Memoirs

Some memories from "Life on The Road,
Living in a Bus, Summer, 2006 - Winter 2008"...

I remember the time when: Ceasar Salad on the steps of the bus was the end of a perfect day.

I remember the time when: Mom sat and wrote out ALL the lyrics to the Johnny Cash song "I've Been Everywhere, Man," by listening to it over and over.

I remember the time when: Breaking down became as common as getting gas, and how we all became so unfazed about it towards the end.  Routine becomes routine, no matter how stressful it might have first been.

I remember the time when: Pat and I would lay in the greens of Parking Lot's and talk about what it felt like to be getting older; and how at that time, reality and dreams had no distinction. 

I remember the time when: Walmarts were made either "Premium" or "Low-End" depending on whether they had a massage chair in the medicine department or not. :-)

I remember the time when: The Great wide open was my road, the Rocky mountains were my backyard, The great starry sky was my roof, Truckers were my neighbors and Walmart parkinglots were where I lay my head.

I remember the time when: I'd wake up with a "thunk" in the middle of the night because I had bonked my head on the underside of my parents' bed, less than a foot above me. ;-)

I remember the time when: My heart longed for home... but the ache was able to make me say things and understand things about my friends that I never could have, had I stayed with them.

I remember the time when: We'd read books aloud over campfires as coyotes howled behind us, and raccoons snuck in and out of the shadows and smoke.

What people REALLY want.

I've been thinking.

(to be continued...)

The Sweetest Thing...

...Getting to tuck this girl in tonight 

and getting a glimpse into her view of the world.

Leonard

Normally when one is experiencing the uncomfortable numb of nausea, everything just seems to get tainted.  Things that are usually liked (foods, sounds, etc.) can make you feel almost worse, and often it's just better to sit in complete silence, and wait till it passes.

Well, tonight I made an important discovery.
I can listen to Leanard Cohen while nauseous, and it has no ill-effect on me.  I can enjoy him just as much feeling gross as feeling wonderful!

I thought this was special.
Leanard is special.
He reached a special level of musician-ship in my book:
Being good all the time, for any mood, or level of particular health.

P.S. So I don't forget...  I think I could name my kid Cohen... if I need to. :-)

Surprise!

Even though I shun most modern technology [the the www], and even sometimes have qualms in the keeping of this blog, I caved today when my friend showed me where I could build a free photography website.  Here's the unfinished link! :-)  Also, C is letting me borrow his camera for a while.  More cool pics to come; stay tuned!

Touched

Lately, I've been amazed to discover how different people can be once you actually get to know them.  People in my art classes are unfolding to me like wild flowers recently.  I felt like the theme of this semester has been :"Learning to See".  Perhaps it is People I am meant to see, even more than Art and Beauty in the World.  Or no, perhaps I am meant to see art and beauty and the world INSIDE people.

Because I am really starting to.

P.S. Here is a pic of Markus's cool shirt I took today.----->

Mielle

"Why are my tears hot?"  She asked, wading through them, to fix her gaze on the older man.  He looked at her, in love, and assured her, "Because they flow from a heart that's full of fire."  He smiled.  And for a moment, the truth of his statement, parted the clouds of her mind; the storm stopped, and she could taste the sun in the sky and realized, it's warmth was what was inside her.

Writing

They say photography is a subtractive artfrom. It’s all about cropping, and narrowing, simplifying, focusing in.

Drawing, on the otherhand, is an additive artform. One starts with a blank canvas, then adds to it. One is constantly adjusting, layering, inventing, fixing.

Then we have writing. Another artform. I always would have likened writing to Drawing or Painting. I would have imagined it to fit nicely into the “additive” category.

But now, I am thinking more and more otherwise. These days, when I sit down to write, I speedily begin whacking through the proverbial “jungle” of my mind, till I finally settle upon that one, singular thought I wish to express.

Many authors have perhaps been plagued with the infamous “writers block”, sitting for hours, staring at their page, a wall between them and their creativity.

The problem that befalls me is quite the contrary. I sit for hours staring at my life and wonder: what should I not write? I think sometimes this can be the hardest part of being a writer; choosing their subject matter.

I look out at the vastness of all the experiences I’ve gathered these last 20 years… All the observations, revelations, moments… There is plenty of content. I have to decide where to point my lens, set my shutter and when to snap (!) in order to present you with the perfect composition.

Saying is all about not saying, I’ve decided. Or something like that.

Jealousy

Oh, I try really hard.

But this heart is still capable of hosting 
such a feeling.

Oh it stings.

Maddy, you have 
no right.

No entitlement.

Be quiet, 
and shut off that 
room of your heart.

Now.

Move on.

When I grow up...

I hope to have a home, with...

• Lot's of love [and an open door]
• Many hammocks, strung about (indoors and out)
• Twinkly-lights, woven through Ivy vines across bookshelves and nooks
• Homey quilts scattered, and egg-shell curtains
• a chalk-board wall/ with quotes and drawings and random things covering it
• a futon
• beds of many layers and levels 
• [and maybe a room that had just as much inside as outside in it]
• oh, and some glass bottles on window sills could be nice, too ;-)

 

But I really don't care so much about material things.  As long as #1 is covered, I'll be happy as a clam!  The other things would be just frosting.
Because, maybe just a sleeping-bag and some sort of roof would be fine, as well.

Findings

I found that
In my hour of need,

when I needed someone to truly
"combat all my demons"

It was the vision of a barefooted,

carpenter,

working in the shade of his shop,

willing to take time out and sit with me

on the stoop of a step

and listen to all my woes

and fears,

that was forefront in my mind.

Not a King,
Leading a Victorious Army,
Fierce and Just and Strong,
Able to wipe away
all my foes in an
instant,
even though he is Him.
and he could...

But it was the lamb
I called out to
in my desperation.
When I had almost given up,
all I wanted was to be beside
that simple man,
dusty beard,
gentle eyes.

I found this interesting.
And slightly illogical.

Life and truth aren't always "logical".
They don't always fit into the grain.

I am finding that out, as well. <3

Brothers

Sometimes in life, we are surprised

when we chance to find ourselves

inside a moment

that makes us feel utterly whole and warm and content.

I got to be inside such a moment last night.

The coffee shop was buzzing with warm lights

and chattering voices, as rain could be seen

through the open door out on the sidewalk and down the street.

My one brother played music with my other brother, as the third, dread-locked brother stood,

in the back,

adjusting the sound mixer and watching 
with fond love and gentle admiration.

Little Sunshine danced and made friends with all the patrons, as I sat, and soaked it all in.

Such a simple moment.

Surrounded by earth-toned, homey decor, 
and the scents of foreign coffees...

I swallowed it up.  This moment.  This lovely, perfect, happy, heavenly moment.

It will stay with me.

My heart is so grateful.

My heart is so grateful for this life, these moments, these brothers... :-)

Prayers

Help him to see only you.  Shine on him with your perfect holy love.  Give him revelation and hope and rest in the truth of Goodness.  Make his peace to be your secure arms felt firmly around him. Don't let him stray.  Hold on really closely.

Help me to not love him selfishly, but purely;  loving for his sake and not my own... and all that that entails.

Northstar

 

The day we became famous rock-stars. :-)