Vilcabamba, Water & Mountains

My dear and adventurous momma has been visiting me for the past few weeks in Ecuador, and for the last five days, we have been treating ourselves to a mini vacation within a vacation. We came to the small town of Vilcabamba in the way South of the country to hike, horseback ride, drink the famous water (which takes some of the credit for the common yet extraordinary lifespans of 100 years plus in this village), and relax at our hotel/spa, Madre Tierra. Each day we have been gifted a plethora of surprises and life affirming experiences... otherwise called challenges, yet for the two of us, we have been drinking them up with smiles and laughter.

Yesterday was to be the nice, moderately simple 5 km hike through the local national park, Podacarpus. We arose early, delighted in our full breakfast of eggs, hardy toast, fresh tropical juice and coffee on the veranda of our philodendron bordered hotel, and took a taxi to the trail head. We confidently set off into the cloud forest as the thick white water systems above drizzled upon our non-rain coated heads. Soon the trail was a straight up climb through muddy bogs and dripping moss covered trunks, our humble footwear gingerly guided around the wettest parts. Within an hour, we had reached the first razor peak and could only see the others peeking like giant green teeth out of the mounting cold weather front. Presumably, the trail went along the ridge, which was literally no more than a thin spine with both sides falling away dramatically into green jungle. Signage was not part of the deal. The only map we had was a non-topographic pamphlet acquired at the entrance gate and even it was quickly disintegrating with the onslaught of high winds and rain. Nearly soaked through already, we forged ahead, puddle hopping and me still stopping to ooo and ahh at cool high altitude flowers and even pull my camera out to capture images.

An hour and a half later, we had not found the connecting trail to make the loop back down the mountain. Officially sopping wet and unsure of our location at this point, we turned back, knowing how far we had to go to get back to our hero at the bottom of the trail (the taxi driver, Manuel). With only a half a bottle of water, a cell phone that was not getting reception, the wet rag of a map, and my tobacco pouch to leave offerings to the high mountain spirits, we didn't want to risk becoming another statistic. The brutal descent was full of slips and muddy butts, and much conversation of how lucky we are to even have legs and healthy bodies to do such a crazy hike. Raisins and chocolate awaited us in my backpack in the car. We dried out, had wine with dinner that night, and woke up today in order to take another incredibly treacherous climb into the Andes... except the horses we rode did all the real work.

Overall, this enchantingly beautiful valley is just that. They get plenty of rain, but the town has been without water for weeks as the systems to catch and deliver that precious water are not as dialed in as we all are used to. The streets are small and cute and everything is cheap, but I don't see any of your faces here. Once again, I admit, I miss you guys... The more I travel the more I realize how much I love my family and friends, and how radically blessed I am to have all of you amazing individuals in my universe.

Mi Vida en el Sur

Hola Familia far and wide!

As many of you already know, I am now staying for a spell in the city of Cuenca, Ecuador, studying Spanish in a school for gringos like me and carrying on with what I love to do... write, read, examine the beautiful details of this often overstuffed world, socializing with odd and interesting and sweet individuals... My introduction into this town and its culture has felt as slow as the flow of cool lava, but really, some beautiful things have happened in a very short time. Today, for instance, I visited a 400 meter waterfall in the valley below, hiking about 3 miles up hill to arrive at its thundering base, and got drenched by the blessings of its mist which created winds strong enough to blow your body around playfully.

To be honest with you all, I miss home. Here in Cuenca, I have the beautiful cobblestoned streets and picturesque buildings and tid-bits of my beloved reamls, but clearly there is more to life. That is, friends, family, roots, purpose. As my main purpose here is to immerse myself in Spanish, I do feel good in that respect and am studing and practicing my butt off. Also, I started volunteering yesterday with a social center here in town and will be teaching group of children art and leading craft projects a few times a week. Granted, that is in alignment with my goals. Yet in this increadibly important time in the history of our world and civilization, I can´t help feeling like I´m on an island, self-assigned, that is, and farther away from the people and projects I need to be involved in than feels right.

So I do what any sane, creative person would do in this situation. I breathe, I write children´s stories in Spanish, I walk a lot by the river, I ask unique questions to see what I can discover, I keep going, and I talk to people about interesting, important subjects such as water, air, respect, humor, and truth... even if they have no idea what I´m talking about! Am I one of those crazy wise people, roaming the earth? I take heart in the endearing term they have for women (and men for that matter) such as I down here in South America, which is Bruja, loosely translating to witch. Someone is a bruja if she uses plants as medicine, talks to the birds and trees, sings, dances and dresses as she pleases, and always seems to have a marvelous bundle of secrets that are anyway more useful in their clandestine sachel than shared with simply curious seekers. And I would add, has at least one cat... Which is just what I´m missing!!! I can´t wait to get settled enough again to have a kitty and my doggie back! Well, I can wait, actually, but it´s always nice to know that there is uncomplicated yumminess in your future.

Blessings and Beaming in your direction...

Rainbow Brightness Handcrafts

Quite a happy-go-lucky name, I know, but as of now, Rainbow Brightness Handcrafts is the official name for my jewelry business. I've discovered another name that seems more ripe for a cooperative of artists and crafters, Hands of My Sisters, or Manos de Mis Hermanas in Spanish, yet am still seeking guidance as to how that name is going to grow into an entity. There are many ideas in my noggin from a childens daycare to a fair-trade import/domestic art consortium to a skill share network to an affordable massage center catering to a bi-lingual community. Clearly, most of these ideas would require one (me, that is) to settle down in one place and not be traveling about like a gypsy. But all in good time...

Anyway, while I have been slightly settled over the past few months, I have been creating jewelry to sell to support my next travels, my current needs, etc. Have a look at some of the current masterpieces!

Nesting into the chilly days

I am blessed to be house and dog sitting for a friend in Fairfax for a few weeks. The crows and finches keep me company during the alternating days of sun and mist. Afternoons in fall are dear to my heart, especially in Marin County where I first experienced and explored this season. Everything seems content, all of the color changing leaves, the bohemian houses, the neighborhood moms going about their daily pathways. It is all comfortable to me, yet I cherish it all at an odd arms length. I observe the tranquility of the safely decorated porches and conveniently warm coffee shops as if I am looking into a perfect catalog. Don't get me wrong. I love it all with a blanket of gratitude so thick it is sometimes painful. It's just that it is all so incredible, this world. That people and their communities live with such different resources and realities all around the world is a fact that often dumbfounds me. I have only seen a handful of the streets and boroughs around the globe, but I've seen a varied group of them, from unassuming palaces to urine soaked temple steps to homegrown squatted cooperatives. Lately, I have felt sort of stricken with a silence based on all of the input into my mind. What do I say about all of it? Why do I have such an urge to keep seeing and experiencing these different faces of the planet, and more importantly, what is the purpose of my exploration? Compelled to make something of what I have collected in my psyche, to collage together the gifts I have been given in this life, I ask these questions to the universe and to myself.

Paradoxes

Paradoxes abound in this life. I must live knowing that the moments of today or this week could be my final moments in this body, functioning and making choices from that particular platform, while simultaneously I behave with the foresight that I may live another 5, 10, 52, or 99 years in this body. I am called to be both present and directly alive, while also patient, persistent, and allowing a subtle, tree-like growth pattern. Similarly, my roots continue to grow deeper into the earth, grounding me into this body, this physical realm, and my relation with things of this earth. Yet ironically I am traveling and moving so much lately that I cannot even establish a garden of my own in which to grow roots! So a spark of truth illuminates in this paradox... I get to see where my true roots are growing... into and from my heart that is. My sense of center and my connectedness to the source that is endlessly abundant is not dependent on external things, one example being a situated home. (Okay, now I've got it and I can stop traveling and settle down! Haha just kidding, my beloved parents!)

And so I walk these lines with a sense of wonder. A sense of wonder because it is all so beautiful and mysterious how it all balances, all of Creation like a swirl of oil and water. Building my awareness helps me walk though time. The garden metaphor works well for me as I see that what I am doing is tending to my garden, which is in essence nurturing the desired plants and not helping the weeds! I sometimes feel good and clear, and sometimes I can't make sense of it all. But that's okay. The great story is not one to be "figured out" like a containable equation. Each day there is the witnessing of more birth and more death. The palpable force of our attention is a sword and a chalice, too. As a sword, this attention beams onto others and the environment around us, and there are effects, consequences of where we shine this piercing force of our attention. Also, it behaves as a chalice as we collect and receive that which we put our attention upon. This profoundly intricate process of relating the interior with the exterior is tremendous in the way it reflects and ricochets, like a beam of light pointed into a hallways of mirrors. We create what we see. We become what we focus on. We perpetuate what we hold in our minds. What do I want to put my attention on? This is the question I keep asking myself as I walk this road. This is my medicine.