What now my love?

Summer sky fills the view from Computer Station #9 here in the Langley Library.  JOTS is curled into the old beach towel in her porch bed-box on the vardo, Pete is off to Everett and I enjoy another hour at the boards.  Staying in the moment to experience time now, the needs that will come when summer turns to winter can be put on 'pause' and fear is calmed if not replaced with prayers of gratitude.  "Thank God!" for the now I imagined was possible.  Faith needs a respite from the planning, so that is what happened this morning.  As I woke from sleep, still tagged with the remnants of the dreams I thought of a new writing project that could be very fun to cobble together.  Those unedited inspirations are always fun to entertain and like those prayers of gratitude the unedited first thoughts that are free from fear are such precious things.  The writing project has something to do with creating a kind of guide that Nomads such as Pete, JOTS and I would pass along to those who might take up this sort of road -- less traveled, yet as the world spins, might become part of the collective imaginings. 

A year ago Julie Genser creator of the blog and internet community PLANET THRIVE did a interview with us.  The link is here.  That link and onversation we had with Julie continues to be a truthful foundation.  The interview also includes a very useful addition link to another of our blogs that is a place where others thinking of building a mobile safe haven might find practice questions to ask and answer BEFORE striking out on the venture.  The interview is where we began, and now there are things to add.  When I heard my brother describe my life to an old friend as "she's nomadic" a chill washed through me.  It's still difficult to describe ... the feeling.  That writing project comes from my brother's description both because of how he said it, and more importantly because of who he is.  We have long history and the past has etched itself into our lives with common and uncommon threads.

What now my lovely life?  How can we share the journey in yet another fashion that could aid another Nomad?  We shall see said the blind-one.  We shall see.

We've been to Town-O and while we were there ...

We have been to town, Belfaire to be exact. The nearest town to our spot on the Ledge is about 12 miles away. There we get a glimpse and a reminder of the civilization that is Humanity. We turn on our cellphones ... and they work. Together we admit it will be fun to be closer to the sources of city life for a time. The risks of exposures increase when we think about being in a city, but we so would like to participate in community without such long drives to get it. So, the prayers for 'right place, right space' have begun and we say them outloud and silently throughout a common day.

While in town and while on the drive home we were met by the beings who are not human. Instead, while sitting in the parking lot eating greasy chicken Pete started tossing the crusty chicken skins to his kin the crows. They came at first in pairs and then, there were four. We can not load pictures we take to our blogs ... memory or space problems here on the blog??? We aren't sure. So, I've found goggled photos to fill in. A particularly old and knobby kneed bugger caught Pete's eye ... a crow of character ... like attracting like, hmmmmm.

Also while in town munching chicken and feeding crows I found a message from my son. The package we'd sent to him three days ago arrived. Oh how I do love received parcels. Don't you?
The message was sparkly, and just the sort of message you want to hear. The little things we had sent were just the thing to make his day. It just doesn't get much better I say. Small, valuable simple acts that keep a body connected with another body. Email is okay, but a package in the snail mail with fun stuff is just old-fashioned comfort.

And then on the way home and just rounding the edge of the lake (I was driving), I said to Pete, "There's a turtle on the edge of the road."
"Stop the car. We have to put him back."
Pete leapt from the passenger's seat and ambled back. I watched for cars and watched him in the rear view mirror, saw him stoop to pick the turtle up. The turtle being was pretty large for a lake turtle. It fills Pete's hand and more.
"He was heading into the road."
"I know."
"Gotta put him in ..."
"Where?"
"Over the edge of the bank."
"Yeh, it's his place right here."
Pete climbed and then nearly slipped over the side. Turtle definitely wanted out of Pete's hand.

Before Turtle left us Pete turned him over to look at his under-belly. Beautiful! Red and golden bottom and such artistry in design. I didn't know what kind of turtle he is. So I searched and searched and maybe Turtle was a Red-earred Slider. Maybe. Well, that's the picture that most looked like our Turtle pal who was oh-so-close to being squished by the weekend boater folks.
Hope you have a good old time in the Lake, Turtle. Beautiful, beautiful, turtle.

Settling and Post #200

The quiet of morning is long here. The sun rises through the long-legged firs near The Big House at 5:30 in the a.m. From the inside of the Vardo the promise of a sunny morning shows itself in the very tips of the trees across the glen. A small pocket of golden watercolors the green of the Pond. Pete and I watch, still too comfortable under the covers to open the door. Slow ... that's what happens here on the Ledge. The rush to be heard settles, waits. In such huge country the increments of time are truly minute. I feel the moments and then watch my cat go from dust ball covered with fir droppings to stalker of the ground feeder birds. She offers the other extreme and that stirs us. Slow to lightning quick without transition.

Life from VardoforTwo is making the difference. Writing from my front porch steps the shadow of the Vardo gives me shade in the deepening sunshine. Summer is here, summer is hear. The cicada, the wind, the wind chime, a quiver of Fireweed not yet in bloom, and the birdsong, and beesongs, the tap of the keys on my laptop. The quiet of the Ledge is such accepting background to it all. Even the whirling thoughts in my mind rest and space is cleared for whatever shall unfold.

For the time being we are settling in to the life here on the Ledge. It comforts me after I shift from worry to the quiet of one Ledge moment. The old blue Coleman cooler stores our food with blocks of ice we buy in town. The single burner Toastmaster hotplate serves us sufficiently as tea kettle incitor and omelet maker. The thrift store toaster oven continues to toast and bake the foods we choose to eat ... barley bread studded with raisins, a turkey meat loaf stuffed with organic veggies, flax and sprouted wheat toast. The outhouse walls are up and serve us even while we wait to get our version of a luggable lu fabricated.

It's July 2nd, and in a day or two the fireworks our neighbors buy to celebrate America's birthday will pollute the air, ground,water and all the beings with poisons and noise. We prepare for a car trip (VardoForTwo will wait for another day) the old tent and newer air mattress airing in the hot sun just in case a camp spot is sweet and safe enough for a 4th of July. Anything is possible on those road trips ... we know the range of possibilities. At the moment peace prevails. No urgency worth expending energy. Settlers we are, my cat and me. The Ledge is making a difference.

Another thing that is making a difference is my recent discovery of the cd Sui created by Derval Dunford, a beautifully voiced woman of Ireland. I listened to a clip from that gem of a meditation tape just before posting, and look at what happened ... gentle morning makings. Thanks Liberty for linking me to the clip and also steering me to Planet Thrive's interview with Derval Dunford. The miracles are everywhere and to be where the miracles are ... that's an event worth celebratin'!

BEING where we are

I am blogging from The Big House, perched on a tall stool in our friends' home the day is unfolding. I hear the washing machine downstairs and the ice maker roars on from the freezer. These good friends share their lives, their land and their home with us and we try to be where are and do what can be done. Anna is spending a few days in the hospital, getting the attention she sorely needed to root out a problem that just would not go away. Josh and Jane E. are on their way to visit her with a load of fresh clothes and I have promised to restrain from eating all the luscious berries turning to ruby globes. The gardens in front of their home are filled with ripening strawberries the taste of which can only come from a well-loved home garden. We've been waiting for them beauties since we pulled up in April.

The lifestyle of VARDOFORTWO is the sort that has no long-term scheme. We have three months into the learning process, adjusting to the effects of the environment, practicing building an intentional community and still have more to finish on the inside of our wee wheelie home. "We're starting to have a routine, aren't we?" Pete said as he turned the light out in the Vardo last night. "Hmmm...I guess so." We measure time by Josh's car engine starting up: if we hear it it's near 8:30 in the morning. When he comes home at night it could be anywhere between ... We don't chop wood for heat, but we carry a lot of water. Everything we do that needs water --washing up the dishes, filling a kettle for tea, general washing up of the hands, fingers and face means we walk to the Big House faucet and fill our glass jugs, walk back and empty the water we need.

Pete is in town alone, driving to places I don't go into and thanks to the shared resources arrangement we have going on with Josh and Anna Pete uses Josh's truck so I have Scout if I need to get off the Ledge for any reason, or for a whim. It's a luxury and a blessing, something we can't and don't take for granted. In return Pete fixes things ... installs a railing for Anna's safety up and down the front steps, finds out what the electrical outlets don't work on the porch, clears the walkway down to the basement. I water the gardens, pick the juicy berries and prep the bounty for freezing so Anna will have her berries in a fresh blended smoothie.

We're adjusting to a new form of living that includes sleeping and resting in VARDOFORTWO. The time outside that wee wheelie home spreads differently than some lives would spread. Anna is in her hospital bed getting an arm massage and I've just seen Josh's truck pull into the drive way. Our lives include routine and that levels out some of the steepness to the climb. For the moment there is a hum that is easy. That's something.

The 100 THINGS Challenge

Photo credit: Mokihana Calizar

We live in a kitchenette, and are building VARDOFORTWO on a 12 foot trailer. There are two of us, and yes we'll both be living in a space that is less than 80 square feet. How will we do it? Good question. Today begins the newest cycle of productivity and forward movement. The three day `ole cycle is over ... and the longest night (the Winter Solstice, Dec 21st) is a month away. It may be a wierd time to consider writing this post, and then again it's probably the best of times to keep my attention on loving the minimalist life we do have. Living with multiple chemical sensitivities makes shopping and purchasing anything an exercise in discernment to say the least. Buying things that won't make me sick is part of the every day. Learning what things are important is the golden ring, the take-away, the blessing.

Pete and I have moved fourteen times in fourteen years. If you've read our twin blog samandsally, you know the fictional flight of the two dears in that story. With very few modifications, Sam and Sal are Us. Each time we moved, stuff was left behind. Each time we moved the emotions involved were multiple/complex/stressful. In zen fashion each move set the stage for answering the question: 'HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?' Recalling the moves I smile as think of the pieces of furniture that now live with my brother and sister-in-law in Waimanalo; I wonder who is playing my old conga drum in Hilo; does that little boy in Manoa Valley sit on our favorite tiny chair?; does the bamboo and crane screen give Collette joy? I stop myself here and look around the kitchenette ... a few of our favorite things still travel with us and that is the purpose for today's post, the 100 THINGS CHALLENGE.

What are the 100 things I need to live in VARDOFORTWO? If you're up for the challenge, and would like to have some 'minimalist fun' here's a place to start:

1. Take INVENTORY. With a note pad and a pencil and walk through your stuff. If you have lots of stuff, you might want to start one room at a time.

2. MUST HAVES. List all the things you feel you must have. At this point numbering them is up to you. If it scares you, yikes!! to see that the numbers pass '100' don't worry this is your list and no one's watching.

3. GIVE AWAYS. List the things you know you don't need or don't want any more. Clear a place for these things. WHAT A PERFECT TIME TO sort through things that might be great recycled presents.

4. BORDERLINE STUFF. This is the list of 'I can't decides.'

Here's the beginning of my LIST OF 100 THINGS:

(I see this list is a winter list)

1. Austin Air Filter

2. Heater

3. socks

4. socks

5. socks

6. long underwear

7. long underwear

8. long underwear

9. tee shirt

10. tee shirt

11. winter coat

12. warm pants

13. warm pants

14. turtle neck

15. turtle neck

16. turtle neck

17. nebulizer

18. glutithione

19. eye drops

20. sweater

21. sweater

22. warm hat

23. warm hat

24. tea pot

25. favorite mug

26. sweat shirt

27. crockpot

28. toaster oven

29. stove top burner

30. futon altar (my bed)

31. sheet set

32. sheet set

33. silk comforter

34. soup bowl

35. soup bowl

36. soup bowl

37. soup bowl

38. silverware for 4 (it's my list right?)

39. chopping knife

40. chopping board

41. glasses for 4

42. Vitamix

43. waffle iron

44. toothbrush

45. Tropical Traditions Organic Soap

46. baking soda

47. I Can Breathe Masks

48. laptop

49. cotton throw rugs

50. portable c.d. player

51. rechargeable batteries

52. battery charger

53. digital camera

54. hair brush

55. reading lamp

56. reverse osmosis water system

57. bath towels

58. cellphone

59. warm gloves

60. moon calendar

61. meditation tapes

62. prescription sunglasses

63. flashlight

64. comfy robe

65. cloth napkins

66. pillow

Pause ... this is my start. I'm giving myself the month to do this. That'll take me right up to the Winter Solstice on December 21st. If you'd like to join in, let me know how it goes, and we'll see where this takes us.

Here are two links to The 100 THINGS CHALLENGE for inspiration or just for fun:

http://www.zenhabits.net/

http://www.guynameddave.com/

From the Kitchenette

• 
  
  
  That's me working from the floor of our yurt-like kitchenette. After six months of life on the road, living and sleeping in our Subaru Forrester the basement apartment kitchenette has become like paradise. Pete and I have retro-fit the kitchenette in this one bedroom apartment doing what it takes to create a safe haven bedroom/everything room. The wall I'm facing is actually a flannel sheet that has been washed free and clear. It's tacked with push pins into the opening between the carpeted living room with a fireplace that is a 'NO-NO ZONE' for me. A second sheet of barrier foil -- a lifesaver for many folks who live with MCS, called DennyFoil, seals the mold, old smoke-smell and deteriorating wood siding.
  
  We have lived in the kitchenette since May of 2008, and began building the Vardo For Two in June. The vital ingredients for shifting out of a constant whirlpool of fear and flight, to a place of calm and healing have shown up here in the kitchenette in White Center. Those vital ingredients for us are:
  
• a place to simply BE
• a space with sealable windows and doors that keep the outside 'triggers' out
• a place to sleep
• electricity to run my Austin Healthmate Jr. air purifier
• access to a hot shower, a toilet not used by thousands and a laundry that is has not been compromised with fragranced laundry soap and dryer sheets
• space to plug in a hot plate for a cup of tea, a toaster oven for cinnamon toast and a crockpot
• a sink to wash dishes

Life on the road has taught us to appreciate what is important. The vital ingredients from the kitchenette have become the foundation for our transforming life. I'm thinking this "From the Kitchenette" post might become a regular 'thing.'

What are your vital ingredients for a 'like paradise life'? What really matters?

Aloha, Mokihana