After All This Time...

Many people have asked me "where Gilligan's Island came from"... i enjoyed the television series when i was young. What i saw of it. But my enjoyment of it was never anything out of the ordinary. Sure, i was always attracted to the concept of a tropical paradise. Being in the middle of Winter Wonderland makes remote, tropical paradises rather appealing... But no smoking gun, so to speak. Certainly nothing that i recall about it that stands out as significant.

Today, i i finally figured out where my connection to Gilligan's Island is rooted. i figured it out during a phone call with my dad, Mister Towne. We were talking about stuff, and it just popped in my head. It's a deep-seated, long-held connection. If thirty years makes something long-held... It was my Grandpa and Grandma. And a deodorant commercial.

For many years... Prior to my recent submission to the fate of never having it... i have said that "i want a woman who can just roll her eyes at me when i'm being goofy. Like my Grandma did with my Grandpa."

This started for me the summer i turned fourteen. This was a pretty formative summer in my life. But i'll save the details for some other time. One evening, Grandpa was lying on his side on the living room floor, watching TV. His head was propped up, just like it always was. Grandma was across the room, making dinner. And i was sitting in the easy chair, where i could see both of them.

Onto the TV comes an Arid Extra Dry commercial... With none other than Tina Louise as the spokesperson. It's a simple commercial... Just a beautiful redhead, smiling as she holds an aerosol can of deodorant. She starts out with, "Hi. I'm Tina."

The sound had barely cleared the speakers when my Grandpa responded, "Hi Tina. I'm Fred." In his exaggerated Tennessee drawl. He wasn't even finished with "Fa-red", before he peeked over at Grandma with a big grin on his face.

i remember thinking something along the way of, "Oh, &*#!!", and looking to see Grandma's response.

She just grinned, rolled her eyes, and kept on with what she was doing. In this moment, i learned a lot. A lot about trust, and love, and goofing around. About a lifetime relationship. About being best friends. About being companions. About all that, and having a little fun, too. And about not taking little things too seriously. A combination of things i sought in a partner, for so many years, but never found.

It was also in this moment, that my one of my suspicions about my family was confirmed. We are all attracted to redheads. Yes, by nature, i am more of a "Ginger" man, than a "Marianne" guy. Obviously i haven't always gone the way nature intended in my life.... And Tina Louise... Errrr... Ginger, was always hot. i've never been a starstruck individual. Not in any way. My association with this pitch person wasn't so much about being struck with her, as it was about a connection to her character. My Grandpa was keyed in to her. Me? It was the wistfulness and beauty of the show, that got me.

The deodorant marketers failed with me. They intended to sell me a can of ozone-depleting toxics. What i got out of the commercial was a lifetime of beautiful thoughts.

Living Proof You Don't Need Christmas

The weeks and months leading up to my cast-off from San Francisco were filled with many beautiful gifts. As have the weeks since arriving here on GIN. And they keep coming...

 

Though we're talking about a time period widely associated with traditional holidays... With the exception of getting funky with Donnie Davis on New Year's Eve, none of these gifts have had anything to do with a traditional holiday... The gifts of hospitality and friendship and human spirit have meant a great deal to me. For sure. Like, all the way... For Sure. As have all the nice voicemails and emails.

 

And there have been ceremonial-ish, thoughtful, and meditated gifts as well. Some of these keep giving on a very physical level each day. Like the camera Mister and Missus Stiltskin gifted me... Which let me gift my other camera to someone who needed it more than i would.

 

Another example... A few days before my departure, Mister and Missus Noe had me over for a nice, home-cooked evening meal with their household. This was somewhat ceremonial, but very casual... If you count my furry-armed sport coat and bonobo monkey necktie with a curt brown faux felt hat, as casual. Which, for ceremonial purposes of my own, i wore to the Seventeenth Street entrance of my local police station, and burned a ceremonial "thank you and happy trails" bud, on my walk to their house. A true salutatory puff... Several really. Face on to the camera. With each toke, i was totally wondering if anybody was (or would) ever watching these cameras... Wondering what they would think when they saw a goofy-dressed guy with a big grin converting cannabis to ash, right in front of them.

 

i was definitely overdressed when i arrived at the Noe's. But i'm all good with being the only wrongly-dressed person, in pretty much any situation. Since it was my very last Monday Nite living in San Francisco, i figured i could easily take advantage of it in numerous places on my way home later. But that was not to be... Not because there weren't places to go, mind you... Because i had my hands and my heart full when i left. Following a family dinner with great conversation and many laughs, a big reusable shopping bag appeared. Great! i totally need shopping bags! (Side Note: One of the things i treasured about living with Miss E was our incredible canvas shopping bag collection.) 

 

Inside the big black bag was a cascade of very intentional gifts. Whoa! Another Bryson. Sweet! Individually handwrapped fly fishing tackle specifically for my section of the river... Well planned... Very nice! And a Leatherman. Where all my other mult-tools are bulky, with numerous functions, this one is slim and has just two functions. A knife and a pair of pliers. This tool has proven to be the third most important tool i have on Gilligan's Island North. In terms of importance in my daily life, it ranks behind only my self and my coffee cup. In use constantly. At least twenty times a day, i pull it from its place on the corner of my pocket, and think of you each time. Thanks a bazillion, you guys!

 

And there have been many other unexpected, impromptu gifts... Like today. At the Post Office. If you don't know where i am, there's a reason for that. If you do know where i am, that, too, has a reason... Today was Day Sixteen here. Monday. This was my fourth trip to the Post Office in that time. On the third visit, i had picked up an application for a PO Box. This time, i was there to turn the application into an address.

 

i had met Post Mistress #1 on my first visit. i was dropping off a letter to be mailed. i went inside to scope out what would soon become my quaint, mountain community Post Office. i made small talk with her... General pleasantries... But didn't introduce or talk about myself at all. She had no idea who i was, or anything about me, when i left. Other than she probably thought i was a pleasant guy. Which was exactly the way i wanted it at that point. Today (i have no idea whether she recognized me or not), as soon as i put my completed application on the counter, she exclaimed, "You're Skip Towne"? No sooner did i reply that i was, and she disappeared to the darker corners of the building, telling me over her shoulder, "I was wondering who Skip Towne was... I might have sent some back already... Didn't know who Skip Towne was." Our Post Office is just a tad bigger than Shackteau, so there was no problem hearing her.

 

She returned with a handful of cards and letters, all addressed to me. In this little non-town with a post office. Some had the name of the community on them. One had just me and a zip code for an address. Not one piece of junk mail. Perfect!

 

When you have a name like Skip Towne, sometimes it's difficult to earn credibility in a new community. Everyone pauses for at least a moment when they meet you and find out your name for the first time. People raise their eyebrows at you... Some take half a step back and look off to the side for a moment. i've even had people get confrontational on occasion. In order to prevent this slight discomfort on the part of others, if at all possible, i generally only use my first name when making introductions. Hey, unless they're making a check out to me, they probably don't usually to know my last name. And i don't take checks. The Post Office sort of short-circuits this first-name-only practice, though.

 

In a little place like this, the Post Mistress will know your business like nobody else does. i had been wondering how it was going to go at the Post Office, since before i even got to GIN. i knew that one of the critical pieces to getting established in this community, was going to be my relationship with the Post Mistresses (there are two here). 

 

Let me tell you... When you surface for the first time at a new Post Office - There is absolutely NOTHING like having a stack of love waiting for you to give you instant cred with the Post Mistress. Nothing! There's also nothing like this for making you feel at home... Welcome. And loved.

 

i cannot begin to tell each of you who sent me things, how deeply touched i am that you did. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! If you get a Return To Sender in your mailbox... Sorry. i'm touched that you tried... Please resend or, for better service, deliver in person... :) It will definitely get to me either way now...

 

And there was another gift at the Post Office... i got to choose my PO Box. i made it easy to remember... 269. (Thought i wouldn't?) All you have to remember is Skip Towne To Sixty Nine. Post Mistress #1 was somewhat surprised that i chose a box that cost eight bucks more than the tiny one every six months. "Just 'cause i'm retired don't mean i'm cheap..." The number is significant to me. Can't buy a domain and hosting for sixteen bucks a year, and this is so much more personal than a browser... "Yep. This one's for me..." 

 

Thirty dollars later i was holding two pieces of paper to start my fire with, and two keys. And my stack of mail. The rent on the box was twenty eight buck for six months, and there was a two dollar deposit for the keys. It's been many, many years since i opened an actual PO Box at a Post Office... Had to make sure the keys worked and go touch my new mailbox. Wanted to take a minute and think about how many times i might open it between now and then... How many times will i open that front door, step inside to the left, kneel down, put the key in the lock, and open the little box to see what's inside... "It's probably dusty... Haven't rented those in a long time," i heard from behind the boxes.

 

Which is so NOT a problem to me! i actually live here now... With dirt on my floor. i sure don't care about a little dust in the mailbox. Key number one worked precisely. So did key number two. i savored the precision of the little lock. One short, firm counterclockwise turn... The pushback of the spring... Always ready to latch my box securely closed until the next time i opened it. The door didn't squeak, as i opened it for the first time in who knows how long. i ran my hands over the front and back of the door. And the edges. Felt the bronze. Studied the cast-work. And i was grateful. Grateful that this place is here. Grateful that i can put down roots here. i turned my attention to the inside. Dust was right! Instinctively i reached inside and began wiping the dust into my cupped left hand. It crossed my mind to ask how long it had been since this box belonged to anybody, but didn't. It didn't really matter. It was mine now.

 

Another unique gift i've gotten showed up on my doorstep... Literally. On Saturday. After one of the most spiritual dejavu sessions of my life. Our Vision Building party went on a walk to survey some terrain and water-related features of the property here. Two of our guests and i detoured later in the walk to take in some extra details. This entire walk was an incredible dejavu. i haven't walked this part of the property since i landed. But i have walked it before.

 

i walked it once when Miss E and i were here a few years ago. Much of it several times, in fact. We spent two and a half days walking and crawling and surveying and measuring just about every foot of this place. The images that were imprinted then were many... And covered several senses...

 

The ones you would guess are visual and maybe smell. And you would be right. But there are a few things about this place that make others stand out, too. Notably sound. You can hear the river from all over the property. It sounds different from place to place, of course, but it's always there. White noise in the background. Touch is another. This place feels unique. The air and the ground and the trees and the water... And last, but definitely not least, that extra sensory sense, spirit. The combination of all these dimensions really affected me. In an extraordinarily positive and profound way.

 

Since being here with Miss E, i have walked these roads and woods and paths every day in my mind. In vivid detail. Some part of this place every single day... When i first arrived a couple weeks ago, i had many little dejavus... Which passed as i settled in and covered the more common areas frequently. But Saturday was a little different. For starters, it was a fairly long walk with many little stops along the way. It also happened to be in the forested areas. Where each of the senses is highly stimulated. It's also where i found myself walking most frequently in my mind for all those years.

 

The sensation of dejavu and wonderment went on for hours. Pumping my soul full of fresh air appreciation for the land. Appreciation for being here. Again. Let's just say it was familiar and spiritually rejuvenating and at least a little bit trippy.

 

Shackteau is alongside the road which everybody walked out of the backcountry on. The main group had walked out earlier than my Portlander companions and i. When i got to Shackteau, there was a giant knife on my front step. Pointed at my door. i wondered if it was a sign... And, if it was a sign, was it friendly or threatening? I picked it up, studied it, then set it back down on the step. Off to the side of the door. Where it has stayed. Until today.

 

When i got home with my letters, the spirit of the knife called out to me... "i am your letter opener. Use me..." 

 

And so i did. i still don't know where my new letter opener came from, or if it came in peace or war. i do know that, whatever spirit it came with, the spirits of Shackteau and Gilligan's Island North have transformed it into a peace and beauty loving letter opener that just can't wait to open more letters!

 

A GIANTASTIC HEARTFELT THANK YOU to everybody!

A Little Dirt On My Floor

Tonite it's raining for the first time since i arrived on Gilligan's Island North two weeks ago. i wasn't able to get all the things done before it rained that i had hoped... But the meetings which took these projects' place in time were a fair tradeoff.

In these meetings i've been able to witness, and participate in, a once in a lifetime event. My life has been blessed to have put me in many unique situations. Truly blessed in that department. But this melding of minds and thoughts and spirits and visions and dreams... This has been an honor like no other to be part of.

So many creative thoughts being directed toward resolution of significant issues. In the most beneficial way possible. Which we must always keep in focus. In support of this imperative, one of my new esteemed colleagues offered me a book called Earth Construction. He asked if i would be interested in reading it, and gave me twelve hours to decide. He'll be the first to leave tomorrow. It was also offered that, if it was something i would find useful to have handy... At least for awhile, that he could leave it here.

This book is packed with all kinds of information about all kinds of earth construction throughout the world. With a clear and comprehensive properties breakdown of various soils and classifications. It also has some super-handy diagrams and illustrations. So, as it's raining outside... i'm reading this book, by the fire. And liking it. i will gratefully borrow it. But it is heavy reading when it's after dinner and many hours past dark...

So i notice things. Some i notice for what seems like the umpteenth time. Like the fact that there's always at least a little dirt on my floor. Yes, i have and use the cabin broom i got at the Barter Fair last year. Regularly. Daily, at least. Sometimes many times a day. But i live in the woods. i burn wood for heat. i'm in and out... This place ain't big enough to be in all the time. So i live with dirt.

Which i reconciled and conceded to years ago. For many years i've been a staunch advocate of the belief that, "Everybody should eat a tablespoon of dirt a day." When i first started visualizing Gilligan's Island ten years ago, one of the important ingredients was living in and out. With dirt. Sure, i always saw it as powdery sand... Like the kind Ginger and Marianne used to run their toes through... But dirt nonetheless.

And so it is here... Dirt. Safe. Clean. Non-toxic dirt. On my floor. How fitting that is as we embark on the experimental phases of finding out which earth construction materials and methods are best suited for use in our projects...

Yay Dirt!

Invasion of the Water Snatcher

Here on Gilligan's Island North, we have a lot of work to do. Survival has short term and long term requirements. Both of which need tending to. Short term requirements... Stuff like eating, staying warm, and mending fences... That doesn't take much in the way of planning, per se. At least not on a day to day basis.

The long term picture... That's a different story. Planning is a necessity. More than just planning, though. When you are faced with the prospect of stewardship of a beautiful and plentiful environment... A place to share the beauty with others, and a duty to do so... For years to come. There is room to dream. And that's where it starts. With dreams.

Not the type of dreams where you wake up and say, "Wow! Now that was a dream! Hope i remember it later..." No. This is conscious, thoughtful dreaming. Where you start with the thought that all things good and wonderful are possible. And go from there. You can't plan it if you didn't dream it first.

Many will laugh at this vision. Somewhere along the line they bought in to a belief that an environment, where all things are good and wonderful, is simply not possible. The truly grateful - those in whom appreciation and wonderment thrive and prosper - will marvel at and embrace it. Count me in the latter. Count me in the group who find it inspirational beyond that which most people will ever experience. i find this to be somewhat unfair on a global social level. How could it be fair that i get to experience all of this and someone else can't?

This sense of fairness... Justice if you will... This sense inspires me to be the best me i can be so i can share the bounty with as many others as possible. When you sit under the stars at night and absorb their light... Soaking it in from all directions. Slivers of white magic energy piercing the tree tops to reach you. Knowing that they are reaching out to every woman... Every man... Every child... Every animal... Every plant... Every stone and piece of dirt lying atop this beautiful planet we share... Knowing that these same stars are reaching out to every being. And wondering how many are actually open to receiving this gift... You cannot help but be humbled.

It is from this place of humility that i find the need to share. How could i not? Other beautiful people are sharing with me... The Universe is sharing with me... And dreams are being shared with me.

Yesterday i had the opportunity to see some of these dreams laid out on paper for the first time. Amongst a group of passionate, sincere, intelligent, thoughtful, and loving people. The interim cumulation of the thoughtful consideration of numerous minds and spirits... Years of consideration by some. Months by others. Sharing of dreams and visions between one another over a period of months... Reconciling the interfaces between natural and unnatural... Always leaning in favor of the natural.

Putting the interim interpretations on paper. To be pored over and discussed. To be constructively contemplated as a group. Around a table in the light, airy and warm shelter of a domed space. Then spatially experienced as you walk around in the trees and open spaces...

Moving as a group. Connected by a shared vision and the acceptance that independent, individual input is necessary to fulfill the dream. That this is so much bigger than any one of us, or even us as a group. That it isn't about us as much as it is about everybody. Discussing the practical realities of transferring the little colored shapes on the paper to the rocks and trees of the earth. "Should it really go there? Is it the right size? Will it get enough sun? Is that too much sun? How will visitors feel when they approach this? What about kids?" 

And the water. Always the water. We have hot water and cold water. Surface water and well water. Artesian and pumped. Creek water and river water. Always moving. Always roaring as she flows among the boulders on her way to the sea. Or a Southern California lawn.

With this bounty comes responsibility. A LOT of responsibility. Our first duty is to protect the water for all the beings and ecosystems that depend on it. Period. And we take this very seriously. Because that's who we are. Since we are not the be-all-end-all Authority Having Jurisdiction (yet), we have ancilliary responsibilities to seek permission for any dreams and plans we may have in, around, for, and with the water. This relationship with water involves a great many agencies, legalities, and mazes to navigate. 

To help us navigate, not only the dreams and plans themselves, but also the people and paperwork of this nebula, we tap into the collective knowledge of consultants. Four of whom are with us here this weekend. It was an interesting series of thoughts and emotions before they arrived on Thursday evening... Which lingered for part of the day on Friday... "It's strange not being the consultant. And it feels GREAT to have so much help!" 

There are a great many thhings to discuss, and decisions to be made while these talented folks are here... As stated, the water is, without a doubt, the greatest consideration. Many tests and samples and engineering reports and who knows what else, will be required between now and then. And we have to understand, from a scientific perspective, just what we're dealing with. We need to measure and record temperatures and flow rates and bacterial counts and mineral compositions. We need to observe and study what comes from where and what happens when we do this... Or that.

The scientific experiments began almost immediately when the consultants arrived late Thursday afternoon. Well, after they enjoyed a refreshing soak in the magic mineral water... Three of them arrived as a group, after meeting with various representatives of the Legal Nebula. But it wasn't so much as when "they" arrived as it was when "he" arrived. "He" is whom i shall call the Water Snatcher.

i first encountered the visitors as i was pushing my car from one part of the property to the other. On my way to go move more firewood. For the sake of avoiding worry about mechanical breakdowns on your part, i should point out that my car is a wheelbarrow. A nice, new wheelbarrow that will see some modifications in time. The first victim to meet me was the architect. A sincere and nice guy who stepped into a pile of you-know-what when he asked me what my favorite feature of a wheelbarrow was.

Being me... A soul who has just happened to consider the many merits and shortcomings of wheelbarrows... And their proper operation since childhood... i was adequately prepared to embark on a five-minute demonstration and discussion of the topic.

It wasn't until i had gone on my way, across the bridge, just past the mulberry tree, that i first encountered the Water Snatcher. A shorter, furry guy, with a friendly and inquisitive spirit about him. He wasn't interested in me at all as he jogged toward me. i guess you'd call it jogging... He was definitely moving with purpose and faster than a stroll... His eyes immediately went to the shiny orange five-gallon bucket in my car. i saw the way his gaze fixed when he was still fifteen yards away and approaching... And i braced for what i thought would be the first real test of my willingness to share since arriving on GIN.

The fresh air and inspiration of being here has quickened my response time. There is less shit in and on my mind to get in the way of being present. Really. Really. Present. i knew what was coming and i knew i would say "No." Not because i didn't genuinely want to share, but because my bucket was in use. Thankfully, the Water Snatcher didn't ask. i didn't have to not share. And that was a relief. He looked in my bucket and saw that it was being used. He really wanted a smaller bucket anyway. i pointed him toward a place where his search would result in success, then headed up the hill to take care of my chores.

i had been invited to join the group for supper. Last i heard, that would be about 8pm. After tending to chores and continuing to detail out Shackteau, i dressed up, then ventured toward supper. Making sure to leave in plenty of time for an invigorating soak along the way. i had strategically chosen clothing which would be easy to get in and out of for soaking, knowing that i would most likely want another soak, later in the evening, on my way home. Arriving on the changing deck about seven fifteen, i looked forward to the warmth of the water awaiting me.

Tiptoeing into the tub, i found that the water was indeed warm. Not so warm as hot, really. Uncomfortably hot. And the level was down. The water flowing in thru the hollow log was nearly scalding. i stayed in for just a couple minutes... Soaking interspersed with frequent climbs onto the rocks and wooden platform to cool off. It really was too hot to enjoy at this point. i traversed the lower tub and climbed in the darkness to adjust the cold water supply. In these tubs, especially in the darkness, it doesn't matter whether i'm wearing my glasses or not... i can't see shit, either way... i'm either blind 'cause i don't have them on, or my glasses are fogged up.

Being blind, in a wet, rocky, slippery environment, means you better move slowly and feel your way around. As i felt my way toward the hatch door over the cold water supply valve, i felt a piece of paper and knew that the tests had begun. Reaching for the hatch, i found a padlock. i knew the tests had begun.

This turned out to be the first real test of my willingness to share, and the Water Snatcher brought it on after all. Though i cursed the Water Snatcher, in a playful and teasing way, behind his back... i passed this test of spirit with flying colors. In my heart of hearts, i was glad that we were progressing... One beautiful scientific step at a time... Toward fulfilling the dreams that will become reality here on Gilligan's Island North.

There are gonna be some times when you just can't soak in every hot tub whenever you feel like it. This is one of the prices to pay in order for the dream of really sharing to come true. 

When the seeds of inspiration come your way, plant them. Nurture them. And watch them grow...

Naked In The Woods

 
Shackteau, i Love You!

Bears live in the woods. i live in the woods. Bears take the proverbial dump in the woods. And i, from time to time, shit in the woods, too.

But my woods come with, not one, but two - perfectly pristine and fully stocked blue outhouses. These babies are sparkling clean... Not to be confused with Sparkle Clean, the matron of which, is and ex of mine... Four unused and perfectly dry rolls of TP in each. Only one cobweb and not one turd between them. At least that's the way i found them when i arrived...

Suffice it to say that, on rare occasion so far, i find a need to visit one. Now, keep in mind that these are not the geothermally heated deluxe water closets at the main plaza... So, being as how it gets nippy here at times, as wonderful a blessing as the blue houses are, there is a difference. A difference worth waiting for sometimes.

But the difference isn't really what i was planning to write about. Nope. Tonight is the fifth nearly-full moon in a row here on GIN. After as many blessed days and nights as i've spent here, you might think i would have broken some habits by now. Trust me. i'm working on them! The primary habits i have to break are: Knocking on the blue house door when i want to use it, and Reaching for a light switch when i walk into Shackteau.

There's nobody here. Knocking ain't gonna help. As for the light switch... NOT having a light switch is part of what brings me here. And every time there isn't one there when i reach for it, i am glad. To the point of tears at times.

i find these two habits to be, perhaps, the most ironic of reflexes to discover. At least so far. Just thought i'd share.

Like i mentioned, it's the fifth really nice moon in a row. And i'm grateful. The weather could not be more cooperative. Somewhere between pleasant and fantastic every day. Cold at night. It froze pretty good last night. The only heat in Shackteau right now is my lantern, my stove when i cook, and my own hot air. There is a wood stove ready to install... All the flue, storm bracing, and cap are here. Just need the roof jack. Which i will pick up in town sometime this weekend on a supply run. Expect to be able to say Shackteau is wood heated by Monday or Tuesday.

Want to make it a full 168 hours here on GIN before going to town. i got here Saturday at 6:30pm and town is over an hour away. Which means it will have to be Sunday, then, doesn't it? Lots of soaking to do between now and then... SIGH... It will be interesting to compare the hours spent my first week to my permanent schedule...

168 hours total per week

 20 hours eating and eating related activities

 56 hours sleeping and sleeping related activities

 12 hours soaking and soaking related activities

 40 hours absolutely fucking off

 40 hours building an ecovillage

i figure my first week spent largely, but not entirely, dealing with organization - Building cabinets and other sundry items... Setting up my living and blue-collar retirement quarters... Nice long hikes on mountainsides... Hayseeding a field. Movie night. Needs and resources inventory. Soaking, sleeping, and eating - Is pretty in line with the schedule. If you count building cabinets and setting up living and shop quarters absolutely fucking off. Yeah. That has been a lot of fun, so i can say that!

i have my favorite hot tubs at just the right temperature now. Took a couple days. Getting the cold water flow from the creek dialed in is the key. But the valve is an old globe valve that's about worn out, so it's not exactly able to hold a precise flow. Even with just gravity pressure. The challenges of having to walk past what amounts to your private hot mineral spring tubs half a dozen times a day... At least i know how to fix it. But i'm not gonna just yet. Not 'til next month. i want to live with it all in the most basic of states for awhile. Feel the soul of the land.

i've averaged about 2.6 soaks per day since arriving. Just guessing. i gave up spreadsheets about a month ago. If i haven't invoiced you for something, it's probably not gonna happen. Cheers!

Today, so far, it's been three soaks. In three different tubs. First one was before coffee. About 6:15 or so. Outside it was dark and cold. Clear sky and air. Clear except for the steam coming from the Mother Source. As viewed from that hot tub, the sun comes up in a spectacular way over the horizon this time of year. Once was with local family. And once less than an hour ago. On the way home from having a nice dinner with Yomunko. i made the picnic lunch for our hike today, and he made supper. Awesome day! i brought over a pint of Lexi Applesauce for dessert. 2009 vintage. And it was spectacular! i only brought two pints with me. Left Miss E with the big supply.

Hope you love every bite, sweetheart :-)

One of our neighbors is heading to The City tomorrow. He'll be there with cuttings to start fruit trees. And he's going to stop by Lexi and get cuttings from the apple tree. GIN should <hopefully> be a good climate for that tree's offspring. She makes the best apples ever and she was a volunteer from Miss E's compost many years ago. We'll find out!

i've been writing this post at a picnic table in a moonlit woods. It's time to put the computer away now. Guess this won't go out 'til tomorrow... When me and this laptop get back to somewhere there's an internet connection. Time to get naked in the woods and soak under this beautiful moon! To not do it would be a shame.

And i'll never take this place for granted like that...

Home Like i've Never Been Home In My Life

It has been long enough since i posted here that you should have forgotten about me by now. WOW! The last two-plus weeks have been more incredible than any period of similar length in my life so far! What a range of experiences...

Physical. Emotional. Spiritual. Buttloads of each. Might as well throw Mental in that list, too. And Inspirational. Guess that's covered in the Spiritual... Just making sure it isn't left out. An Inspirational Pudding. That's probably the best way to characterize the recent past.

So many discoveries... Can't make up my mind which to tell about here... At least for now. Hmmmm... How about people? Yeah. Some really great people discoveries the past three weeks. Oh! Almost forgot... Silly me. 

I AM HERE!!!! <<< insert the most spectacular audio-visual event you can imagine... Be sure to use your whole imagination, 'cause this is HUGE!!!

This is Day Four on GIN. Little side note... i find myself commonly having an internal debate about which preposition to use when describing presence on (in??) GIN. GIN is technically NOT an island... In the usual connotation of being surrounded by water, anyway. Sure, there's plenty of water, but you're either on one side of it, or the other. Rivers, creeks, streams, springs, and seeps... We have them all. There is actually a real island in the river right next to our place. But i'm not "on" it, per se. No. Gilligan's Island North is as much in me as i can be on or in it. i will use "on" for now. But... If i use "in", don't be too surprised.

i'm home here like i've never been home in my life.

My kinship with the Rodgers and the Nixon and the Stowe parts of my family has never been more prominent, or more appreciated, in my life. Thank you, Grandpa and Grandma! Thank you, Mom! Thank you Charlie and Maeda and Oscar! Thank you Barb and Bob! You each mean more to me than ever before. All the things i learned with you are being put to good use.

Talk about powerful medicine...

Whenever i drive around, i feel Grandpa Rodgers with me. Especially when dealing with gates. My Westy has only seen second gear twice since arriving ninety-three hours ago. Grandpa would appreciate that. And i get where he was coming from, now more than ever. i wonder if Booger Ridge was his Gilligan's Island... i figure it must have been... 'Cause he's too much here with me for it not to have been.

And Mom and Grandma... For the first time in my life, i give a shit whether or not you're proud of me. And you have a right to be. Hope you are. i don't say this lightly... My reasons for feeling this way have always been out of respect for you. A deep and profound respect... i've pretty much always figured that i'm gonna cuss in everyday conversation. And hearing them words just ain't something you ever needed to hear. 'Specially coming from your first-born son and grandson. But i'm gonna use them words anyway, so, out of respect, i don't say much when you're around. But you're both with me every day. Thank you for that, and thank you for so many things that matter, i couldn't begin to count them.

Charlie and Maeda... i Love You! So much. But more than just "so much". Always have. So many memories and lessons i learned with you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for teaching me about the woods and the land... And about living from both. Thank you for teaching me to live with what ya got. That has been important throughout my life. Thank you for picking the glass out of my face. Thank you for making me part of the family.

Oscar. My friend. My dear, dear friend. The things i learned with you have been with me forever. If i could count the number of times something in my life caused a deja vu with your voice in it... i'd be able to count higher than i already can. Thank you, my brother. For being with me, when i learned what being colder than a human ever should be, means. Thank you for being candid. For always being honest. For sharing when something was bugging you. And when something was amazing you. You will be amazed when you visit here. i promise. i think of you with every board i cut.

What would life be like without Barb and Bob? Don't want to think too hard about that concept... Whether you are here in person or not, your spirit is with me. Wish you were here in person right now, Barb... i need a haircut. But not a perm. And, Barb. For the record. i'm no longer too young to be cynical. Bob, you would be happy as a clam to see me here. You both would. And proud, too. Was out hayseeding a field with ten neighbors today. Looking forward to milking the neighbor's cow soon... By hand.

Tim. You're in this, too. Thanks for always being you. Honest and true. And a man of the land. Your smile and spirit are contagious. i honor both each day. Every tree i look at... And every bird. And squirrel. Thank you, brother. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

Where would i be if not for Yomunko? i may have found my match for love and respect of nature in Yomunko. And generosity of spirit. You, my brother, are special. Very, very, VERY special. i expect to learn much from you between now and then... And i expect "then" to be a lifetime from now. May i always honor your spirit... Your gift. May the things we build together be lasting, and benefit many, in profound ways. Whether they know it or not...

For those of you who have been wondering how all this is gonna go... The simplest way to describe it is like this... i have been reborn. Reborn of spirit and body. i literally get to do something that mankind has been chasing since mankind was able to wax philosophically... i get to "do it all again knowing what i know now".

And that, my friends, is waaaaaaaayyyyy bigger than anybody who isn't living it can imagine. Trust me. i've thought about it conceptually for as long as i've had a rational brain... To experience it literally... Is more profound than even i ever dreamt.

Take the high road in all you do. Create goodwill every day. Invest in Karma.

From GIN...

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Soul On The Sidewalk

i rang in 2011 on the sidewalk of 16th Street. Dancing and laughing with Donnie Davis. Bluesman. Out of Lexington, Kentucky.

Donnie busted me a note on his harp. And i returned the gift with a free-boogie get-down. There were a couple dozen people milling around close by, but it was just me and Donnie in our own little universe. Both deeply happy to meet the other and share some bits about life...

i got The Blues in Nashville. Sitting around out back of a barbecue joint with some old black men. Donnie got his in reverse. His came from a bunch of old white men. He's gonna be sixty-six this year, and i was born in sixty-six. i told him we're gonna be sixty-six together.

Donnie's a sharp dresser. He's a walking ensemble of handcrafted jewelry and accessories. And he told me the story of each one. Me? i was wearing a jacket i made. With a big furry arm. Quite the pair, he and i. Wish i had a picture of the two of us standing there... One older black gentleman dressed with a distinguished style... And the other looking like something out of a cartoon. NICE!

Here's to you, Donnie Davis! Thanks for sharing, my brother. You keep blowing that thing... And keep walking your walk, my man.