Ma Aham Anam Ma Aham Pranam Ma Aham Manaha Ma Aham Vignanam Ma Aham Anandam

A friend of mine chanted this to me a few weeks ago. I sing it daily. It makes me feel me.

It translates to:

I am (my) body I am energy I am changing mind I am eternal wisdom/knowledge I am eternal bliss

Chanting in Sanskrit is so much more scientific/energetic than religious for me. The vibration of this ancient language really opens me up and massages me on a molecular level. Without even knowing the translation, singing in sankrit helps me re-member what I are, whatI am made of/from (light and freedom). It speaks to the space that dwells within our atoms. I see it as sound meeting physical and creating a vast pallette for creating who I am and what I do.

Sula Pearl you are 11 months old. And a few days. It is hard to believe that you were just a handful of pounds in my belly not long ago and that this time last year we were preparing eachother for what was to be one of the most profound journies of our lives. You and I, my daughter-friend, we experienced what a gentle birth was. We lived a peaceful birth. We were blessed with what the Italians call Dare alla Luce. This phrase literally means to give to the light. In Italian it is the way to say to give birth or to be born (and a powerfully beautiful way of saying it in my opinion) I think that’s what we did, we birthed some serious eye squinting, face warming, irridecent—like the moon’s shine bouncing off a fresh pearl– light. And as your midwife said of you and your birth: it is what birth should be like. And because you were allowed to come to us softly, consciously–you will always possess that birthing light within your heart, you will always have a great responsiblity. Dare A Luce. Sula, we have given eachother a great gift. I celebrate your 11 months. Happy Birthday, girlfriend.

You really can scream. Today at the Ojai Coffeehouse I basically had to leave. You weren’t screaming and crying. Oh no, then I’d feel sorry for you. You were just screaming for the dang hell of it. Screaming at your sister as she sipped her chocolate milk. Screaming at me because I wouldn’t let you continue to eat a napkin. Then you just screamed…with a big 4-toothy grin on your face. Screamer.

You tug on my nipples. I hate it. They are long and stretched out enough. But your tan little fingers continue to pull, usually when you are nursing on one side. And guess what happens when I tell you no? You scream.

Your grasp of the English and Spanish language is impressive. It helps to be the only English speaking family on this farm. You say: Thank you Agua Hi gatto ‘Orsey (horse) Hi gog (dog) Bye Bye Hello Hola gacker (cracker) hot nigh-nigh (night night) and the post popular with the general public: Oh Wow wow wow wow. (this was your sisters first phrase, too. I apparently say it all the time.)

You and I have fabulous conversations. I can see you are going to be a social butterfly, too. Just like your sister. You love people and try to talk to them wherever we are. You two girls have made me social. It’s a good thing.

A woman at the park today asked if you knew sign language. I think you might be picking up a little here and there. SHe mentioned you had really good control of your hands. I never really noticed that before but she’s right. Those little fingers can move in a lot of different ways, you like to express yourself with your hands and fingers whern you talk and play. A true Pisana. It also leds me to believe that those hands will bring you to your dream/purpose. A musician. Artisan. Healer. Craftswoman. Just mama’s intuition.

Your skin is so brown I am sure many wonder if your dad is really your dad. I have been asked you if are Asian or Puerta Rican many times. Now that your hair is growing in (sort of) a light bronzey brownish blond…you seem to display more of your Arian genes.

You like to brush you hair with a soft brush. You’d let me do it for hours. It is the one thing that calms you and gets you to just sit still.

You cruise by knees and hands and feet. Standing here and there on your own. But the desire to walk is pretty low and in my book—that’s fine. I don’t mind dirty knees. You help clean floors.

Your favorite foods are bananas, frozen peas, bagels and sand.

Your sweet, seductive, sneaky, sincere smile melts me. woes me. knocks me on my butt. I am in awe of this pure beauty you possess…as it comes from somewhere beneath the surface of your humanly mask. It comes from a place I am not sure I have ever been. I see it as a place to spiral to, to jump in and the darkness and surely I will find the pool of light you come from. I think you were sent to take me there, to laugh at all my fears. Teach me.

Your eyes three quarter moons and shaded like desert earth…grayish clay mixed with the brownish of dry dirt.

Diddlediddlediddlediddlediddle is your favorite song.

Dancing girl seems to groove seriously with 70’s hipppie rock like The Dead and CSNY. And you really liked Fleetwood Mac the other day when we rocked Mystery To Me loud on the turntables. Your bass-heavy dad won’t believe he has a guitar centered music lover. You need flowing skirts and hairwraps. Bells on your fingers and rings on your toes. Maybe even a tie-dye.

Though you like guitar music we are convinced you will be the drummer in our family band. You do have heavy riddims and will find any surface that allows to express your beats.

You have my ears, my eyes and my feet.

You have your very own special purpose and the intriguing thing about you Sula, and we noticed it from the beginning but now more than ever—you came out knowing that purpose. You will not need to search as much as I did. Or as much as your dad. Or as much as your amazing big sister. I hope to guide you. I really hope to guide you well.

Blessings my Sula! You rock. Rock. Totally Rock.

Some tings and tings that have made my stay delightful.

1o. Libbey Park

Here is a park in the middle of town, smack in the middle. I have been going a few times a week since arriving here so Mia, my social butterfly, could make friends (and she has made many). Oak groves, good size squirel populations, variety of sturdy, top- o- the- line play structures. The best part is that it’s a stones throw from a great local coffee shop, a few blocks to the grocery store, and next to the post office. Small town. But the cool thing is I rarely even see the same people when I go here. It’s a small town with a people flow– lots of movement— so in my 6 weeks here nothing has seemed stagnant. I suppose a 10 or 15 tear stay I might think differently. But the coolest thing about it is that the archways that lead you into the park has a a log-work shade roof (I guess that’s what it’s called) and looong ago when Bill worked for IDF Scenery Shop in L.A. the owner hired him to come up to Ojai and construct all the logwork above these arches. Everytime we go to this park Mia proudly announces: My Daddy built those logs!

1. Rainbow Bridge So you might very well need a trust fund to shop here regularly, but damn I love this store. I could walk the aisles forever. The women in the vitamin section are so knowledgable about herbs and homeopathy and general healing…who needs an MD? The best part of this store is that the same owner of the set shop who hired Bill to do the log work also got him the gig to come and build all the sheves and signs for this market. His hands have touched most of the wood in this place so everytime we go in there I can sense his craft and his energy circles around the food.

8.The Farmer and The Cook What they don’t grow on their farms they get from other local farms in the valley. Each day of the week they make one special plate and 2 soups along with grilled veggie and egg salad sammies. And besides a little organic salad bar that’s all this restaurant serves so everything is so fresh. Everything organic. Local produce, eggs and cheese…maybe even grains. Damn best chai tea I have ever had. Vegan and wheat-free baked good that taste like real yummy stuff–date-poppy muffins, chocolate espresso scones, oatmeal cookies.

1. Wheeler Hot Springs A drive down Maricopa highway, a steep yet quick walk down to the riverbank and hop over some rocks and you’ll find some great hotsprings. I feel cleaner, healthier, sexier, more powerful after a sunset or sunrise soak. Unfortunatley it’s too hard to go with just me and the girls so hurry up and come visit me so we can go! Warm water therapy.

2. The 2 waterholes found along the river behind my place. They are deep, like diving under deep. Clean. Refreshing. A rope hangs above both of them and just a swing and jump into the crsip river water can change your attitude for the entire day. Week. Year. Cold water therapy. I feel like I am in Cambodia or Costa Rica. It’s a slice of paradise. One night my four goddess girlfriends, my kids and myself did a moonlit hike down for quick splash. We jumped in and played like nymphs. Mia sat along the side on a rock, too cold to jump in but with a look of awe on her face as she stared at us for an hour, watching us play. Four naked women (yes, photos posted soon of this because it is too lovely and poweful not to share) yelping and screaming and hollering and chanting and developing our own primal calls with goosbumps and blue lips and hard nipples. Invigorated. I hope this is a memory engraved in her psyche forever. And ever. I hope someday she will dive naked in cold fresh water under the Solstice moon with a circle of friends whom we are not scared to call eachother Witch. (I do hope she forgets the loud packs of coyotes that we had to race away from on our hike back, though).

3. Betty Lou’s North Shore Smackers Organic dark chocolate. 1000 ml of spirulina. Sounds weird but it is just delightful. Sweet. No refined sugar. Almond butter. Sesame butter. It’s a sweet treat I like to eat and give to my Mia. Green chocoalte. Yum. I am going to start buying them bulk and freezing them. I found them at The Farmer And The Cook and have munched their entire stock all up.

4. Polomo The magestic and kind 12 year old white horse Mia and I have been riding. At first we rode him together and everything was in perfect universal sync for that first moment he started move underneath us and we caught on with his rhythm. All the dreams I had about being a mother and sharing remarkable moments with my daughter became a reality. I had envisioned this long before she was even growing in my womb. I will ride horses with my daughter. After our first tandem ride she demanded to ride him alone. She mounted him with little help. Gave him a slight ‘get going’ signal and they trotted along, like they were old friends. She even figured out how to steer within minutes. At one point she turned her head to look behind her, at me, and just gave me a little smirk, somewhere between ‘look at me now and I have no fear.” That tiny little bean on the mammouth creature. It was awesome.

5. The People, especially my newest mama-friend, Jessica Warm. Inviting. Interesting. Interested. People here are succeeding because of who they are not despite of who they are. Here I don’t t feel like I have to take a stand in my beliefs or be defensive in how I birth, vote, parent. How I eat, or recreate, what I wear, or listen to. It’s not like everyone is ‘the same’, I would say the opposite. And as far as California mountain towns go you get a WIDE range of what is defined as “red-neck”. You got your Tibetan prayer flag home right next to your American flag home and the great thing is I see no fence seperating those 2 yards. You have your L.A. transplats and your born and raised elite-class. You have your local farmers and ranvhers keeping it local. You have your artists and your wabi-sabi ragga-muffin folks just wanting a town to ride a bike around in. You have your famous actors trying to live a bit smaller than L.A. But everyone seems so open to whatever you may be. As long as you let them be. It feels comfy here, a place like this I could call home. And not to slight the community I have found in AZ…because I have met some sparkling gems there. But there is a greatness of a tight valley, 3 miles wide and around 20 miles long packed with good people. Where I live we are all so far away.

6. The Ocean My inspiration. My muse. My spirit. My womb. I spent a healing day riding the waves with 2 of my mermaid friends. Usually I am slightly scared of the waves– I like to stand back and hold each bubble with the reverance it deserves, just witness the greatness of the curve and the arch and the crash. But this magnificant day we let the men watch the kids and we washed our tired mama bodies away with divinity of sea. We washed away past moments spent in regret or sadness. We washed away fears and scars. We cleansed ourselves of desert dirt and became goddess with pearl toes and seaweed hair. As my daughters watched from the beach I can only hope they felt the empowerment of Sirens at play. And I got to sing my song for Sula to Sula as the waves splashed over her little brown berry feet: You’re a gift from the ocean, a treasure of the sea, a blessing from the water straight to me.

7. This sacred Chumash land and the 3 Chumash Chiefs whose faces (with tears) I can see engraved in the Mountains north of where I sit. The word Ojai means either moon or nest in Chumash. And it has been both to me. It has been like the moon: water, wet, fertile, silvery and mysterious. Why have I been called here and why does this place make me feel so pregnant with light?It has been a nest for my birdlike ways…as I always want to defy gravity and fly away, leave my body and look down and flutter through space and time. But I could cozy up here and nest forever (with some international exploration here and there of course).

ites!

ps- it seems as if there is a great conspiracy. i can’t seem to post an image or link to one. sorry. no matter what i try works. soon i will figure it out.

My newest human gift from the Earth, Leigh, has posted some great fun questions on her blog. Between dear Mia shivering with fever from some nasty bug, and Sula needing 24/7 nursing/holding and parenting 2 kids, 1 cat, and 3 goats I have no time to actually write. My time spent alone up here on land which my sisters says seems like a great spot to ‘hang if you were hiding from the law” (meaning how hidden it is I guess) has graced me with so many blessings and insights: illusion, the medicine from he dragonfly; power, the medicine from horse; and messages of new beginnings from the hawk. I long to ponder and write about this and about community and nature and self-suffiency through the power of commune with nature. I want to describe the way the eco-system in this area leaves a scent of the sweetest maple syrup on your clothes after you trample through the wildweeds. Or how ones skin becomes green-scented silk after bathing for hours in the cool swimming hole 10 minutes away from my backdoor. But in my real world right now as Mia gazes at a Little Bear DVD through a feverish haze and Sula literally hang off my right nipple as I type, ,I have no time to really write. And I long to. I long from the pit of my creative stomach to share, share, share. And with my tech-luck I can’t even share photos of all this as every time I try to post a visual, I fail, or it fails or something is wrong and nothing shows up. So Leigh has given me a moment to just expose, release. And it’s funny—while reading Leigh’s own answers to these questions I kept thinking that they could be my answers, too. It is confirmed. She and I used to play on the same star.

1. What is your favorite word? Wow
2. What is your least favorite word? No
3. What turns you on? The ocean and the mountains and deep tribal beats
4. What is your favorite thing? Love. Love. Love.
5. What turns you off? Insecurities and the way people act because of them
6. What sound or noise do you love? My babies’ first words, crashing waves, dolphins singing and the long deep-belly chant of Aum/Om.
7. What sound or noise do you hate? The loud action/violence scene sounds in Hollywood type movies of today. The lead of pencil writing on a sidewalk. The sound of oil pumps pumping oil from my mama Earth.
8. What is your favorite curse word? I don’t know how to spell it but in Italian is sounds like this: Bu-Taana-dia-lo (it means something like ‘you are the devil’s whore’ but more then the meaning I like the sound and cursing in another language, native to my blood, is just plain fun.
9. What profession other than the one you are in would you like to attempt? Social action lawyer, music festival executive producer and of course traveling writer but that will be my profession someday. Soon.
10. What profession would you not like to do? Lawyer. President. Soldier.
11. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive? Namaste. Amesome. Want wings next time around? (pretty much Leigh’s answer..i love it. love it.)

You know you love someone when you miss them so much you try to eat lots of chocolate to soothe the seperation wounds but because you miss them so much and so deeply…chocolate doesn’t even taste like anything. nothing. no rush, no tingle, no light if heart. It just takes dark and thick and foreign. It takes like grainy dirt (and you know I have the good kind, too).

One more week in Shangri-La and I get to share a bed everynight with my beloved again.

Living like this for real, for ever, or for a longer period of time would be easy for me. I like these slow freeway-less days. I like these rituals.

I like waking up to the roosters call as soon as the day creeps up on the darkness and delivers a shade of gray through the window. It’s good to walk outside through the marine layer that makes the air less than 65 degrees for the first half-hour of morning. Goats greeting me at the gate, singing their song of hunger is the sound of innocence and intent. It’s satisfying to cut through the thick dried hay, rationing off three slices for each goat, opening an aroma that is the epitome what sweet and green smells like. The ritual the girls and I do before anything else, before food or dress, is my favorite. We say good morning to all the animals. First the dogs come to us as we walk the drive, barking their heads off like they don’t know us and don’t stop their noise until we pet each and call them by name. They’re farm dogs, guarding the goats and chickens from creatures of the mountains. Then we go and meet up with the chickens and roosters. Mia notices and tells me which ones need love and healing–the ones on the lower end of the pecking order with hot spots and missing feathers from being harassed and chased by any animal above them in their own farm caste system. Then we travel over to the new little kittens that live in the delapitated and rusty old RV that sits dead across the field under a majestic oak tree. Our favorite kittens are ANgelface, an orange and white one and Black Claw, a pure ebony kitty. Finally, with apple scraps in our pockets we head over to our favorites: horses. They are grand and sweet. Big animals with big hearts. The once grumpy pony is not so grumpy anymore. He enjoys the fruit treats we bring him. His once freakish blue eyes have turned a soft and serene hue of longing and loyalty. A little love has softened his heart and I no longer worry that he may head-butt us.

I like not having to get in a car to find some serenity and peace, some sort of obvious natural connection. I am living in the middle of it and it makes my desire to sit in stillness in the wide open very easy. I like getting sweaty and dusty with the girls after long walks down to the river, our feet covered in darkness and our fingernails filled with the rootiness of the earth and our legs speckled with small red bites from pesky bugs. I like all three of getting in the shower and cleaning off together and then after that maybe traveling down the spiraling mountain into town for some food for dinner. I like pouring my glass of wine earlier than I ever have poured it before because in all honesty being alone with the 2 kids in the middle of nowhere will clearly drive one insane. But alcohol therapy and a sense of letting go to all expectations regarding my toddlers behavior is a good cure. I especially like cuddling in bed with both of them listening to the fading sounds of all the animals…a few cockle-doodles, a couple of neighs, some bah-ing from the goats until all there is the sing-song of the crickets and random dog barking and the occasional coyote howl. I like falling asleep with the cool breeze of the valley sweeping through the curtains, forcing us to dig deeper into the blankets finding warmth inside cotton and near each others flesh.

I always seem to find myself in places like these but for some reason I always end up back in the concrete playgrounds, with schedules and too many errands and shopping/to do lists to fill my days with purpose. Even though my personal desire for isolation is intense, and the need to sit atop the mountain alone and chant is great, I guess my draw to places which offer constant interaction with people is somehow necessary and meaningful. So I always wind up in the thickness of society; mingling, driving, rushing, scheduling.

I wonder if there is a place for us that bring both those worlds together evenly. Community and rural isolation. I hope soon that I can find both of those and balance them perfectly. Each one gives me equal strength and each one allows me to be completely in the moment with the other.

I’d hate to have to donkey-sit.

Because goats are sort of asses. Or else they have the perfected the will of a tw0-year old.

So my three goats, Mama Goat, Ordbog and Nudansk were in there pen. I decided to let them out to play withthe girls and I. Mia was naked running through the cilantro field with a carton of raspberries. Sula was on my back. We were enjoying the warm valley sun, the smell of wild grasses and the nay of the horses grazing. We were making up songs about being on the farm, “old Mia Rose lived on a farm, e-i-ei-o”. We were truly enjoying ourselves. I figured lets get the goats out and play. One big family. They immediately ran over to the electricity pole which is surrounded by acorns. The ravens and crows pick them off the oak trees which surround the farm and then bring them over to the pole to munch. They end up dropping a ton around the pole and it becomes a haven for the goats (who die for acorns just as deeply as I die for dark as night chocolate).

A couple hours pass. The sun is getting hotter. Sula needs a nap. I need to turn the compost. The cat has not been fed. I could use a swim in the river. Time for goats to go back into the pen.

I grab some goat crack (some mix of grains saturated in corn syrup) and put it in a plastic cup. I use a cup of it to lure them across the property back into their hilly, shadey and quite lovely enclosed home. I was told this would do the trick. I was also told to watch out after they got a few bites of it because like I called it ‘goat crack’ it apparently wires them all up.

I shake the cup.

“Here, here Mama Goat. Here. Over here.” She looks at me and moves on. In the opposite direction.

“Come on Nudansk. Goat crack. Yuuummm.” I shake the cup under her nose. Nudansk is about 2 months pregnant. I lure her half way to the pen. She’s gotta be hungry. She hears me and she runs full force towards me. Shit. She has horns. I am wearing Sula. I give her some of the grains. They go straight to her blood. She starts to act like me on a a couple shots of espresso. Shes jumping all over me trying to get more of these corn-syrup laden grains. I scream. Sula laughs. I end up throwing the cup of crains 10 feet away. I had to get that goat away from me. She goes over to the cup of spilled goat crack and finishes it up. Then off she runs across the field, farther away from the pen. Shit.

Next I try for Ordbog who is also 2 month pregnant. The same thing happens. She jumps on me to get the crack. Nobody told me this is how it would be. I was told that they would trot like good little goats to me and I would sprinkle a trail and they would follow. No problem.

Ordbog jumps on me trying to grab the new cup of graincrack with her mouth. Her horms come like an inch from my eye. Sula laughs. I scream. Throw that cup like 10 feet away. She goes after it.

This happens like 5 more times with Ordbog but I finally lure her into the pen. Now it should be easy. the others will want to be with her, especially Mama Goat, the mother of both goats, she’ll want to be with her pregnant kid. I am wrong. FOUR hours later, I am crying on the phone with my man.

“What do I do? These f-ing goats will not listen to me! Little pricks.”

“You better just get them in the pen before dark. Coyotes. You don’t want it to get dark and have them left out for the coyotes. You can do it baby.”

After trying to lasso them with the rope from the hay bales, I give in. I am running around the 5 acre property trying to get these little shits back into the pen. It’s like playing a 1-sided game of tag. It’s like trying to get my 2 year old to bed. Except they are faster, stronger, horned, scared and only speak Spanish and Danish. Something else has to happen.

I go to the landlord, the farmer, the dude who owns the property. Salvador owned the goats before my friends bought them. he was going to have them slaughtered for cash and my friends couldn’t let that happen. Salvador is not the most connected-to-the-animals type of farmer (another story all together) and I know that he would get a switch to their behinds to get them in the pen. I don’t like that method for anybody or anything but I was desperate. I had to get these goats in. My kids needed to eat and sleep. the sun was setting behind the mountain. Coyotes would be smelling them and drooling. So I walk to his place and knock on the door. He tells me no problem. He’ll do it.

I go in the house and don’t look at what he does. Within 5 minuntes I can hear the goats, all three of them, talking within the pen. they were secure. And they were also grounded. And I let them know that they lost all roaming priveldges. No goats will be let out to roam unless there is someone else here to help me round them up. Period.

More lessons in patience need to be learned.

Here is Nudansk

Sula girl, i forgot to say how strong you are. strong. Your muscles are defined and powerful. Your grip is tight and demanding. I can see your physical strength expand daily (which makes it much harder to nurse or keep you ttill i’d like to add). I can see you as a yogi. Acrobat. Kickboxer. Climber. Surfer.

And one more thing. You are a healer. When I nurse you in the dark night you like to place your hand on my heart. you keep it there, still, and I can feel heat and color and sparkles and tingles. anger, sadness, fear melt away. Poof. Gone. You are quite quifted and talented in the field of love my little one. I am thankful for your gentle yet powerful touch. I do hope you keep those hands of light.

Time on the computer is limited with no daddy around to allow the writer in me to work. But my darling moon, my perfect pearl, my gift from the sea…. Your head still smells like beach sand. This was verified on our trip to the beach yesterday. Your head and the grains…smell identical. I knew it! You say Dada, Dog, Goat, Mama, ByeBye. You blow kisses. You try to snap your fingers. You clap. You can stand for 3-5 seconds ON YOU OWN. Go girl. You love water, you go “girgle girgle” everytime I drink some or turn on a faucet or hear the river rage. You nurse like there is no tomorrow. You have little hair my dear one. Just like your sister. Just like your mother when she was a babe. But the hair you have is oh-so lovely. the color of a year old penny that has not seen much movement. You have a few freckles on your thigh. I kiss them daily. You like to eat anything that you can hold. Including your sisters toes. My love, why oh why don’t you like to sleep? Your eyes sparkle, glitterly like the north star inside each one. You are a screamer.
You like to inhale and lift your arms up above your head to a sun salute whenever I do. You already practice ujai breathing. You are utterly perfect. I love you and no words can measure exactly what that means. peace to you always my Sula Pearl.

Girlfriend Jeanette speaks of Bliss. I have come to a greater understanding of my true bliss these past couple weeks. My bliss is in the journey.

I am a gypsy.

Nomad.

Traveler.

I am not good at staying in one place. I get itchy. I get bored. I find a million zillion reasons why the place I am in is no good for me. Too hot. Too cold. Too small. Too big. Grumpy people. Phoney People. Too expensive. Not quaint enough. Trees not big and green enough. Trees too big and green. Long Winters. No winters. Wet Spings. Dry summers. Colorless Falls. No money. Too much wealth. Conservative. Hippy-dippy. Bland architecture, Ostentatious building. And as this blog is aptly named Misplaced Mama, I continously feel misplaced when I am sitting still on one spot on Earth.

Is all this back and forth business because deep down I am just an unhappy girl? Wanting, longing, wishing? Searching for something? Unable to just be and enjoy where I am? I am one of those types always thinking the grass is greener. brighter. softer?

I don’t think so. At times I would have given into that theory (because believe me, sister, I have heard it over and over again) but not anymore. Not now. How could the deep contentment my children, my mariage, my arts bring to be leave me in longing? Could they?

Nope. I’m just a mover. An explorer. I long for adventure.

Nowhere I ever stay for long periods of time are bad places. But in my heart the really good places are the ones I have yet to see. Those places my toes long to sink into the dirt.

I have been roadtripping with my girls for almost 2 weeks. We flew into Orange County, CA. Spent a stint in LA. Celebrated a wedding in Upper Ojai, CA. Back down to L.A. Now we are settled back in Ojai until July 5th. This is our adventure. To live together in a place that is not the usual home, but home all the same. We get to practice our daily routine but with added goodness like goat feeding and ocean going. River walking and mountain climbing. Small town people watching. I get to rise with the sun as the rooster crows and smell a smell much different from Pheonix. It’s part sage and mustard plant part kitty litter that I am suppose to change. Part coastal salt and part horse manure. I wake up to a horses neighing outside the bedroom window. I get to drive a long and windy road into a town. A town unlike my own, where people walk and hold hands to the market. Where dirty feet and ragged jean bottoms are the norm. Where most all kids are in slings. Where strangers come up and introduce themsleves. And the grocer in town sells local everything…from beef to strawberries. Bumper stickers like “CoExist” and “Goddess Bless the World” and “Impeach Bush” are plastered on hybrid cars or old VW’s. Is this better than what I am used too in Scottsdale, AZ? No. (granted I will say I feel more comfortable with who I am here and even though it seems I may come from the same star as the people of Ojai Valley, I am definately earthly worlds apart in many ways…to live here you pretty much need 7 figures and that is not a leisure class I am part of) It is not better by any means. It is just different. New to me. Would I be this excited to explore and experience Peoria, Il? Yes. Yes. Yes. Witchita? Yes. Tulsa? You bet? Spokane, ID? Italy? Duh.

I am sure I come from a long line of gypsies. The twirl of skirt and the indifference to dirty hair must mean something. The traveling and writing bug in me is getting a big phat universal gift. Though it’s not as easy as it was— traveling alone with 2 kids under 3 years in unfamiliar territory is never easy—and at times it has been downright hard, EXHAUSTING, LONELY, to parent alone and on someone else’s landscape is downright frightening to me, but still it boils down to simmering bliss. To move, to smell, to dance to a different drum. To be in a space that is not mine. To meet new people, moment to moment absent of a past but with a promise of future connections for a widespread community. I get to add fresh people and experience to my golden treasure chest of life. And in the end, I know that my girls will benefit. They light up when a chicken comes up to them for a pet. They have no fear of big animals, grumpy ponies, horned goats or howling coyotes. Mia scales the river rocks like tshe manuevers the cushy playgrounds of Scottsdale. They will always have an impression of what a mountain black moon feels like and now they know that stars dance across skies in banners and streaks. They feel the movement of the earth under their feet and I am sure they have picked up on the excitement of what their mama feels. At any moment that I feel it is not in their best interest, I am outta here. Until then…this is my bliss.

Do I miss my home? My husband? My dogs? My spider free bed? My friends? Yes. But they are there, always, solid as mountain granite, their voices singing to me in this mountain breeze, supporting me and inspiring me to follow these dreams of flowing and writing and breathing in different air. It is in my blood to move. Movement brings me bliss. I am enjoying these moments of surrending into the unnknown, remembering the cushy bed of home and the tanned arms of my partner. But I also keep the globe close by wondering where my next venture will be.

To be this inspired is to truly breath. To feel this utterly exhausted is to live. There are goats hungry for acorns and hay. Horses that need some scratchin’. A garden that needs moisture in this intense mountain heat wave. And fresh Salmon from Moro Bay picked up at the local farmer’s market that needs cooking.

Ites! Blessings. For real.