Tuesday, 5/1/2016
Up at 6:30 to finish packing and prepping Windsong for my departure. Piled stuff in the Chevy, brought community laundry to the laundry room, took Indygo's laundry off the line. Would have done more things last night but Indygo wasn't available.
I'm happy to leave the laundry room behind. The first time I tried to wash a pile of community laundry, I didn't know I needed to open the door wide so it would hold. I also didn't know that it would lock from the outside when it closed with me inside. Hear resounding thud. Oh, shit. No! But, yeah. It was locked. And it was a dark, webby, mousy place to be stuck. I didn't have my walkie-talkie with me. Indygo might not come up here for hours, if even today! Gotta get out of here. There's a skinny-legged sink and a long, horizontal opening in the wall. Climb onto the sink, hold the ledge of the opening and see where that goes. Oh, cool. A hallway to somewhere. Okay, pull yourself onto the ledge and jump over the stuff on the floor. Indygo and Ruby enjoyed that story.
Now, I'm just getting ready to leave Outland. Bring some things to Ruby including the Suburban in case she has an emergency when she's here by herself. She says if she has to, she'll pull herself in and drive! I don't doubt her. I've not had enough time to empty the poop-pail because I couldn't open the rain barrel to wash it out. Also didn't fold the futon. Not the way I want to leave things but there is no more time. I realize a few days later that I forgot the magnet that Susan gave to me: "To dare is to momentarily lose one's footing. Not to dare is to lose oneself." Kierkegaard I need all the canned encouragement I can get. Indygo says she'll mail it to me.
The first time I meet the GF Tracy is when we're all piling into her Matrix to head out. Given my packs, I'm sure we'll bottom out on the rock river bed but she's sure we'll get through. She's right. Along the drive, Tracy relates the story of how she and Indygo met at the last MichFest. A sweet love story.
They drop me at Ruby and Juana's apartment before continuing to Albuquerque. I make calls about the Blue Bus and decide to bite the bullet and pay $55 for a shuttle to Taos. Too hard to manage the four packs on a bus.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
My Southwest Trip - The Gathering of Nations Pow Wow
Saturday, May 1
I head out for The Gathering of Nations Pow Wow with my daypack, taking nothing that the Suburban's mice will want. On my own, I get out at each gate and open, close, and lock. I drive the narrow dirt roads with the eroding arroyos ready to grab an unwarry tire and pull me down. I creep along the dry river bed, looking for the few and faded white marks that once blazed the trail and try not to bottom out. I drive by Grandmother Tree hoping she won't drop another limb. I get out to 25 South and head to Santa Fe.
Google Maps finds the Rail Runner Depot and I don't have a lot of time. I rush into the office and move rudely past a couple of Native American women. A microcosm of panic-induced carelessness for other people. I get to make up for myself when one of the women is struggling to lift her bags onto the train. I get the bags up the stairs and deliberately choose to sit across from her, hoping I might connect with her for real on the ride. We say a couple of things and then a man sits down with her. I can't figure out their relationship based on their conversation. She talks about her kids and grandkids but I don't think he knows them well.
On the train, I'm channeling Anna Boysen who travels the world easily by herself. Figuring out the transportation is big for this seldom traveler. Eventually the woman and I get talking. They are going to the Pow Wow, too, but later. They have people to see at an earlier stop. Her name is Elaine and she is hoping to find a shaman at the Pow Wow to help her with some health issues. She's had shamans since she was a child but the current one isn't helping her. She asks what brings me to the area. I tell her a few things and that I'm hoping to find some spiritual healing, too. She tells me I'm on the right path and am where I should be.
A while later we talk more and then she stops. "You're going to meet someone who will give you a bad feeling. Say nothing. Just walk away. And don't let it ruin your time here." Hmmm. Okay. I want to make sure I don't spend the day waiting for someone bad. Elaine suggests we might meet on the same train back to Santa Fe and asks if we can exchange numbers. Sure, and we do. I don't see her again because I leave earlier and she ends up not leaving until the early morning hours when the Pow Wow actually ends.
I take two city buses, both free, to get to The Pit, the venue on the New Mexico University campus. I get my ticket, one of few white people in the long line. Doesn't matter the race, it's fun to people-watch and I see much in the age demeanor and dress that is probably universal.
Inside, the stadium is packed and the usher keeps anyone from blocking stairs even if they're trying to find a seat. She thinks by 3 p.m. people will begin moving out having seen what they came for. That never happens. So, I stand for an hour and a half watching competitive dancers in many colors, designs, feathers, and beads. There are solo drummers between dance acts and on the Jumbotron I watch how their drum strike looks like one but sounds like two. The singing and the drums also remind me of the western shows and movies I grew up with. I'm amazed by the initial gut reaction of fear and difference elicited all these years later and I stare at my racism creeping out of a hole.
I ask where the vendors are and the usher points around the arena. Ruby suggested I should look for some horse energy, maybe mare's tail. I wonder if someone really sells that and how they got it. There are lots of vendors but nothing that calls to me. The first woman I see owns several horses and sells some strands of horse hair with feathers that she says mean this or that. It comes off feeling too commercial and I walk away.
I find out too late that there is at least one huge tent outside with more entertainment and vendors, including food vendors with options other than pretzels and hot dogs. Unsure how to get back to the buses I took here, I leave earlier than I would have. I call Uber after the cab wants to charge me $20 to go about five minutes to the RR station. Less than $7 later, I'm at the station. Somebody's gettin' street-wise. I never met anyone who made me feel badly so maybe it was the cabbie.
I leave messages for Kathleen, Meg, and reach Kate. I figured I'd call while I had WiFi but also don't want to feel the need to be so connected. I'm killing time in an Albuquerque noodle shop and can feel it getting cold again like last night. Since it's late and Juana gave her okay, I'm going to stay the night at her place in Santa Fe. No way do I want to drive those miles of arroyo-edged roads in the dark.
In the morning I take Juana to breakfast at Chris'. It's good and a fav of hers. We have some get-to-know you conversation, a reminder that she is generous with her time and space to have me stay over. I drive to the New Mexico History Museum on the Plaza to see the Lowrider exhibit which was a big part of Juana's life growing up. The parking is non-existent and it's raining, raw, and cold. I give up and head back to the "big box" area of town and decide to catch a movie. I see The Boss which stinks and for the first time in my life, walk into another movie without paying. I see Zootopia which I really wanted to see first. Enjoyed it.
I get the word that weather at Outland is bad. First, big rain followed by snow and the roads are impassable. Shit. Juana lets me stay with her a second night. She gets up around 3 a.m. because she's a baker -- I've tasted her delicious, melt-in-your-mouth pastry that tastes of chocolate but is a very light color. I spend too much time trying to get info on the Blue Bus to Taos on Tuesday.
Monday
Tracy, Indygo's girlfriend, had a drum fall on her head during the weekend and isn't feeling well but is putting off seeing a doctor until tomorrow. That's Tuesday when I'm heading to Taos so they'll drop me back in Santa Fe. Tracy needs a lot of time by herself or with Indygo when she's here on weekends so I've yet to meet her. I guess we'll meet on the ride out.
I head out for The Gathering of Nations Pow Wow with my daypack, taking nothing that the Suburban's mice will want. On my own, I get out at each gate and open, close, and lock. I drive the narrow dirt roads with the eroding arroyos ready to grab an unwarry tire and pull me down. I creep along the dry river bed, looking for the few and faded white marks that once blazed the trail and try not to bottom out. I drive by Grandmother Tree hoping she won't drop another limb. I get out to 25 South and head to Santa Fe.
Google Maps finds the Rail Runner Depot and I don't have a lot of time. I rush into the office and move rudely past a couple of Native American women. A microcosm of panic-induced carelessness for other people. I get to make up for myself when one of the women is struggling to lift her bags onto the train. I get the bags up the stairs and deliberately choose to sit across from her, hoping I might connect with her for real on the ride. We say a couple of things and then a man sits down with her. I can't figure out their relationship based on their conversation. She talks about her kids and grandkids but I don't think he knows them well.
On the train, I'm channeling Anna Boysen who travels the world easily by herself. Figuring out the transportation is big for this seldom traveler. Eventually the woman and I get talking. They are going to the Pow Wow, too, but later. They have people to see at an earlier stop. Her name is Elaine and she is hoping to find a shaman at the Pow Wow to help her with some health issues. She's had shamans since she was a child but the current one isn't helping her. She asks what brings me to the area. I tell her a few things and that I'm hoping to find some spiritual healing, too. She tells me I'm on the right path and am where I should be.
A while later we talk more and then she stops. "You're going to meet someone who will give you a bad feeling. Say nothing. Just walk away. And don't let it ruin your time here." Hmmm. Okay. I want to make sure I don't spend the day waiting for someone bad. Elaine suggests we might meet on the same train back to Santa Fe and asks if we can exchange numbers. Sure, and we do. I don't see her again because I leave earlier and she ends up not leaving until the early morning hours when the Pow Wow actually ends.
I take two city buses, both free, to get to The Pit, the venue on the New Mexico University campus. I get my ticket, one of few white people in the long line. Doesn't matter the race, it's fun to people-watch and I see much in the age demeanor and dress that is probably universal.
Inside, the stadium is packed and the usher keeps anyone from blocking stairs even if they're trying to find a seat. She thinks by 3 p.m. people will begin moving out having seen what they came for. That never happens. So, I stand for an hour and a half watching competitive dancers in many colors, designs, feathers, and beads. There are solo drummers between dance acts and on the Jumbotron I watch how their drum strike looks like one but sounds like two. The singing and the drums also remind me of the western shows and movies I grew up with. I'm amazed by the initial gut reaction of fear and difference elicited all these years later and I stare at my racism creeping out of a hole.
I ask where the vendors are and the usher points around the arena. Ruby suggested I should look for some horse energy, maybe mare's tail. I wonder if someone really sells that and how they got it. There are lots of vendors but nothing that calls to me. The first woman I see owns several horses and sells some strands of horse hair with feathers that she says mean this or that. It comes off feeling too commercial and I walk away.
I find out too late that there is at least one huge tent outside with more entertainment and vendors, including food vendors with options other than pretzels and hot dogs. Unsure how to get back to the buses I took here, I leave earlier than I would have. I call Uber after the cab wants to charge me $20 to go about five minutes to the RR station. Less than $7 later, I'm at the station. Somebody's gettin' street-wise. I never met anyone who made me feel badly so maybe it was the cabbie.
I leave messages for Kathleen, Meg, and reach Kate. I figured I'd call while I had WiFi but also don't want to feel the need to be so connected. I'm killing time in an Albuquerque noodle shop and can feel it getting cold again like last night. Since it's late and Juana gave her okay, I'm going to stay the night at her place in Santa Fe. No way do I want to drive those miles of arroyo-edged roads in the dark.
In the morning I take Juana to breakfast at Chris'. It's good and a fav of hers. We have some get-to-know you conversation, a reminder that she is generous with her time and space to have me stay over. I drive to the New Mexico History Museum on the Plaza to see the Lowrider exhibit which was a big part of Juana's life growing up. The parking is non-existent and it's raining, raw, and cold. I give up and head back to the "big box" area of town and decide to catch a movie. I see The Boss which stinks and for the first time in my life, walk into another movie without paying. I see Zootopia which I really wanted to see first. Enjoyed it.
I get the word that weather at Outland is bad. First, big rain followed by snow and the roads are impassable. Shit. Juana lets me stay with her a second night. She gets up around 3 a.m. because she's a baker -- I've tasted her delicious, melt-in-your-mouth pastry that tastes of chocolate but is a very light color. I spend too much time trying to get info on the Blue Bus to Taos on Tuesday.
Monday
Tracy, Indygo's girlfriend, had a drum fall on her head during the weekend and isn't feeling well but is putting off seeing a doctor until tomorrow. That's Tuesday when I'm heading to Taos so they'll drop me back in Santa Fe. Tracy needs a lot of time by herself or with Indygo when she's here on weekends so I've yet to meet her. I guess we'll meet on the ride out.
My Southwest Trip - On My Own
Friday, April 30
Nice surprise this morning - sometimes, just sometimes, the stars are aligned, the waves are in sync and a call or text can come or send! Hell for some and not so for others. I'm bundled in my parka and Bethie calls from Falmouth. So good to talk with her. Of course, she says I'm where I need to be, nothing happens without a reason, and that it takes time to settle in. The call drops.
I cook my first breakfast at Windsong; three eggs, avocado, a piece of Indygo's cornbread, and OJ. The sun is beginning to come out and still there are rain clouds all around the blue.
I'm supposed to print my Astrological chart today so Ruby can read it for me.
Ravens or crows fly even with Windsong and me on this crest. According to Ruby, either a Raven or Crow has a fan tail and the other a wedge tail but I don't recall which is which and they aren't still long enough for me to see. They tell me Ravens are believed to be ancestors.
Time to wash dishes outside with the rain barrel water.
Hail Storm 11 a.m.
Indygo and I are just about to hike in the arroyo to the mountain when I see some mean clouds moving fast. I start back up the dirt hill to check windows at Windsong and the thunder starts as the black mass broils close. I hesitate. Go back to Mi Casa or get to Windsong? Hail begins blowing sideways. I start running up the hill and get inside to close Windsong's windows. I watch the hail pile up on the deck like styrofoam balls an inch deep. I dislike that I have such
a miserable environmental association with this natural occurrence. It's still blowing horizontally. So strong. And it ends as quickly as it began, thunder still banging in the distance. Sun is melting the white covering. Blue sky in the west. We can hike now.
And hike we do wearing gloves just in case. Indygo had indicated a short hike to the Yoni Tree and Snake Rock but changes her mind to the long and round about route. I have plenty of water but would have brought more snacks! She lost a pair of gloves up here and a walking stick and hopes to recover something. The hail is still evident on the shaded side of the arroyo and between rocks. There are cool boulders, blooming cactus, and vistas along the way including an overview of Outland.
The climb is loose rock and soft clay - poor footing and my now fav hat feels like it will choke me in the wind. The steepness and poor footing puts me in mind of OLP's Devil's Hopyard. It's been a while since I was so challenged by my fear and I appreciate Indygo's hug at the top. We find Snake Rock but not without a few slide-on-your-butt moments that put a hole in my pants.
We stop at Ruby's on the way back. She's comfy reading and had fun watching the wild menagerie out her sliders. She's worried about a baby cotton-tail that seems alone. I go back a little later to pick up the latest copy of Maize. End up staying while she helps me check schedules for the Rail Runner (RR), the train that runs from Albuquerque to Taos. Incredibly inexpensive and comfortable commuter transportation! Incredibly difficult to read schedules, even for a local!
She and Indygo have talked about The Gathering of Nations Pow Wow happening in Albuquerque this weekend. But Indygo is staying here with Tracy and Ruby isn't up to the travel. I'd like to go but hesitate about taking the gas-guzzling, honkin' Suburban for my own use. Ruby tells me not to think of it that way but as a community vehicle. With her valued permission, I make plans to leave the Chevy in Santa Fe and take the RR. Ruby checks with her partner Juana to see if I can stay overnight at their apartment if it's too late when I get back. I hope she doesn't feel pressured to agree and I'd really rather get back to the land if I can.
Nice surprise this morning - sometimes, just sometimes, the stars are aligned, the waves are in sync and a call or text can come or send! Hell for some and not so for others. I'm bundled in my parka and Bethie calls from Falmouth. So good to talk with her. Of course, she says I'm where I need to be, nothing happens without a reason, and that it takes time to settle in. The call drops.
I cook my first breakfast at Windsong; three eggs, avocado, a piece of Indygo's cornbread, and OJ. The sun is beginning to come out and still there are rain clouds all around the blue.
I'm supposed to print my Astrological chart today so Ruby can read it for me.
Ravens or crows fly even with Windsong and me on this crest. According to Ruby, either a Raven or Crow has a fan tail and the other a wedge tail but I don't recall which is which and they aren't still long enough for me to see. They tell me Ravens are believed to be ancestors.
Time to wash dishes outside with the rain barrel water.
Hail Storm 11 a.m.
Indygo and I are just about to hike in the arroyo to the mountain when I see some mean clouds moving fast. I start back up the dirt hill to check windows at Windsong and the thunder starts as the black mass broils close. I hesitate. Go back to Mi Casa or get to Windsong? Hail begins blowing sideways. I start running up the hill and get inside to close Windsong's windows. I watch the hail pile up on the deck like styrofoam balls an inch deep. I dislike that I have such
 |
| Hail still in the arroyo. |
And hike we do wearing gloves just in case. Indygo had indicated a short hike to the Yoni Tree and Snake Rock but changes her mind to the long and round about route. I have plenty of water but would have brought more snacks! She lost a pair of gloves up here and a walking stick and hopes to recover something. The hail is still evident on the shaded side of the arroyo and between rocks. There are cool boulders, blooming cactus, and vistas along the way including an overview of Outland.
The climb is loose rock and soft clay - poor footing and my now fav hat feels like it will choke me in the wind. The steepness and poor footing puts me in mind of OLP's Devil's Hopyard. It's been a while since I was so challenged by my fear and I appreciate Indygo's hug at the top. We find Snake Rock but not without a few slide-on-your-butt moments that put a hole in my pants.
 |
| Cool rocks |
 |
| Blooming cactus |
 |
| Me at the rocks w/my borrowed cowgirl hat. |
 |
| Indygo in the sun |
 |
| Me post climb on the mesa |
 |
| Outland buildings in the distance |
We stop at Ruby's on the way back. She's comfy reading and had fun watching the wild menagerie out her sliders. She's worried about a baby cotton-tail that seems alone. I go back a little later to pick up the latest copy of Maize. End up staying while she helps me check schedules for the Rail Runner (RR), the train that runs from Albuquerque to Taos. Incredibly inexpensive and comfortable commuter transportation! Incredibly difficult to read schedules, even for a local!
She and Indygo have talked about The Gathering of Nations Pow Wow happening in Albuquerque this weekend. But Indygo is staying here with Tracy and Ruby isn't up to the travel. I'd like to go but hesitate about taking the gas-guzzling, honkin' Suburban for my own use. Ruby tells me not to think of it that way but as a community vehicle. With her valued permission, I make plans to leave the Chevy in Santa Fe and take the RR. Ruby checks with her partner Juana to see if I can stay overnight at their apartment if it's too late when I get back. I hope she doesn't feel pressured to agree and I'd really rather get back to the land if I can.
My Southwest Trip - Windsong
Thursday, April 28
Yesterday I started feeling that I need my own space. Time is moving and I've spent so much time working and then living with Indygo that my own time is passing me by. I'm ready. Indygo says I can have my choice of adobes, Windsong or Towhee (named after the Spotted Towhee, an orange, white, and black sparrow that feeds on the land from the brush).
Surprisingly, Towhee has a sweet feel to the round room and though it sits near the bank of the arroyo with good hiking access, I'd have to carry water farther than Windsong. And Windsong, it's as special as its name.
At the highest point of all the adobes, it has a loft and a deck with a view that looks out toward the mesas and mountains - ignore the power lines and the gray poop-pail, complete with seat, on the deck.
Here I can watch the Ravens soar, the stars shine, and the lightening strike.
I talk with Susan from my new place. I clean it out and nest, hanging my cards and tokens from friends. It makes me feel like I have my own place. I haven't felt that for so long now, just shy of two months.
Ruby cooked for us and calls me on the walkie-talkie to come down for dinner. They knew I was nesting so started without me. I shed a few tears at the table when they ask how it feels at Windsong. It feels so good to have my own space if only for a short while. Feels challenging that I'll be leaving soon for Taos.
After my call with Susan, I get ready for bed. I turn off the light and see lightening in the distance, probably south toward Santa Fe if I have my directions right. I see a drum and strike a few beats. The lone sound startles me with its bigness in the dark. I try to envision the Native American and other women who have lived in and around here over the centuries and feel their comfort.
The futon is thin and I feel every board. I wake often to a hard and steady rain in the night, smiling at the thought that earth and plants will feel nourished. Maybe we'll see some desert flowers before I leave. After one of my night-time trips outside to pee, a human action that makes me feel free, I climb the ladder and pull down the small futon from the loft to add to the folded thin one and all is well.
Yesterday I started feeling that I need my own space. Time is moving and I've spent so much time working and then living with Indygo that my own time is passing me by. I'm ready. Indygo says I can have my choice of adobes, Windsong or Towhee (named after the Spotted Towhee, an orange, white, and black sparrow that feeds on the land from the brush).
Surprisingly, Towhee has a sweet feel to the round room and though it sits near the bank of the arroyo with good hiking access, I'd have to carry water farther than Windsong. And Windsong, it's as special as its name.
 |
| Windsong deck |
At the highest point of all the adobes, it has a loft and a deck with a view that looks out toward the mesas and mountains - ignore the power lines and the gray poop-pail, complete with seat, on the deck.
Here I can watch the Ravens soar, the stars shine, and the lightening strike.
 |
| Windsong poop-pail/shit-can |
Ruby cooked for us and calls me on the walkie-talkie to come down for dinner. They knew I was nesting so started without me. I shed a few tears at the table when they ask how it feels at Windsong. It feels so good to have my own space if only for a short while. Feels challenging that I'll be leaving soon for Taos.
After my call with Susan, I get ready for bed. I turn off the light and see lightening in the distance, probably south toward Santa Fe if I have my directions right. I see a drum and strike a few beats. The lone sound startles me with its bigness in the dark. I try to envision the Native American and other women who have lived in and around here over the centuries and feel their comfort.
The futon is thin and I feel every board. I wake often to a hard and steady rain in the night, smiling at the thought that earth and plants will feel nourished. Maybe we'll see some desert flowers before I leave. After one of my night-time trips outside to pee, a human action that makes me feel free, I climb the ladder and pull down the small futon from the loft to add to the folded thin one and all is well.
My Southwest Trip - Settling in, Meeting Ruby
Wednesday, April 27
Indygo and I get along sharing space so she invites me to stay longer if I like. It feels good to have company and I'm still feeling a bit like a wreck so am grateful and she enjoys company, too.
My first morning, I borrow a walking stick
(for snakes) and the closest thing I've had to a
cowgirl hat and walk with my camera up the road beyond the buildings. I walk at least a mile and pass land that is fenced by someone. Then I come to what I later learn is the old wind power for the land. It no longer works. I've taken pictures along the way - some of flowers and snow-capped vistas.
I find myself actually hoping to run into a rattler so I can take a picture. I'm feeling braver after having met Jae the day before and asking her about snakes. She told me, "They're used to us being out on the land so just be there in peace." The land is also a nature preserve. She recounted a time while coming out of a house that she stepped on one! She felt her foot land on something soft and jumped straight out and away, realizing she stepped on a snake. She said it just looked at her as if to say, "Really?"
Just had dinner w/Indygo and a "lesbian of substance" as Indygo described her, who has MS but remains as independent as possible. We didn't stay very long because she was wiped out. I think I was supposed to tell my life story but there was no time. My stories have been interrupted several times when I was asked a question and I'm trying not to take it personally. argh
The first time I met Ruby was the day after I arrived. She and her partner Juana were going to show Indygo around Santa Fe and I was invited to come along. We
picked Juana up from their apartment and headed to the
Plaza area. Walking around, Ruby yells to me. There's a Mountain Man on a leopard Appaloosa, bridled
in silver, who was doing an intricate fancy prance down the Plaza street.
There were also a few Lowriders and Juana told us how that was a part of her growing up. She said there used to be an informal show but I think it was banned by the city. When I later spent another day or two in Santa Fe, I went to the Museum to see the exhibit but parking was virtually non-existent so I never did see it. Ruby and Juana saw the real-deal show later just before another visit of mine. I was to couch-surf multiple times at their Santa Fe apartment! Who knew?!
Ruby is living in Honey House for a month having also been here in January. She loves living on the land. She says she's a "land-dyke" and spent many years at another womyn's land. Now she's here but is relegated to pretty much staying inside Honey House because she uses a wheelchair and the land is not accessible. She blows my mind when I see how independent she makes herself. Given the people I know who are in wheelchairs and their accessibility challenges, I keep that in my mind for organizing and planning.
I'm suppose to work 20 - 25 hours a week to defray my costs. There is so much to do. I don't know how Indygo keeps going forward. She arrived here in January a few days before Ruby who, as a land-dyke, passes on her knowledge. Outland has so many needs since its hey-day of the '70s and it's much too much for one person to keep going.
Jae, the apparent founder and director, is indefinitely living in Santa Fe. I don't know the last time that she was out to the land but she and Indygo are in touch often. Jae is putting together a group of women to come out to work on one of the houses in a month or so. A couple other women were here and rearranged the huge library in the Hearth, the community space. But the Hearth is in desperate need of cleaning and not a place I want to spend any time.
Ruby's screen door needs repair so Indygo and I move from shed, to pile of stuff, to another shed looking for materials and tools to do the work. We eventually agree to drive into Las Vegas (NM) to buy a few things rather than continue looking through potentially useless and infested piles. I realize that though I'd like to do some physical labor, my best contribution may be organizing things - phone lists, lists of and ideas about volunteers, etc. Indygo jumps at the idea. I wonder if it will actually be used. I take videos of the repairman talking about the two ancient copiers that are used to print copies of Maize. I send them multiple times but they bounce back or Indygo can't open them on her non-smartphone.
Ruby makes it her job to cook dinner for us after we've been working much of the day. I hear she and Indygo call each other on the walkie-talkies. "Red calling Blue. Over." It takes a day before it's clear that Red is for a Ruby and Blue is for the color Indygo. I'm given my own walkie-talkie and declare myself Green for the Irish Emerald Green.
Blue has her own call to let Red know she's arriving at her house. I knock but Ruby lets me know that's not the way it goes. I need to come up with my own vocal tag. It's a land-dyke thing. I say, "Well, I could neigh!" So that is forever my greeting as I arrive and leave her door. She clearly enjoys it and says she will always remember me for my "Hi, Neighbor" neigh. Okay, I'm sliding my way into the groove.
Indygo and I get along sharing space so she invites me to stay longer if I like. It feels good to have company and I'm still feeling a bit like a wreck so am grateful and she enjoys company, too.
My first morning, I borrow a walking stick
(for snakes) and the closest thing I've had to a
cowgirl hat and walk with my camera up the road beyond the buildings. I walk at least a mile and pass land that is fenced by someone. Then I come to what I later learn is the old wind power for the land. It no longer works. I've taken pictures along the way - some of flowers and snow-capped vistas.
I find myself actually hoping to run into a rattler so I can take a picture. I'm feeling braver after having met Jae the day before and asking her about snakes. She told me, "They're used to us being out on the land so just be there in peace." The land is also a nature preserve. She recounted a time while coming out of a house that she stepped on one! She felt her foot land on something soft and jumped straight out and away, realizing she stepped on a snake. She said it just looked at her as if to say, "Really?"
Just had dinner w/Indygo and a "lesbian of substance" as Indygo described her, who has MS but remains as independent as possible. We didn't stay very long because she was wiped out. I think I was supposed to tell my life story but there was no time. My stories have been interrupted several times when I was asked a question and I'm trying not to take it personally. argh
The first time I met Ruby was the day after I arrived. She and her partner Juana were going to show Indygo around Santa Fe and I was invited to come along. We
There were also a few Lowriders and Juana told us how that was a part of her growing up. She said there used to be an informal show but I think it was banned by the city. When I later spent another day or two in Santa Fe, I went to the Museum to see the exhibit but parking was virtually non-existent so I never did see it. Ruby and Juana saw the real-deal show later just before another visit of mine. I was to couch-surf multiple times at their Santa Fe apartment! Who knew?!
Ruby is living in Honey House for a month having also been here in January. She loves living on the land. She says she's a "land-dyke" and spent many years at another womyn's land. Now she's here but is relegated to pretty much staying inside Honey House because she uses a wheelchair and the land is not accessible. She blows my mind when I see how independent she makes herself. Given the people I know who are in wheelchairs and their accessibility challenges, I keep that in my mind for organizing and planning.
I'm suppose to work 20 - 25 hours a week to defray my costs. There is so much to do. I don't know how Indygo keeps going forward. She arrived here in January a few days before Ruby who, as a land-dyke, passes on her knowledge. Outland has so many needs since its hey-day of the '70s and it's much too much for one person to keep going.
Jae, the apparent founder and director, is indefinitely living in Santa Fe. I don't know the last time that she was out to the land but she and Indygo are in touch often. Jae is putting together a group of women to come out to work on one of the houses in a month or so. A couple other women were here and rearranged the huge library in the Hearth, the community space. But the Hearth is in desperate need of cleaning and not a place I want to spend any time.
Ruby's screen door needs repair so Indygo and I move from shed, to pile of stuff, to another shed looking for materials and tools to do the work. We eventually agree to drive into Las Vegas (NM) to buy a few things rather than continue looking through potentially useless and infested piles. I realize that though I'd like to do some physical labor, my best contribution may be organizing things - phone lists, lists of and ideas about volunteers, etc. Indygo jumps at the idea. I wonder if it will actually be used. I take videos of the repairman talking about the two ancient copiers that are used to print copies of Maize. I send them multiple times but they bounce back or Indygo can't open them on her non-smartphone.
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| Cowgirl Ruby, me, Indygo |
Ruby makes it her job to cook dinner for us after we've been working much of the day. I hear she and Indygo call each other on the walkie-talkies. "Red calling Blue. Over." It takes a day before it's clear that Red is for a Ruby and Blue is for the color Indygo. I'm given my own walkie-talkie and declare myself Green for the Irish Emerald Green.
Blue has her own call to let Red know she's arriving at her house. I knock but Ruby lets me know that's not the way it goes. I need to come up with my own vocal tag. It's a land-dyke thing. I say, "Well, I could neigh!" So that is forever my greeting as I arrive and leave her door. She clearly enjoys it and says she will always remember me for my "Hi, Neighbor" neigh. Okay, I'm sliding my way into the groove.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
My Southwest Trip - A day in the life . . . .
Tuesday, April 26, 21016
There is a neighborhood bull that roams through
every few days and I saw him yesterday. Mostly I see his dried droppings on the roads. Ruby tells me not to attract attention since all that separates us is glass.
We get to go off land to the store for supplies tomorrow!!!
Did a lot of kitchen prep today w/Indygo. She is letting me stay at her
place until her GF arrives on Friday. They have running water! Then
I'll be on my own in a new place where I'll have to schlep water. And I
just emptied and cleaned the "shitter pail" from our adobe which was quite a lovely experience.
Also saw my first scorpion today which I disturbed when I carelessly picked up a rock without thinking. It's a little one, tan, almost cute, but Indygo said it's tail is up and can still do some damage. I'm not about to pick it up.
Later, Ruby tells us about the resident fire ants, black widows, and some other delightful creature of nature. She talks about a woman at her old land who sat on a poop can without paying attention and got bit on the butt by a spider. I'm instructed to grab a stick and wipe away any webs under the rim before hand. If I see a web, I'm not sitting, thank you, and am newly wary when I'm at Windsong using the outdoor can! I wonder if Ruby enjoys sharing the things to watch out for.
My work hours will be met tomorrow . . . .
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| "Neighborhood" Bull |
There is a neighborhood bull that roams through
every few days and I saw him yesterday. Mostly I see his dried droppings on the roads. Ruby tells me not to attract attention since all that separates us is glass.
We get to go off land to the store for supplies tomorrow!!!
Also saw my first scorpion today which I disturbed when I carelessly picked up a rock without thinking. It's a little one, tan, almost cute, but Indygo said it's tail is up and can still do some damage. I'm not about to pick it up.
Later, Ruby tells us about the resident fire ants, black widows, and some other delightful creature of nature. She talks about a woman at her old land who sat on a poop can without paying attention and got bit on the butt by a spider. I'm instructed to grab a stick and wipe away any webs under the rim before hand. If I see a web, I'm not sitting, thank you, and am newly wary when I'm at Windsong using the outdoor can! I wonder if Ruby enjoys sharing the things to watch out for.
My work hours will be met tomorrow . . . .
Saturday, April 23, 2016
My Southwest Trip - Outland
Saturday, April 23
Georgia drives me to Bradley after we both get up at 3:30 a.m. to make the 6 something flight. Suzi saw my pack straps the night before and checked online for how they should be secured. She tied and snapped 'em together which I never thought about. Thank you, Suzi!
We head out and the flight to Dallas is uneventful but I can only doze. I make it to the next gate, catch a small plane to land at the Santa Fe airport. A backpack on my back and on my front, I'm hauling my duffle and hoping I don't have too far to carry. Outside, I wait for Indygo from Outland who has agreed to give me a ride. I've seen her picture and I know she's in a big, old black Suburban.
There are a few people waiting for rides who come and go. Finally, I see the Suburban and a woman looking my way as she drives. We wave, hug, and put my packs in the back. She says she didn't know you could fly into Santa Fe.
We head for a grocery store because I'm supposed to bring all my own food and be self-sustaining. As we wander separately, I start to crash hard from little sleep aggravated by a pounding headache - maybe altitude sickness. Back in the Chevy, I'm pretty much good for nothing and try to stay awake and will my headache away as I drink water.
Indygo points out places of interest. Storied Apache Mountain
with a number of tales associated with it, not the least of which is that Apaches held settlers at bay on the ridge. . . the choice being to come down and be killed or starve on the ridge. Soldiers then retaliated by following the Indians they thought did the killing but instead, massacred a different village. And we are the higher animals.
The route to Outland itself is a story. Grandmother Tree, the largest tree around, with heavy limbs dropped on the ground. The dry, rocky river bed that could flood in a hard rain, has a few faded white marks designating a trail of sorts to follow with a car. The snaking, red clay arroyos that suck dirt from the road making it more
narrow. The four gates that Indygo gets out and opens and closes, each with their unique lock. The cow-grate at the first gate which cattle won't cross.
We get to the land by late afternoon. Indygo lets me fall on her bed at Mi Casa for a nap while she shows Kathy, a potential construction volunteer, around the place. Nap for two or three hours. Feel more human. Heat some soup. Indygo visits Ruby, another woman staying at Outland. When she's back Indygo says I can stay at Mi Casa with her overnight. It's a duplex with shared living between the two bedrooms. Tomorrow I can check out a smaller house I want for the week. I am so grateful to just crash back on that comfortable bed and not have to deal with anything other than sleep.
Georgia drives me to Bradley after we both get up at 3:30 a.m. to make the 6 something flight. Suzi saw my pack straps the night before and checked online for how they should be secured. She tied and snapped 'em together which I never thought about. Thank you, Suzi!
We head out and the flight to Dallas is uneventful but I can only doze. I make it to the next gate, catch a small plane to land at the Santa Fe airport. A backpack on my back and on my front, I'm hauling my duffle and hoping I don't have too far to carry. Outside, I wait for Indygo from Outland who has agreed to give me a ride. I've seen her picture and I know she's in a big, old black Suburban.
We head for a grocery store because I'm supposed to bring all my own food and be self-sustaining. As we wander separately, I start to crash hard from little sleep aggravated by a pounding headache - maybe altitude sickness. Back in the Chevy, I'm pretty much good for nothing and try to stay awake and will my headache away as I drink water.
Indygo points out places of interest. Storied Apache Mountain
The route to Outland itself is a story. Grandmother Tree, the largest tree around, with heavy limbs dropped on the ground. The dry, rocky river bed that could flood in a hard rain, has a few faded white marks designating a trail of sorts to follow with a car. The snaking, red clay arroyos that suck dirt from the road making it more
narrow. The four gates that Indygo gets out and opens and closes, each with their unique lock. The cow-grate at the first gate which cattle won't cross.We get to the land by late afternoon. Indygo lets me fall on her bed at Mi Casa for a nap while she shows Kathy, a potential construction volunteer, around the place. Nap for two or three hours. Feel more human. Heat some soup. Indygo visits Ruby, another woman staying at Outland. When she's back Indygo says I can stay at Mi Casa with her overnight. It's a duplex with shared living between the two bedrooms. Tomorrow I can check out a smaller house I want for the week. I am so grateful to just crash back on that comfortable bed and not have to deal with anything other than sleep.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
My Southwest Trip - Fixin' to get ready
Tuesday, April 19
I'm beginning to feel inklings of freedom because this morning I finished my transition of jobs over to Bren so I can leave for Taos. I've had little time to focus or time to think much about my trip other than fragments - leading to recovery of soul fragments. Living in Conway with a babbling brook, three ponds, and a hot-tub, I've enjoyed them only briefly. I've been sleeping on the floor with my camp pad and am ready for a change. I'm surprised by the number of people expressing that they'll miss me. Sincerely, "Don't leave me!" I feel disappointed that my early plans with Kate for a trip out west will not work out. Timing is everything.
Georgia and Suzi have been around for me and will make me dinner and have me sleep over on Friday before Georgia drives me to the airport early on Saturday. Various people have helped me in one way or another. My sister Mary helped me pack several times, a few times by herself. Bren has been both a practical, get-things-done-for-me person and overall support despite all that's going on for her. Al has helped me move things to the tree belt and to storage. Susan and other friends offer emotional support. Moving day, I want a small, cohesive group: Georgia, Suzi, Bren, Kate, and maybe Meg, anchored by Russ and Dan. Moving is emotionally charged but I feel support in the moments when I cave from simple decisions.
Now, leaving Conway, I have to
cram the rest of my stuff into the 10 x 10 storage. I push and finish my
transcription so that feels huge! Am using tomorrow or Thursday as my
"be packed day." The lightness of being with less stuff.
I'm beginning to feel inklings of freedom because this morning I finished my transition of jobs over to Bren so I can leave for Taos. I've had little time to focus or time to think much about my trip other than fragments - leading to recovery of soul fragments. Living in Conway with a babbling brook, three ponds, and a hot-tub, I've enjoyed them only briefly. I've been sleeping on the floor with my camp pad and am ready for a change. I'm surprised by the number of people expressing that they'll miss me. Sincerely, "Don't leave me!" I feel disappointed that my early plans with Kate for a trip out west will not work out. Timing is everything.
Georgia and Suzi have been around for me and will make me dinner and have me sleep over on Friday before Georgia drives me to the airport early on Saturday. Various people have helped me in one way or another. My sister Mary helped me pack several times, a few times by herself. Bren has been both a practical, get-things-done-for-me person and overall support despite all that's going on for her. Al has helped me move things to the tree belt and to storage. Susan and other friends offer emotional support. Moving day, I want a small, cohesive group: Georgia, Suzi, Bren, Kate, and maybe Meg, anchored by Russ and Dan. Moving is emotionally charged but I feel support in the moments when I cave from simple decisions.
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| Good-by Historic Northampton |
Friday, April 15, 2016
My Southwest Trip - Homeless, Moving on
Spring
After living for eight years in a historic apartment in Northampton, the last being a year of crazy efforts to save the house from collapse, I was forced to move out in March. They decided they were not savvy landlords and could no longer rent the place. They would get no argument from me.
Homelessness is an unfamiliar place to be and the fact that I'll potentially need $5K to get a new apartment makes me take stock of what I have in my life. I don't have money. I do have flexibility and that may be more valuable as I find myself getting older and assessing what I've yet to do. I've not really had a Bucket List but this may be the time to start one.
A couple of months ago, I was introduced to a woman in Taos, New Mexico via email through an organization for which I do life story transcription. We both have horses in common - mine in my dreams and she in her life-long reality. This horsewoman is eighty-four and has five wild horses on her five acres - in the midst of a wilderness forest outside Taos.
She could use help and invited me to come visit and we'd talk horses. Her openness and my flexibility seem a good match and we make plans for me to arrive in May. Since she's heading to Alaska to see family then, I'll house-sit while she's gone. Oh, and she lives in an Earthship! I don’t know
what is next but my sightseeing focus has shifted to solitude and healing.
After living for eight years in a historic apartment in Northampton, the last being a year of crazy efforts to save the house from collapse, I was forced to move out in March. They decided they were not savvy landlords and could no longer rent the place. They would get no argument from me.
Homelessness is an unfamiliar place to be and the fact that I'll potentially need $5K to get a new apartment makes me take stock of what I have in my life. I don't have money. I do have flexibility and that may be more valuable as I find myself getting older and assessing what I've yet to do. I've not really had a Bucket List but this may be the time to start one.
Friends and family help me purge, pack, and store my belongings, and
schlep up to my next place, housesitting. Now, after
six weeks of house sitting in Conway on a beautiful 100 acres that I mostly
didn’t see because I was transitioning work so that I could pack up again and head to Taos, New Mexico. Many signs point me in that direction. I don’t know
what is next but my sightseeing focus has shifted to solitude and healing.
A couple of months ago, I was introduced to a woman in Taos, New Mexico via email through an organization for which I do life story transcription. We both have horses in common - mine in my dreams and she in her life-long reality. This horsewoman is eighty-four and has five wild horses on her five acres - in the midst of a wilderness forest outside Taos.
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| The ranch below Tu-Qua |
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