Paper and Flight

Dear Muse,

I know I've pushed you away for quite some time now. It wasn't personal, and I've missed you so. It's that I don't always know you will support me, and I have to watch out for myself. Things are made of bones and gravity down here, Muse, and I've been working to give them a roof.

I'm hoping that if I just keep typing, keep putting shapes on the white parts, you might take notice, and come back again.

Do come back.

These sculptures, made entirely out of paper, greeted me as I arrived at the airport in Philadelphia, almost a year ago. I wrote the name of the artist in a little notebook that I still have somewhere, though I don't know where. I'll post her name when I find it. I was afraid if I tried to find it before posting we would still be waiting, and I've done so much waiting.

Tea for Tohoku

I am done with OT school. I'm now spending my days studying for the licensing exam and unpacking boxes. I moved back to Albuquerque in January, but due to the intensity of my internships, I haven't had a chance to unpack until now.

I found this collage this morning, something I made a few years ago. It's a bowl of matcha tea and a Japanese tea sweet. A hand in a gesture of offering. Those familiar with Japanese sweets will recognize its jellied consistency. The collage is made entirely of Christian images, the hand belongs to Jesus and the sweet is made of the light from the Holy Spirit. I love collage, anything can happen!

I received an email today from my friend and Japanese Tea Ceremony teacher, Haruko. A tea group she belongs to in Japan donated tea to those affected by the tsunami. She included the following message, written by one of the tea store owners to the survivors.

"Thank you very much for allow us to send tea to you. these tea leaves were picked in 2010. The year, we had a big problem at the tea plantations. Because the freezing cold weather attacked right before picking tea leaves. All of the green good tea leaves were turned brown and seemed all of the tea bushes were dead. But few days after the weather warmed up, the tea bushes were growing and had nice green young tea leaves. We did not get much tea leaves, but the tea was wonderful. Please you, survivors and Japan will come back strong like this tea. We are thinking of you."

Art for Japan

I've donated three drawings to a fundraiser to assist those in Japan affected by the earthquake and tsunami. You can bid on them at the Daily Paintworks Help Japan Challenge. Just scroll down to the bottom of the page to see the images and place your bid. 100% of the proceeds of the sale will go to organizations in Japan to provide relief to evacuees. Shipping is on me. You can read more info on the description of each drawing and the organization the money will go to on the website. The artists have done a great job raising money so far, and I'm thrilled to be a part of it. The auction for my drawings ends in just three days, on April 13th, so please take a look, and if you're interested, bid as soon as you can.

I adore Japan. I taught English on a tiny island in the Sea of Japan, years ago. I've been horrified and heartbroken about what happened there. The world feels very small and interconnected in some ways, but at the same time it's so hard that it's so far away, to not be able to go over there, to "do more." My part in this fundraiser is small, but do visit the site and pass the word along to as many as you can, so we can raise as much money as possible. Or if you have art work to donate, that would help too.

Arigatou gozaimashita.

Coming Attractions

Last night I dreamed that I was inside my blog, looking out. I was in the ocean, or on the ocean, or I was the ocean, as I usually am when I dream. I was flowing along, minding my own business, when I felt that someone was looking at me. I looked up to see a gray frame around me, and felt white words running under my feet.

It was on a walk this afternoon when I realized that it was in my blog that I dreamed I was. Nature has a way of making things clear like that. It made sense to me because I love the world that I live inside my blog, and it has bothered me every day for months that I haven't been able to tell you about the rest of this trip.

Has life really been so busy that I couldn't spare a moment to share a photo, or a story or two? Yes, it has really been that busy. I'm in my second (AND FINAL) internship. With 10-12 hour work days, sharing this summer's journey has been impossible, and it haunts me because there's so much to tell. I worry that I will forget the stories or that their meaning will fade. Everything has been happening so fast, there's no time to process. It will be two months, until this internship ends, before I will have time to organize the photos, and tell the rest of this story. But I will.

I think that's what the dream was about. Telling me to tell you.

My trip was incredible, incredible. It was my window and I took it and it was worth it. Here is a sneak preview. A bodhisattva in a window in Manhattan, cupcakes at the Magnolia bakery in Grand Central Station, a mermaid in a window on South Street in Philadelphia, a sunset in Vermont, a sculpture created by Beatrice Wood, overlooking the Ojai mountains of California, taken from her porch.

I fell in love with taking photos of reflections in windows along the way. I'm enchanted by the way they capture different worlds that exist at once.

End of the parade

I wandered down to the ocean to say goodbye after the parade was over. I collected some shells and a dried crab claw that I swore I would draw one day when I had the time. I heard some noise behind me and realized the parade was heading toward its end in the parking lot. I like these end of parade photos, where people look a little less fabulous and a little more real.

I'd wondered what it would be like at this point, both my last day in Maine, shown here in July, and my last day of postings about Maine, shown now in September. What's been showing here the last few months I actually wrote about during summer afternoons in Vermont, where I grew up. It's been automatically posting for the last few months, while I've been meandering down the coast and to the other side of the country.

I'm now under palms not pines, blocks from the Pacific instead of the Atlantic. Today I'm starting my fieldwork in occupational therapy. What I don't have now is time to write about the last few months, like I did that one week in Vermont. So my blog will be taking a rest, some quiet time until the window comes where I can organize the photos and write. I like how my blog sometimes gets to do things I don't, or sees things in its own way. I look forward to returning to my quiet little corner of the internet as soon as I can.

Parade cars

I felt like a toddler in Maine, whether watching the fog roll in over the islands, an osprey catch a fish, or a small town parade. I kept wanting to shout, "Again! Again!"

How did I get here? The apartment where I was living in Albuquerque was part of a community promoting itself as a place for "intentional aging". I was asked to move because someone older than me wanted my apartment. After the initial disaster phase it dawned on me that I could pay rent anywhere, attend to some things before starting my new profession. I thought, "Fine then, I will go be young."

Haystack Waves

Haystack had my favorite float, though I didn't get as many pictures of it. Sometimes it's hard to see and take pictures at the same time. It was a series of waves and sea critters all moving at their own rhythm. The top photo shows it best, but I love the shadows of the waves and the fish on a stick in the bottom photo.