Dreaming of water, hearing of sun

It's still winter.  We're layered up here in the forest and clean long johns and freshly washed bedding make  for comfort and pleasure wrapped in a nice package.  Last night one of my dreams had me out in the ocean waiting for the wind to pick up my kite.  I guess it was a wind-surfing kite though there was no board to skim the water tops, just me totally immersed in water with my son near by.  Never did get up out of the water, but when I woke it was to laughter (mine) as I thanked my lucky stars for giving me a salt water swim without leaving the bed.

A couple hours ago I was on the cellphone to my pal JT who is on a fabulous road trip to sunny places.  A wondrous trip.  I could hear the sun in her voice, her glee unmistakeable.  She and her partner LW are headed for a bead show, and more than that they are sunning themselves and getting the Vitamin D that I must find in a tiny bottle dosed by the drop.

The new year coming up is giving me an infusion of joy.  Chatting with JT the Earthy, hearing her relish the company of beaders and potters playing in the sun, I want to be there, too.  I'm a deep-water Scorpio with transcendent connections to make lots of lemonade from lemons or funky homes from bits of dream-work and star-dust, but I do love the warmth of the sun.  Hawaiians are sun-people after all. 

Hearing my friends are thriving on their RV trek from the wetlands of the Pacific Northwest gives me hope:  we could trek again in our vardo or in the trusty Subaru which is more aired and off-gassed by the day.  Though we are settling here on Whidbey, there is room for short, sweet ventures.  All is not struggle and work. 

The Year of the Rabbit (or "Hare" as my dear friend Glenda prefers) is a year to catch your breath, and as I've mentioned before 2011 is a "4" Year numerology-wise for the collective and me personally.  It's a year of process and hard work.  As the Bunny is poised to hop forward, I begin to see where my focus will need to be and prepare to work.  There must be time for rest and relaxation or the bunny will be worn and far from a happy, health hare.

Dreams of water, and the voice of sun call me to places where I could refuel and play.
Where you will go to refuel and play?

Half-way Houses

We are still here ... less frequently stringing stories together, we are none the less here in the town of Langley on Whidbey Island.  Bone-weary for the past several days, the tiny comfort of the vardo with its warm space, dry against the soggy wet have been a refuge.  Twenty steps from the wheelie home porch, the outdoor composting toilet is a luxury many would wonder about ... until of course, you have been without such a facility and sought that service in a public space.  Pete has raised the sides of the outdoor kitchen so we are now a family with cathedral ceilings made from aluminum framing and old plastic tarps.  A toteable carbon filtration system filters the hard water that we use from a hose that traverses the duck yard to our camp spot.  An ingenious ridging has food grade plastic tubing available for washing our clothes, dishes and hands.

I know this life we live seems nighmarish to some who come to read about it.  Among the challenges that have been our reality we have moved seven times in two years and financially, a social security check is the one regular form of incoming resource we have.  Yet, with the parcel of minutes left to craft a short post, there is room for patient and hopeful dreams even now.  Pencilled onto composition pads are the dreams of a half-way house, a stabilizing version of our cathedral ceiling kitchen and privy.  We are parked and renting the vardo space from two kind-hearted women who we did not know three weeks ago.  With each experience with them, we are encouraged to believe we can dream of a home that is our half-way house:  shelter that is as safe as we know how to build and maintain it living with people who are willing to learn what it takes to create life upon a foundation of chem-free and fragrance-free as possible.  Details are future issues, dreams come from a recipe of acceptance and illusion (the scent of something yet to be).

When we prepare for sleep at night we tell each other stories of things we have done, things we have loved doing, places and people who have filled our lives with joy.  It softens our drift into the world of dreamtime, and gets us at least half-way to the place of Grace where all possibility is fueled with surrender, first.

Mokihana

Bye, bye Bend and Baseball

Some things just don't work out. Pete has the old Dodge loaded up, and a new plan has been laid. We are flexible, but there are limits to just how much we'll bend. A couple very long time friends have offered us a place to be, so we're taking them up on the offer where a toilet and shower and a basement where we can set up an inside kitchen awaits us. We know the town and the home we're headed to aren't perfect and at this point, we're going to settle in and work around it from this vardo. The vardo will give us safe sleep and the rest will have to be part of the settling in process. Winter and a vardo without facilities is just too much to ask of these old folk.

Life is imperfect, and yet there are examples of enjoyment among all the challenges. We find the richness of our life together in something as simple and distracting as listening to the World Series (Baseball) Game on a radio. A radio that works right from this Bend, Oregon hay field. For two nights now, in the comfort of this wee home we have been transported from this field to the baseball field at Yankee Stadium where pitchers throw curve balls, change-ups and 90 mph fast balls. Baseball players with names familiar and comforting ... especially that Maui-born center fielder Shane Victorino who reminds me of my cousin Patrick, soothe me away from the reality of life in a field in Bend. The announcers are good at their art and they know the game and we are there!

Building an MCS-safe tiny home community may have to be a dream set to rest. Our tiny home has come a long way from the dream of origin born more than two years ago. It takes a lot of energy to live this life, let alone try to build a home for someone else or grow a community of folks who live with this illness. This winter, we need to settle in, cozy up and attract some comfort wherever we can find it.

Wish us luck.