Conway, AR Locust Pocus 9/15/11

The road was kind to us yesterday. We left Norman on its first rainy day of fall, with a tiny car packed to the brim with homemade quilts, comfort food, local art from friends, music in our hearts and driving in our minds.

Our journey was pleasant, on the way to Conway, and the house show hosts were benevolent, not to mention amazingly creative and talented musicians. For the first ti

me in a long while, I longed to package their songs in a tiny CD case and listen to them in the form of a CD, while we were on the road. To my disapointment, though, they didn't have them recorded. Which means, I'll be trying to recreate the song that hooked me in and lulled me to experience the emotions they may have felt when writing the lyrics, in my head, nonetheless.

Luna Moth and Blue Valley Farmer were incredibly well received!! Joey sold his entire discography, among other single CDs, as did Cody! We also sold some homemade soap, an Oklahoma chapter zine, and I sold a decorated light switch cover! Not bad for a first show. :)

Last night we drove to Memphis and stayed with my sister and

her boyfriend. Next stop is Nashville, TN...

And we're off...

Norman, Oklahoma, you are a tiny treasure town.

Last night, I felt the warmth and love from close friends, and mere strangers. Our house show/ tour kick off was a blissful success and by the end of the night, I felt wrapped in golden vibes, ready to be sent off like one of the many post cards that will surely be mailed, from the road.

Endless thanks from our town and comrades. You will be in my heart for the next 3 months. For now, new sights and sounds and smells and tastes await. Time to hit the highway.

The Road Most Traveled.

This month's full moon is beginning to wane, and the wind is blowing cooler air across my eyelashes. Something is changing in this atmosphere. Something is changing in the skies. Something is always changing.

We're gearing up for our 3 month music and art national caravan tour, beginning with a music and art local house show at my house tomorrow night, in Norman, Oklahoma. We leave on Friday, and I feel like there is so much to do and so little time. I don't remember the last time I've felt this way. I don't remember the last time I've been this excited.

From the moment it was decided that I would travel with the boys, paths continued to clear, to allow for this process to happen. We have been fortunate to not have very many obstacles to clear, thus far. Thank you. Joey lost his wallet a couple of days ago at the final summer concert at Lion's Park. We had accepted the loss of money, ID, and memory of the Tibetan wallet that he cherished. We began the process of mourning and moving on from the loss, (he had already purchased a new ID) so the next time we road by the park to check one final time, his grass colored wallet appeared to me like a giant emerald. Everything recovered.

It's been days and nights of creating resourceful and practical art out of as much recycled materials as possible, to take with us to sell on the road. It's been days and nights of focusing on health and well being, exercise and relationships with friends and family that I will think about and write to, while on the road.

Mom came for a visit, and left with the dog. It's strange not having the black furred boy-boy passed out next to me on the floor, and barking incessantly at the mail man.

I love these days and nights of preparing to depart, even though they bring twinges of stress. I know I will love the days and nights on the road, seeing new sights and meeting new friends, writing new thoughts and creating new works.

This dove is about to fly in all directions and so are the leaves.

Dreadlocks and Blondies

If there was a story about a boy with one, single dreadlock and a girl who grew up in a suburb of Dallas and went to school in the Lewisville school district, who lived on Comanche Street in Norman, Oklahoma, I couldn't imagine that description fitting more than one boy and one, girl.

I woke up this morning, realizing the irony of the situation, where one boy with a dread in his head, and one girl with an education from Lewisville, Texas, residing on Comanche Street will soon embark on a a 3 month journey around the entire nation, while one boy with an ex-single dread, and one girl with the same education, will replace the soon-t0-be nomads on Comanche, while settling down from their own nomad life-style, with their two young boys.

Stay tuned for the story, I think this one could have a very interesting plot...

P.S. RSVP

Today I leaned just exactly how much Nana shared her family with the rest of the universe, through her words. 

When Mom first asked me, on the phone, if I wanted to speak at the wake, I burst into tears.  Speak?  At a wake?  Whose wake?  What wake?  I hadn't yet been to Dallas, and although I knew the reason for the wake, I was removed somehow from the situation.  Confirming to speak at the wake was confirmation that I'd never receive another letter in the mail from Nana.  And that was something I just couldn't accept at the moment.  After a few days, though, I had processed the request, and thought, maybe I could read something.  One of the letters, maybe.  Maybe one she sent me while I was in Gambia.  I realized it was the very least I could do.  That she deserved to have every single person in the sanctuary stand up at the alter and honor Nana in their own way.

A couple of nights ago, I sat down with a stack of letters from Gambia, and came across one with her hand made monogram stationary.  MF was written at the top, and below read "Remember, you're my angel".  Immediately, even before re-reading it, I knew it was the one.  The content pretty much painted the quintessential Nana portrait, including "Wheel of Fortune", Mother's Day with my mom and dad, an update about my sister, questions about my life, talk about stamps and postage and bus rides, making me feel like I was the most important person in the whole wide world.

When I arrived at the church this afternoon, the familiar faces were somber and faces frowned.  Our hugs were sincere, but I had a secret weapon in my purse.  Somehow, her letter protected me from imminent sadness.  Because I knew in my heart, she was with me then, just as she is with me now, and always, through her words.  And like the arrangement of flowers, a handful of received letters were displayed for viewing.  My eyes navigated towards my handwriting, which led to me discover the last letter I had mailed her, dated August 16th, the day before she passed.  It was the reply to the birthday card I had received the prior day.  I couldn't bring myself to open it.

Instead, I stood up in front of the crowd, honored Nana the way she deserved, and before too long, the service concluded.  Afterwards, folks I had never even met came up to me and we spoke as if we were the oldest of friends.  Nana had connected us through her written words.  She had made local celebrities out of her family members, talking us up, passing on her thoughts and concerns to neighbors and friends.  It was an interesting situation, but if that doesn't scream unconditional love, you're listening to the wrong band.

Afterwards, we gathered at my other late grandma's house.  As I swayed on Meme's backyard bench swing, listening to the cacophony of cicadas in the old Dallas trees, the new sliver of the moon caught my eye.  Just then, a single bird flew passed the crescent, and the day was complete.

"Do you have all your senses"? This was the next question Hailey asked me (whose name I had already read on an upside down down sticker on the front of her pink shirt-a stark reminder to almost anyone with the sense of sight that the first week of 3rd grade had officially begun) after my name, and whether I could sit and talk to her until her Nana came back. You see, she had dropped her blind cane and I picked it up, because Hailey only had four of the five senses, which she then scholastically recited to the entire DHS waiting room. I found out by asking that her favorite one was taste, and her Nana agreed. Hailey then inquired if she could read me a story, which she wrote. Junie B. Jones was playing and falling and jumping in my thoughts all day long. This little stranger was a happy and cheerful child, with an imagination that extended as far as her mind could see. Although she may not have had all five of her senses, at least she had her favorite one. And most importantly, she had her Nana...

I sure am one fortunate human to have so many wholesome and spectacular people in my every day world. I am grateful beyond words for their continued kindness, generosity and volunteerism and recognize the true value of the relationships. This feeling has grown significantly stronger in the past year, but I'm not sure if it's because of a conscious effort to reciprocate the generosity or pay it forward, or because each individual relationship just as important as another, to me.

This past week as been another whirlwind. But in a good way. The shed is now under local anesthesia, and well on its way to getting a karmic, as well as a physical face lift, with the efforts of a handful of amazingly generous individuals. It is an amazing journey to be involved in the transformation of something that allows for collaborative creativity with regard to something that will end up benefiting several different parties.

In preparation for this 3 month long Oklahoma music and art caravan tour featuring Luna Moth, Blue Valley Farmer and many contributing Oklahoma visual artists, I need to sublet my entire house and property, fund raise and promote as much as possible, spend time arting and preparing to keep records and document the travels, and most significantly, mentally and physically prepare to write this book. As each day draws nearer to departure, links continue to add themselves to the chain. Last week, after hand making sublet signs to post around town and in front of my yard, I went to my yoga studio and took a class from the person who will be renting the shed. I ended up practicing side by side with a friend I hadn't expected to see, nor had I seen in about 8 years. We caught up a little, which included letting her know about wanting to sublet my house. The very next day she contacted me asking if it was okay to give out my number to someone who may be interested. It turned out to be an old friend from the college ultimate Frisbee days and his family. They will move in September 16th and will stay for 3 months, while transitioning back to life in town, and as I transition to life on the road. The lesson that I took away from this experience was that, for as much promoting as I had done earlier in the day, all I needed to do was something good for myself, served by the yoga class, and this action helped create something else positive and mutually beneficial.

Here is a link to the website where you can help support and contribute while we are on the road. For every dollar you give, your generosity will be reciprocated, with hugs, letters, trees, music, art, and of course, karma. :) Endless thanks for your support!!

http://www.indiegogo.com/Luna-Moth-Blue-Valley-Farmer-US-Tour-2011

Wednesday, I will travel down to Dallas to be with my family for Nana's memorial. I will see many many people whom were very dear to her. They will have many stories about Nana and her incredibly habitual letter writing. Letters will be read, letters will be written, and letters will be recovered and re-distributed. The memorial and time spent with family will be challenging in many ways, but I know that it will help propel me towards traveling.

When I return, another friend from the Peace Corps will come visit. We spent our critical training days in the same village for three months, which means we have a unique bond that will hold us together like glue, no matter what age of life, nor location. I haven't seen him in over 2 years, and I'm thrilled beyond words or actions that he's coming to see the life I've created after the Peace Corps.

I have so much to be grateful for and recognize the importance of telling and showing the people involved in this process. Send a text, make a phone call, say a greeting, or write a letter, the old fashioned way. It will make a difference in someone's life, I guarantee it.

Oh, and I also had a slip n' slide birthday party... :) It's okay, I only just turned 29.

Red Wind

Wind the color of red can be seen through the trees

Just one reason the wind can even be seen

If it were not for whispering leaves, the wind wouldn’t be heard

It would not be felt, but for the nerves in our skin

Which makes me nervous to think trees don’t have this pleasure

For they are one beautiful reason

Why we can even experience he wind