five things deliciously creepy

when i moved in to my house over 10 years ago in mid-october, many neighbors stopped by to warn be to BE PREPARED for halloween. get LOTS of candy. TONS of trick-or-treaters will come! 

and it's true. this is a crazy-for-halloween neighborhood. since mill valley is quite hilly, the "hill people" come down to the flat neighborhoods for easier door-to-door access (ie - more candy!). and many folks from other towns come here, too, for the safe environment. walnut street, just a few doors away, is the epicenter for the younger children who stock up on treats while the parents are often offered a wet treat, if you know what i mean. and sycamore, just a block away, is for the older kids -- dark and scary under all the giant sycamore trees. later in the evening, the teenagers gather at the nearby 7-11, with cop cars circling to make sure it doesn't get out of hand. 

halloween is really the only night of the year when the younger generation RULES! as in, the rules go out the window. this one night is for the young. electrifying. perilous. wild. can you feel it?

1. halloween celebrations around the world

2. scary samhain to you

3. eat, drink and be scary: free download!

4. doggies like to wear costumes, too

5. free halloween music

piddle-free zone

 

daisey. she is my love. her full name is princess daisey mae. i did not name her, she came to me at age 2. and i really don't know what i would have done without here these last eight years. she has been with me during the toughest times in life ... consistent, loving me with those adoring eyes. she is my family. 

and the rest of my family -- my brother and his clan -- now live in utah. so that's where we're going for thanksgiving. thanksgiving has always been the most important holiday for our family, and we celebrate it well. always super fun, low stress. we play games, hang out, walk, and of course, eat! 

but since my brother is in an almost brand new house, he and his wife really want to keep it nice. as in, no peeing on the carpets! i don't think they're worried that i'll do that ... no, but my little adorable furry friend does have a piddly accident now and again. or maybe it's not really an accident, maybe it's because she's miffed about being left too long, or not had enough walks this week, or ... not sure. i'm not a doggie psychologist! 

anyway, daisey was almost NOT invited for thanksgiving. but how could i celebrate well without MY family? so after some negotiating, she is coming with me. but we're just a month away now. and i want to make sure my sister-in-law's carpets stay nice and dry!

daisey's new, portable, soft-sided crate just arrived in the mail, and i'm feeding her treats in it. trying to get her to like her new digs. (but my burly cat roux seems to prefer the cozy space. he kind of rules the roost around here.)

anyway ... i am in need of some serious anti-piddling advice! anyone a dog-whisperer out there? it's all in the name of good family relations! 

photoflow: the faceless portrait

 

hiking an unrenovated, desolate portion of the great wall of china, i made this portrait of my german boyfriend thorsten. i LOVE this photo. have it framed in my kitchen (even though we stopped dating years ago). 

i find this image speaks volumes about thorsten:

1. strong: just look at that frame, that physique, tall and sturdy, those lean tree trunk legs.

2. mountain man: he uses that body to get out in nature and climb high (he also runs long distance and cycles up big hills).

3. intrepid traveller: he loves visiting new places, experiencing new cultures and foods (and has lived in the states over 10 years).

4. off the beaten path: this guy marches to his own drum (has a pierced ear and plays electric guitar).

5. relaxed: his hand reveals his relaxed nature (even though he's very hardworking and ambitious).

that's a lot of information for one photo. and you can't even see his face!

and that is exactly the point: you do not need to show someone's face to show many things about her/him. showing the back may reveal even more than the face. the face can distract us from seeing all the rest there is to see of someone. 

but not everyone agrees on this point. 

i was going to accompany thorsten home to germany for christmas, and considered giving this photo of thorsten to his mother. i hemmed and hawed. not sure she would like a photo of her son without seeing his face. i consulted my dad -- of the parental generation -- who very much appreciated photography. he said, go for it, it's a great photograph. 

so i gave it to thorsten's mom for christmas. she did not get it. no oooos and ahhhhhs. no "great photo," nicht. just a polite thank you. (she didn't get me, either, but that's another story.) 

some people expect to see faces in portraits. but i am reminded to photograph the "rear view" for a change ... to see what else there is to see of someone. 

Often while traveling with a camera we arrive just as the sun slips over the horizon of a moment, too late to expose film, only time enough to expose our hearts. 

~ Minor White

monday memories / RTW trip: hugging hills and yaks

while i have my around-the-world photos out from their usual home in the garage, i think i’ll continue telling some more stories from that adventure. after the last post about thailand ...

flying into kathmandu from bangkok was like entering a completely different planet. (and we hadn't even gotten to india yet ... i know i keep saying that. india is a different universe altogether!) kathmandu in january: misty, dark, mysterious, ancient, impoverished, damp. we had to spend about a week gaining our bearings, figuring out which trek to do, getting all the necessary official papers and permits, paying fees, gathering gear. 

before our RTW (round the world) departure, curt and i had set up a very loose itinerary which we gave to our friends and family, including the american express offices in each country we were to visit. back in the days before email and cell phones, amex offered locations for mail and packages to be held for travellers. so out in kathmandu one day, searching for the office, i spied a young western traveller coming toward me on the sidewalk. i stopped her and asked her if she knew where the american express office was located. she pointed me in the right direction, and we went our separate ways, not knowing that moment began a long and deep friendship. 

a few days later, karin was on the bus to pokhara with us along with her bf chris, another young couple from canada, and a load of nepali people. the six of us became instant friends, all on the same adventure: trekking the 21-day annapurna circuit. but first, we had to survive the treacherous eight-hour, gut-wrenching, brain-jostling bus ride. the road from kathmandu (capital city) to pokhara (second city) was virtually the only road in nepal, and much of it wasn't paved. our bus looked like it had been through a war, but many didn't make it, evidenced by rusted busted bus parts strewn down the mountain cliffs. harrowing. but we survived. 

one night in the idyllic, lakeside village of pokhara (where i left my whole fanny pack -- wallet and passport inside -- at a store, and later retrieved it from a gentle woman who would have had a year's worth of income had she stolen my cash) and we started our trek.  

fortunately we were young, strong and fit. even so, our six-some dwindled to a four-some just a few days in ... canadian christine suffered terrible headaches, nausea and sleeplessness due to altitude. her system just couldn't acclimate, so they had to turn around. you can't mess with mother nature, especially around the highest peaks on earth. karin, chris, curt and i heaved onward and upward. 

elevation in METERS, not feet!the annapurna circuit was and still is the most popular trekking route in nepal. easy to navigate without a guide(though i would get one now, to learn more about the culture), from tea lodge to tea lodge, each equipped with shared bunk rooms, filtered water, people from all over the world, decent food (even "beritos" and "vejjie bergers" -- though curt consistently chose the local daal bhat 3x/day). and yet, we were alone on the trail most of the time. the scenery varied from lush terraced fields -- lemon trees, almost tropical -- to monkeys swinging through forests, to barren hillsides and mountains, to bleak desolate villages, to the ultimate peaks reaching the heavens. 

these paths and trails we walked on every day were the "freeways" of the nepali. they had to carry everything they needed in their villages on their backs, usually with a tump line strapped around their foreheads. crates of eggs, canned goods, coke bottles!, firewood, etc etc etc. and usually, the locals were barefoot. or in the simplest footwear. the calf muscles on these folks! you could tell the professional sherpas -- they sported expensive hiking boots. 

we learned early on, "hug the hill" (not me-hill, the mountain-hill). on one particularly treacherous 5-foot-wide trail along a rock face, along came a yak train which i mistakenly got on the outside of (as in, NOT hugging the hill), staring down a 200-foot sheer drop. adrenaline surging, i had to hug the yaks to stay on the trail. even though they are huge/scary/smelly creatures, they were less scary than my other choice. hug the hill, definitely. but when in doubt, hug a yak! (i did not make that mistake again. when i saw a yak train coming our way, i just found a safe place to pull over, hug the hill and wait for the beasts to pass.)

only wealthy nepali can afford to ride horseback to their marriage ceremony 

i didn't know a lick about nepali/buddhist/tibetan culture or religion. chris did, though, and kept us well informed, and he's good with maps, too. so many hours to talk while we walked. (such a blessing to have so much TIME to just be with people). but my interest in spirituality of all kinds and the religions of the world has grown since then. had i known then what i know now, i would have been spinning these prayer wheels at every opportunity!

curt is very strong (he carried a huge backpack so i could carry only a daypack), but has a weak tummy. he got sick pretty much in every country. this time, it was bad. the daal bhat eventually got to him. or maybe some unclean water. on about day 6 he was in a bad, bad way. so sick that while entering a village late in the afternoon, he didn't even manage to get off the main trail and dropped trou, as in, had diarrhea right then and there, on the trail. kinda like shitting on someone's front steps. we stayed in that village for three nights while curt lay in bed moaning and groaning and felt like he was going to die. i was sad to see them go, but karin and chris trekked on. i nursed curt in a little ramshackle dark, dusty room. we didn't have much in the way of medications, so we just had to wait it out. and waited. and waited. 

but he came back to strength. we hiked along the spectacular kaligandaki gorge where a dog found and followed us for three days (helping curt? he missed his dog so. perhaps this furry friend bolstered him.) we made it all the way up to the desolate, eerie muktinath, finding our stride. we missed our friends karin and chris who were ahead of us on the trail. we loved having them as hiking partners, and wanted to catch up. 

we kept up a good clip, walked long days. we thought we could make it to tatopani, the next village on the map, where we might find our friends. darkness came and we kept walking (not smart). we reeeeeaaaaallllly wanted to get there. curt's feet were bleeding. i don't remember but i'm sure mine were aching, too. we arrived in tatopani, found the tea lodge and entered the open-air dining room to gasps and applause. karin and chris were there, they knew how fast we must've walked to catch up to them, and they spread the news to the other travellers. we recieved a standing ovation by all! celebrated well and rested the next day. 

rest and laundry day, with karin

a few more days walking and we made it back to pokhara. where we both got sick. really sick. as in, all orifices exploding at once (vomit and diarrhea, the combo pack). fortunately, we had a private bath with western toilet. thank god! (and thank god i was the one with the camera, no photos of sick hilly here!)

 back in kathmandu, we enjoyed ourselves. lattes and pastries at the pumpernickel cafe ... 

 curt got a shave which he still talks about to this day ... 

we felt like heroes, having survived our own trek!

little did we know what was in store for us in india ... 

~~~~~

lessons learned: always hug the hills! stay alert,  for the next person you meet may just become a dear friend. 

+++++ 

postscript: karin and i are still friends, 20 years later. we still joke to each other "do you know where the american express office is?" she's super crafty and taught me how to make greeting cards, planting the seed that was to become eyechai. now she's busy with bigger things ... she and chris got married and just had a baby boy! but their little guy hasn't dampened their wanderlust ... they've taken him camping in botswana, namibia, iceland, and nevada!

five things on kindness

yesterday over at picture fall, the assignment was to photograph how i was serving up kindness to others. and then my contractor/friend showed up with 11 beautiful eggs from his little farm. first thing in the morning, i received this lovely gesture of kindness. thank you, brian!

so today, i'm practicing kindness by highlighting five folks who are dishing up all kinds of krazy kindness:

1. cultivating kindness and compassion, with seven practices

2. free kindness downloads for practicing random acts

3. kindness in a simple but important gesture

4. christine kindly offering 100 of her books in random places all over the world 

5. on cranes and kindness

anxiety girl

so what started as a minor job replacing a few old drafty and leaky windows is possibly becoming a big kitchen remodel. and maybe converting part of the garage into an art studio. and changing all the little things that bug me around here. and anxiety girl is coming out to play! 

i know, i know. i am fortunate to even be able to consider this kind of financial monster.

but that's just it. monster. my anxiety monster. she really can make me crazy if i'm not careful!

windows. moulding. wiring.

back in my 20s and 30s, i just thought i had an inordinate amount of energy. everyone thought i was superwoman. heck, i thought i was superwoman! i. did. a. lot. big things. triathlons. competitive sports. high adrenaline climbing up huge rocks and jumping into rivers. moving across the country to a new job not knowing a soul. running toward wildfires with my camera when everyone else was running away. that kind of thing. and i never could tolerate caffeine. it just makes me want to crawl out of my skin. and i thought i just had inner "energy."

but i now realize that it's called ANXIETY. and mine gets triggered quite easily. maybe something to do with early trauma. so my nervous system gets revved. and i have to work to calm myself down.

paint colors. doorknobs. light switches.

over the past few years, i've learned a few tricks: taking a bath. yoga. running. holding a pillow. lying down beneath heavy blankets. rubbing my legs and ankles in a downward motion, or rocking my feet from toe to heel on the floor. anything to ground the energy. and get back in my body instead of up in my head. 

countertop. gas or electric. hinges. 

this could be fun. creating lovely spaces. just how i want them. and spaces affect how i live. Life!

so i'm working with my anxiety girl a lot right now. 

and if you have any great anti-anxiety tips (except drugs), i'm all ears. 

because instead of feeling like a bunch of crossed wires in a dark sky, i'd like to feel like a bird flying through the air. clear and free. 

breathe ... 

photoflow: fresh perspective

when in need of a fresh perspective ...

give a kid your camera!

on a film production last summer in france and spain, i worked alongside 6 kids ranging from 9-19 (yes, i’m old enough to consider 19-year-olds “kids”). three actors, a set designer, a sound recordist, and a musical director/camera assistant -- these are some talented kids! sometimes they almost outnumbered the adults (we were 6 – 14 adults, depending on the day) on this heavenly film shoot. 

one long day shooting in the middle of a vast hay field in northern spain -- during a lull in the work -- i let 11-year-old beth borrow my camera. didn't pay any attention to what she was shooting. only to find this when i got my camera back:

i love this shot, such a quiet moment captured. and the tilt just adds to the interest, bringing the moment inward, toward nicoletta who usually had to act tough (she played the beautiful villain in the film). beth reminded me that WE CAN TILT HORIZONS with fabulous results!

i was schooled for so long -- both in school and working as a photojournalist -- to get my horizons absolutely straight, perfectly horizontal. in fact, i recently posted a tilted horizon photo on facebook, and one of my former colleagues messaged back to straighten that horizon! but i'm all about breaking the (silly, constricting) rules these days. 

toward the end of the shoot, with so much work behind us, we were in great need of a party. fortunately cinematographer kyle's birthday came at just the right moment. beth's younger brother arty (or was it beth again?) borrowed my camera during a festive dinner at the home of the filmmakers. and this was the result:

seeing in a completely different way than i usually see. and right on ... capturing the jovial moment: playful richard, the distinctly euro-feel of the meal, breadcrumbs and all. maybe it was just that arty -- if it was arty --sat a little lower than i normally sit, so he saw THROUGH the wineglass. whatever. the result reminds me to bend my knees, get lower, or higher, or from the side, or anything other than how i usually see from my 5'9" viewpoint. 

these young people taught me so much that summer. just one of the things they taught me was how so see. with a fresh perspective.

While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see. 

~Dorothea Lange

monday memories / RTW trip: no turkey in thailand

while i have my around-the-world photos out from their usual home in the garage, i think i’ll continue telling some more stories from that adventure. after the last post about bali ...

we walked across the malaysia/thailand border. that was weird. no man's land for a few hundred yards. then after a harrowing minibus ride overnight from the border of malaysia, we made it to a perfect little island. away from the touristey phuket, ko samui and ko pipi, we found ko lanta. off season. pretty much deserted. as in, no full-moon parties (one can only imagine the insanity!). lovely.

we stayed in a place that was “closed” but – in gracious thai style -- they allowed a few folks to stay anyway. an interesting couple from port townsend and an aussie couple.

we arrived on thanksgiving (my very favorite holiday). and we arrived provisions in hand. we hadn't been able to find a turkey so we bought chicken. no sweet potatoes so bought white potatoes. no regular string beans so bought those long asian string beans. at the beach bungalow, we were told we needed to find the chef and ask permission to invade his sacred, sand-floored kitchen and cook up the thanksgiving feast. this young chef eyed us up and down – you know how chefs are – and grudgingly turned over his kitchen to us. we prepared the feast, and invited everyone staying there to join in. so the six tourists (we say “touri”) and the three local guys caretaking the hotel, including the chef, regaled at our meal. it was a great, right up there with all-time perfect ambiance, company and food.

from the islands we headed up to bangkok ... to the blare of tuktuks and the first masked people i ever saw because of the pollution. pretty overwhelming after the harmony and balance of bali and ko lanta. but we were two months into our trip and getting our travellers’ “sea legs” by now. curt dove into the thai spicey food, sweat dripping down his face, savoring the pad thai and gai pad graprow (chicken with holy basil) dishes. i had read a one-liner in our lonely planet guidebook about a monastery that offered an herbal detox process for people hooked on the ever-prevalent and highly addictive opium and heroin from up north. decided i had to go there to see for myself. a journalistic bug, if you will. left curt in the city -- the only time we separated during our whole 10-month journey -- and headed to wat thamkrabok 130km north of bangkok.

the monastery was spectacular, in a rough, primitive way. huge buddha statues gazed down on the tranquil paths and the dark-brown robed monks -- mountain monks -- who use no transportation. walk everywhere. eat once a day at 7am. hard core. i think they're like the navy seals of monks (at least that's what i understood from my guide). but peaceful at the same time.

the receptionist monk wrangled up the only english-speaker to give me a tour. my monk guide was american. huge. hailed from new york, his bronx accent still strong. said he had been a mercenary before coming to the monastery to change his ways, 18 years prior.

i was in awe of him, a little fearful, and thrilled. i’m walking with an ex-mercenary-turned-monk, i thought. it was like a dream. hard to take it all in.

as we walked, at one point i swayed into him – you know, the way you do walking with someone -- brushing his shoulder with mine. he said, a monk may not touch a woman, with a half-smile -- still serious -- whispering, that’s the most fun i’ve had in 18 years. i stayed three feet away after that. didn’t want to mess with this guy.

he showed me the monks’ life, sitting on rocks, chipping away at stones or carving huge buddhas. breaking down and building up. a perfect metaphor for the addicts there for drug detox.

the recovering addicts stay in a secluded dormitory for the first 5 days where they ingest a secret herbal potion morning and evening which causes immediate vomiting. they also take herbal pills and drink special herbal tea. and twice daily, they leave their seclusion to walk across the grounds to endure HOT herbal steambaths. cold turkey detox. i didn't have much access since i wasn't with a big news organization, but i did see the procession to the steambath. here are more images of the process, if you can "stomach" it. the monks have been delivering this detox process since 1959 for over 100,000 addicts. apparently they have a high success rate.

after bangkok, we headed up north to the enchanting, lush, mountain region of chaing mai and smaller chaing rai ... and the thai portion of the golden triangle. from idyllic mae hong son, we left on a seven-day hill-tribe trek.

our group was led by the lovely burmese man leung.

we walked all day, entering a village in the late afternoon.

we stayed in local homes – one-room bamboo homes on stilts -- the animals live underneath. no electricity. no running water (thus the little dirty faces everywhere).

we ate and slept with the families, scattered on the bamboo floor.

our first night after dinner, sitting around the fire INSIDE the bamboo house (how do they not burn them down?), a very old woman entered and made her way to a dark corner of the room. leung went off in the dark after her, then returned. one by one, people went into her corner, then returned. turns out she was the opium dealer in town. as it was described to me, she lay on her side with a candle and the opium pipe on the floor. for a small price, anyone could go and lay down next to her, facing her. she would stoke the pipe and keep it going while they smoked, she took turns. many of the others in our group tried it. me? are you kidding? i wasn’t going anywhere near the stuff. no curiosity at all, not after what i’d seen at wat thamkrabok.

every evening in each village, someone would enter after dinner and offer opium in a dark corner. leung seemed to like it. i was afraid he was becoming addicted, if he wasn’t already.

only one night did we camp out, in the jungle. leung made all the cookware, tea kettle, serving spoons, and chopsticks out of bamboo! then cooked the meal. we ate off of big leaves. the whole trek ... amazing.

after saying goodbye to our new friends, we found another little village where we’d heard several peace corps workers were living. they invited us to stay for christmas and enjoy the turkey they'd been fattening up for months. we remembered our turkey-less thanksgiving and were quite tempted ... but we wanted to keep moving to get to nepal. 

so we headed out of the hills, this time on the top of a bus, soaking in the tropical air, the floral scents, the late afternoon sun ... no fear, just contentment. we were real travellers now. we could handle pretty much anything. we could get around. we were safe. having fun. learning. making all kinds of friends. having all kinds of experiences. in. the. world. free.

ps - i apologize for all the photos of curt. he's just so dang photogenic! 

~~~~~

lessons learned: cook for the locals. just say no. ride on top of buses whenever possible. 

+++++

ok, i'm cooking thai food tonight! 

 

five things to love

 

chile love: the chilean miners are safe and sound above ground! and the whole world cared!

adya love: today is the LAST DAY to register for a 2011 retreat with adyashanti (my teacher). pure truth and love. no bs allowed. 

chicken love: wow chicken temple in portland, designed by the wow multi-talented lubosh cech.

l'amour: fall into the haute-loire, france, with my pal manny and her beautiful daughter beth.

chakra love: had to get one of these divine heart chakra pendants by tulku. helping me keep my heart open. (even made the cute checkout guys at whole foods stop and stare.)

 

wisdom words: abundance

 

i know something about abundance today. 

yesterday, i was honored to have my guest blog post appear on shuttersisters.com

shuttersisters is the best place out there there for people who want to learn and grow and share, about photography and about Life. every day when i browse around shuttersisters, i learn something new, see a different perspective, am inspired.

thank you to the official "shuttersisters sisters" for calling me an "honorary sister", and to all shutter sisters everywhere, for being my tribe. i am abundantly blessed to have found you, and look forward to much, much more.

photoflow: focusing on the heart

 

only recently did i realize that i could make out-of-focus photographs.  am i the last person on the planet to get this?

maybe i just took too many photography classes. or lingering in the back of my mind is the hell i’d have to pay my photo editor ... if the decisive moment was not TACK SHARP. old habits die hard. i’ve been out of photojournalism for 13 years!

so in july, i took my first out-of-focus-on-purpose photo. then promptly forgot about it.

then just last month, i remembered. i. can. make. a. photograph. out. of. focus. on. purpose.

WOW! the freedom! the freedom to reveal what is in my heart.

i’m learning that i can go both ways ... one part of me wants everything just-so, linear, balanced, orderly, straight, crisp, organized, controlled, and in focus ... HEAD.

and another part of me longs for soft, dreamy, evocative, ambiguous, unclear, hints, gentle, smooth, free, and out of focus ... HEART.

sometimes the crisp, sharp focus feels right. other times i want softness. out of focus on purpose. or even by accident!

and it’s ok, it’s ok to have both, to be both. we are creatures with heart and head. one is not better than the other.

but to be able to express what is in my heart, realizing that i can “break the rules” of photography that have been so ingrained in me? this is freedom.

in experimenting with out-of-focus, i have found that it works better if i front-focus, as in, if i place the focus (since the focus ring needs to go somewhere) in front of the subject – toward me – rather than behind the subject. this brings the focus point out of the frame, while leaving the subject not too out of focus. i have found that when i back-focus (placing the focus behind the subject), and get the right out-of-focusness on the subject, often something in the background stays in focus which is not what i want. i usually want it all to be out of focus, but not too much. too much can create completely indefinable blobs. which could work, too, but that’s not what i’m after these days.

following the freedom path, i would love to hear how you are becoming free, in photography and/or in life?

this one is backfocused (on the water), and i think it works in this case. i am free to break my own rules!

When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs.  When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence. 

~Ansel Adams

monday memories / RTW trip: harmony & balance

while i have my around-the-world photos out from their usual home in the garage, i think i’ll continue telling some more stories from that adventure ...

we started our around-the-world tour in october 1990, leaving from our home in portland and flying waaaaaay across the pacific to taiwan, our first stop. i had a friend living there at the time who was waiting for us at the airport. and waiting, and waiting, and waiting. we had decided only a month before to take this grand tour, talk about impulsive (me, not curt)! and in our frantic preparations to start our journey, we (probably my idea, again) had neglected to get visas for taiwan. oops! and in that ancient time before cell phones, there was nary a thing we could do, quarantined in the holding area, to alert my friend. so onward we ventured on the next leg of our flight to singapore. 

singapore is a great place to start an asian adventure, easing in to the east. except that in those days, i didn’t know the slightest thing about “easing.” after our god-knows-how-many-hours-long flights, jet lag, gooey humidity, foreign beds ... i brilliantly decided to go for a run our first morning there while curt, sensible guy that he is, slept in and then waited for me at breakfast.

i ran out the front door of the ywca hostel along a road through a tropical forest, with ENORMOUS green leaves and jungle bird sounds, marveling at the exotic all around me. returned dripping in sweat, stopping at the payphone outside the entrance to call home and tell mom we had arrived safely. mom was a big talker (understatement of the century) and wanted to know all about everything. but midway through our conversation, i started feeling dizzy, and then nauseous. not wanting to worry my mom, i abruptly said i had to go, but she had no intention of ending the conversation just yet. mom, i really have to go, i don’t feel well. mom. i. have. to ...

the first thing i saw was the phone receiver dangling from its cord three feet above my face. i took in the sky, the leaves, the birds ... from the ground where i lay. i roused myself, dirt and dust sticking to my sweaty legs, arms, shirt and shorts. found curt in the dining room. curt, i fainted! he made me drink litres of water, fed me some toast. i guess all the air travel, dehydration, running, and sweating had gotten the best of me. mind you, i am not a fainter. have the constitution of a bull. but i fainted on the first morning of our big adventure. was it an omen of things to come? 

singapore was eye-opening and fun, a strange shoppers paradise, full of multi-story shopping malls. we bought a little shortwave radio and stocked up on the items we had forgotten at home. enjoyed the best indian food of our whole trip (including the time we spent in india) in the “little india” section of the city. yum! and we booked our boat trip to jakarta. no more planes for us. the budget-travel had begun.

excruciating pretty much sums up our three-day boat trip. the sleeping berths were packed with people and the stench of sea-sick vomit. we opted to stay outside on deck, along with the other budget travellers. we slept in our brand new sleeping bags on a dirty wooden deck for two nights and sat, stood, and walked on the deck for three nightmarish, long days. our time was punctuated by vendors who’d come out to sell food, but the only thing that seemed palatable to us was crackers. and the other  budget travellers? many of them were the uber-long-term-traveller-types and had gone to singapore to get medical attention for their various ailments. one guy had a bandaged ear from some weird infection. one a bandaged foot from a wound that wouldn’t heal in the moist tropical air. and more bandaged body parts paraded on deck. many of them didn’t seem like they’d washed their clothes or hair any time recently. curt and i stayed to ourselves and ate our crackers, quiet and sobered from this scene. what had we (me, again, the whole dang trip was my idea) gotten ourselves into? 

finally debarked in jakarta, off that godforsaken boat, and straight into dante’s inferno mixed in with the biggest slum and garbage dump imaginable (we hadn’t yet been to india). resilience is key on this kind of trip. we found a decent little place to stay for one night, and tickets for yet another (one day, not so bad) boat and bus to bali. 

needless to say, our trip didn’t start out as well as we’d imagined.

but bali? bali. oh bali. sweet, sweet bali.

bali was exactly what i’d imagined, only better.  we’d planned on staying three weeks in the artists village of ubud, in the mountains in the middle of the island. surrounded by terraced rice paddies, jungles, walking paths, bicycles for rent, delicious food, friendly bars, gentle people. we found a lovely and super cheap place to stay where our breakfast of tea and papaya and banana was delivered to our doorstep each morning, along with a little leaf tray holding a few grains of rice, flowers, and incense to keep the bad spirits away. we were grateful for this offering, after the journey we had taken to get there. we were in some serious need of peace and safety and serenity. 

apparently there had been a large local gathering right before our arrivel, kicking off a month-long ceremony at ubud's temple. sitting in a pretty ravine along the river at end of the main road, the open-air temple made of bamboo and flags hosted a slew of activity. every day we saw the balinese carrying trays of fruit piled high as they made their way to the temple to make offerings to the gods. and every evening, the temple gamelan rang through the jungle. at first the gamelan sounded like a lot of clanging iron; but over the weeks, it grew on me. i eventually found deep appreciation for this heavenly music.

we rented bikes and rode through the fields. we took in a shadow puppet play. made some friends. saw art. bought sarongs. went swimming. curt learned the art of balancing a papaya on his head, making the local women giggle (later in our travels we learned that only balinese women balance things on their heads). walking. eating. drinking. so peaceful. now this is how travelling is supposed to be! 

and we found better and better places to stay, closer and closer to the temple. our last place was the best, in the middle of the jungle just above the temple, complete with outdoor bathroom (walls but no ceiling!) and one daily lizard poop (the first few days we thought it was an olive pit ... weird, how did that get there?) delivered smack dab in the middle of our bed (no doubt a protest for invading his space). we spent each night falling asleep to the sacred gamelan and balinese prayers.

just before leaving ubud, we heard the month-long ceremony would close the following weekend with a procession through the village. and the reason behind the ceremonies? the balinese from ubud and neighboring villages intended to restore balance and harmony in the world (at least that was the gist as we understood it). we decided to stay another week. could use a good dose of harmony and balance before heading on to god-knows-what, god-knows-where.

perched in an open-air bar alongside the road, cold beer in hand (it was probably too early for beer, but what the heck, it was like a parade, bali-style!) we gazed at the orderly procession of color and costume and platters and platters of tropical fruit and flower offerings. first came the giant puppet, then the little boys, then the little girls, then the older boys, then the older girls, then the men, then the women ... each group wearing matching outfits. elegant. serene. festive. pious. simply gorgeous. all culminating in a grand ceremony at the temple.

did they restore harmony and balance to the world? they certainly did to my world. we spent our last night, after cleaning the “olive pit” off the bed, slumbering to the magical gamelan sounds.

 and we left the very next day.

 ~~~~~

lessons learned: research visas! don’t go running after flying! gamelan is beautiful, once you get the hang of it. always seek harmony and balance.

+++++

ever since the eat pray love phenomenon, bali has become THE destination for 30- and 40-something single women looking for love. i read an article about the new ubud, where the author saw a sign on a cash register which read: “eat pray leave.” i think they might need to hold another "harmony and balance" ceremony!

five things on the art of imperfection

i just HAD to get one of these t-shirts (only a few left!) from authenticity guru jen lee. i did not have the pleasure of formally meeting her at squam (art workshops), but when we were standing next to each other chatting among friends in the dining hall, she aptly lay her head on my shoulder -- an authentic gesture if i ever did see one.

i also just received in the mail brené brown’s heart-opening book, the gifts of imperfection. yes. i have tried for too long to be perfect, leaving me tight and bound when all i really want is to shine.

perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will perfect us when, in fact, it’s the thing that’s really preventing us from taking flight. 

authenticity: yes, please.

perfection: just say no! 

i am *truely* inspired by these women, among many others, who are embracing their imperfect selves and lives:

karen of chookooloonks fame: encouraging self-love, and the comments took me to my knees.

joy tanksley: her dance video is adorable, not to be missed.

susannah conway: who is unashamedly gloriously imperfect.

merrilee d: with healing sign, she always plays great music on her blog.

stacy de la rosa: who is replacing perfect with love.

listen up! less yang. more yin.

i cried on my yoga mat today.

first day of 30 days of yoga with marianne elliot. starting a home yoga practice. even though i signed up for a monthly membership at the local studio (they were having a deal on memberships … not much of a “deal” when you’re paying but not going). maybe this home practice will be the thing for me. i probably wouldn’t have let myself cry in a class full of people … or maybe i would have. i’m all for crying, have no problem with it. crying is just a release of energy, right?

so yeah, i cried. at the end of the almost hour-long practice. in savasana. first thing in the morning.

lying on my mat, i could hear from deep inside my body -- or my inner voice, or my soul – actually being grateful, saying: finally! you’re doing something for me! taking care of me. paying attention to me and to what I need.

sure, exercise has been spotty-at-best, of late. but it wasn’t just about moving my body. it was deeper than that. 

little tears at first, welling up. i listened to my little voice, alongside marianne’s lovely, soothing, new-zealand-accented voice.

upon marianne's suggestion and wanting to take even more care of my Self, i placed a pillow under my knees and drew my (much neglected) meditation blanket over my body. savasana. full stop. total relax. that’s when the tears spilled over my eye sockets and down the side of my face. not sobbing, just tears flowing for a bit. my trusty four-legged companion daisey came over to lick my eyes … she hasn’t learned how to bring kleenex yet.

that little voice inside is so hard for me to hear most of the time.

this time, i even talked to her. please help me to hear you better. please speak to me more loudly! please help me learn how to take better care of you. please please please.

i’m pretty rotten at relaxing. i wrote to my friend manny the other day that i’ve always wanted to be a bon vivant (bonne vivante?). good at  -- what elizabeth gilbert readily pointed out in eat pray love – that italianesque ease of “dolce far niente." the sweetness of doing nothing. but in reality, i’m no good at it. i relax the four days of thanksgiving. and when i’m sick in bed (so i don’t mind at all when i get sick, which is rarely). i have the constitution of a bull.

but this getting older thing requires gentleness. not bullishness. less yang. more yin.

i had a notecard by renée locks on my refrigerator for the longest time before the annual january fridge door cleanse. it read, “what people really need is a good listening to.” listened to. seen. heard. and i really try my best to do that for other people. have been acknowledged for being a good listener. 

may i now translate this for myself: what i really need is a good listening to. by me. 

hello hillary, can you hear me? 

photoflow: lens love

using the 50mm/1.4 ... at f/1.6

well well well. it has been about a year since my photography took a huge lunge forward. and it is all because of two marvelous creatures: the 50mm/f1.4 lens and the 50mm/f2.5 compact macro lens. yes it is. 

using the 50mm/1.4 lens ... at f/2.0

i knew i was missing something in my photographs. something in the way i was able -- or more precisely, not able -- to translate what i was seeing into tangible results. 

using the 50mm compact macro ... at f/2.5i saw it in other photographs. a serene beauty in having all but the  smallest piece of the image softly out of focus. shapes. colors. hints of information. dreaminess. 

so last october, i bought the 50mm/f1.4. then in june, i bought the 50mm/f2.5 compact macro.

you see, i used to be a photojournalist, and the pictures i made were all about spreading information. not that photojournalists' photos aren't artistic, they certainly can be. but the widest aperture i used as a photojournalist was f2.8. 

aperture (also known as f-stop) controls depth of field. as in, how much of the photograph is in focus. the smaller the aperture number, the less depth of field ... the less depth of focus. this shallow depth of field allows whatever is in front of or behind the focus-point to become dreamily out of focus. this brings our eye right to the focus-point, while seeing the rest of the image as softer shapes and colors. 

using the 50mm compact macro lens ... at f/2.5

having put photography aside for many, many years, i returned with fresh perspective, less of a photojournalist's hat on.

using the 50mm/1.4 lens ... at f/1.8

and thanks to two very talented photographers, i found the two lenses that i now use almost exclusively: 

50mm/f1.4

via heidi swanson's 101cookbooks, i discovered the 50/1.4. she displays the most dreamy food (and travel!) photography and beautifully written stories to go with each photo. heidi's recipe index of natural, whole foods keeps it real and healthy, just the way i like it. thank you, heidi, for leading me in the right direction both food-wise and photography-wise. and for sharing your photo tips

50mm/f2.5 compact macro

via tracey clark's personal site and the fantabulous shutter sisters she started, i found the compact macro. i knew i wanted a macro, and was leaving soon on a trip. i didn't even research the purchase. i saw that tracey used it, so figured it was good enough for me! and i love it. thank you tracey, for being such an inspiration, for your e-classes, for shutter sisters, for your generous ideas, words and images. 

using the 50mm/1.4 lens ... at f/1.4

The photograph itself doesn't interest me.  I want only to capture a minute part of reality. 

         ~Henri Cartier Bresson­

monday memories / RTW trip: the perfect safari

my aunt nancy (not to be confused with my birthmother nancy) left for south africa a few days ago, saying she she sure hoped her safari would NOT be anything like mine …

... my safari was twenty years ago, while travelling around the world for a year with my boyfriend. we stopped in kenya to visit with curt’s childhood friend ngugi who had since married, had two beautiful children, and was living in ngong outside nairobi. his wife and kids had never seen wild animals, so we decided to take them all on a two-day safari.

safari. just the word sent exotic images wafting through my head: karen blixen, born free, and architectural digest safari décor

the reality was, our pockets held 30-year-old’s-budget-travelers-wallets. still, i was going on safari …

we rented a jeep, two tents, and set out … along with ngugi’s baseball-bat-sized stick (tourists had recently been attacked, not by animals but by people) … intending to camp out. how naïve were we???

driving toward the masai mara, we encountered giraffes and ostrich. exciting! getting closer to a real safari! the first night we stayed in a masai campsite just outside the oloololo gate to the park. it was relatively similar to campsites at home … assigned spots, a bathroom/shower building, etc, but for the tall, lean men wearing red plaid sarongs milling about. (we heard the masai men typically did not wear underwear under their sarongs … so i, in my curious -- if juvenile -- way, wanted to see if it was true. it was.)

the next day we bumped down the dirt road south through the park. saw herd after herd of animals: antelope, wildebeest, kudu, leopard, even a lion feasting on a zebra, hyena and vultures lurking. the majesty of the land and the animals converged on one point: we humans -- not just in this game reserve but all over the world -- are on their land, the animals' land. we are trespassing on their land! so clearly and naturally, the earth belongs to the animals.

toward the end of the day, it was high time to find a campsite; we drove to the largest one we saw marked on the map in our area, only to find nothing resembling our experience the previous night.

this “campsite” consisted of an outhouse in the middle of a savannah, with trees in the distance on three sides and a dried riverbed behind us. spectacular african scenery, but still … nary a soul in sight! we decided to try one of the other two campsites nearby. each one was less impressive than the last, so we returned to the first place.

soon two masai men -- with spears -- showed up, said it was their campsite, and we needed to pay them the equivalent of $6 to stay. and for $2 more, they would sleep with us. not sleep WITH us! just sleep nearby. we promptly dug in our pockets for the additional cash. they turned and said they’d be back later, ambling away gracefully like giraffes.

after putting up the tents, curt and ngugi went scavenging for firewood, leaving me with ngugi’s wife mama-ciko (kenyan women take on the name of their first born, preceded by “mama”) and small children. traditional division of labor was seriously bugging me at this point in our travels. i was 30 and still needing to prove my i-am-woman independence. but i had to swallow my enormous pride and go with it; we had bigger things to worry about at that point. we began assembling camp, the sienna sun setting over our little piece of savannah. we were in the middle of wild africa, tiny in the grand scheme of nature. it was exhilarating! we had had the jeep between us all day. now i was feeling the nakedness of being one with nature.

unloading bags and pots and food, mama-ciko and i startled at the sight of a troupe of baboons, cackling and galloping across the far side of the field and disappearing into the trees. they seemed far enough away (about 100 yards), and i was thrilled with this brush with real safari life! mama-ciko, however, was fearful and kept the children nearby. we went about our business.

a few minutes later, however, these 12 or so waist-high baboons scampered up the riverbed and surrounded us in a circle around our little camp. mama-ciko scurried into one of the tents with the children and i deftly found our big stick. what else was there to do? one at a time, a baboon lumbered toward me, grunting. i held the stick up and, when it got closer, stabbed the air between me and it, sending the monkey to retreat to its former place in the circle. then another came at me. then another. i fended off four baboons before they all, suddenly, ran off across the field again and into the trees. the masai men had appeared on the hillcrest, thank god! i guess the baboons had “history” with the masai. regardless, we were saved (pride out the window)!

the guys returned with firewood, we ate with the masai men, and went to bed. but not to sleep. the dark night filled with ominous animal noises. ngugi got up to make another fire closer to the entrance to our two tents. he was afraid, mama ciko terrified. fortunately curt was pretty calm. my stomach was in knots. i was having my period, and was sure a lion would come bounding through our tent and devour me. the masai men did hear a lion's roar, and wanted to leave to check on their herd of cattle. no way, josé! ngugi talked them into staying … (i hope we paid them a bonus in the morning, and i hope their cattle were ok.)

morning. yes. then came morning. we had survived! spent the next day completely sobered and quiet, still driving and watching the animals. midday we came across one of those fancy tented camps (safari dream coming true??), but it was closed (sigh). desperate at that point -- and wanting nothing of a reenactment of the night before -- we found the caretaker who i pleaded with to allow us to stay in one of the enormous and luxurious walk-in canvas cabins, complete with two double beds and a private bathroom, for $50. a large sum for us, but i was primed to break the bank for some semblance of safety, and romantic safari experience! and we were able to finally relax.

sipping warm beer (better than no beer) on the stone veranda overlooking a bend in the river, all of us perched in comfy director’s chairs in the late afternoon glow. we marveled at the scenery: hippo in the river right before us. gazelle, waterbuck, oryx, fox, and even those pesky baboons at a distance on the opposite bank. we were safe. and having my ultimate safari experience, budget be damned! a spalding gray perfect moment. yes it was.

the monsoon rains poured down that night, but did we care? we were cuddled up in our grand tent. next morning the caretaker told us the hippo did some serious damage in the camp that night, while we were safe and soundly sleeping.

we made our way home to ngugi’s the following day. with stories to tell for a lifetime. and with dreams made real.

and i can’t wait for my aunt’s return to hear more safari stories. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

lesson learned: hold onto your dreams. they just may come true!

+++++

twenty years later and i still have romantic safari dreams. doesn’t everyone? the march 2008 issue of the late domino magazine featured kenya-based photographer liz gilbert (for some reason i’m enamoured by all liz gilberts) and her stylin' african nomad tent she uses travelling around the bush.

liz is now helping local kenyan women sell their stunning jewelry, and runs a straight-out-of-my-dreams lodge in kenya. dream on!

five things bringing me home

after an emotionally exhausting two weeks, my dog walk with daisey in the glimmering late afternoon october sunlight brought me back home, home to my neighborhood and my pleasant routines, and home to my self ... observing nature's changes, reminding me that i too change constantly, but that my essence and all essence remains the same. (note to self: don't wax philosophical when you're tired!)

here are five things also bringing me home, to my essence, right now:

1. my dear friend manny atkins' new blog. she's undertaking yet another HUGE ADVENTURE! get all over her site and get to know this remarkable woman, if you want to be enriched and inspired!

2. momenta workshops urges those of us with cameras to follow mahatma ghandi's words: "be the change you want to see in the world."

3. "sister" sue had her first ever art show (outside of her own home), is feeling the flow of life and was feeling so lucky she bought lottery tickets (and won $45!).

4. sat with our bright, caring pacific pioneer fund board members today at our tri-annual meeting. we gave $35K in grants to deserving, hardworking and artistic documentary filmmakers. our meetings take place at the gorgeous san francisco film society digs in the presidio. we are so lucky to be welcomed into this highly creative space! 

5. my talented and kind teacher/friend christine mason miller is offering her beautiful, inspirational book ordinary sparkling moments at a discount and giving part of the proceeds to HIV/AIDS projects in south africa. and she's throwing in 4 free notecards as a bonus, because she's generous that way.