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

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...

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

feeling the Maui love

monsanto MUST BE STOPPED. GMOs gotta go:  watch it & get into my head-space this morning...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=0I2xZSlLVjA

Sunday morning here in the Fertile Crescent. Lots of fickle weather as of late. Yesterday it kinda tried to snow for a few minutes (after I already packed away all my winter clothing last Wednesday) while I was downtown. Today it is warm and sunny.

I'm back in bed with coffee brewing and hot oats cooking on the stove.  I had a lovely run this morning.  Up early (no sleep past the early a.m. call to prayer), I was surfing the net.  By the way, 5 a.m. Turkey time is prime time to see what all my friends are up to back home in Hawaii- exactly 13 hours behind in the time zone scheme of things.

Well, Hawaii's citizens are up to A LOT today. They are fighting a giant- a giant coackroach of a corporate empire rat race. Okay, I said it. Yep monsanto (no capitalization for an UNproper noun).

As the sun was rising, I was increasing in my rage after reading all the articles posted. I didn't feel hopeless though.  I felt hopeful because my friends on Maui and throughout the Hawaiian Islands ROCK. They are getting the job done.  They are in R-EVOLUTION mode.

Being so far away from Maui makes it difficult sometimes. Like this time. After I had had my fill of information, I set out to go for a morning run.  I ran today for Maui- for Hawaii. For my friends that are on the front lines there fighting the government- who insist on trying to get into our kitchens. WTF is it with the government trying to get into our vaginas, as well as our kitchens?

On the subject of front lines, I, admittedly, haven't kept up so much with America's revolutions.  I have my senses full over here watching THESE revolutions: Syria, a free Kurdistan, etc.  I'm front and center over here trying to take all this in in as graceful a way as I can (I know I cuss too much, but hey, it's a product of being an archaeologist and always being around construction crews. Oh how I miss being around construction crews).

But I digress... so, people over here are dying- loads of them every day- fighting for their cause against their corrupt governments. What I realized, though, is that I decided that Hawaii's fight with monsanto wasn't as important as these people's fights because... well, I see dead people on the news every day because of these fights...

BUT this morning something snapped in me. It comes down to this: fighting an injust government that is trying to make too many personal decisions for us- we the people. Why do governments, the world over, want to come into our homes? Why into our bedrooms? Our kitchens? Our gardens?

So I turned my rage into pure, divine energy and had a kick-ass run.  It wasn't yet 7 a.m. so I had the place to myself again.  Every lap around the track was encouragement. I want Maui peeps to feel my encouragement for their dedication.  I was running so fast I could hardly keep my breath. But I thought, 'Maui peeps are in the rain today holding signs and supporting their (our) right to exist and be allowed to make (some of) our own decisions.

Perhaps my friends over here think this can't compare: people in America fighting for the right to have a GMO-produced food labelled as such so we can avoid buying/ingesting it, when their governments are KILLING them. Our government is killing us too with GMOs, but it's a slow death- unlike what I see over here. Our government kills us with cancer-causing agents that are leaked/seeped into our foods, our lands- all in an effort to produce 'superfoods!'

I do not mean to make light of the situation, anywhere.  It is just different. What is common is that people have to rally and fight for their rights in almost every aspect of life- anywhere.  period.

Okay, I'm done with that. And with my oatmeal (I hope the oats weren't GMOs but I don't know as the bag is in Turkish).  I hope not. I can say that here, in the southeast, knowing what is in one's food is not a 'thing' here. For whatever reasons, I don't know.  The health issue thing isn't so prevalent.  I know a core group of friends here where it is indeed a concern, but it is the rare exception to the rule for sure.  Perhaps in other parts of Turkey it is more of a concern for people.  I don't even know the active status of monsanto in Turkey. This is something I will check into momentarily...

Back to my exciting life... ahem. So, yesterday turned out to be a horrible day weather wise here in Gaziantep.  It ended up kinda snowing. I was downtown with Solo_ojo and we were getting our 'lists' checked off when we got caught up in the foul weather. Actually we were waiting for the tram and noticed the dark, brooding weather on the horizon while it was lightly raining. We both saw it, turned to each other, and decided to verbalize that we were going to forget about it and maybe nothing bad will happen... At least I had the good sense to have a beanie on my head. It is ironic, though, that 3 days before I made it a personal task to pack up all my weather clothing since spring sprung...
Back to that checklist: Mehmet the tailor called and my pants were ready. Awesome! I am addicted to having a tailor now... I got to eat my favorite Turkish food- Iskender. I bought some fistik baklava for friends in Izmir for next weekend. Oh yes, I also made it to the eczane too! I hate going to the eczane in Gaziantep.  Not sure why.  I really only do it when I am traveling in Turkey.

Here is perhaps one reason why I hate it here: Yesterday I walked to the counter and asked in Turkish for 'dort tane Yasmin lutfen', and he brings me back only 1. I say again 'dort' (4) and he, almost reluctantly, goes back and brings me 3 more- all the while the guy standing next to me at the counter is just staring at me... It is ALWAYS weird...

Last weekend in Konya I contemplated going into an eczane there, but somehow talked myself out of it... heh heh. My partner in crime with me in Konya only laughed at me when I told her the story. I guess I think of Konya as such a conservative place, but a lot of people assure me that, even though it is difficult to purchase alcohol there, it has the highest percentage of drinkers there.  I wasn't so sure it was going to be so easy to buy alcohol so I brought my trusty flask with me! That's another story though...

Okay, my work here is done.