gardenia lust: Coronavirus Communique May 30, 2020

Buddhist Thai monks chanting: my go to


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDCS19EOsrA&t=63s

Post early morning exercise sess, freshly bathed, meditation time on my yoga mat, 2nd cup of coffee, lanai, truth.

Truth streaming down my face; a sweet fervent deluge cascading down, cleansing my outcropped facade of 'strength'. Salty water purging through petrifying boulders that threaten to stagnate. Fiercely gentle they are. But I am malleable.  Welcome relief to saturate and satiate my essence. Putrefaction to purification. To be cognizant of the process of transformation... ah yes. Becoming whole again I am.

Yesterday was a tough lesson. I pushed through though- but not without shedding a lot of angst. ANGST- this shit is dis-ease. Peeling back the layers, going deeper internally to my core- where the good shit happens when tended to properly. 

The secret gardenia bushes taught me my lesson this morning. Yes, early morning jamming down PC Parkway listening to my fav jazz podcast, these lovelies woke me the fuck up. So intoxication their essence I dare not to pluck even one.  Staying power. So with every completed lap comes another nugget to tickle my thirst for my quest for The Divine. A few unsuspecting people have walked or drove by when I am amidst this rite for my passage. Mermaid hair, don't care...

But I digress. Yesterday... In reflection, my routine was disrupted yesterday. Not that I like to adhere to 'routine' in daily life, but these times of covid-19 necessitate something. Sort sort of structure to look forward to.  Being so isolated over here to start off and living alone during covid19, well you gotta get creative.  That being said, I miss The Kitts so much- yet my heart swells to think of them in their Oregon chapter of life. So free they are to dwell among the beasts and listen to the rhythms of eARTh.

Take 2... Yesterday...
I woke today with some trepidation; would I snap outta my funk?  Sure as the sun rises/sets I did just that!  So what was it, this temporary dis-ease yesterday? First off, I did absolutely nothing physical.  I perhaps didn't even step out of my apartment. I do recall heading out to my lanai on a mission to procure my cocoa butter that I had sitting out in the sun warming up in anticipation of slathering it on myself. Yea, that's about it.

By 10:30 am I was crawling the walls it seemed. Of course I had moved on to delving into the U.S. news dramedy show. Thirty or so tweets into updates on $45, Minneapolis, posts with haoles directing other haoles on how to act responsibly in our fucked up society, I had had enough.  It drove me back to my knitting and trying to remember how to add on stitches for a sleeve project I am working on. 

On an upswing, I have been studying my Portuguese lessons feverishly lately.  I'm starting to feel fairly confident in my reading and speaking.  Listening, of course, is tricky.

I've been working on a tarot card project as of late. For the past 2 weeks I've been working with the court cards. As it happened, yesterday I was focused on the Hanged Man and Death cards.  Serendipitous, really. I finished off my research with 'Art'.

Yet still, it was a tough fucking day... Some other helpful moments consisted of watching the new Netflix series, "Space Force" with Steve Carrell & just a solid group of characters- most notable for me is the return of John Malkovich to the tele.

In other news, today [tonight here @ 10:22 pm] will be the second attempt at launch of the SpaceX crew launch to the International Space Station. You know what, amidst all this shit streaming at homo sapiens right now (a majority of which we have devised, fostered, and destroyed with), this seems so joyful for some reason.  It's really quite bittersweet; why the fuck do we get to bring our planet to (perhaps) a brink of no return (thinking 'overpopulation' being #1 here),  and explore other realms to continue to fuck up? So yea, I have problems with this, but the science of it fascinates.  Our species, as far as I'm concerned, is fucked. We've hit our 'zenith' and are on a slow descent, back-sliding into  another chapter in HERstory.

things I'm grateful for:

• all the varieties of frankincense that I have purchased on my trips to Oman.  Pounds of frankincense have filled my suitcases!  Oh, and the sandalwood, and the amber, and and and da kine...

• music- all of it.  At this moment it's monks chanting.  Earlier this morning was jazz funk. Last night it was Led Zeppelin... See where I'm going with this? 

• all my medicinals that travel with me to each new environment.  Where would I be without my: Omega 3s, Turmeric, Tang-kuei & Blupieurum Formula, Glucosamine, D3, grapefruit seed extract, plant enzymes, Ashwagandha, Maça, spirulina, lung tonic, ginko, gotu kola, lysine, etc...

Okay it's likely that my neighbors don't know what to think of me. The stairwell was quite active today while I was burning my incense concoction with my door open, monks chanting... No matter. Just letting my freak flag fry fly.

-peace on eARTh

Cultivate: Coronavirus Communique May 26, 2020

Reflecting on:

'Parkie' life- it's a good life
If you are traveling around America and get the chance, check out Yosemite National Park- preferably during off-season...

Pak City Parkway Strut
How does one power-walk while listening to Kool and the Gang's "Jungle Boogie" without strutting? It ain't easy y'all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BM5wPOe0xQ

As my story goes... early mornings are my most coveted moments these daze. I have cultivated a routine that I look forward to, thrive from and desire to keep me blossoming during these times.  So imagine this morning my bubble shattering- enough that it pissed me off.  There was so much fucking trash all about the PCP this morning.  I just lost my shit silently screaming in my mind. Between the cacophony of litter carelessly strewn about on and off the path and discordant sounds coming from deep within my Solar Plexus, I felt like I was swimming in a pile of ignorance.

This reminds me of living on the Big Island (of Hawaii) when I was studying at University of Hawaii, Hilo. I lived in this fucking amazing area along the eastern coast; Richardson Beach.  I lived in this household of funky people, none of which were also going to university.  They were actors/actresses at the community playhouse as well as holding down their day jobs responsibly.  I used to bike and run along this long, fairly remote stretch (especially if heading further east from Richardson, towards Leleiwi Point. After that it turned to a path (circumnavigating a majority of the island actually- the King's Highway (Pi`ilani Trail). 

This area was so strikingly beautiful it could make you weep. Quiet solitude, local living, nature so wild and unkempt that it was thrilling to be in its presence. But... it was full of trash on deeper inspection.  I mean the little sugar-cane saturated clusters hiding various pullouts so intricate it's like a tunnels leading to treasure chests- of rubbish.  Trash everywhere; furniture, toilet paper, just fucking garbage thrown out of car windows or deposited late in the night by people perhaps not wanting to drive to the dump and dump their shit because they were too fucking lazy.

Beautiful Hilo, Hawaii- but you best remember to walk lightly upon this eARTh... This place is full of mana. No disrespect, eh...

https://www.google.com/maps/place/Hilo,+HI+96720,+USA/@19.6865437,-155.2300207,11z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x79524b5a6c97dec9:0xc15ba900330c15c6!8m2!3d19.7241106!4d-155.0868193

That's what it is... laziness. So seeing trash in my current hood just really made me sad this morning.  It's laziness from all corners of the globe. Why would you not want to responsibly throw your trash away?  I fucking hate this... Pick up your fucking trash.

As I look deeper into the situation I think about what's behind it. Right now we are back in a 4-day lockdown over the course of the Eid Al Fitr national holidays. Covid cases have increased a bit recently and mitigation measures were needed on the fly so this is what the government came up with.  It seems a responsible measure, honestly.

So how this perhaps trickles down to this travesty is that the Bengalese and/or local workers that take care of the grounds (beautiful rose gardens!) aren't working? So normally they are picking up everybody's fucking trash... What the fuck? That shit ain't right.

Rant over.

Each lap, though, I can purge that shit feeling and surround myself with cultivating beauty. Looking forward to seeing my favorite rose bushes each day brings great pleasure, as well as bittersweet sorrow to observe them wilting as they complete their life cycle.  Yes, bittersweet.

While listening to jazz (jazz funk being my 'go-to', I spend a lot of time working on memory exercises in my mind while working out. Each lap I pick one of these mulberry things and eat it and rate them. I think about what I want to blog about as I wander in and out of my own moving picture show that sets the stage for pondering deeper. So many topics come up that it is a challenge to remember each. Just remembering how many laps can be a challenge some days... I concentrate on words/grammar I'm learning in my Portuguese language studies and what I got wrong, etc.

Figueira da Foz
Getting more and more psyched about cultivating my near future... As a back-up, I continue exploring other parts of Portugal to perhaps settle, but I'm not having any of it. Figueira da Foz is it.  There is this sweet village just outside of the (small) city, Maiorca.

So yea I work hard to cultivate my present. I indulge myself into my 'fantasy-of-owning-property-that-is-evolving-into-reality moods. It feels good. Real good. The present is dealing some shitty cards on large scale to Mother Earth these days, down to the scale of global pandemic, and can be reduced further down to each individual's response to all this over-stimuli coming at us. Whatever. I'm trying to turn that shit into lemonade.

Reach the Beach.

Cultivate the Beach... Be the Beach

-peace

What Have You Done Today to Make You Feel Proud: Coronavirus Communique May 25, 2020

inspiration
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEoxGJ79PMs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hHSH9sJUEo

early mornings funking down Pak City Parkway
I'm my own private dancer in these moments. Quiet stillness, or so it seems in my mind, adds to these moments in the time of coronavirus. Iraq is on total lockdown for Eid al Fitr for obvious reasons.  The city eased up 'lockdown' a while ago, yet I still tread with trepidation. Not yet ready for the transformation to society from a period of hibernation really. All in my own time.  


good shit's brewing in my head. 
Days fly. I can't catch up. Dawn slips to twilight to sunrise to morning to afternoon to sunset to dusk to dark. Lately. Full of projects, my mind is nourished with fuel. Creative energy purges through my network drowning any stagnation lurking, not yet 'wanting' a fix.  Gotta 'fix' that shit.

Pull a few court cards from my tarot: the Sun, the Moon, the Hierophant. Look at me. Energies mirrored, conflicting, swirling creating energy. Moody energy. Fine-tuning raw energy into something malleable, USEful. UseFUEL. Anthem.

Time to create. Time to funk. What the fuck is 'time'?

word salad

 Google Classroom

Bewitching hour

French Roast

South Pacific

wanderlust

Portugal

da kine 

rhythm

sweat

beach

garb

space

home

write

road-fishing

Magic happens. Left my building this morning full of musical energy to strut down **da kine**  Pak City Parkway, this nugget fell right into my lap. Instinct. Grab it.  I love how the universe provides. Next on deck is "The Mountains of Portugal" by ??? author escapes me... Yann Martel maybe? Me thinks. But, possibilities have just widened.  After all, I'm a newbie in the genre of Russian literature only having read Master and Margarita previously. That book was such a struggle to 'get' (nuances galore with Russian society) that I thirst for more. Who knows. 

sprouts

So I've been growing sprouts for a few years over here with varied results.  Fall and spring seem to work best. Recently I transitioned them from mason jars to (newly discovered) seed bags. Alas they are still struggling... Perhaps too much dryness? My last batch in the mason jar last week was too moist, turning to mush kinda. I think some of that problem was the aluminum lid (with plastic mesh atop) mixed with an abundance of moisture thus creating a greenhouse effect.  

I had such hope in the seed bags. After 24 hours of soaking in they went.  It's day 3 maybe and they don't seem to be sprouting easily.  I keep them fastened so I can easily rinse them more than a few times a day (to account for the heat now?), but they resist.  I'm thinking they dry out too fast? More research. More data needs to be collected before I can make more hypotheses to determine a viable solution. 

So that's where I'm at with sprouts currently.

Yea, I'm just trying to keep my freak flag flying in the time of coronavirus. Proud. I'm feeling it.

 

Groove Tribe: coronavirus communique May 23, 2020

Music saves sanity. Truth.

Daze and daze go by. I look at the numbers, unfocused in a haze of waiting- for what? I'm not that interested in keeping up with the general details. I'm nesting safely inside my psyche these daze hand-feeding it all my desires and fantasies to tide me over and seeing what develops.

I sense that it's not just me. Globally we are learning how to become 'unstuck' perhaps.  The phoenix rising from the ashes- that kinda stuff. Slow and steady wins the 'race'... Emergence. Transformation. This I work at with grace and positivity, until I slip backwards into stagnation. The wheel of life. It's spinning, which is dynamic.

That's all, really. Love and light we seek.

Mistress of Plan B series: Coronavirus Communique May 21, 2020

Mistress of Plan B series

Things I’m digging right now in the time of corona-virus:

Thinking about Ernest Hemingway sitting on his lanai in Paris with his typewriter.

it'll do, for now...

Ginger. Lots of it.

Smoothies every day. Serious mana from the gods/goddesses, this is my kool-aid.

Jazz.

Not checking the news incessantly.

“Mermaid Hair Don’t Care” [thanks Hayley]

Early rising w/da kine and working out outside before the sun gods/goddesses reigns supreme.  With every lap comes a sense of calm vigor.  Blood pumping, it nourishes my cells, my spirit, me. 

Then there are the mulberry trees (yes?) with its mana hanging low, yet not so low anymore to easily reach.  I gotta work to get to those luscious black berries now.  Perhaps another few weeks at most to engage in this endeavor and I’ll move on to another sideshow activity.

The floral bouquet rising from my beloved Yosemite trucker hat continues on.  The abundance of roses in bloom in the region now does not escape me. The audacity to pluck one! The desire to pluck many adornments can’t be abated. After giving me essence to accompany my workout, they continue to delight me decaying on my bathroom sink counter. I honor their metamorphosis into sweet decay. 

Sprouting sprouts. This joy has recently been heightened. As the temperatures have been increasing here, my mason jar sprouts have become compromised. I’d noticed that the glass jars were more a greenhouse recently, collecting more moisture. Of course I knew what the solution was (seed bags I learned), but didn’t have any, or so I thought.  Then I remembered Julie from the Istanbul tribe. She had given us these reusable vegetable bags (seed bags!) that a friend of hers had made.  I constantly use them still on my green grocer visits in the hood. I already possessed the remedy!  I put that shit to work immediately and on day 2 I already see a major difference.  Sprouts happy. Holly happy. 

Tribe. The Human tribe. The Blood tribe. All the tribes. I am tribe.

“Valeria” on Netflix.  Only one season right now so get on it.

“The Eddy” on Netflix.  Jazzy beats. I need speak no more about it.  Sure the story is a sideline. It works.

Tarot cards.  Yes, introspective times necessitate self-reflection- however you go about it.

Something that felt really good recently: Carrying a big stack of books downstairs in the foyer for anyone to read.  What a sense of accomplishment!  First, just to part with books is so difficult so the act in itself is a small victory.  It’s like spreading your seed far and wide to all corners of the eARTh.  What faraway lands will all these books end up at the end of their lifespan? What stories divulge.  They have their own trajectories independent of us spending some time admiring them on our book shelves, finally reading them, seeing them lying around on the coffee table for months afterward, etc. So to release them into the wilds, anything is possible!  You know that feeling when you score a free book and you also get another hidden nugget in a bus ticket, museum stub, a note scratched on a post-it on some random page- yes THAT. It delights.

Plan B; one hit wonders sometimes, which is fine.  Plan B always deserves cultivation and storage somewhere in the hard drive.  I don’t always pay attention to Plan B, but when I do I’m sincere. Then I set it aside until its time. Plan B rarely works ‘on the fly’- not for me anyway.  But the possibilities… That is the beauty of Plan B.

And then there’s the distant Plan C. I put this to use when I headed to Yosemite to work for the season a few summers back.  Hastily arranged, it all fucking worked out fairly effortlessly (with a lot of paperwork!) and it was a fucking amazing experience (the gig, not the paperwork- but there’s something to say about keeping organized and on top of that paperwork trail shit). I put Plan A on hold for Plan C and absolutely it was the right path.  There’s a lot of magic in the universe, but you gotta feel it and catch it when it tempts you. The attractions, the dance, the emotions, the rationale (‘should I stay or should I go”) all are valuable tools when considering magic.

So I’m refining Plan B. Science! Big plans, yet not grandiose. Plan B, something to work actively towards achieving by creating while in Plan A.

Coronavirus Communique #3: " I was dreamin' when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray" May 1, 2020

 "I was dreamin' when I wrote this. Forgive me if it [I] go astray"
                                                           -Prince

me.today.vibe:EternalSunshineoftheSpotlessMind.for real. And da kine.  Always da kine.

I've been meaning to comment of the floral bouquets wafting through the air in the early mornings here when I'm power-walking or running around the building complex here.  Lockdown restrictions have been lifted somewhat recently (since Ramadan started) yet I've been lingering around my health den, my cocoon of cleanliness so to speak. If I'm being honest, as a host of you know, I'm not the most organized of housekeepers... And it's perfectly fucking fine...

So you know... yes, the flowers... Each day I've gotten into the routine of starting out on my 1st lap just getting into my breath, trying to establish consistency: deep inhalation.hold.controlled, constant exhalation. Over and over.  Let's get all that shit outta our lungs, right? Am I right??? [I call this covid-19 protection. That's right, I drank THAT koolaid and I wanna believe.  An, unrelated, unconfirmed coronavirus claim I recently said that smoking MAY protect you from the virus... Weird. Wouldn't that be a strange conundrum...]

Flowers. Yes. So I sense this aromatic sensory sweetness. Yes, it's sweet. Because it's fleeting. And you have to work for it. That is the challenge here: finding the beauty where you can- either externally or internally.  Da kine. Right?

By the 2nd lap there is a flower in my pony tail (I'm thinking to bring back the term 'pig tails' this season...) or my right ear. Because, Hawai`i & shit.  I do miss the shit outta Hawai`i.  I try to live Hawai`i as much as possible here.  Everywhere.

How can someone greet a flower with a grimace? Someone can't.

[side note here, I just finished reading Tom Robbins' Villa Incognito & there is a knock-knock joke that frequents some chapters:

     knock-knock
           who's there?
      It's me. Himself

...I'm not entirely sure why I brought that to attention. I believe it was the 'someone' & the 'himself' association.  I could be wrong though].

So, books.  I've got a lot of 'em.  I've plowed through many of 'em.  I'm quite impressed with myself. Kinda like braggadocio rights I give to myself. This reflexive instinct, however misguided, puts me into another category as a compulsive book collector.

You see, I can't turn away a free book.  I carry them all around the world with me. Different bookshelves in different countries they sit. Awaiting that one day, what might never arrive, for me to pick it up, look at the flyer or postcard or museum ticket, or receipt of something incurred while traveling... Next in the process is to read the back cover. Last, delve into it.

I picked up a VERY eclectic selection when I lived in Yosemite.  Nothing but sweet fucking memories of pure goodness working that gig.  What a trip it was.  The fucking Sierra Nevada!!! Anyway, Parkies read it all. I mean, Tom Robbins? I poured through his quiver 30 years ago while living in the jungle on Maui doing that thing that one does living in the jungle... Yes, it's true. All of it. 

While I'm pondering books, I recently read some unpublished work by a colleague. Short stories is a 'newish' genre I've delved into. The result? I enjoy them.  There is something to the structure, or how you need to structure your mind, energy, psyche for short-story enjoyment.  I enjoy the challenge, the science of it.  My brain digs the chemicals it produces. So does my body. I mean, I work hard to produce the right chemicals. Tirelessly.

So the stories got me to thinking about connections. While I couldn't find a connection between all the stories, I sensed that there was. I just didn't know what it was yet.  I was rewarded in the end to find that indeed a ribbon was weaved through the stories, traveling to-fro contemporaneously or sequentially.  Yea, my brain digs these treasure hunts; sifting through the sands to get the satisfaction of discovering the jeweled nuggets.

OH OH OH you guys.  You NEED to listen to this podcast: Prince: The Story of 1999.  

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/prince-the-story-of-1999/id1488187430

Sheer fucking genius.  The Prince Foundation does an excellent job of presenting these intimate grains of sand of Prince's vast desert he surrounded himself with: Deserts of art, music, friendship, experiences. Each grain goes through this hourglass of information learned about his sheer fucking genius.

The part about working with his favorite studio sound engineer, Peggy, to working with Lisa (and her interviews are so raw and descriptive) to Desmond describing when their band opened up for the Rolling Stones, which ended up a total disaster. It's said that the Stones' fans were not ready for Prince's 'show', and things got ugly. 

Even if you're not into Prince, the podcast is well produced. 

Peace. A purple protective perspective piece of peace to you all

Some projects as of late...

Coronavirus Communique #2

Where to start? Thursday night. The start of the weekend over here.  Cruising solo here on my lanai watching the world go by. Listening to some grooves, drinking a gin and tonic, pondering.

Elderflower berries floating atop my adult beverage (thank you Megane for introducing me to the elderberry in the gin/tonic thingy).

Marseilles floats by. That's where I bought the dried elderberries. At some old apothecary establishment near the train station. Interesting city.  I totally dug it. I love when I'm surprised like that.  Memories of Tunisia dominated that trip. A good vibe indeed.

I can't remember when we first went into lock-down here.  Perhaps it's been a month? Yes I think so.  So much time at home. I miss The Kitts dearly. They've got this whole other life in America currently. Shaika Spot so curious. Sami Bey entertaining with his athletics; jumping in the air to catch the fish and ending up doing round-offs... Shaika chatting away while Sami plots.

I'm watching this livestream right now from last summer somewhere near La Spezia, Italy. Some DJ collective spinning in a restaurant on the sea. Everybody walking around tanned, happy, content deep in the spell of a Mediterranean summer.

Another power outage. Sulaymaniyah goes dark. And then the gradual 'turning on' of the lights in the near vicinity; the wizard behind the curtain controlling whose apartment building's lights go back on first...

The corner dukan (store) is back open for business. They got shut down by the municipality for price-gouging, I guess.  That is what I heard. They got a spanking and had to shut down for 2 days.

So the big news today is that the Carrefour Supermarket here in the city opened up again today for customers (previously only for delivery). But alas, there is no way to get there but to walk due to the roadblocks.  I'm plotting how I can re-supply my chocolate soy milk stock... Imma guess it's about a 10 mile roundtrip. Certainly doable but it would be a heavy load to haul back. Pondering.

So that's it.

Cooped-up in Kurdistan in the Time of Coronavirus… March 25, 2020

Day 14 of lock-down here in Iraqi Kurdistan. I'm dealing with it well enough

Cooped-up in Kurdistan in the Time of Coronavirus…

March 25, 2020

Jazz music. Smoke. the Lanai. Work-outs, power-walking, knitting, sewing, laughing w/quarantine buddies- either remotely or together- at a respectable social-distancing spacing, of course, reading (Circe, The Prague Cemetery, Love in the Time of Cholera, and Port of Saints are all lying on the coffee table. Vying for my attention each of them. Shamelessly. Netflix: Cable Girls, Tidelands, South Park, Freud, Troy to name a few. And on and on and on.

I’ve learned a few things about isolating. It’s good to sort of have a routine- that you know you can mainly stick to.  I struggle with this still, but I’m working on it actively. Here’s what I came up with:

First thing waking up, coffee. Cruise around- maybe burn some incense. My current mixture is frankincense from Oman, myrrh from Oman, amber from Jordan, Cyprus from North America, some blend called Gloria Resin something that I remember from childhood because Catholic. I recall my sister being on a quest to locate some one summer she was back visiting us in SoCal. We traversed all through the funky shops in Laguna Beach searching for this. I think she found a big dark blue (?) cardboard cylinder with the loose resins, etc. It looked like you would never run out of it. That perceived by a 11 year old kid who didn’t begin to understand the art of incense burning… Recently I found either the same or similar blend at this Catholic religious shop in Porto, Portugal just down from the Clerigos Tower. I go there every time I am in town and stock up. It makes me happy beyond description.

Gloria Resin #44, as I recall.

But I digress… So, sometimes it’s straight to the incense.  Others I start right on in with a few hours on my work computer.  I’ve been busying myself creating a midterm for my class. I gave it a big push this morning, magically, and completed it early this evening.  Great feeling.  Also, I was missing my students and so started a new on thread Moodle Discussion Forum. Everybody who wished to participate was to post a meme representing their feelings cooped-up in Kurdistan, or Iraq more appropriately as many students come from Baghdad and further south.  They are from everywhere. It is fascinating.  I posted my response first, so they could get the idea and have some fun in expressing themselves. I’m looking forward to checking responses in 2 days!

Or… I take my computer, and phone, and coffee onto my lanai and sit in the sun, or rain, on my Iraqi cushions and watch my world wake up. Obsession of checking daily covid-19 statistics globally…

Can’t.Stop.Myself.

Not true. I have consciously weaned (like a conscious uncoupling!) myself of that tedium. Not completely, of course. I’m limiting my reading and doing well with it. 

I try to get to the gym (downstairs in the basement of the apartment building) by 9:30 every day.  I’ve been doing great with this routine. Yes, I’m discussing routines… I bring my jump rope and after every 3 sets of something I jump-rope 100 times and then go in the bathroom and wash my hands. And jazz. Always jazz now while working out.  Sweet.

Often I power walk around the entire apartment complex- either alone with my jazz, or with my power-walking buddy. It’s great stress relief and also just nice to come into contact with other people. Work, travel, politics, fashion, fitness; all the subjects.

I’d say quite often it’s about noon when I return to my apartment. Sometimes I cool down by going to our corner dukkan (store) and picking up some necessities including water, bubble water usually. Next-door is the green grocer so stock up there.  Currently I’m enjoying their bananas, ginger, and colored peppers.

Every other day is either a smoothie or other health concoctions I’m known to make.  Admittedly, I have a VERY nice-looking storage/surplus from all my favorite haunts in America: Mana Foods and Dragon’s Den on Maui, Ashland Food Co-op and Medford Food Co-op in southern Oregon, Celario health food stores in Portugal, Macro Center in Istanbul, and some random health food stores around Budapest.

On a side note, I love to search out health food stores when I travel.  Yes. And beaches.

Afterwards it’s back to the lanai if I’m not already on the lanai with my book. Occasionally I play my favorite app- Wordscapes.

About 2 pm is when I’m starting to feel peckish. Back to the refrigerator, staring. Lately grilled cheese comes to mind or peanut butter and jelly.  My new fav though is a rice cake with Thai sweet chili sauce on it (not too much). Next come my sprouts that I grow weekly. So delicious and gratifying a routine this is. Okay after sprouts is a veggie burger (from Carrefour) that I toast in my funky white toaster. Top it off with some melted Emmental cheese (like a harder Swiss cheese) and there you have it.

Cooking seems especially pleasing while cooped-up in Kurdistan during the time of coronavirus. A smug satisfaction really.  I really want to make the experience last because it is so deliciously satisfying.

The weather has been hit or miss. On those hits I simply soak it up.  My lanai is a lifesaver. That is all.

Afterwards, I end my routine.  I like this set-up; I keep to a routine in the morning to early afternoon. Afterwards I just let it be, however it’s supposed to be.  Keeps things interesting. 

Later,
-H

"Floaties" in the eyes super-sized experience inside the cosmis rays of this epic sunshine... oh yea...Right now

chilltown

therapy

connected

always an 808 State of Mind

Memories; 3-D ‘floaties’ in the eyes gone BIG

5:21 pm

Saturday, August 17, 2019

A communique from Mum’s backyard porch

Sunny summer day; sunshine so dazzling, it is only necessary to be present. Listen. I’m a child. Listening to the breeze. Feeling the warm air dust my shoulders on this early evening. Quietness surrounds. The trees (Aspens) have a low, dull roar of shimmying. Sunlight plays in between the trees. Reminds me of hide-and-go-seek. Childhood memories; gold-shimmering low setting sun, sweet winds, innocence, whimsy.

Upgrade 2.0. This consists of much of the same elements, but a Keweenaw Brewing Company Borealis brōo can on the wrought iron table. Definitely looks strong enough to hold up this kick-ass can of beer- indeed! The ultimate last-minute over-the-top addition? Why yes, you guessed it: Da kine & da kine.

I was called into a higher awareness this afternoon when I got called into the kitchen to ‘help’, as mum so sweetly called out to me on the back patio while I was zoning out, reading my Ancient Mines of Kitchi-Gummi book on local Lake Superior lore. Like so much of the UP here (Upper Peninsula of Michigan), there is a lot of lore. Most have to do with shipwrecks, and this could be somewhat connected.  I use the word “could” quite liberally here as this entire book is possibly “could” make a connection to what the author ponders, rather adamantly in a passive-aggressive manner!

So yea, it’s an interesting book if you wanna check out an interesting read on  specialized local lore with a lot of Mesopotamian and Mycenean history- that is generally accurate actually- including the bit on Bahrain’s “Dilmun” civilization.

I digress… There seems a point I was hotly making. *lost*  Oh well. Onward I press.

The main point, lest I forget again, is that this was just an awesome awakening kinda day, here in America. I love falling in love with America all over again- during my annual returns.

On the Road Again I am. I love live on the road.  There are so many roads I seek to travel down. I love the energy, the challenges it provides, the introspection, the slowing down of time.

Listening to the coyotes’ hysterical laughter-like sounds during the Bewitching Hour. Being awake for the Bewitching Hour here is amazing to tune into. Honestly, there is so much to soak in during the Bewitching Hour- wherever in the world you’re vibbing.

Speaking of good vibbing, my mum is next to me on the porch reading Time Magazine, showing signs of slightly napping intermittently.

The sun just ducked behind the house and the shadows are stretched long- like a northern European Mannerist painting, but instead of an elongated neck of a human, I am staring at the elongation of trees.

We spent the afternoon making one of my brothers’ favorite dessert, apparently, but with blueberries substituted for lemons filling… It was pretty dodgy there for a fair bit, but in the end, I think it will taste fantastic because it was made with so much love and mad laughter.  At one point mum was laughing so hard that she was crying. Magic. It’s been that kinda day.  My Turkish meatball dinner prep won’t finish by itself, so I should tend to it now, but dammit if the weather just isn’t so dreamy.

Pine Mountain, another memory I celebrate every year by building onto those memories with sweat. Five hundred sweaty steps to be exact, climbing to the top of the ski mountain where, in summer while visiting we (most all of us at different times) converge and lower our blood pressure by climbing the stairs- at least one round, but as of late I’ve got it in my to complete 4 rounds. I love the challenge, the shaking legs, the quickening heartbeat, the sweat, that feeling of sunscreen dripping down from your trucker hat, past the outer corner of your eyeball, paralleling your nose to finally rest atop your upper lip.

The long shadow followed mum back into the house. One last patch provides a view of wild Turkeys foraging for uneaten corn, the infamous black squirrel that only speaks to brother Tim, feisty chipmunks, and some intrepid deer. It’s pretty relaxing, yes.

My apologies in advance for any sentence fragments, dangling story-endings, etc…

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The ebb and flow of the tide of my existence

Here it is; 2019. Already.

Reflecting on this wishy-washy day here in Mesopotamia. Weather as fickle as my ponderings concerning where to next on Planet Earth. Philosophical ruminations of housing placement absorb my moments of blank-slate time. Google Maps is hardly a replacement for a globe. Oh what I would give to have a globe here. A nice, sturdy physical map-style globe a plus.

Spinning, trailing, anticipating, story-telling, culture-weaving- globes hold my fascinating. I remember growing up and going into the den. My father had an abacus. It lived in the cabinet, along with old photo albums. The encyclopedia set rested on an upper shelf. Always patiently awaiting someone's arrival. Some intrepid inquisitor wanting answers from the Oracle of stored knowledge- long before Google.

The globe was also in this spiritual realm- my spiritual realm during my wonder years. This den of knowledge on display. Questions answered right there.

We were a large family, yet I spent a lot of time at home entertaining myself. Being the youngest, and with a generous gap between the oldest sibling, who was already out of the house as my Wonder Years were in full formation, I had a perhaps typical childhood. The brothers, they were busy with intermediate and high schools respectively. With my father lecturing full-time and my mother a (progressive 70s) 'back-to-work' part-time librarian/social-worker, everybody was busy. I was curious.

The den. Typical 70s middle-class, I assume. All my friends had a 'tv room'. It was dark there, if I recall correctly. I loved opening the cabinet drawers. There was that cardboard box of typing paper. You know, the thin, crepe-like paper and then those sheets of blue carbon-copy paper. Seeing my ink-blue fingerprints from touching the carbon paper was another compulsion. This too met my expectations I suppose.  I indulged in this from time to time, yes. Throw in my typing fascination (I loved typing), and I was pretty successful at having a good time alone.

There was something about playing with the abacus. The clicking sound made by moving the beads. Very satisfying indeed. I didn't know what I was doing and it didn't matter. All I knew was what my father told me, tried to show me. Some method of numbers, I made up my own rules I suppose.

Moving along to the globe. Tilted. Why was it tilted? Damn that north pole looked good. White. The south more mysterious. Tasmania? Tasmania. Look it up in the encyclopedia! Make the connection from the Looney Tunes cartoons' character The Tasmanian Devil to this far-off solitary island I discovered and then read-up on. Life was pretty fucking fabulous.

Cuba. Another outlandishly mystifying island. All I knew about Cuba was that my father got my mother a mink (?) stole while he was there. I suppose I heard the word uttered a few times when we were all in the den together watching the news. I was there, yet not sure exactly what I was doing. Politics of the times wasn't even a consideration in my world.

Cuba led to Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Australia, Tahiti. Ahhh islands. My connection was forming at this time and I didn't even know it.

My father was all over the world during WWII. I remember him talking of the Philippines. Seeing his photos of Honolulu. That one with the palm trees swaying on the base, and that jeep. How cool was that jeep?

Jade Buddha. Still today my father's jade Buddha fascinates me. Every visit to my mum leads me to her top dresser, where the Buddha dwells to this day. Rub his belly. Dream.

Where does one learn to daydream? Lying in the grass squinting into the sun on one of those glorious days, I think. We had this tree in our front yard that I always used to play on. I used to do my gymnastic tricks in that tree. Hanging upside down was one of my major accomplishments. Something complete where I could bask in my own pride. I especially remember the bark on that tree.

Further satisfaction, peeling at the bark. I never wanted to scratch my initials in that tree, though.

From the balcony I gaze up into the hills, leading to the mountains, to Iran, to destinations unknown. I understand this fascination with destination unknown. Where to next? When to next?

I woke myself up this morning from a dream that I was missing my plane. I was at the airport and couldn't figure out where my flight was. What does this mean?

Peace

abstract behavior

End of semester ruminations, meditations, cogitations, abstractions (these have always been the most gratifying). Filling with vital wellness, the war zones from the semester start to dissipate: my body instinctively melts back into suppleness. Super successful semester and learned a lot as an educator, a colleague, serial-expat, Homo sapien. You get the picture here? I'm going deep today people.

Keeping up with the news these days is stressful, yet highly anticipatory. Maybe it simply resulted from a challenging semester? At any rate, as I trotted back home daily, I treated myself to the news back home in America, and podcasts, and knitting. Season of the Knit y'all. Deep Space #1

So much has happened. Here's the summary: Seth Abramson on twitter; Robert Muller; Chris Hayes news show, Preet Bhahara's *Stay Tuned With Preet, Fashion Hags podcast, *Intercepted with Jeremy Scahill podcast, *You Might Remember This (specifically the Charles Manson series) podcast. As always I continue my semi- fascination with: *My Favorite Murder podcast,  various How-to knitting YouTube snippets (the nails... all their nails are, generally, so polished as they casually explain how to get out of some knitting snafu. I'm totally getting into those, and critiquing them. Yes, must be all those narrative essays I've been reading the last 1/3 of this semester...

Anyhow, yes, peeling off the layers of the semester. I fucking dig this feeling. I cultivate this essence. I deserve it. I gave somebody a massage last week and man it felt good to get back into traditional arts. To use my hands so creatively, to heal another fellow human being, and no computer on, sitting over a screen, talking to an audience that demands your attention (in such a good way this semester!), etc. Haha, this is more difficult, the shedding of the semester's shenanigans!

But I digress... So yes, incense, sweet almond oil, Tiger Balm, Tibetan Monks chanting with singing bowls (YouTube saves the evening- again), and listening to breaths, following networks of stress balls that you can feel bursting as you attack them. That feeling when you dissolve some area of stress and your massage table victim is nearly asleep. Good to heal people. Gratifying.

Scene: 6 am lying in bed drinking a Frangelico coffee... after an evening out with some fellow lovelies to one of our favorite haunts.  They make the best 'latinos' (totally stupid name for a large draft beer with a shot of tequilla inside, lime juice and salted rim (with crusted pomegranate). Anyway... yes, this exists here- in case you're wondering. I feel like I could be at Charley's, in Paia, Hawaii, or Omar's (Ashland, Oregon), or Teddy Beer (Istanbul, Turkey), or the Italian Arms (Tunis, Tunisia), or Rik's (Manama, Bahrain), or Zelda's (Capitola, Califiornia), or just any cozy neighborhood bar/restaurant with a scenic view.  This scene just so happens to span the horizon with a 240º view maybe, looking at the foothills towards Iran, etc.

The conversation spanned across broad and narrow disciplines; dream-time journeys, fashion, art, politics, fabric, food, literature, poetry, school (occasionally), surfing, vision quests, ceremony, travel...

Wanderlust. Under a 2-week countdown watch currently. Man I DIG this feeling, too. That pre-travel 'feeling'. Super sweet vibes here folks. Pure ecstasy. 

All week the big-wave surfing events were occurring- with the majority being held in Hawaii. I tuned into the Jaws Challenge, the 2nd leg of the big wave series. The first being Nazare, Portugal (which is a seriously sweet spot on this planet and have been contemplating this area on my slowly growing list of where to purchase a property), then Maui, and then off to Maverick's, just north of Santa Cruz. Yea, another sweet spot that had much significance in my life and formation of myself as an individual entity, Santa Cruz.

So Jaws swooped down and took me outta reality all this past week. So fun getting home, cooking some dinner, settling on the couch and getting cozy (yes it's getting chilly here now y'all), grabbing my current knitting project. Setting up the laptop on a big pillow and watching all the heats and seeing Maui and the surf, and the coastline, and the landscape... So much love for the planet.

So, this has been my mind frame as of late. I woke up at 5 am somehow (after falling asleep during the semi-finals 2nd heat) and put on coffee. Why not stay up and listen to eARTh rhythms while Suli sleeps peacefully. This city I call home. It works. But the village... The village where I plan to rest my head for many moons... This name I not know, yet. I'm plotting though. Portugal, Italy. That's the short-list. I have to say though, France (thank you Marseilles for being super awesome and grabbing my attention, unexpectedly yet in retrospect expected with serendipitous flair), could be a distant third.

When I have the time to indulge, I have been researching overseas properties. Another feeling full of abundance that makes my insides shine. Thinking about this time next year stokes me out even more! I'm slowly amassing a question bank for this task so I can make a logical choice. My logic concerns closeness to the ocean first/foremost. Next is locating a village fairly close to a medium-sized city. 

So, early this morning I'm back in bed, Frangelico coffee in hand (weekend, folks), laptop open positioned on lap (makes sense, right?), twitter-tweeting. First up, Chris Hayes (one of my fav, fun, geeky newspersons) is up with a photo of a sunset on Mars.  What ensued is pure internet relevance; robot-memes waving their hands back at the landing craft, with the original sunset photo behind some dark, threatening-looking Martin foothills- or mountain ranges, I guess it depends on perspective.

Current research projects coming up, along with my American sojourn are as follows, researching Italian immigration via grandparents, as well as looking into legalities of owning property in Portugal and Italy.

Kitties! It has been 11 months since I saw the Kitts. It's definitely tough being apart. I see how content they are, roaming around indoors/outdoors, and I know it's all good. What a life they have been having. From scrappy street kittens tasting death, Starr rescued them and it all unfolded from there. Bahraini kitties, sigh. 

Time to slink into the day here. It's 7:30 am and I have at the top of my list of one thing to do today- nothingness. Slink into nothingness. Ahhh. Running, yoga, meditation,  food, incense, da kine. Nothingness is awesome. I covet nothingness. I am natural nothingness.



So yea, here I be y'all. Hope it all made sense

Groove Thursday morning

Finally! A weekend to devote, mostly, to 'maintenance'; spiritual maintenance.

Out on my lanai drinking cold coffee and eating leftover potato chips this morning while surveying evidence from last night's shenanigans... Great to cut loose when you need to!

It's a fine morning here in the Cradle of Civilization: puffy clouds scattered across the horizon, linking up to one another towards the eastern mountains, yoga, grooving to a live house set from DJ Gabrielle over on Waheke Island in the southern hemisphere (NZ), exfoliating, tweezing, nail-polishing, thinking, creating, etc.

Soul food is real. I'm devouring since earlier this morning. Ah yes, consume that Soul Food. A tantalizing breeze across the city reminds me of the coming weather. This time of year is sweet.

Peace

Every Day is a MythHollyday

deep inside the bowels of Tuni Baba, Iraqi Kurdistan

Every Day is a MythHollyday

Equinox:  aequi- 'equal'     nox- 'night'  (Latin)

Autumnal Equinox: This land holding a firm grip to the sun beating down upon its earth, incessantly. The battle nearly won. Soon night shall prevail. This day brings change with equal hours of daylight and night. Tomorrow we are renewed: Winter is coming.

As I gaze into the bright morning sun beating down on my lanai here in the Cradle of Civilization, the rhythm of summer seems to want to reign supreme still. The marching clouds in the distance advance, they are equipped with a different story-ending. Fearless and fearful of the sun perhaps, they dance around and into the sun's path. As of right now, the sun has its way. Soon its time is up. Give in to the natural rhythms, please!

This transition holds much lore involving celestial science, oral traditions, and myth. I am attracted to THIS. In our modern world we are so far removed from eARTh rhythms unless we seek out the silence that opens up the channels to this awareness. Awareness. aWAReness. It is in a sense a war...

In ancient Greece Persephone returns to the underworld where Hades, her husband, dwells.

Ancient Mesopotamia and 3rd millennium Ur marked the change with the Akītu. Because the autumnal equinox marks the time when the moon is visible longer than the sun, it seems natural that the people of Ur revered Nanna (Inanna/Ishtar)- their patron (moon) deity at this time. Babylon, Uruk, Nippur, etc. all seem to have similar Akitu festivals, but with minute differences. Difficulty in interpretations, of course, result due to gaps in recovered documents (cunneforms) and interpretations.

Magikal traditions of autumn are especially potent, so I always like to delve deeper into my own 'Bewitching Hour' ruminations. After all, darkness is a beautiful thing; it's where seeds germinate. In terms of our subconscious, it's the center of power and so potency, IMHO.

Recently I've dusted off my tarot cards and indulged in giving a friend a reading. Intuitively, tarot necessitates reflection and observations of the natural world that can guide us in the present. It's an enormous task with responsibility attached. We are losing touch with eARTh vibrations, and context is blanketed with a myriad of external influences that work in equally mysterious ways. Just yesterday I picked back up my protractor and started messing around with geometrical shapes. Time to sink deeper, yes.

This coming autumnal equinox, I feel, is already tugging at my being. I am absorbed with seeking out the mysteries of this land I call home at this time. I am a blank slate eager to decipher cuneiform inscriptions that will etch themselves into my memory, my DNA coding.

So yea, that's where I'm at on this fine day. The Bewitching Hour of the autumnal equinox draws near; 5 am tomorrow or thereabouts. Such as the dying off of the crops with a procession of renewal of the eARTh, so shall I shed my past that no longer serves as once beneficial.

Okay, more coffee...

Peace

in the zone: I am woman, hear me ROAR

Holding Pattern

I've been on a 'holding pattern' for the past month or so- as in 'holding my shit together' pattern... Summer fever and working through summer; tough challenge, but I accepted it with as much grace as I could muster. The semester is starting to wind down now and the 2-week countdown has begun I'm elated to report.

World Cup fever has also taken over our crew here. Being on this side of the world (close (enough) to Russia) means that game-timing is quite excellent. We assemble at some local watering hole and watch the game under the stars and just shooting the shit basically. Good fun. Good crew. Good shenanigans.

Last night we hit up the Dubliner Irish Pub, our second choice. Our current favorite, 'Vogue', was all booked up. The tele is mega-huge, and it just kinda reminds me of the drive-in theatre daze- not that that was around when I was growing up. Actually I remember them mostly because of going to the swap meet with my dad on Saturdays.

This one we went to a lot was in the parking lot of a drive-in movie theatre. He would be wearing that raffia sombrero and walking around with glee looking at all the gadgets, wires, and all-things seemingly broken and useless. Yea, those aisles were his favorite aisles. When the owner of such fine curiosities would come up to us, my father would go into his 'demonstration mode' with his hands. Always the hands. Talking. Then the camaraderie would come about between inquisitor and seller. They spoke the same language. They spoke the language where hard-working men from immigrant families talk story- their stories. Yea,

Yea, those hands shaped me. Damn. I miss the shit outta him some days. Since I'm the youngest of 5, half my siblings had already left home when I was starting that staring-silently-while-questioning- life-around-me phase,  I spent a lot of time just hanging out with him on the weekends. Oftentimes he and my brothers could be found in the garage- working on projects: radio-controlled airplane building and repairs, working on cars, organizing tools- yea, that kinda family. My core is that (IMHO) solid foundation that produced my basic principles that I always challenge myself to live up to.

Ah family time.

But I digress... That was a great tangent to follow- great memories of my father add to my Saturday Morning Sanctuary Space. You know this space as all my previous 'blogging day' spaces; in bed with fresh french press coffee. The kitties are profundly missed. Their progress as 'dreamers' is going well. They are fully adapted into Pacific Northwest Americana Kitty Kat Kulture. Their family adventures continue on in spirit, and various social media, this Chapter. Damn the kitts; adorables!

Speaking of french presses, last summer I picked up this all kinds of awesome stainless steel french press on amazon. It is easily one of my most coveted items that made the cut in shifting spaces and heading to Iraqi-Kurdistan mode.

Back to the Russia World Cup 2018, last night's game was kinda a bummer; Brazil lost to Belgium. Admittedly, they played a solid game; Brazil just could not find a space opening up for them to score. Another game tonight awaits!

Back to the main idea I originally had for today's entry... 6-week vacation mode coming on strong. The long, slow build-up is so worth the wait. I'm gleeful just visualizing organization:

Step 1: Basically, spin the globe. Figure out main theme: yoga/sun/surf/Portugal. Then, change to Plan B (Thailand), then Plan C (Sri Lanka). Plan C was pulling HARD at me; had me nearly convinced that monsoon season won't be so bad- which I firmly believe is the case, but, Plan E (original Plan A) came back around again, after Plan D's inception, Morocco. Haha, yes. Step 1 has a delicate balance between wanderlust and logistics. The figuring out of flights, flight awards, multi-city itineraries, etc. Such matters lessen the stoke factor in those moments of frustration between different airfare websites, getting all the damn pass-codes together, etc. Exhausting that part, but then FINALLY one day it all comes together (this morning for me): Flying into Lisbon, and outta Marseilles back to Suli with stopovers in Istanbul, of course. Think about including Plan D, as well as semi-dwell on newly formulated (this morning!) Plan F: Marseilles! I haven't taken a look-see in Marseilles since 2001. I'm curious. I'm stoked. Then I was also thinking about a cruise through the second-hand clothing shops in Paris... All over the place I am. A solid plan, I was KINDA looking forward to tropics though... Alas.

Step 2: organize all tedious stuff: passport/currency info/train information/necessary documents for proof of existence- if necessary... Also included in this step is reviewing in my mind things that I need to gather. Put the backpack in an underused corner somewhere in the apartment and just lay it open and as I walk by here and there, as I remember things I just drop it into the bag. Don't even attempt to look at its contents piling up daily. Deal with it later.

Step 3: Later... Process of elimination. This step always makes me feel smarter- about everything. I'm really good about packing light (for trips ONLY, as I have a (some would say reckless habit of over-packing when I make my moves). Everything gets used, AND there is always room for exotic fabric purchases... If there isn't, boom get the cheap-ass duffel bag you got down in the bazaar and fill it with goodies!

Step 4: Plastic zip-lock baggies

Step 5: Just do it.

That's it for today folks, peace.