(For A.C.) They say that elephants have funerals when they lose a member of the herd. They gather around the dead, sometimes for days on end, swaying over the body. People say they are in mourning, and after this period of mourning, they continue on. But I think they are waiting for resurrection as they stand around the dead. I think they are hoping, and not mourning. I think their mourning doesn't begin until they realize the body won't be getting up to join them again and they need to leave it behind.
I too, can't help but stop to circle back and stand over the bodies of those that peeled off from my herd. I nudge them with my toes, I try to lift them to their feet, and when they fall limp like ragdolls, I breathe and tell myself that this is the way of the world. And I shake them to be sure, and then I keep moving down the trail, always looking at their forms behind me.
And how I miss. There are empty caverns where they were, ghosts on the path at my side. It keeps me walking backwards every now and then, ever hopeful for the sound of footsteps on the trail. But they don't come.
I would tell you that you were in my stories. I would tell you how things are. I would tell you that I think the elephants are hopeful when they gather over a body, and only in mourning when they keep on walking.
Happy Hour event featuring Zainab Salbi of Women for Women
If you happen to be in the D.C. area, stop by a special Happy Hour event featuring Zainab
Salbi, renowned author of Between Two Worlds and
Founder and CEO of Women for Women International, with whom I sponsor a woman in Rwanda.
When: Tuesday,
June 9th, 6-8pm
Where: BLT
Steak, 1625 I Street, NW, Washington,
DC
Event is proudly sponsored by BLT
Steak and the Meltzer Group.
Bring a Friend! There will
also be a unique opportunity to become involved or introduce a friend to Women
for Women International. For anyone that signs up to sponsor a woman at the
event, they will waive the $30 one-time enrollment fee.
Light
hors d’oeuvres will be served and a cash bar will be available. There is
a $10 cover charge at the door.
We are on the eve of a historic event. Welcome, Barack Obama. We are ready to start healing this country. I understand Washington D.C. is one big party. And tomorrow, cities around the country will join them as we FINALLY get to kick G W Bush to the curb and welcome a president who is intelligent and sensible, and may possibly restore our reputation around the world. Below, two pieces that express my sentiments. From Amsterdam's Madam Tussauds:
Happy New Year, everyone! Here's to a new beginning with President Obama, a new shift in American policy and mentality. As we enter a recession, the consequences of our consumerism upon us both financially and environmentally, let this be a time of rebirth into a more conscientious way of living. Let us turn back to the simple pleasures of life, care about our fellow man, and make smart choices about our health and community. Support small businesses, support local organic farming. Take care of what we have as we enter a period of rebuilding. Happy 2009!
The republicans are fond of disseminating the myth that they are more fiscally responsible and better for the economy. For those of thus not stuck in a fantasy world and who actually paid attention during the Bush-Clinton-Bush eras, we know this is not so. Now I haven't fact-checked this chart yet, but for what it's worth, this blog seems to spell it out. This chart is posted on there.
Lately I've been having a bit of an identity crisis. Somewhere over the last years, it seems I lost my spirit. I miss the version of me that tramped all over Greece, jumped in the Hearst Castle pool, drove to New Mexico and camped on the red rocks and looked at the stars. My old wanderlust has seized me and I dream of adventure. I fantasize about renting a cottage in the Vermont woods in the deep of winter and exploring the countryside by snow-shoe, writing a memoir next to a crackling fire at night. I fantasize about renting a cottage in Cape Cod or in Mystic or in Maine, riding a bicycle down to the wharf to see fishermen unload lobsters and eating crab in pubs with newly-found friends. I dream about owning a canal-side pied-a-terre in Amsterdam and coming home from the flower market with my arms full of blossoms to set before the open window. But my job, with two weeks a year of vacation, doesn't afford the life I used to live.
In my funk, this afternoon, I took a walk in China Camp on the trail that follows the coastline. It was an insanely beautiful day, and as I looked out at the white sailboats dotting the bay, I played a mental game and pretended I was in Santorini. It was amazing how believable it was. The chaparral and trees look very much like those in Greece, as does the shore. Below, in the old China Camp fishing village (now a ghost town), the pier juts out into the sea and an old wooden fishing boat is anchored beside it. I breathed in deeply and thought about how relaxing it was to be in Greece and that later I would go into the village and have souvlaki and retsina mixed with 7-Up and rent a moped.
I plan to move my desk to the window in my bedroom later this week, so I can look at the trees and create a nook to write and pretend I am in exotic locales. It will sustain me until I have the means to jet to a Montana horse ranch.
John McCain thinks American workers won't pick lettuce for $50 an hour. That's because he has no freaking clue what an average person earns. Talk about out of touch, not being sure how many houses he owns and actually believing that $50 an hour is a wage that Americans won't do hard labor for. What an idiot.
A month ago, I signed up to become a sponsor of a woman in Rwanda through Women for Women, a really inspiring non-profit started by Zainab Salbi, an Iraqi woman who escaped war at the age of 19 to come to the U.S. Her organization, which helps women in several war-torn countries, has received the highest rating for a charitable organization by charity review groups and receives donations from people like Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. And we know how committed Ms. Jolie is to her refugees. After researching the organization and finding out that nearly 85% of my donation goes directly into the hands of the woman I sponsor, I signed up. For $27 a month, a sum that's even doable for me, this woman I am sponsoring will literally be able to improve her life drastically and help support her for a month. Crazy, isn't it, when that's what we would spend on a round of drinks? Shit, this is a lesson in perspective that won't soon be forgotten. It's the cheapest therapy I've every gotten.
Why? Because today I got my sponsorship packet. Attached to it was a black and white picture of "Godelive M-" (I'm omitting her last name to protect her privacy). She was widowed during the genocide that wiped out almost a million people in her country during the heartbreaking ethnic cleansing slaughter (<—click that link to see an incredible Frontline documentary) of innocent people that the world's governments deliberately turned their back on. I want these people to know that while bureaucracy and politics didn't give a shit about their devastation, people did. And people like me still do.
Godelive, my "sister" (how hokey!) was probably raped regularly during the genocide, and may have had to watch her husband be hacked to death with a machete, as most of these cases went. What I know about her from the enrollment interview that Women for Women did with her is that she is 42, has three kids, has never been to school, cannot read or write, lives in a shack with no electricity or running water, has poor health, and lost more than one family member to the genocide. How's that for perspective? What the *F*am I complaining about? Do any of us (including the most "broke" of us) look at our refrigerators, our computers, our beds, our hot showers, our cars, the food on our table EVERY DAY, and realize that we really are the most blessed people on the planet, as well as the most powerful? Want to feel like Bill Gates every day? Do this program. I'm not lying. Best therapy EVER for me, and at the bargain price of $27 a month. "Little old me" isn't so "little old" when I can actually change someone's life and help support them for a whole month for the equivalent of an hour's pay (for some of you, the equivalent of ten minute's pay!). Remember how they used to talk about how much money Shaquille O'Neal would earn per minute? I kind of feel like Shaq to this Rwandan woman. It's all in your perspective.
Anyway, my "commemoration" of International Peace Day on September 21 is to spread the word to as many women as possible about the Women for Women sponsorship program. Not only will it help another woman on the planet who has seen some awful effects of war, but it could bring YOU some peace in your life. Sort of a double whammy. It will give you an overwhelming sense that you actually can control some of the strife in the world, and that "little old you" can do profound and beautiful things. And who doesn't need a little reminder of that?
I watched the opening ceremonies for the Olympics tonight, and am so excited to watch certain events. Having swum for so many years, I'm especially excited about that sport. I'm a total sentimental fool, so I always have a few moments of embarrassing choke-ups during the Olympics. For example, medals ceremonies, or watching the underdog win. This year, I'm unbelievably inspired by Dara Torres, 41 year-old mother of a toddler, and a contender for the gold in two events competing against swimmers half her age.
Looking back, here is one of my favorite Olympic moments of all times. Eric Moussambani was considered a hero for
having the courage to
represent his poor country (Equatorial Guinea) on the international stage, even
though he could barely swim. His country only has one pool and he taught himself
to swim in it. And then, the two other people in his preliminary heat
(the slowest one) got disqualified so he had to swim all alone in front of the world. I remember watching this epic moment in swimming . For me, it overshadowed the incredible swims by Ian Thorpe (the "Thorpedo"), Pieter van den Hoogenband, Team USA's women's 400 free relay world record, etc. Try to ignore these (Hungarian?) announcers, and listen to the crowd in the background. It was electric:
This month, scientists on the border of France and Switzerland plan to begin tests in the "Large Hadron Collider". I had never heard about this whole operation until yesterday, when a friend mentioned the concerns some scientists have that the tests will create a black hole and suck the planet into it. WHAT???? Back up. Why is this not being covered on major news stations? Granted, my dad, a nuclear physicist, and other scientists, dismiss this fear as being unreasonable, but when I called him in a panic, he did follow his assurances with, "I guess their fear is that it will create anti-matter." I'm sorry, but if there is even a ridiculous theory based on a conceivable circumstance in which this test could SUCK UP THE PLANET, I'd rather not, thanks. The scientists performing these tests admit that they aren't sure what will result from their tests. Apparently that's the draw. Now, I'm decidedly unscientific in nature and don't understand anything about the theories behind all this, but do we really need to be delving into this? They say they hope to prove the "big bang" theory by recreating it on a smaller level. There has been a lawsuit filed to stop the tests from happening, but they are still slated for this month. Keep your fingers crossed that we don't get sucked into a back hole and end life as we know it. Though I guess the naysayers won't be around to say "I told you so" if that happens.
So often, we become fixated on our own ailments, sadness, abandonments, circumstances...I'm going to start posting things I come across that might put things in perspective and make each of us take an opportunity to appreciate what we DO have. For example, normal hands that don't try to choke you when you aren't paying attention...
I recently reconnected with my old friend Kort, and we walked through my old friend Tennessee Valley to the sea. As I walked this old familiar trail, I delighted in the way that you can ease so comfortably back into an old familiar friend. Unlike with a new friend, old friends don’t need your back story. Often, they are the back story. They know what makes you tick, they know where your insecurities lie. And so you can leave them aside and just be. With old friends, you can quickly get to the heart. It had been a while since I had taken my walks in nature, and it had been a while since I had written anything creatively. My work-related writing has consumed me and sadness has pulled me into myself. I think in many ways, I have been asleep for the past 5 years. I’m still half asleep, but I feel myself emerging. How thrilled I am to rediscover my old friends as I wake. Ah, yes, this is what I loved about them. This is what I love about me. I remember this feeling! I remember being turned on by life, by drinking in the world with a passion, by being infinitely interested in the words of the people I admire, by moving and growing and breathing the air. And so they converge, as the trails converge at the Tennessee Valley beach, at the sea where the tides come in and the tides go out. All these old friends have somehow, without a word, fallen in step beside me again, quietly joining me on my journey. People, nature, walking, writing, my belief in possibility…one by one, they fell back in step when I wasn’t looking. I feel such comfort in their presence. I hope they stay a while.
As I sat at my desk today at work, contemplating photos of fur seals and sea lions for our website, a young woman was falling to her death across the parking lot. I hadn't expected to be shaken into a deep contemplation of mortality when I came to work today, but as for this young woman, life is unpredictable, and you never know what it will deliver or take away.
Sitting at my desk, I was asked to move my car out of the parking lot because a helicopter needed to land there. I moved the car and watched as assorted fire trucks, ambulances, National Park Service, police, and the Coast Guard descended on the scene. I listened in on the radio correspondence of rescue workers and overheard that there were two victims down the side of the cliff, and the "survivor" was alert. I heard them ask for the time on the radio so they could call the time of death. I watched the helicopter disappear behind the hill, then return to land in the parking lot, where a young man emerged and was led to the picnic tables. A blanket was put around him and he was given some water, as two officials wrote on a pad of paper while he spoke animatedly, gesturing. About ten minutes later, the helicopter returned, and a body bag on a stretcher was unloaded and walked to the ambulance. As I left work for the day, on my way to the post office to mail my tax return, the absurdity of life just hit me. I walked through the parking lot to where I had moved my car, and passed by the young man who had just lost his hiking companion. Police stood by as he took things out of an SUV with a dazed look on his face. He looked up as I passed, but looked right through me.
An hour earlier, this guy was hiking up a trail with a young lady. I'm left only to speculate on their relationship...a first date? Madly in love? What struck me was that he did not know (at least I certainly hope he didn't, lest this turn more sinister) when they pulled up and parked in the beach parking lot that one hour later his life would be forever changed, she would be dead, and he would be clearing out their belongings from the car.
As I drove to the post office, away from this scene, I was triggered into a spiraling internal dialogue. I was deeply disturbed, slightly nauseated. Later, I scanned the stories on the news websites for the one outside my
office, and saw that a woman was also killed in San Francisco today
when a tree fell on her while she was getting her dog out of the car at
a park. A man in Mill Valley was also killed when a wave washed him
overboard during a shark diving trip in South Africa. We don't know at what point the period at the end of our life will come. We can only create right now. This is it. There are no do-overs or practice games. Time doesn't wait for fear and doubt. I need to get to doing the things I want to do now. Remind me when humdrum life lulls me.
This website lets you play a vocabulary game, and donates money toward feeding people for every word you get right. Challenge your brain and feed hungry people!
In a town meeting in New Hampshire on January 3, an audience member expressed concerns that we might be in Iraq for 50 years. John McCain flippantly remarks, "Make it a hundred." I'll be referencing him as "100 Years War McCain" from now on, and I hope you all do the same.
I have to carve out moments now. They don't come easily. This evening, I took advantage of the bizarre cool weather (the puppy days of summer?) to take a quick hike along my trail. It was so quiet, and I only then realized that I haven't had a chance to hear myself think for quite some time now, let alone breathe. This evening I had the luxury of having the trail to myself, as it was in that twilight hour where all the kidlets are inside and families are eating dinner. The houses in the valley below were dead silent. Lost in my reverie, I came down the trail, where I was pulled back to the world by a Ginko tree, its wide fan leaves flapping wildly against each other in the breeze. So I stopped and accepted the applause.
All both of you blog readers may have noticed I dropped off the planet
for some time. There have been a lot of changes in my life lately. I am
moving soon, and I suspect when everything settles down a bit I will
pick up the blogging ball again.
In the mean time, I saw my good friend Stephen and his acting partner Jon's show, "Ten West"
this weekend, while they were in Northern California. These guys are so
good, they never fail to have people doubled over (laughing), and the
audience was hooting and hollering for more when they finished. I'm
pretty awed by their talent, knowing how hard it is to pull off what
they do. Anyway, go see them if you can.
I'm still doing my hikes and walks as metaphors, but rarely have time
to write about it. This week, I went for my standby favorite, Tenessee
Valley, with my friend Louis. We talked all the way down to the water,
and then sat on the beach and talked some more. I forget how nourishing
it is to be able to talk that way. I know we all walk our paths alone
in the end, but sometimes the extra set of footprints beside me can
help put the road in perspective. I hardly noticed the hills.
Today I had to pick up my car from the shop and because I didn't have
time to exercise at any other time, I walked across the city to get it.
Let's call it an urban hike. As I walked down this particular stretch
of road, I marveled at the sheer numbers of day laborers. There were
probably close to 75 men lining the road, as there are every day,
waiting for a truck to stop and offer them a few dollars for some
lifting/hauling/pulling/digging. The day laborers lay around like
cattle bunched around the few trees lending shade. Not a car or truck
in sight, they played cards, or napped, or chatted with the others.
Laboring under the illusion of the American Dream.
One word: Gorebama. And apparently I'm not the only one. It kills me to say it because I am a Clinton fan through and through, but I am afraid the Clinton name raises the conservative heckles too much in this backward country to win in the final showdown. We have to bet on the pony that can win in the final lap, cause any Democrat is better than the Republicans running. My 2 cents. Come on, Gore, let's turn this planet around and groom the most dynamic, diplomatic, and intelligent candidate since Clinton for the future presidency. Gorebama 08! Whoop whoop!
As I have been struggling with a healthcare issue and the frustrations of my crappy Blue Cross insurance which doesn't cover diddly squat, I serendipitously happened across a meeting supporting a new California bill which would institute comprehensive universal healthcare for state residents. Please watch the following video and click HERE to sign a petition supporting the bill. It is up against Arnold Schwartzenegger's own health "reform" bill, which, not surprisingly, isn't much of a reform at all.
