Will there come a day
When the mailman becomes as
obsolete
as the milkman?
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Whatever Home Is
It's early in the morning and I'm the only one awake, (the definition of early includes anything before 9:30 nowadays). I have just a few days left before I leave on Wednesday, but I've decided to move here, so I will be back in October. It was a difficult decision to make, being half-way around the world from most of my family, but I really think Portland chose me. I haven't felt this comfortable since Burlington, and while it may be a good thing to challenge oneself, I'm ready for a comfortable home...at least for a few years. I'm sure that I will encounter all sorts of challenges here too, but it's nice to feel support from the envirionment one is in, and that's something Portland gives me. I've never been in a greener city; there is an incredible variety of plants on every lawn. Bicycles are a norm, and though it's not Amsterdam, I've never seen such bike friendliness in the United States. People are friendly and funky, as expressive in their clothing as in NYC but without the stink of self-consciousness. There seems to be a co-op in every neighborhood, stocked with beautiful bulk sections and bountiful organic produce. There are farmer's markets throughout the city. There are parks everywhere, and leaving the city for incredible hikes and views is easy in someone's car. I am amused to see signs for chiropractors on what seems like every street-corner. Everyone recycles, and there is a city-wide compost available if you don't want to make your own. People own chickens! I want chickens!
I also am looking at two schools for acupuncture, and went on a tour at the less expensive one, Oregon School of Oriental Medicine, a couple days ago. I met the director and was incredibly impressed by how friendly and easy-going he is, on a first-name basis with the guy who gave me the tour. He gave me a really good impression, as I think the director is indicative of the mood of the entire institution. Monday I'll tour NCNM and we'll see how they compare.
So, this is it, though I'd rather be on the east coast. Portland is my new home, and I can't wait to set up a space here once the fall comes around.
That's all for now.
I also am looking at two schools for acupuncture, and went on a tour at the less expensive one, Oregon School of Oriental Medicine, a couple days ago. I met the director and was incredibly impressed by how friendly and easy-going he is, on a first-name basis with the guy who gave me the tour. He gave me a really good impression, as I think the director is indicative of the mood of the entire institution. Monday I'll tour NCNM and we'll see how they compare.
So, this is it, though I'd rather be on the east coast. Portland is my new home, and I can't wait to set up a space here once the fall comes around.
That's all for now.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Smiles and Rambles from Frivilous Living
Monday's Activities: Coffee-shop. Drank Mate with rice milk and laughed out loud while reading "Holy Cow". Explored the NE's shi-shi neighborhood on my bike, explored a new path to the SE, began recognizing places and began memorizing their locations, ate an amazing meat-loaf sandwich and had my coffee refilled 3 times while reading and still laughing out loud to "Holy Cow". Biked to a small rose garden and continued reading. Sat with the roses. Talked to Maggie. Biked home.
Tuesday's Activities: Had a late start. Made breakfast of leftovers and egg on bread, topped off with some homemade sauerkraut and pickled cucumber. Intended to sit in the coffee-shop mentioned above and read more, and then go to a yoga class, I instead played guitar and procrastinated leaving the house, and then went to the coffee-shop with Lolo and neglected to go to yoga. Figured out a good herbal regimen for Lolo, drank a chai and ate a chocolate-chip cookie, and later, a heavy pesto sandwich that wasn't very good. Went to the co-op and bought produce as well as sea salt and baking soda for toothpowder. Lolo bought her recommended tinctures, some lemon balm for tea, and some sea salt for a bath scrub.
Wednesday's Activities: Woke up at 5. Enjoyed the morning silence in bed, fell asleep about an hour later until 10:30. Took time eating and brushing teeth and watching hair. Booked it to new yoga studio, "Bhaktishop," and made it there panting and red-faced just in time for the level 4 yoga class to begin. I almost considered skipping the class, but it turned out to be a lot of fun and felt good to get out all the unused energy I'm used to spending hoeing for hours on the farm. Met Stella and sat in her apartment. Walked to get a burrito for her and a drink for me, got coffee and mate and sat in the park and watched her dog play, went to her apartment and chatted, walked to eat another meatloaf sandwich for me and fries for both of us. Forgot phone so returned to her apartment. Drank peppermint tea and reminisced about old camp friends and situations. Walked to my bike and biked home.
Now I'm going to try to finish "Holy Cow" and then sleep soundly, thinking about how lucky I am, and about all the people around me, near and far. Thanks for your support, love, and encouragement.
Tuesday's Activities: Had a late start. Made breakfast of leftovers and egg on bread, topped off with some homemade sauerkraut and pickled cucumber. Intended to sit in the coffee-shop mentioned above and read more, and then go to a yoga class, I instead played guitar and procrastinated leaving the house, and then went to the coffee-shop with Lolo and neglected to go to yoga. Figured out a good herbal regimen for Lolo, drank a chai and ate a chocolate-chip cookie, and later, a heavy pesto sandwich that wasn't very good. Went to the co-op and bought produce as well as sea salt and baking soda for toothpowder. Lolo bought her recommended tinctures, some lemon balm for tea, and some sea salt for a bath scrub.
Wednesday's Activities: Woke up at 5. Enjoyed the morning silence in bed, fell asleep about an hour later until 10:30. Took time eating and brushing teeth and watching hair. Booked it to new yoga studio, "Bhaktishop," and made it there panting and red-faced just in time for the level 4 yoga class to begin. I almost considered skipping the class, but it turned out to be a lot of fun and felt good to get out all the unused energy I'm used to spending hoeing for hours on the farm. Met Stella and sat in her apartment. Walked to get a burrito for her and a drink for me, got coffee and mate and sat in the park and watched her dog play, went to her apartment and chatted, walked to eat another meatloaf sandwich for me and fries for both of us. Forgot phone so returned to her apartment. Drank peppermint tea and reminisced about old camp friends and situations. Walked to my bike and biked home.
Now I'm going to try to finish "Holy Cow" and then sleep soundly, thinking about how lucky I am, and about all the people around me, near and far. Thanks for your support, love, and encouragement.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Starting Portland LIfe
Walking in Portland is delightful. Most of the front lawns are strewn with flowers and herbs, people are friendly and interesting, and the neighborhoods make it feel like a small town.
Yesterday I went to one of ten nights at a neighborhood building convergence. I have never seen so many creatively dressed people in one place in my life, and everyone was smiling and open to meeting each other. We did a circle dance outside where all 300 people, of every age and ethnicity, held hands and sang, ending with a collective OM that might have been the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. After the dance I went inside for free acupuncture that reduced the chronic pain I've had from a muscle I pulled over a year ago so drastically that I think stretching might be enough to bring it back to normal (where stretching worsened the pain prior to the session). And to top the night off, a band played called Medicine for the People that encompassed all my favorite music styles and inspired me to dance more than I've danced in years.
Life is good.
Yesterday I went to one of ten nights at a neighborhood building convergence. I have never seen so many creatively dressed people in one place in my life, and everyone was smiling and open to meeting each other. We did a circle dance outside where all 300 people, of every age and ethnicity, held hands and sang, ending with a collective OM that might have been the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. After the dance I went inside for free acupuncture that reduced the chronic pain I've had from a muscle I pulled over a year ago so drastically that I think stretching might be enough to bring it back to normal (where stretching worsened the pain prior to the session). And to top the night off, a band played called Medicine for the People that encompassed all my favorite music styles and inspired me to dance more than I've danced in years.
Life is good.
Friday, June 5, 2009
I'm Leaving, On a Grayhound Bus, won't be comin' back again. Oh babe, I hate to go....
Some version of that song is always running through the back of my head when I am at the end of something big. Those phases of time that are lived so intensely that they consume you, in which your identity has been first and foremost a member of that specific experience, cannot be fully realized until you've been gone for while.
Significant culture shock can be expected.
When I remember that this is it, it's really over, I feel like parts of me are leaving as people depart. The people who I have learned to live around- and therefore with and even through- may never make an appearance in my life again. In fact, experience has proven that I won't see most of them ever again, and perhaps only ever hear from a few.
Leaving the "We" of doing everything together, and reclaiming the "I" that we were initially hesitant to let go of, each of us must now get to know themselves again as we realize how we've transformed since we were last outside of this experience.
The blackboard has a few scraps of messages left from when we communicated through it, and where the lost and found has been written in the past, Missing are instead names of departed interns. It is like looking at our group's tomb stone, it's identity unraveling, no longer present in this moment. And the empty tincture shelf looks like a ghost of it's former self.
Walking up stairs I realized my ears no longer needed to be perked for certain voices, or chance encounters in the hallway. Most of the rooms are empty now.
Jars are still out in the kitchen, and the drying rack is full, but there are no eggs frying in a cast-iron, nor are dull knives chopping garlic; no hands are washing a dish, nor making tea. Nobody's reading books and nobody's upstairs either. Nobody's frolicking in the grass through a rainstorm, nor sunbathing, nor doing yoga, nor panting from jogging club, and no abdominals are being made phenomenal. Nobody's watching a movie, no Pandora Radio-station to be heard singing on the computer. Our speakers are gone, and work is over.
I wonder how long my calluses will hold.
The house is silent save one conversation in the yoga room and the buzzing of the still-overflowing refrigerator. And though I craved a silent moment just a couple days ago, it's too loud to sit in comfortably right now that it has arrived in absence.
I wonder how I'll reflect on my aloneness, when I'm sitting in the house tomorrow morning, one of the last to go, and then as I roll off to Portland on a Grayhound bus, starting a new reality once again.
The last batch of photos from Herb Pharm: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146825&id=6901865&l=31325b6bab
Significant culture shock can be expected.
When I remember that this is it, it's really over, I feel like parts of me are leaving as people depart. The people who I have learned to live around- and therefore with and even through- may never make an appearance in my life again. In fact, experience has proven that I won't see most of them ever again, and perhaps only ever hear from a few.
Leaving the "We" of doing everything together, and reclaiming the "I" that we were initially hesitant to let go of, each of us must now get to know themselves again as we realize how we've transformed since we were last outside of this experience.
The blackboard has a few scraps of messages left from when we communicated through it, and where the lost and found has been written in the past, Missing are instead names of departed interns. It is like looking at our group's tomb stone, it's identity unraveling, no longer present in this moment. And the empty tincture shelf looks like a ghost of it's former self.
Walking up stairs I realized my ears no longer needed to be perked for certain voices, or chance encounters in the hallway. Most of the rooms are empty now.
Jars are still out in the kitchen, and the drying rack is full, but there are no eggs frying in a cast-iron, nor are dull knives chopping garlic; no hands are washing a dish, nor making tea. Nobody's reading books and nobody's upstairs either. Nobody's frolicking in the grass through a rainstorm, nor sunbathing, nor doing yoga, nor panting from jogging club, and no abdominals are being made phenomenal. Nobody's watching a movie, no Pandora Radio-station to be heard singing on the computer. Our speakers are gone, and work is over.
I wonder how long my calluses will hold.
The house is silent save one conversation in the yoga room and the buzzing of the still-overflowing refrigerator. And though I craved a silent moment just a couple days ago, it's too loud to sit in comfortably right now that it has arrived in absence.
I wonder how I'll reflect on my aloneness, when I'm sitting in the house tomorrow morning, one of the last to go, and then as I roll off to Portland on a Grayhound bus, starting a new reality once again.
The last batch of photos from Herb Pharm: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146825&id=6901865&l=31325b6bab
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Thoughts on Life and Death
I found out last night that a classmate from my year in China took her life. Five months ago another classmate from my high school graduating class did the same. It is difficult to find words in such situations. First one is shocked, on autopilot, hungry for any and all details, as though more facts could offer some sort of answer as to why their desperation mounted to such a horrific state. Then a phase of disbelief, while incomprehension sets in. Then sorrow and compassion, for both those that they left behind, and the women themselves in their last moments.
I have wondered repeatedly: What were their last thoughts? Were they even thinking, or was the pain so enormous that it muted the voices in their heads and only action remained? How long they must have felt their sorrow, to forget the shining moments of joy and love, to forget that everything will pass in its own time. And what pressure were they feeling that made them feel so hopeless, so trapped?
And then what must their parents be going through, their partners, their close friends? How do they speak with one another after hearing the news? How do they comprehend the reality of their loss?
Both were brilliant.
Emma I met when I was just a toddler. I have a video of her in a striped dress at my 3rd birthday, but didn't reunite until we found ourselves in the same class in 9th grade. This past fall she was finishing a book she had been working on collaboratively with a friend. It was based on a year of traveling the country, filled with interviews of various women about their takes on modern feminism. I remember that she wore dark red lipstick and fishnet stockings in high school. She was in an anti-smoking commercial and shared a cigarette with the director during a production break. She spent a year in India in college. She was passionate and clever, overflowing with life, and still decided to end it in Venice where she was doing an internship at the Guggenheim.
Amy I did not know as well. We spent 11th grade exploring China in the same group of 60 students, all trying to define ourselves while immersing in a starkly different culture. I remember her as inseparable from her friends, sarcastic, and a highly dedicated student. In newsletters I was impressed but not surprised to learn that she was pursuing a PhD in Neuroscience.
Looking at both these groups I may have wondered who would be the first to go, but if I did it was only as a fleeting thought, a possibility to put off for the far future. I certainly did not think it would be under these circumstances.
I hope that their family and friends continue to find joy in their own lives, that they find a way to use their grief to propel themselves to live fully, pause, breathe, and feel gratitude for their own abilities to experience every moment.
It is incredible to me how far-reaching each individual's influence really is. Neither of these women played any significant role in my life for the past 6 years, we did not put forth any effort to keep in touch, and still I have cried for them, and feel their loss tremendously. My thoughts have often turned to Emma, and surely will turn to Amy frequently also. This impact reminds me of how fragile we all are, how breakable -even, and perhaps especially, those of us who appear strongest. It is incredibly humbling, and a great inspiration also to give as much compassion as one is capable of giving, as we all experience moments of desperation.
I am grateful to both Emma and Amy for jolting me into a great appreciation of my own life, and that I have the capability to find what makes me happy and leave situations that don't. I am further inspired to listen and stay present with every being that presents themselves in my life, in the slight chance that perhaps loving attention can influence them in some positive way. While some things cannot be changed, perhaps by increasing these things within ourselves we can help others heal, even just momentarily.
May these two be remembered for their passion, their sense of adventure, their dedication, and their strengths, and may we remember as often as possible to be grateful for the little things, for they have the potential to be the biggest of all.
Namaste
I have wondered repeatedly: What were their last thoughts? Were they even thinking, or was the pain so enormous that it muted the voices in their heads and only action remained? How long they must have felt their sorrow, to forget the shining moments of joy and love, to forget that everything will pass in its own time. And what pressure were they feeling that made them feel so hopeless, so trapped?
And then what must their parents be going through, their partners, their close friends? How do they speak with one another after hearing the news? How do they comprehend the reality of their loss?
Both were brilliant.
Emma I met when I was just a toddler. I have a video of her in a striped dress at my 3rd birthday, but didn't reunite until we found ourselves in the same class in 9th grade. This past fall she was finishing a book she had been working on collaboratively with a friend. It was based on a year of traveling the country, filled with interviews of various women about their takes on modern feminism. I remember that she wore dark red lipstick and fishnet stockings in high school. She was in an anti-smoking commercial and shared a cigarette with the director during a production break. She spent a year in India in college. She was passionate and clever, overflowing with life, and still decided to end it in Venice where she was doing an internship at the Guggenheim.
Amy I did not know as well. We spent 11th grade exploring China in the same group of 60 students, all trying to define ourselves while immersing in a starkly different culture. I remember her as inseparable from her friends, sarcastic, and a highly dedicated student. In newsletters I was impressed but not surprised to learn that she was pursuing a PhD in Neuroscience.
Looking at both these groups I may have wondered who would be the first to go, but if I did it was only as a fleeting thought, a possibility to put off for the far future. I certainly did not think it would be under these circumstances.
I hope that their family and friends continue to find joy in their own lives, that they find a way to use their grief to propel themselves to live fully, pause, breathe, and feel gratitude for their own abilities to experience every moment.
It is incredible to me how far-reaching each individual's influence really is. Neither of these women played any significant role in my life for the past 6 years, we did not put forth any effort to keep in touch, and still I have cried for them, and feel their loss tremendously. My thoughts have often turned to Emma, and surely will turn to Amy frequently also. This impact reminds me of how fragile we all are, how breakable -even, and perhaps especially, those of us who appear strongest. It is incredibly humbling, and a great inspiration also to give as much compassion as one is capable of giving, as we all experience moments of desperation.
I am grateful to both Emma and Amy for jolting me into a great appreciation of my own life, and that I have the capability to find what makes me happy and leave situations that don't. I am further inspired to listen and stay present with every being that presents themselves in my life, in the slight chance that perhaps loving attention can influence them in some positive way. While some things cannot be changed, perhaps by increasing these things within ourselves we can help others heal, even just momentarily.
May these two be remembered for their passion, their sense of adventure, their dedication, and their strengths, and may we remember as often as possible to be grateful for the little things, for they have the potential to be the biggest of all.
Namaste
Saturday, May 16, 2009
3 more weeks til the unknown
I realized I haven't written nearly as frequently as I thought I had, but I think that's good proof that computers no longer rule my world. Life is fantastic, and while the information is overflowing and I have little room to spare for flashcards at the moment, the experience of being with these wonderful people in this beautiful place is a great thing, for lack of other words. In fact, I'm happy without many words, a skill I'm learning by living with 12 other individuals. So I'll let my pictures do the talking. You have 3 weeks left to reach me at the landline number, and I would love to hear from you!
peace love and light
K
ps, a list of recommended readings and other media is coming up :)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146825&id=6901865&l=31325b6bab
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146823&id=6901865&l=c0c93b239d
peace love and light
K
ps, a list of recommended readings and other media is coming up :)
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146825&id=6901865&l=31325b6bab
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2146823&id=6901865&l=c0c93b239d
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Interesting link: How Plants Protect Us From Disease: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/04/090419202029.htm#Newer pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2143948&id=6901865&l=37e68094e8
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2143935&id=6901865&l=e6a61ebb71
May 2, 2009
Life on the pharm is officially more than half-way over, and not too soon. Despite the gloriousness of all the things I'm learning and experiencing, this house is very small and there are 13 of us in it, resulting in a situation where having 5 people in the main living space feels empty. A day alone is impossible unless you go outside, when after working outside all week it seems preferable to cuddle on a couch with a nice cup of tea.
But my complaints are lessoned when I think of how wonderful the people I'm surrounded by really are. When does it happen that you live in such tight quarters with so many people and nobody gets on each other's nerves sufficiently enough to cause real discord? Still, a little breathing room, and maybe variation, would be nice. The farm crew offers some balance and proverbial spice, I suppose, but even with them adding variations to our daily interactions, I'll be ready for the next whenI leave.
As for the next, I've been contemplating going back to school afterall, for either naturopathic medicine or midwifrey, but the pre-requisites are hefty and I am regretting my decision not to take science classes in college. We'll see if I even get to that point. I'm trying to follow whatever hunches make me happy, but I'm not positive what those might be as different ideas make me happy every hour. Maybe I'll just find myself a little country home and get some chickens and make soaps and pots and teach yoga as previously planned...
I'm sorry I still have no real tips to contribute to this page. I am floating along and trying to absorb and learning in ways that aren't evident to me right now. If you want to know about herbal alternatives for something I would love to look it up, as I absorb information best by using it! Also, leaving feedback on here is appreciated so I know who's reading it!
I'm done rambling for today. Much love to all!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Farm Pharm life continues
Recommendation: If you are free of nut-allergies, buy two handfuls of almonds and soak them overnight in a jar of water. Rinse the next day. Also, cut up some fresh ginger root, bring to a boil, and simmer for at least 30 minutes, longer if you have time. Then pour the ginger water on top of the almonds in a blender (the ratio should be 3:1 almonds:H2O) and blend until the almonds are chopped up entirely and the liquid is white. Strain out the almond and ginger remains and mix with dried fruit and nut-butter, honey, spirulina and flax and whatever else you want to include and roll into balls. Then use the almond-ginger milk as a milk substitute and tasty beverage, especially with a bag of tea and some raw honey, hot.
Yes friends, life is wonderful here. As intense as I can stand, but truly transformative. I am learning so much and doing so much that I won't have time to absorb much until I leave, (please don't ask what I plan to do when I leave. The only definite plan is Italy in September, but beyond and before that I really can't say, and will tell you when I know.)
Beyond the information that I'm collecting-which is too much for me to continue writing in detail-some highlights include:
A pool and a hot-tub that we can use anytime, especially popular on the way home from work and at dusk when the stars begin to appear.
Free tinctures
An amusing and loveable farm crew
A bond that will be difficult to part from. Our group lives as an organism, each of us an organ within the whole. When one of us isn't feeling well, the rest of us feel it. It has been a great lesson to learn to maintain my own well-being amongst so many other moods.
Unbelievably beautiful bike rides-including a 40 minute ride home in the dark with just 2 headlights for 4 people. The roads are so empty that we didn't have to worry about traffic, and all that could be seen were the stars up ahead and the light in the distance, following the silhouette of the person in front. It was magical.
Hope your list of good-things is just as long!
Yes friends, life is wonderful here. As intense as I can stand, but truly transformative. I am learning so much and doing so much that I won't have time to absorb much until I leave, (please don't ask what I plan to do when I leave. The only definite plan is Italy in September, but beyond and before that I really can't say, and will tell you when I know.)
Beyond the information that I'm collecting-which is too much for me to continue writing in detail-some highlights include:
A pool and a hot-tub that we can use anytime, especially popular on the way home from work and at dusk when the stars begin to appear.
Free tinctures
An amusing and loveable farm crew
A bond that will be difficult to part from. Our group lives as an organism, each of us an organ within the whole. When one of us isn't feeling well, the rest of us feel it. It has been a great lesson to learn to maintain my own well-being amongst so many other moods.
Unbelievably beautiful bike rides-including a 40 minute ride home in the dark with just 2 headlights for 4 people. The roads are so empty that we didn't have to worry about traffic, and all that could be seen were the stars up ahead and the light in the distance, following the silhouette of the person in front. It was magical.
Hope your list of good-things is just as long!
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