship is tested on playa, but I would rather be tested, and have her there, than not. She gives dimension, and security to my life, and I felt the challenge of that, once she was more ether than substance.

My webmaster had given me a gift this year. He told me that if I was hesitating on doing anything on the playa, anything at all, his gift to me was the extra push to just do it. and I want to send a special message to him, that I just Did It. Multiple times!

Also, I found a knob. It sems to have fallen off an art car, and I’m hoping to find the owner. Here are some pictures. Looks like a custom piece to me.

My burn, sans dehydration, was amazing. It was the perfect 3rd year, and while I won’t be back for the next theme Metropolis, I will be back someday.

Name change disclaimer-

I’ve changed the names of most everyone in this post, with the exception of Scary and PornStar. I don’t feel that either of them are at internet risk of what I have said of them, hence the keeping of their names. Everyone else, I got pretty close with, so changed em.

More photos here, and two videos, all by me-

BM astroturf slide-HELL no, I didn’t go, heard the med tent has massive rug burn visitors-

Thriller!

One Happy Promise-

Related Reading

• Tom Robbins-how he warms my cockles so
• Wilson Graphics~! and the MONKEY Army~!

For those of my readership who have had it up to their necks in all the Burning Man hype, feel free to skip this post.

I’ve been so busy with dating, job search, side work, and my nutrition needs, I haven’t had time to get  insanely excited. Until I realized how much attention the last 3 days were going to take. Whew! So the mayhem/tasmanian devil whirlwind went into effect, and I took pictures along the way. I enjoy photoblogging-it can be cathartic to release the words, to surrender the box I so indulge my thoughts and feelings into, and simply let loose with a well timed photo of a moment-a captured essence of Life So Far.

So without further ado,I decided that since pictures can convey better the state the house has been in, I will let the photos speak for themselves.

There will be more when I return. Don’t forget! You are on your own this week, but do not fear. Your life is still filled with promise. Just not the redhead kind.

this is how it started..BM prep 2009

then the pile got a *wee* bit bigger...BM Prep 2009

then I fixed the coat, so bicyclists wouldn't mow me down from behind..BM Prep 2009

oops. how did that get in there. Must've been a break.

costumes completely cover the bed. COVER. wigs in the upper right.

sprinkle in some coats..

clean clothes for future stupid Promise. (this will be explained later.)

the fridge has NEVER been so full. Criminy! Horchata in the middle. YUM

PS-Even though you can’t see it, there’s a ton of bacon in there. Do not Fear! I will be salted and meated! YeeHAW!!

Tomorrow morning-I depart! Farewell!

Related Reading

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• Weekly Special*Burning Man Art Festival*
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Also, just so you don’t have total withdrawls, I will be offline from 8/31 through 9/5. Expect a post shortly after, recapping the Mad Adventure.

*******************************************************************

Okay! I’ve outlined some of the details of my first year’s cataclysmic event in my post called “About a Fire-Three Letters”. If you didn’t read that novel, you should go do that now. Go on, shoo.

If you did read it already, (bless you!) then you won’t need so much history, as you’ll already have gotten a taste of the kind of road-tilting experience the desert can be.

I found out about Burning Man years and years ago, upon first moving to the Bay Area. I made fun of it, naturally, as I do nearly all things I end up liking later on. But then my best friend went, came back, and told me some fantastical, tremendous stories, and she made it  so…irrisistible.

So I went in 2005, and again in 2006. I met an explosion of people in between those events, and it has now become a dominating factor in my life. So, now the question is, Why? What is it? What’s all the Fuss?

Burning Man is technically an Art Festival, created in a city that gets erected  for one week. Yes, that’s right. Approx 50 K people in a city, for one WEEK. there’s preperation building it, and clean up afterwards for about 2 months, but the purpose is to show that we can have an experience without all the trappings of permanent architechture. Plus, the desert is so pretty.

It’s a complete barter, gifting and trade economy. The only thing you can buy, is coffee and ice. Take that in a second. Imagine if all of your commerce, among all the human beings you interact with, was without currency! I know, wow, right?

It is intense. Conditions are not like lounging on the beach in the South of France. It’s brutally hot. Then brutally cold. Then brutally windy. And often, crazy loud.

But the people are undeniably, ridiculously, solar-system blowing, GENEROUS.They give, and give and give! They spend months, making something you can play on, just for the joy it brings you. They spend thousands back home, making a display of light, and water, just so you can relax for 10 minutes.

They donate hours of their time, depths of their heart, and leave comfortable places, to make sure that you, as a fellow citizen of the Do-ocracy, has what you need, in that moment. A shoulder to cry on. A flag to note your place on this earth. Your friends. Some food, some shelter. a cool place to rest your head.

There are no police, but Rangers. There is nearly, no crime. There is no one “leader”. There is no formal government, though decisions are made through the BM’ org (the m is silent). The operations itself grows, swells, shrinks, and hibernates. But is always alive.

Its not perfect, by any means. And there are occasions of error. But it stands to show-can you name another city that has this much to offer, and so little to ask in return?

Photo credit-

http://lettersfromberlin.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/burning-man-aerial-photos.jpg

http://alexismartinneely.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/burning-man-trucks.jpg

http://ebeltz.net/fieldtrips/burningman05/2005-09-03-0039.jpg

http://www.loupiote.com/burningman/photos_m/52107956-motorized-cupcakes-burning-man.jpg

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• About a fire-three letters
• On being a Bicyclist

I have been on a weight loss program, Weight Watchers, since January.

—————————————————————————————

My whole life, I have felt that to truly love and accept myself, started with the body. I learned, too young,how to use my body as a weapon, a tool, a wedge, a barrier. It’s acted as a wall, or as a garden. I believe that as she grows old, when she gets injured, or is debilitated in any physical or emotional way,to slow down, give her a hand, and ride it out. Make adjustments. My body is not just a sum of parts, it is a finely tuned and magnificent orchestra. 

She is too precious to treat otherwise.

So over the years, I’ve noticed a few extra pounds here, and there. Nothing drastic, nothing quantifable. As in, “I had back surgery, so I gained 40 pounds.” Or, “I had a child, so I gained 30 pounds.”

It happened earlier this year. I went up my three flights of stairs, and I was out of breath. More so than usual I went to bend down and pet the cat, and the air sort of whooshed out my lungs. I was thinking, how strange. I bike every day, why should this wear me out so much.

I walked around my apartment, my mind listening to my body’s rhythms, not really paying attention to the dishes, the computer, the music playing. I didn’t see the view, didn’t hear the phone ring.

 And I could feel it. REALLY feel it. The burden. The extra weight. It wrapped around my heart, my waist, my legs. It was suffocating my flexibility, and it was building, slowly, almost imperceptibly.

I met with my friend RawrFantastica, and she looked AMAZING. She said, in a move both casual and intense, “Yes, I’ve lost 40 pounds for the wedding later this year.” I was astounded. If Rawr could do it, so could I. She and I have similar temperments around food and exercise, and I trust her implicitly.

I made the decision, I was going to lose weight. I was going to both unconditionally accept and love my body, AND make a drastic change. And I was going to do it alone.

I work in an office where many people are on WW, and in addition, they are a bit..inquisitive as to my life/business. I didn’t want to expose my new lifestyle choice, especially if I decided to quit, to commentary such as “Are you sure you want to eat that?  How much weight have you lost?”, etc, etc.

So I quietly joined, and only told a small handful of girlfriends. Who didn’t know each other. I kept it from my family, my best friend (this didn’t last long). It was strange. I originally wanted the discipline to come from Within, but as I did it, I certainly had trouble with isolation. I discovered several things throughout those first months, though–

1. I’d become an extremely emotional eater. This developed because of  stress.

2. Even though I’m pretty aware of nutrional value of food, I had no idea how to read, interpret or navigate fat content.

3. I did not know how to eat filling foods, that wouldn’t slow me down, or add more fat and empty calories.

4. Justifications, such as “Well, if this is the worse thing I am doing..then I’m okay!” is just a method to sabotage my current emotional state, because I am frustated at a lack of control over my life. I have a little rebellion, eat badly, then deal with it later.

All of these things haven’t lead me to be morbidly obese, but they HAVE led me to gain more weight than I ever have in my life, and get to the point where I am losing breath and flexibilty in my daily life.

So I am happy to say that after at least 6 months, the program DOES work for me. I’ve lost around 15 pounds, and keep dropping. I set new goals, and manage food very differently than ever before. I feel empowered. I feel successful. And now that I’m sharing it with the world, a little exposed and freaked out, but mostly good! *grin*

If you have weight stories you want to share, I would love to hear them. And for those of you who are fighting your own body demons, I say, Don’t give up! It’s worth it. Trust me. And, I support you, unconditionally.

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