Thursday, April 21, 2011

On Muir Woods

     We are going to drive to Muir Woods today to be among the tall trees.  When I am in the woods, I think about Thoreau and Emerson and the importance of recharging ones batteries.  I love the way the air smells when I get away from the city and spend the day at the ocean, forest, or in the wine country.  I can almost spell the redwood trees and feel the coolness of the ferns... plants alive at the time of the dinosaurs. 
     One of the best memories I have was when I was in the sixth grade and spent a week at Foothill Horizons camp, where we learned how to build a survival shelter while it was drizzling and we cooked little hamburgers on coffee tins (that was in my pre-vegetarian days).  That camp experience taught me about the healing power of nature and gave me some tools for survival. 
     We are surrounded by nutitious foods in the woods, but may not know what is edible and what can harm us.  Buckwheat feather kernals can be ground into a meal and used for pancakes.  There are wild blackberries and miner's lettuce along the trails.  I wonder how birds look at the landscape... scan for red berries in a tree.  How did the Miwok and Ohlone tribes survive year after year?  The men wore little clothing when the weather was warm and the women wore tule skirts, deerskin garments, and skirts made of brush.  They ate a lot of ground up acorns (made edible by soaking them in water to remove the bitterness), berries, salmon, perch, and some wild animals and abalone.
    The world has changed drastically for human beings in the last 200 years... we are continuing to change at a dizzying pace.  Some of the changes are good- in my opinion.  Women, at least in parts of the world, are going to college, driving cars, paying their own bills, encouraged to offer their opinion, and given opportunities to develop their unique selves.  In the past, when a woman married a husband, she would take his name and be his "help mate".   Women would be in charge of the home, while the men would be in charge of the farm, commerce, the world at large.
     I grew up in a very patriarchal family, where the women cooked, set the table, and served the food and cleaned up the dishes while the men sat and talked about football and the price of black walnuts and the latest tech gadgets in the living room and then came into the dining room to eat.  I remember playing the "Dating Game" - a board game where the object was to snag a man and not wind up an Old Maid.  I remember the potential dates - the jock, the hipster, the doctor, the golfer, the loser.  I also remember playing a card game called Old Maid, where the loser ends up the one who didn't marry.  The other little lesson I learned was about popcorn kernals... the ones that didn't pop were derided as Old Maids... and that was a bad thing.  The most important thing in the world, according to my many of my family members, was to get married and not wind up alone.
     My mom taught me that it is better to be alone than in bad company.  When I came out as bisexual to my mom, she took it in stride and accepted my partner.  She sent my partner cards in the mail and was part of our life.  My mom was the only person in the family who accepted me and became part of our shared life.   Being in a lesbian relationship was the equivalent of being invisible to my family during those eight years... when I look back on that time and the way my family (except for my mom) reacted when I came out, I feel sad. 
     The only way to gain acceptance in my family is to "blend in with the woodwork".  There is a part of me that goes against the grain.  I am the daughter of a black sheep.  I have never fit in and don't want to.  In my opinion, Old Maids may be the lucky ones, the ones who get to walk in the sun, twirl around in circles, cultivate their minds, and find out what they are here on Earth to do.  Why are some families so open to letting their children choose what brings them happiness, and other families only focused on the status quo?
     There have been many times in my life when I have preferred my own company over that with other people.  When I am alone, I feel free.  Since I am an only child, I developed an enjoyment of playing alone at an early age.  Solitude and wilderness recharge me. 

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Geese Flying Overhead

     I am drinking my second cup of black coffee from a "Made in England" mug that has a cherry blossom design.  I came upstairs to write because I was having a hard time writing at the table downstairs.  Aaron, my 2 1/2 year old son, kept coming up to me asking for help.  I folded a magazine insert into a fan for him... this was a big hit for a few moments.  The minute he came downstairs, he started to ask about his phone- the cell phone that Dave gave to him after getting a new iPhone from Verizon this week.  Writing with kids... I wonder how those Victorian women were able to write with half a dozen children at their knees... but write, they did.
     Red rover red rover... rusted tractors, clover, tiny wildflowers by the side of the road, swooped trees... the woodpeckers here at the Terrace Apartments have been drum drum drumming into the trees- sounds like pecking on a typewriter.  There is also the sound of a lawn mower crunching blades of grass.  My son says, "Itchy arm".  We have been using lots of lotion- the air is dry these days and we are adjusting to the new carpets, new kitchen from the remodel.  I wonder how healthy it is to live in a place that has just been remodeled....all that construction dust settling and the new appliances breath in and out - unsettled, still finding their mechanical groove. 
     I have this week off for Spring Break.  So far, I got my 2001 Kia Sportage smog checked, went to Costco for coffee, cheese, yogurt, bread, etc...  So far, I have gone on long walks with Aaron to the park, City Hall, downtown, for icecream.  Today, we will be going to the library for story time. 
     My idea for writing this is to grab a word or prompt from a hat and write without thinking.  I could start with colors - first thing that pops in the head.  Let's start with orange.  Orange Crush, orange creamsicle, sunset, mai tai, citrus, tangerine, melon, canteloupe, dish tab, orange soap, orangatang, Tang the astronaut drink, vitamin C, who oiled the orange owl today?  ordinary orca, open slice a delight, riding in an orange vehicle, sunroof down.  orange is a pigment, made up of red and yellow, sunrise, sunset, egg yolk, fox fur, monarch butterfly, Fanta orange drink, orangeade, macaroni and cheese, heirloom tomato, orange bell pepper, seeds, blood orange, marigold, mango, cheese puff dust, cheddar cheese, pasterized cheese slices, orange m and m's and orange jelly beans, pumpkins, break a chocolate orange into segments, zen monks in orange robes walking barefoot up a rock path -stacking rocks on top of each other- rock on top of rock, algae and fungi, brick clay, adobe, oral orange, Nothing Rhymes with Orange, warmth, incandescent light, prison uniform, squash roasted with butter, orange sauce for chicken, orange leaves in autumn, traffic cone, street sign, caution, bright, strident, wild cats, tigers, lions, spirals,
     Now here is yellow... lemon drops and sunlight, fuzzy newborn chicks and goslings, ginkho leaves, yellow button tomatoes, eye shadow, buttercup, dandelion, daisy, tip of an iris, froth and flax, florescent Post-It note, yellowjacket, bumblebee, yield sign, yellow fever, Yellow Sea, skin, scorn, thorn, scardypants, soothing soft cream, wedding cake, parsnip, butternut squash, old yeller, yolk, yo-yo, yummy, yukky, pineapple, banana, Meyer lemon, summer squash, sunflowers, Yellow Pages, stars at night, Van Gogh, tropical fish, baby beak, neutral baby color, kitchen color, traffic light, slow down
     More fire colors - red lights, Little Red Riding Hood, ripe strawberries, red cheeks- blush, rutabagas, radishes, stop sign, beet red, startled, embarrassed, aroused, surprised, lips, vulva, aorta, heart, mahogany, ruby throated hummingbird, red leaves, tip of a lit cigar, red hots, red dots, fire ants, lava, volcano, excitement, cranberries, Ketchup, NetFlix wrapper, BigRed gum, Big Chief paper pad, blood cells, Mustang, tongue, grapes, red velvet cake, chili pepper, red pepper flakes, capsium, cayenne, barn, birds, balloons, high heeled shoes, lipstick, nail polish, red room, red light district, bed, head, said, led, Ted, sped, Keds, bled, bread, shed, dread, Fred, instead, cred, fled....
     One of my favorite ways to write is on paper- scribbling out a phrase and writing in something new.  There is something about the scratch of pen on paper and working it out physically.  I tend to slow down on the computer when I write... the brain needs constant exercise- mental gymnastics- neuron connections.  What are my memories?  What stories lay awaiting to be created, folded into origami birds?  Crisp dollar bill, signature, signs, designs, the world is so filled with ads and our time consumed by traffic, bills, obligations... it is so important to open the blinds and let in sunlight, moonlight... The woodpeckers continue to drill as the sparrows twitter and tweet, nonelectronically.  Aaron and I are off to the park - we have this routine- he is my GPS and tells me when to turn right or left- we stop at these humble landmarks- exciting for a toddler- I let him lead the way as we make the circuit around town... just a half mile loop-  bathed by sunshine, dew drops, we walk past gum wrappers, shrubs laced with cobwebs, tree bark ground covering, skinny trees dressed up with white christmas lights, business signs, chain stores- this place could easily be anyplace in Northern California.  What makes Pleasant Hill a unique place?  How did we end up here?

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

What does 500 words look like?

     I saw this link on a writer's list... write 250, 500, or 1000 words per day - pick a goal and go for it.  I am going to try for 500 on line and also keep on writing in my journal each morning for three pages... that would push my baseline goal up closer to 1000.  Do I need a goal to write?  Sometimes it is hard to settle down into the blank page.  I have been thumbing through Natalie Goldberg's Old Friend from Far Away:  The Practice of Writing Memoir.  I come back to Natalie because she really helped me with her one or two page journal prompts in her book Writing Down the Bones
     Am I a real writer?  I ask myself that question - even though I have written volumes of anotated papers for college and work... even though I have a bathtub-sized box of journals- some written in felt-tip black ink the size of an ant.  I took a four-week long Creative Writing Class at a community center and came away with this excitement about what I could do- with character development and setting... I get excited with the idea of researching things and imagining people.  I get kind of afraid too... what happens if I create a character and become afraid of what they might do? 
     One of my favorite ways to write is with free stream flowing ripples of ideas in stream of conscious scribble scrabble.  I am thinking about the muck at the edge of the canal that accumulates near the drain.  Canals- there was a newstory about two teenage boys who went out on a small craft and died in the local canals- they got sucked up.  How do canals work?  I guess I can google that - the computer can help us find out these answers.  Rushing waves- out of control.  I saw 3 kids near Murderer's Creek on Boyd Road- they jumped the fence and were poking reeds with sticks.  It is good to see children out and about playing in Nature. 
     Fluffs of cotton along the bike path.  Clouds change- heavy to light marshmellow fluff.   I get this feeling like I need to get out more and gather images, stories.  I don't really know people that deeply- so how can I develop characters? 
     I took a nap this afternoon... woke up with sunshine on the covers.  I took my son for a walk around the block this evening.  He ended up in my arms- he is about 30 pounds now - so is not easy to carry for long.  We walked by Dearheart's doctor- the veterinarian for our cat.  We saw a World War I memorial for the men and women from Contra Costa who served in that war.  California brown bear flags, wheelchair ramp metal that squeaked as we walked down the path.  We walked past the Hilton Hotel, parking lots, senior centers... I could see two elderly persons parked near the doorway- watching the world - the parking lot with the single basketball hoop, the movie theatre marquee sign with the mourning doves looking down- watching the movements of the people, tree sparrows, moths, and toy poodles. 
     Hard to believe- that was 530 words- I don't even feel like I got started writing.  Wake up walrus, wake up whale...