I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself.
- Henry David Thoreau, On Walden Pond
6am I awoke with an urgency to relieve myself. The main thing I don't like about outhouses in the winter is the cold seat. I don't mind the cold of the night, or having to go outside to use the bathroom, but I don't like a cold bottom. This composting outhouse toilet really has no odor unlike the quite smelly numbers of my youth. When I was at dad's, in the night I would either
just go in the yard (mind you, this was on a mountain on 24 acres of Oregon woods in the middle of nowhere), or use the pee-pot. It was a little light blue ceramic pot just the right size for my little bottom. Pee-pot reminds me of something hilarious from a recent trip to San Saba, Texas, the Pecan capital of the world. "A pee-can is what you go to the bathroom in, a pa-cahn is what you eat."
As I walked back to the cabin I broke into a spontaneous smile and I thought to myself "pure joy" which is what Jewel wrote on her album liner that she felt upon moving into her van, prior to being discovered. Living here in this tiny cabin in a vast beautiful high desert place, sitting in front of the fireplace/"wood stove" at night listening to Simon and Garfunkel and writing by candlelight, I am in heaven. It reminds me that the suburban home I live in is not where I want to be. It is functional and nice, and has its benefits. But I feel pure joy and freedom and that I am true to my hippie bohemian roots living in a sustainable place set amid a natural landscape. I must find my way back, and creating that sustainable retreat center just may do it for me, though it may take some time to build and plan.
I love the way the sun dances on the mountains here, how it colors and illumines in succession the layers of the land, in soft, rich, glowing colors. During mid-day the soil is washed out grays and tans and pale pinks, but at dusk and dawn the colors richen and deepen and the sun's rays may light up a section of mountain horizontally, or cast long shadows across the land. The wind may howl through the hills and the coyotes yip and ravens caw.
How beautiful that our bodies create a physical manifestation of something our hearts and minds feel - tears. Since my book is about the dangers of being deceived, I have been thinking a lot about a personal situation that happened to me earlier this year. A song by Sheryl Crow on her latest CD brought tears to my eyes.
- Henry David Thoreau, On Walden Pond
6am I awoke with an urgency to relieve myself. The main thing I don't like about outhouses in the winter is the cold seat. I don't mind the cold of the night, or having to go outside to use the bathroom, but I don't like a cold bottom. This composting outhouse toilet really has no odor unlike the quite smelly numbers of my youth. When I was at dad's, in the night I would either
just go in the yard (mind you, this was on a mountain on 24 acres of Oregon woods in the middle of nowhere), or use the pee-pot. It was a little light blue ceramic pot just the right size for my little bottom. Pee-pot reminds me of something hilarious from a recent trip to San Saba, Texas, the Pecan capital of the world. "A pee-can is what you go to the bathroom in, a pa-cahn is what you eat."As I walked back to the cabin I broke into a spontaneous smile and I thought to myself "pure joy" which is what Jewel wrote on her album liner that she felt upon moving into her van, prior to being discovered. Living here in this tiny cabin in a vast beautiful high desert place, sitting in front of the fireplace/"wood stove" at night listening to Simon and Garfunkel and writing by candlelight, I am in heaven. It reminds me that the suburban home I live in is not where I want to be. It is functional and nice, and has its benefits. But I feel pure joy and freedom and that I am true to my hippie bohemian roots living in a sustainable place set amid a natural landscape. I must find my way back, and creating that sustainable retreat center just may do it for me, though it may take some time to build and plan.
I love the way the sun dances on the mountains here, how it colors and illumines in succession the layers of the land, in soft, rich, glowing colors. During mid-day the soil is washed out grays and tans and pale pinks, but at dusk and dawn the colors richen and deepen and the sun's rays may light up a section of mountain horizontally, or cast long shadows across the land. The wind may howl through the hills and the coyotes yip and ravens caw.
How beautiful that our bodies create a physical manifestation of something our hearts and minds feel - tears. Since my book is about the dangers of being deceived, I have been thinking a lot about a personal situation that happened to me earlier this year. A song by Sheryl Crow on her latest CD brought tears to my eyes.
My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away but every now and then you come to mind. Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game. But when your name was called you found a place to hide, when you knew that I was always on your side. Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent. But your demons and your angels reappeared, leaving all the traces of the man you thought you'd be. Leaving me with no place left to go from here. Leaving me with so many questions all these years.
1 comment:
I am soo jeleous of your trip, I'm glad you are having such an enjoyable time. Love the pics too
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