Pilgrimage July 2, 2008
Posted by brycescribe in Alternate Worlds, Environment, mind body spirit.Tags: conservation, nature, old-growth redwoods, running, sanctuary, writing
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This evening at twilight I went to Armstrong Woods to unkink from spending most of the day at the computer. During my walk and run on the loop trail I felt exhilarated, and at moments blown away that I was doing it — I’ve told friends that this new enjoyment of running is proof that I’ve been taken over by pod people.
I stopped at the Armstrong tree, and the plaque honoring Colonel Armstrong, who had the foresight in the 19th century to preserve this remarkable grove for all of us. I still get chills every time I read it, amazed at this gift. This old-growth sanctuary could have been logged out, over a hundred years ago. It reminds me that one person’s vision and choices can affect the lives of more people than most of us ever consider.
The tree named for him towers above me — it’s 14 and a half feet in diameter, and to see the top of it you have to back off several feet. I’ve done this many times, for years now, and each time I experience reverence. I wondered if it would work this time, as I went into the forest half-knowing I’d write about it — had that hint of negative expectation, as when you worry that a pet won’t perform a trick, now that someone else is watching. Right there, in the forest, with the trees, I’m taken in reverence.
This is what I’m here for, if for no other reason other than to be present, and to open to this sense of connection with all that lives. To hold existence in gratitude. The simple joy of writing, and the gift of being in nature have filled me with happiness these past two days.
Part of the reason I go to that forest is the sense of peace and sanctuary. It has become a spiritual home to me. I was happy to have it to myself tonight. The pure peace of being in my breath under the trees, my body moving increasingly all of one piece as I push myself to run a little farther at each sprint — it stays with me and sustains me. And tonight, along with the warm comments on my first post, it inspired me to share it, take another step out of my hermitage. Namaste.
Greetings, welcome to my first web log June 30, 2008
Posted by brycescribe in Alternate Worlds.1 comment so far
Alternate Worlds
I remember as a child looking up at the stars and thinking about how old I’d be in the year 2000. Now we’re rolling on to 2010 and I’m nearing 50, a fact I’ve wanted to keep to myself in a couple of recent attempts at a personal ad.
A new future starts with truth-telling.
Alternate World #1
I’m living in San Francisco with my lover. His arm squeezes around me as we look down the hill at the revelers still spilling into the Castro from the Pride parade, a historic one with the gay marriage victory adding to the jubilation. The sidewalks undulate with color — People surging here from all over, celebrating in this city full of gay history, all of us adding to a gay future.
We aren’t planning to marry. We have a good lawyer, a shared bank account, living trusts, medical powers of attorney. We’ll support those who want it, and keep our own arrangements out of the hands of the government.
What matters most to me is his presence, and the time we have together. In the 80s I lost nearly everyone. At this stage of my life, time is precious. I waited a long time to have love like this. The fog is rolling over the City, and the lights are coming on. On our balcony I turn into the comfort of how our bodies fit together and I hold him close, warm in his arms, breathing in the scent of him. I love him, and he knows.
Alternate World #2
Even behind my sunglasses my eyes are dazzled. My neck is getting a crick from staring up at the pyramids at Giza. I’ve blocked out the tour buses, the throngs, the dust and heat, my sticky discomfort. I’ve waited all my life to be here, and I pull out my camera and frame the shot. I’ll be sending this picture of the moon rise over the great pyramid to everyone whose belief in me helped to get me here. Right now I’m transported — awash in all the layers of imagination and memory and desire I’ve carried about this place and the ancient peoples who left their monuments and art and writing and their own dessicated remains as evidence of what humanity can be. I’m taken with this blend of fascination and fruition which will buoy me through the most tiring parts of my travels. This is the culmination of a lifetime of longing.
Alternate World #3
I’ve finally found, and in some sense, have created, the family I’ve always longed for. A vibrant community for the meeting of minds, full of writers, actors, dancers, musicians, carpenters, technicians, cooks, weavers, gardeners, painters, healers…all genders, every form of love, with our own fertile land on the coast, and mineral springs, and a center of education and a temple. Plenty of room for like-minded visitors and students of holistic health, spirituality, personal and community transformation, and living lightly on the earth — artists and visionaries of all kinds always welcome. My days are filled with reading and writing and teaching, wide-ranging conversations with some of the most large-hearted and brilliant people I’ve ever known, gardening — tending the organic herbs and produce for our meals, and the stunning roses and begonias that connect me back to my grandmother and my earliest lessons in caring for plants. Songs lift up through the trees, and I feel in balance, and in connection, in a wide, strong, web; I feel the love and loving I have always wanted.
Alternate World #4
I’m finally holding my first published novel in my hands. My carry-on bag is packed for the book tour. People are already reading, and writing about this book I lived with alone — and nearly died without finding a home for — all these years. People know who I am now. And as much as that used to worry me, it isn’t such a bad thing. It’s only hard that there’s no family left to share this victory with. As I hold my novel in my arms, taking in the smell of fresh ink, I determine I’ll make a memorial trip for my mother, and visit my grandmother’s grave, and give them the gift of the work they always knew was in me — as much as it worried us all. Maybe, with this landmark out of the way, I can honor their memories without being haunted by all I couldn’t be.
