Wild Goats, Floods and Writing Down Your Soul

The moon is back to the sliver that reminds me of that sunrise morning about a month ago.  I watched the crescent hold with Venus in the dusky sky, a jug of vinegar by my side and a broken washing machine waiting back at home.

Today Sears comes to service the washer and I’m back on Kauai, moving through thick, wet air and wiping down kitchen surfaces that grew green in the moisture while I was gone.  This island is a living petri dish.  My white, soft feet glow as they plant themselves in the high green grass of my yard, remembering what it’s like to see sunlight, feel earth.

In the time we’ve been gone the North shore flooded, Jeb’s room got a paint job, and the goat came to live at our house.

During our absence a dog scared the goat and she jumped the pen, taking up residence on my porch.  The deck has since been power-washed and only a few stray droppings remain.  Plants are chewed to nubs and a large gnash in the wood of the screen door prove that she came calling, apparently trying to chew her way inside.

For the most part all is well and in order.  This morning I’m up in the darkness, making coffee and coming to the keyboard in a return to my routine of writing.  I have lists of pieces that want to be written – stories that are longer than a daily chronicle of the everyday.  They depict experiences of transcending time and space, family legacies and ghostly visitations, park rangers and tire chains, undressing in co-ed changing rooms and the strength of vulnerability.

I ponder in this coming year of how to incorporate daily meditation, yoga practice, For the Archive posts, begin my short story collection, give Jeb more quality time, make more money and offer appropriate volunteer time at his school.

Seems at the coming of a new year we all can be a bit ambitious.  Hopes high for sweeping change.  I like the way my course is heading.  I have some ideas of where I’d like to steer it.  I don’t have all the details of how it will unfold but I keep coming back to following the thread.  Paying attention in the immediate moments to take the cues that life can offer.

Reuniting with a friend yesterday, I was given a book.  It had been recommended to him and he thought he’d get us both a copy.  He handed me the simple blue cover with the title in white letters  “Writing Down your Soul.” Should I choose a resolution for 2011, this title seems as apt a wish as any.

 

Living Conduit

How to experience the profound in the mundane?  This has been my exploration over the past months here in the Archives.  I’ve tapped broken washing machines, fresh squeezed juice, faulty corkscrews and scant blog stats searching for a richness in the ordinary.  These simple moments have never let me down, always revealing a twinkle of life’s deep treasure in their seemingly common place.

Leaving the routine of my familiar life and traveling these past two weeks has been nothing short of remarkable.  Suddenly, my world is full of exciting experiences and revelations aplenty.

Rich inner transformations occurred during my  recent solo journey to California’s coastal lush.  Instead of  trying to glean some semblance of meaning from the everyday, I’m now attempting to assimilate the profound into my daily life.

photograph by Jessica Dofflemyer (all rights reserved)

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Saving Naked for Later

As I sit crafting a piece that explores the literal and metaphorical experience of being publicly naked, I realize that maybe I could give my father a break.  He’s a strong supporter of the Archives but I know some of my candid retellings may be hard for a dad to read.  I think my last post, At the Threshold, pushed his own.

I believe there’s strength in vulnerability.  And I’m dedicated to an honest sharing despite what others may think.  It may not always be comfortable, but I’m lucky that I can share a laugh about it – especially with my father.

I’ll certainly keep working on my story of how stripping down with strangers somehow connects us through our vulnerability.  But for today, I think I’ll rest and keep it light.  Sometimes it’s enough just to post some pretty pictures.

 

photograph by Jessica Dofflemyer (all rights reserved)
photograh by Jessica Dofflemyer (all rights reserved)
photograph by Jessica Dofflemyer (all rights reserved)
photograph by Jessica Dofflemyer (all rights reserved)