Snicker Faced

October 3-13 2010

When we were kids mom use to read us novels; Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Hobbit series, My Side of the Mountain. We would gather round her as she lay on her belly in front of the fire, our imaginations soaring with the narrative. Sometimes she would get to the end of a chapter and declare us done for the night. Invariably we would protest and beg her to continue, coaxing her with promises to scratch her back with the hairbrush for every minute more.

For all of you who’ve been gathered around me listening patiently to my story, I’ve just now realized, I came to the end of a chapter, but never finished the book. And here I am jumping to the next one, leaving you all wondering what happened? You can’t read most of a book and not finish! How rude! So. Scratch all that other stuff. We’ll start that one when this ones through. Now where were we. . . .

I had just arrived in New Zealand after 10 days at sea from Fiji. Ten months of pursuing it and my dream of sailing around the world was proving very unsatisfying. I was eager to batten down somewhere, write my book and figure out what the next, more fulfilling step was. Doug, the captain of my last boat, had dropped me off in Auckland. . . .

Snicker faced. Ha! Though I was slunk low and quiet in the back row I couldn’t stop the hiccup of laughter bubbling out of my chocolate smeared mouth. After ten months of foreign countries and being at sea, it was good to be doing something so familiar as watching “the Simpsons.” Lisa had a new boyfriend, a Sid Vicious look alike who got her hooked on his insatiable addiction. “Let’s get snicker faced!” They crammed candy into their mouths until they were reeling with the buzz, then Sid beat his head against the wall. Ha! I couldn’t help it; this episode seemed aimed directly at me. I’d bought enough chocolate to make myself sick.

I was sitting in a corner near a ceiling high window on the dirty couch of a backpackers (hostel.) There were 3 rows of sofas radiating out in a semi circle from the big black box  that was suspended from the ceiling. It was the middle of the afternoon and lounging on the grubby cushions were an international assembly of mostly under 30’s. There were rosy faced blond girls from Germany, just using the hostel as a stop over while they organized their trip, various dark haired single guys from Chile here to work and learn English, an enthusiastic Japanese kid who just got a job despite his lack of the language and a few rougher looking English regulars drinking beer, who’d made this seedy hostel their home.

I had 10 days to wait until the meditation course I’d signed up for. I’d done the same Vipassana course five times in the states and in Europe and knew it was just what I needed to cleanse myself of the crap I’d accumulated while traveling; emotionally physically and mentally. Hopefully I could hold out until it began.

Wearing the only set of warm clothes I had, and shoes for the first time in ten months, I wandered aimlessly around the city, through hoards of nameless people who all seemed to have somewhere to go. My computer wasn’t working and I couldn’t afford to write by the hour. I felt uprooted, displaced and disconnected- so sick of traveling. Unlike the States, all the addictive luxury items here were expensive; chocolate, coffee (cigarettes and alcohol, though I wasn’t using those) but I still indulged in plenty of subway sandwiches, flat whites (coffee with steamed milk) and “biscuits” (cookies) numbing my bad feelings with food and wishing I was back in Boulder, in my old, happy, active, friend-filled life. I was feeling sorry for myself and made the decision. Fuck it, I would give up and spend the last of my money on a ticket home. I followed a sign advertising free coffee with two hours internet usage, down a dimly lit staircase into a cardboard basement, planning on Skyping my mom and buying the ticket. The coffee was cold stained water in a tiny styrofoam cup and the computer screen was infiltrated with dancing pop up ads in Chinese. I was having a very bad day. My mom must have been also because when I mentioned coming home she was more concerned about upsetting her roommate than welcoming me. Fighting back tears of rejection I hung up on her and stomped out when the old Chinese man wouldn’t refund any of my money. I’d only used 15 minutes.

That was as low as I was going to go. I sat myself down in a park and gave myself a stiff talking to, “your going to have to buck up and tough this out girl, you can’t just go crying to your mom every time.”

As if I’d been heading down to the sea floor I turned myself upward and gave a good solid push off the bottom. It’s amazing how the universe responds to this sort of attitude adjustment; instantly it supported me by supplying a few choice friends. Pete, an English guy I met in the hostel (probably the only person there over 40) had just made a huge change when his wife divorced him by following a life long dream to move to New Zealand. He was energetic, healthy and positive. We did the 14-kilometer coast to coast walk across Auckland together over both inactive volcanoes. Tracy I met while ducking in from the rain on top of Rangitoto, an island volcano. She was my age, a corporate workaholic whose company had sent her to New Zealand for a year. Her time was up and she was dreading leaving. She took me to her favorite beach and to dinner at a great little Mexican joint (my ultimate comfort food,) and infected me with her love for the place. Like this the days passed. The activity and inspirational company lifted my mood and from then on I was moving steadily towards the sunshine surface.

The Topic

So pick a topic my mom says. My life lately, though a sort of painful urban adventure, doesn’t make for a good topic. It’s dramatic, sure. But if I write about how challenging it is it will only suck me deeper. I need to raise myself up out of it, like the phoenix rising up out of the flames, and dwelling on it isn’t going to help. As much as humanly possible I use the force- practicing gratitude and focusing on the positive. I want my Blog to be similar, something that uplifts me and anyone who is reading, gives us something helpful and interesting to think about.

A few weeks ago Crocy and I went on a walk through the woods with a girlfriend and some colleagues of hers. We ended up having a drink afterward (one for me, a few for them.) For a while the girls chatted about work and I gazed at my baby boy and made gurgling noises. Then I decided to join the guys, who like me didn’t share a work place. We flitted over a few topics until we found a good one. Our volume increased along with the speed of our thoughts and ideas. The theme we hit upon seems to be a favorite among my friends.

The world. Humanity. Where it’s going. The end of oil. The way our lives will change. What skills will be needed. What our children need to know.

I love talking about this stuff. It might freak some people out, the end of oil, 2012, the prophesied “end of the world.” There are so many movies that visualize the apocalypse and with the growing awareness of how destructive us humans are to our environment, it can seems inevitable that we come to a devastating end.

Well, I hope the world that we know is ending. It might seem pretty good for those of us on top, but for those at the bottom it is pure hell, and it has been for the past 5 or 6 thousand years.

Mind you, the end is never it. Everything in nature, which is everything, is circular. When you pull the death card in Tarot it always opens up the possibilities of a new beginning. Under the reign of Patriarchy, which has been all of our recorded history, the world has known the depths of depravity and terror. The end of it could bring peace and balance and the finer things of which us humans are capable. I don’t think it’s hopeless. If we would focus on those growing roots of love and caring, start envisioning our future as positive, connect with each other, uplift and support each other, anything is possible.

The Mural of Possibility

I picture it as a mural. One day I’ll paint it. I even have the 5×8 foot canvas rolled up in my mom’s basement for it.

It’s a dismal grey landscape and there are three colossal phallic structures on the scale of the pyramids. You can see they once stood cold and precise as steel but now there’s cracks and rust and crumbled rock. The barren ground beneath them is black, seeped in the violent bloodshed of the past 5 thousand years. The sky above them is dark with noxious smoke blotting out the sun. These decaying towers represent the pillars that our patriarchal society has been built upon- hierarchy, misogyny, violence, and greed. Hoards of people like zombies stand transfixed on them, zoned in as if glaring at huge TV screens that are sucking their souls out through their eyes.

Underneath this scene is another scene and its roots grow up through the picture like weeds through concrete, breaking up the cold grey ground. Sunshine pierces through cracks in the sky. You can see people in small groups; they occupying the same space as the sinister scene but are transparent somehow, like beings from a different dimension. They are engaged together and from their work abundant flowering tendrils shoot out in all directions. A happy, healthy person leads each one and connects it to other groups who are also clustered together. This bright image gains density overlaying the darker image which now seems faded and two dimensional, its surface laced with fractures. Fresh water is moving and washes away some of them, crumbling the dark chunks into nutrients and depositing it amidst the growing roots that have spread over the land. There is an abundance of fresh growing food, the sky is bright and blue, there are animals about, children are safe and well cared for, women are respected and people have learned to live within the balance of mother earth.

My mural idea is a version of our future that I believe is an option. When I picture it on a small scale, say here on Waiheke Island, New Zealand, or even Boulder, Colorado, it doesn’t seem that impossible. If I imagine it in my travels, with all the people I’ve met, which in a lifetime of travel is a lot, it doesn’t seem that impossible either. Most people are basically good and want similar things; for their families to be safe, healthy and happy. So why does it seems so unlikely? How come this is not the general future that we imagine in our collectively imagined future? Is it just because violence and destruction sell more movie tickets?

The Force

So I find myself in a hard situation and I not only have to survive it, I have to prosper. The quality of my son’s life depends on it. I don’t have much in the way of options, I can’t do what pre-baby pirate girl would have done, get the hell out. But I do have one trick up my sleeve – a powerful tool that I have whipped out like a light saber, shhheeeoo. Its pulsing florescent beam cutting the mess I’m in like a hot knife through butter.

 

OK, not quite like that. It’s more like a daily vigilance, like the montage of training Luke went through, sharpening his focus and using the Force. That’s exactly it, “Use the Force Luke!” That’s what I’m using, a very powerful energy source that we all have access to, though it does take constant awareness to maintain it.

 

My life right now, in this very moment is wonderful. My darling five month-old boy is enjoying some nakey time on the floor. I have always wanted kids and at 36, with a life of travel and adventure, it wasn’t a guarantee. I cherish every moment I have with my boy and am so thankful for the opportunity to be his mom.  Although my relationship with his daddy isn’t ideal, I know he loves his son dearly and is also grateful for the chance.

 

We live in a safe and comfortable house. Though it’s not ideal to live with baby’s grandma, Nan is a very loving woman and I am so thankful to her for taking care of us.

 

Waiheke Island, New Zealand is an awesome place to call home. Far enough behind to be ahead, like the bumper sticker claims. There is a tight and welcoming community of international, down to earth, artistic people and it is stunningly gorgeous.

 

And most of all I have so many wonderful, deep, interesting, caring girlfriends that also live here, and a few of them have babies the same age as mine.

 

See what I mean. The Force works so good, a lot of you, after reading my last post might be shaking your heads in disbelief thinking, “shit girl, what were you on about?” And that’s the power I’m taking about. The Force. It can transform your life!

 

 

 

Woman versus World

My situation is so precarious its funny. Seriously, any new mom or soon to be whose feeling vulnerable just read my blog and you’ll feel better. (Granted this is aimed at working to middle class, first world women, god knows it could be a whole hell of a lot worse!) But my situation does seem written for reality TV. Anyone ever watch Man vs. Wild? It’s a TV show where a dude gets dropped into a harsh natural environment and has to survive using only his wits.

 

Well, shit. This makes Man versus Wild look like Child versus Backyard. Anyone can survive a few days in a parched desert drinking only dew collected from perfectly evolved insects. Give me some corporate sponsors and an on call rescue team and I’ll spend the night inside the carcass of a camel, no problem. Dude flies home first class, I guarantee.

 

When I adventure I go big. No sponsors for me, in fact no money at all. Where’s the challenge if you’re loaded? I am money free, half way round the world with a new baby. And I ain’t got a ticket home.

 

On top of that my visas gonna run out in July and if I can’t come up with 700 bucks, I’ll become an illegal alien.

 

Baby’s daddy’s a kiwi. He means well, but he hasn’t worked a steady job in the past year, has crushing debt and lashes out like a wounded beast when his feelings are hurt, spitting verbal abuse like venom.

 

We live with his mother. . . .

 

Survive that nature boy.

 

Here I Go Again

 

So what am I gonna write about? Mom says be specific. Sailing around the world was perfect because it was a well-defined mission. Of course my posts were way too long, not tasty little bites for a well fed TV nation, more like chapters in a book, old school style. But still it was a defined topic. Only problem was it got boring. Not the writing (I hope) but the adventure. It wasn’t enough. I needed something more challenging, more interesting, deeper, more fulfilling.

 

So I had a kid. That outta do it.

 

Course I had to do this in New Zealand, after I’d sailed half way around the world. With a guy I just met, fully intentional but still only one month into the relationship. And of course, just to make it really challenging, I had to do it without a safety net. Yes, like most of my challenges I am facing this one money free. I do like an adventure.

 

Needless to say it won’t be your average mom with new baby blog.

My baby boy