DePave

   Today I had what may be my most best day yet in Portland. Im not sure why I say that as Ive had some great days here involving people I have met. Today I went to volunteer with a group called DePave. It's their mission to get the pavement out of town and replace it with food based gardens and or native plantings. They were so welcoming and real and everyone enjoyed themselves. And of course, they are doing something I believe in. Now, I am helping them. 

   Afterwards, we met at a members house for beer provided by Widmer, a local brewery. So many new and genuine faces and I did not feel uncomfortable at all. Wow, have I finally grown up? Matured?   (:

     

Here's A Picture For You

After a beautiful string of eternal moments at the rose garden, I rode to another favorite spot. The spot where I first saw Levi. I love that name but not in the textile kind of way.

Never mind.

The spot where the column is at what one could almost consider to be the top of the park. But it's the top of the bottom of the park.

Never mind.

I rode up to the spot where they should have put Sacagawea and noted a women from some place in history enjoying a gentle swing. Well, perhaps it was not so gentle for her, but there she was, dressed in a calf-length brown skirt with a matching jacket. I had to imediately ditch the bike and go swing next to her.

"How old is she?'

She's from the old-country. Any old-country that is full of warm memories. That's how old she is. A light blue scarf, truer blue than the sky, framed a face warmed by the wisdom of centuries. With excitement I sat on the swing next to her and began to swing gently.

"Hello" I said. Her face smiled true. I was being true too.

I said something else that, like a dream, I can't remember. But like a dream, those ones truer than life, I felt everything,

More smiles.

"Do they have swings in Iran?'

Im swinging high now, my feet reaching for a brilliant sun while my head gets wrapped up in the earth. Believe me, this is not my normal condition. But Im still being true.

What if everything you heard was a lie?

Musing In The Garden

Life, it seems, is a constant pulling oneself up. At a certain point one is either strong or dead. Of course, there is plenty of in between. There is always a place between this and that, whatever those may be. Some may have it easy till one day trouble comes along and they have no idea how to manage. But I couldn't know for sure, being that I am only me. Some never figure out that they poses the strength to lift themselves. Yes, I know, there are broken minds but many may be looking for a reason.

The path of least resistance would be to give up.

Or perhaps it's the weight. Yes, the excess wait of cultural and religious bonds. Heavy steel chains wrought by... who? A Saguaro can stand for a time, months, years even, before anyone knows it's dead.

"Yeah, it's been dead for a time. Just now decided to fall over."

Sometimes I think our culture is dead, or at least dying. So much of everything is an abstraction. A culture full of dead things that make a lot of noise. So much so that it's easy to know they are alive. Someday we will be like machines but we wont know it.

"It all happened quite naturally really."

A kind of contrived evolution. So be it. I ride through the sun, find some shelter under a tree where the wind whispers, breath in the decay of leaves so I know I am real. That I am... indeed alive.

"How strange, these people who can smell death and know it means life. They eat bizarre things from the earth, roots and tubers. They walk with their feet." "Oh, I've heard but never seen. I hear they have no place between."

The emptiness between distractions.

Why have I chosen this path? Seeking to simplify the convoluted. Lying around smelling dead leaves. Listening for signs of life in the roar of dead things. The wind shakes the leaves and fills my eyes with light.

What if everything you heard was a lie?

Well, you'd have to pull yourself up. Be strong. Go ahead and try.

Look past... everything,

breath slow and deep,

let it in,

let it go.

Now, stand like and ancient tree beside a polluted river. Listen to the light in the leaves. The river waits for the prophecies to fulfill themselves. She has plenty of time.

Appreciation

    Oh my. I got paid today and treated myself to a big burger and some beer. And what a treat it was. The 5th Quadrant is where I ate. They represent a local brewery and use local, organic beef between their buns. The burger was beyond good and for the first time I had gouda cheese with it. Yum, perfect compliment. I also had two Sockeye Cream Stouts via nitro. Too good. For those who do not know, nitro is sometimes used instead of  Co2 to get the beer out of the keg. It makes for a smoother creamer taste. Much preferred by myself. I had never heard of it till moving here. Anyway, I enjoyed my treat and that has as much to do with the fact that I just got paid for some work I am doing. I have not had any significant work in months so have not been able to go out and get a burger and beer in some time. There is nothing like lack to make one appreciate some seemingly simple things. Of course I have been enjoying myself without money as there is still plenty of living to be had for free. It's my goal now to be even more self-sufficient. What does that mean? Is anyone truly free or SELF-sufficient? It's a matter of degree but just having to rely on others for income is not self-sufficient. But there is a great deal one can do for themselves, even in the city, to minimize dependency. So yeah, land of the free, home of the brave. I think not. At least no more than many other "Lands".  But why would we compare ourselves to say... Palestine. Apple to apple we are pretty ordinary and much more dependent than we ever think about. And brave? Have you sucked up your dose of fear today?

    ANYWAY......... So while I was sitting there eating I noticed this tiny, bright-green bug walking across the beer menu. Little bug lost. An aphid out of place, and I thought, like with the buzzing fly, to squash it. No reason for that, but one might think maybe it would be better for the bug. Put it out of its misery. What misery? One would not do that to a person. Let's lend a hand. Of course I did not bother with the bug anymore than I usually bother with the person on the street asking for some change. Im sure the guys on the street need much more than some change and it's not anything I can really help with. But the bug... The irony of it is that being a gardener, if I had found it with a bunch of other aphids in excess on some plant I probably would have suffocated them all with soap and water. Hey... there's no shortage of aphids. Hum... one could say that about us humans too but I don't believe it. I think there is enough for all but we let fear and greed rule us from the highest realms of humanity. We are humans not aphids. We should live accordingly. What separates humans from aphids? Yeah, yeah ,yeah, we've got big brains and can create things we are not mature enough to use. Always reaching for more of nothing and not realizing that we've got it all going. Fa ree and brave.

Great burger. I think Im going to go get me some ice cream. Or better yet the same thing only different made with coconut milk. Got to love coconut though.

Stories

   I believe everyone has a story to tell that would be of relevance and interest to others. A story that instructs or encourages or just makes one laugh at living. My friend Laura has been in Mexico City now for several weeks. She's a performance artist and is walking Aveneda de los Insurgentes, through the heart of the city, inviting anyone to walk with her a bit and tell a story. Any story. She then posts them at Walking Stories: Mexico City. The stories can be bizarre but are mostly everyday though insightful and warm. A bridge to understanding.

   Today I was sitting our front of Backspace reading a local rag and sipping some coffee. It was a quiet, overcast afternoon, yet bright and warm. A couple guys sat next to me talking and at one point engaged me. One spoke of a man he met from China and of his idea to get a story out of him and post it to a blog. He spoke of building this bridge to understanding. Laura's blog is like that. She was there when the piggy flew and was reporting straight from the streets of Mexico City. Her actual observations tempered the ridiculous hype coming form the joke we call news. Of course there is nothing funny about some of that which is spewed form the mouths of various talking heads on the television. It is important that we live with open minds and hearts so that we are ready to see the truth when it confronts us. And I am not talking about some contrived dogma parading as truth, "only" or otherwise. Think about it. There is no shortage of religions claiming to be the path. No shortage of chains binding spirit.

   Anyway... The guys went into Backspace and came out later with a girlfriend of theirs. They were on their way to get a free meal being offered at Obryant Park and invited me to join them. Sure, I said and off we went. I didn't need the meal but was grateful for the friendship offered and yes, the meal too, which turned out to be quite generous and tasteful. There was a variety of fresh prepared dishes and deserts. There was even a queue for clothing for anyone who might need something. 

   When I leave my house to be part of the day these are the kinds of experiences I hope to have. All three of these travelers had stories to tell and today we were all part of each others story. I say go ahead and tell your story even if it's only to yourself and not in words to be read. It's like a journey of discovery at the least, and if you listen to the stories of others you'll know that you are not alone. And like life, you never know. You never know what will come of the telling, the writing, the listening, but it will come to something. Take charge of your story. Laugh, cry, get angry and let it all go. The wind is listening.

Perspective

What do you see when you look at this picture? It makes me think of something very specific: The place between.

Perspective shapes everything we see but I think too many of us are unaware of that. I know I was when I was younger. But I learned that many of my thoughts were not really mine, but echos of others for better or worse and, unfortunately, too often worse. Thoughts formed with words and deeds and obvious contradiction or apparent reward. Thoughts formed by the mouths and actions of others--others acting out others thoughts. What is true freedom?

Perspective: The place from where we watch the world and all that is on it, in it, over it, surrounding it; whether real or the grandest of illusions--be they nightmare or dream. The place from where we walk in the world. This place is variable and often unknown. What we see is a reflection of ourselves.

But who's looking in the mirror?

In general, it's a pretty simple picture. But I see with everything I think.

Sleepy

It's 5 pm. I feel like I need to wake up. My life lately feels like this:  Im looking out the window at the fresh growth of spring, how the red of maple leaves catches the light. The new green of a rose bush. The pale purple of bluebells complimented by the lacy leaves and deep pink of geranium. The sky is a stormy blue and gray, and its wind whips the leaves into a frantic dance. It looks cold but for the light which adds warmth and life to this vision through the pane and plastic. But it's all silent, like a strange dream, and I feel nothing. No cold. No warmth. Motion with no force. Light with no life. But still... isn't it pretty?

Am I bound or just in a mood? Dreaming and not touching. At least my dreams have promise, though I can never stay there long enough and I can never go back. 

Oh hell! Maybe I just need a cup of coffee.

Well

...so much for god and the universe and hope and good feelings. I didn't get the job.

May 6th

I wrote the two preceding sentences in the morning of the 4th after I got the call from the Chinese Garden saying "We hired someone else."

I had an interview today for a job that will in actuality be better for me. Not that Im going to get it. It just makes me think, because the day I got the call and set the interview for the Chinese Garden I had received a call prior. It too was for a job but Everett, not knowing it was concerning work, did not take a message and told him to call back in a few minutes. I was upset 'cause Im having a hard time finding work. He never called back or returned my call but when I got home later that day I had a message from the Chinese garden. So now Im thinking how it's good that I missed that call cause it might have interfered with the interview for this job that I really wanted.

MADNESS. Why! I ask, do I have a brain? So now Im like, yeah, this that and that.

Well of course it doesn't make sense.

May Day

Here's more buried American history. May 1st should have more significance in our tradition being that it represents the fight for the 8 hour work day. Most of us Americans do not realize that our country had horrid and inhumane work conditions in our past to include sweat shops and child labour. And Im not talking about little Jimmy helping dad out in the orchard. Im talking third world. In fact, May 1st is International Workers Day and is celebrated across the globe in many countries but you wont find it celebrated here or even mentioned. This could be because it is associated with Communism, Socialism, and the Anarchist movement. But also because it is associated with the  Haymarket Massacre, or the euphemistic Hayward Affair, and other heinous injustices perpetrated by officials, high and low, on those demonstrating and arguing for workers rights. On May 1st, 1986, 170 armed police marched into the area where a crowd was listening to prominent speakers and ordered them to disperse. Fielden, who was speaking, objected and stepped down from the platform. Suddenly a bomb was thrown into the police ranks and one was killed. The police fired and panic ensued. In the end 7 police officers and an unknown number of civilians were killed. What happened in the following months was a witch hunt. Several prominent leaders of the movement were arrested and charge even though many of them were not even present at the tragic event. With no evidence (it was never proven who threw the bomb) and much prejudice, Spies, Parsons, Schwab, Fielden, Fischer, Engle, and Lingg were sentenced to be hanged. There's a lot of American history here. Check it out.

I first read of this while reading Emma Goldman's autobiography "Living My Life" It is a very interesting read due to the actual history of it. I found out about her while reading Howard Zinn's "A Peoples History of the United States" Howard Zinn is a very level headed intelligent man who is prominent in scholarly circles but much maligned buy those in our society who wish to keep evil deeds in the dark and paint a rosy and inaccurate picture of history. Only when all nations confess their sins against humanity will peace be possible. Lies beget lies and wars beget wars and ignorance begets ignorance. Truth is light and when it is suppressed you are left with darkness.

I woke

...feeling comfortably refreshed and I woke early. 5:30 am. Since moving to Portland I have been sleeping till at least 8:30 and usually longer so it seems just a bit strange to get up this early even tough it was pretty normal while I was living in Tucson. Ive been wanting to get back to this schedule and I think it has happened now because I am preparing myself  for employment, hopefully at the Chinese Garden. I felt good about the interview I had there on wednesday, and after being interviewed by Jane and Sam I felt I wanted to work there even more. It truly seems like it would be a great place to work. We'll see.

    So today is the first of May. Yay  (:   The first of May and I feel fresh and gay. It does seem like a special day in some way. It's also my official one year anniversary of being in Portland. What an interesting year it has been. I came here with incredibly high hopes and things did indeed start off quite sunny. I got here at 9:40 pm on the last day of April. On the 1st of May I answered and add for a room in Sellwood. On the 2nd I met Sandy, the owner of the house. On the 3rd I moved in. It was, and still is Im sure, a great place to live which was full of peace and light. Maybe just a bit to quiet but not really. I had a quiet upstairs room with a sunny, south facing window. Oddly enough this is exactly what I had wanted. A room exactly as such in a house near the Springwater Corridor which is an extensive bike path part of which passes along the Willamette. Shortly after moving in I bought myself a new bike and timed my trip from the house to downtown. Yeah, I was pretty excited and hopeful.

    The first shadow that was cast was in relation to relationships. The idea that there would be a lot of fresh faces to date, and that there would be a lot of guys with similar values as myself to meet and get to know, added to my excitement and while it was true it soon became apparent that it was more of the same old. I'll save the details for another day but I still had plenty to learn and realize. The big setback though, was when I fell and broke my wrist while skating. It was a pretty heinous break too and of course on my right arm. It was on monday and I had just started working for Marcia that friday. Needless to say I could not continue work so the cash which I had been spending rather carelessly was not being replaced and I had to find another living situation to make it go farther. I found that situation just in time and after some prep work I moved in to this room in a drab, cluttered house in the middle of sunny september. Unfortunately a rash that I got from exposure to Stinging Nettle moved in with me and grew quite bad before subsiding. It is still with me a bit today, 7 months later. 

    I have to say that I was pretty naive about coming here and how things would unfold. I did think I would find satisfying work right away and that I would even have a boyfriend. You know, I pretty much thought I was all of a sudden going to have this wonderful new life. Everything that has happened to me though, has helped me to see what is really important to me, and has helped me to be more sure and strong in myself. It kind of reined me in and gave me a reality check. Kind of. Reality... Ha! 

    So today, the first day of May, I feel refreshed and new. It's literally going to be a sunny day and Im going to get myself out side and see what I can find.

Cheers!

My Mother's Eyes

The following words were actually my first post to this site and were posted on November 30th 2007. The only change was of the word Tucson, to Portland. Oh sure, there may be some other minor corrections.

I was born on the morning of September 9th, 1959, in San Diego California at Mercy Hospital. Yes... Mercy! And that was the beginning of my imagined troubles. I must have had a scowl on my face for Im sure the doctor slapped my ass as is the custom treatment for newborns, as if to say "This is what you get for being born". What a sorry welcome. I'll have to ask my mom how much I smiled when I was a new human. Mercy. So I grew up in San Diego and its environs but, no, I did not surf, my parents were not actors, and we did not live in a mansion on a hill. I did get to smell a lot of smoke though and get thrilled by more than one shaking. Fun it was.

My dad did mostly janitorial work as I remember. Such was the case at his death. He worked for the city library in Alamogordo New Mexico. My mom raised 6 trouble makers. Well... perhaps we are not all trouble makers. I remember my mom telling me that she worked at some Walgreens type store and that she used to swim a lot. I don't remember her being unhappy when I was a child but she is that way a lot now. There is a connection here to my mother, Mercy hospital, and the deadly light.

So yeah, I grew up in that part of the world, when things were so much different. As they always are in the past. When I was in the 6th grade my parents bought a house in east county. We moved out there and my dad left us soon after. "If you can't stay here with me then leave". My mothers angry, hurt, words that I remember so vividly. I was glad he left and no sadness fell from my eyes. No... that would come much later but my mothers sadness, unrealized to me at the time, was already present.

Oh, I forgot, this is supposed to be about me.

Growing up in east county (Lakeside to be exact) was very different than doing the same in San Diego but I was still timid me. Im still timid me but in a fucked up, angry, confused, sad for no reason but "Im working on that", got you fooled kind of way. Hopefully if we ever meet I will be in a very good mood. Not that Im ever not kind to strangers.

Lakeside California. The only thing that saved me were the hills behind the tract of homes in which our home - strike that - our house was located. I went up there quite frequently with friends or my brothers or myself. I used to wank-off up there a lot. Of course that phrase was not used by me at that time being that I had not yet been to England where I picked it up. Yeah, England. The lost, timid boy did something he thought he never would. Joined the military. More specifically the US Air Force. And while I was indeed twenty and not a boy one would think otherwise if they saw a photo of me from basic training.

I joined the military after returning from Heavener Oklahoma, after trying out Bakersfield, after quitting my job at Smilies Industries, after considering the physical condition of a fellow employee who had been working there for far to many years. My experience in the Air Force was a good one especially since there were no wars or rumors of war. It's called opportunity or "how to get the fuck outa here" cause I fucked up in high school. Military service is an option taken up by many a naive young man.

Anyway... Im in Portland now and there are wars and rumors of war, and there is a connection here to the deadly light.

the Place BEtween

There is this favorite spot along the Willamette where I like to sit and think or search for lost and insignificant things. Or maybe just have a snack (: It's not a specific spot at all but it is always the same: On one side; the groan of the city and all it stirs in the mind and spirit--concerns and cares and reasons why. And on the other side; the wild. The glorious and wise wild. Perhaps not so wild at this point but wild enough to know that the earth still lives. There is a kind of balance here, with the madness of the city calmed by the wind and the water and the light in the leaves.

I sat on the rivers rocky edge one evening and questioned the moon; What would you give the sea if you were lovers? "Stars of course", was the reply.

And then I noticed

they are lovers! -- and the sea is full of stars.

What is it that draws me to the city, and this city in particular? Humanity of course, and nature. Have I told you about the trees? I shall, and I will tell you of this dream. I was flying effortlessly over the forested green hills, over the ridge I went and down into the magical woods for a closer look. I beheld a most massive tree which was not like the others but for one. It's massive trunk supported many branches all the size of tree trunks. Solid, strong, comforting and calm and reaching out and up to the sky. I stopped to feel its presence and was taken by its being. I wished to climb its trusses and sleep in its arms but I could not stay. So I took to the sky once more and flew through and from this forrest.

But the trees are always with me. That's just how they make me feel. Strong and calm and sure.

Wow!

Well, I arrived in Portland a year ago on the 29th of april around 9:40pm. I can't believe it has been one year. So much has happened it seems but I am still unsettled. Ive decide to revive this blog as it is fine for now and I want to write and pretend it is to someone (: If an old man dies on the farm and no one knows, did he live? Hey... tomorrow I have an interview at the Classical Chinese Garden downtown. I am very jazzed about this interview and potential employment for many reasons. We'll see.

Anyway... Welcome back Vinny.

Thanks!