Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 3 Comments

Down the Line

It appears as though change is, truly, inevitable.  I learn that even my little pocket of protection from all things Progress, has been sliced down the middle.

The California country road where my father lives (and where I’ve spent much contemplative time over these last 40 years) has now been deemed, two-lane, with a fresh yellow stripe to prove it.

Here was the road before.

2013-06-07road_before

And according to a recent post from my dad on his Dry Crik Journal blog, this is the latest brush of development.

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DCJ_2

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(My dad’s full post can be found here.)

A yellow line painted on an asphalt road might not seem like much of a big deal.  But it signals that changes are afoot and more traffic is expected.  It’s telling that even the wild life are suspicious of this day-glow harbinger.

Just makes me wonder what’s down the line.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 5 Comments

The Burden Strap

He keeps coming to my mind. That man with the washing machine on his back. An image in my memory back from my travels in India over twelve years ago.

I’d seen lots of small men carrying big loads through the inclining streets of the hill station where I was staying in Northern India. But this one man, maybe 110 pounds, rubber slippers on his feet, was bearing a full-size washing machine tied to a strap that stretched across his forehead.

Indian streets are a-bustle with everything. Dogs, pigs, cows, mopeds, cars, and people moving in all directions. These streets were paved upon steady slopes, up and down, stretching through miles of chaotic thoroughfare.

I watched this man, his posture slightly bent forward, the huge, white square resting upon his back, just take it, one step at a time. A meditation in motion. Dogs crossing his path, mopeds swerving around him. His pace never faltered. He never seemed labored. Just a steady haul of a heavy appliance, the crux of which, seemed to rest on his head.

I was a witness to this scene over a decade ago. Why it has now been flashing in my mind at random moments, like when I’m washing dishes at the sink, I don’t know.

Prompted to seek a little further, my research has taught me that this forehead strap has a name. A “tump line,” also known as a “burden strap,” is ancient in its origins, dating back to the time of the Maya, who used it to carry loads equalling their own body weight.

The strap was designed to rest on the top of the head, where the weight would be directed into the spinal column, somehow offering greater support for heavy cargo. This also streamlined the transporting process, freeing the traveller from a cumbersome cart, and offering the ability to traverse more narrow and rocky terrain.

That man in the hill station town in India probably spent the entire day stepping one foot in front of the other with that heavy appliance on his back. What I saw was a walk of grace. He was defying gravity through use of efficiency. He was using what he had, taking it slow and steady.

We all have our burdens to bear. Some greater than others. But the tump line proves that we all can carry loads greater than we thought possible, and with more ease, if we only shoulder it properly.

Here’s to lightening the load, or at least repositioning it. Using our resources at full capacity. Adding endurance. Bringing more grace to our trek.

courtesy of leoncillo sabino
courtesy of leoncillo sabino
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 10 Comments

Sketching it Out

In 25 days we move, and for a while there, we didn’t know where to. I’d said I’d keep you posted in this endeavor, but frankly, rental choices have been so few that when one possibility surfaced, I was too afraid to discuss it for fear of hexing the process.

Our family was clear on our home vision. We wanted something simple, in the country (preferably on our very same road), a place to garden, (an outdoor shower would be nice) and affordable. Jeb wished for a treehouse. And we all wondered about this new place offering the future possibility of a canine companion.

Our approach was dream big but be grateful for what came our way. The local Craigslist’s rental page had become a forum for frustrated renters seeking homes and landlords defending their reasons for the trend of doubling rental rates. Even if we were willing to settle for the few condominiums featured – not in our town but the closest to our area of the island – we couldn’t rationalize spending nearly $3000 a month in a boxed-in community where gardens and clothes lines were against the rules.

Magic isn’t rational either, but under the circumstances we figured we’d try it. One Sunday we went to the bay at the end of our street. My mind was heavy with homebound thoughts. I couldn’t sit, I felt like walking. So I left the Bohemian and Jeb at the beach and walked the three miles along our country road, back home. I passed many houses nestled in the trees. Walked by stretches of open fields and segments of river lined with ginger flowers. With every home I passed, I wondered about our own future abode. With every step and every breath, I quietly wished to the distant hills that we, too, could still call this area our home.

I was back at our place around sunset, in time to meet up with the Bohemian and Jeb returning from the beach. They’d done lots of things, but one of them was a quick sketch in a small notebook. An inspired illustration of the house that we were envisioning.

2013-06-01_Home Sketch

Note the ocean view (and swimming sea life), a treehouse, a simple home, fruiting trees, and of course, Fido.

It had to have been a few weeks after my country road walk and that sketchbook exercise that I got a whisper to contact a neighbor to let him know we were looking for a place. Since I didn’t have his phone number, I emailed another friend (who happens to live next door – we’ll call him the Musician) to see if he could give me his contact information. The Musician was well-aware that we were looking and had wished us all the best in our search. On this day, as I sent the email to him, asking for his neighbor’s phone number, I felt compelled to mention that we were still searching for our home, and though it may not be ideal, we’d be willing to temporarily sub-let a place if the opportunity arose.

As the story goes, my email request was sitting in the Musician’s Inbox, not yet read. He was out looking at the solar eclipse with a mutual friend. They were talking about the Musician’s impending travels and his uncertainty about who would stay at his house and look after his dog. Our family was mentioned. A light went ding within the mind of the Musician as the sun was circled in a ‘ring of fire.’ He decided to call me right away and went to his computer to get my phone number, at which point, he saw my email mentioning the sub-let.

The Musician needs someone to stay at his home for four months, beginning July 1st. We need a place to live beginning that day. We’ve worked out the details and the rest has been finalized as of this week.

Did I mention that he lives on our little country road, just a few driveways up? There is a treehouse. A garden. Fruiting trees. An outdoor shower. And a little, easy-going dog we’ve known for years, who will now be in our care.

Maybe it all starts by sketching it out.

We’ll see how the details fill in. For now, we are just so very grateful.