the return

I'm back in New Orleans. I realize now that I went into this trip with vague and impractical goals. I doubt that I would have changed anything had I realized this first. I might only have avoided my present feeling of disappointment. The sky did not open up and present me with a fully baked plan. So I'm back and getting reacquainted with all the great things about being here (especially my friends), and the nearly intolerable climate.

For years I looked forward to this new phase of my life where my responsibility toward my son has changed and options open. What I avoided considering, and must now confront, are the costs associated with these options. Perhaps I will yet find another informal lease arrangement like I have enjoyed here and keep on the same low profile path, or I will try and build a financial identity that will enable me to join the grown-up world. Save me from that fate! Who out there has or knows of a shop space of about 500 to 1000 square feet where I can set up my 5 or so tons of printing equipment and just do what I do. I don't want it for free but I don't want to sell my soul to CitiBank.

I know it's not practical. And I imagine that people who feel trapped by this rotten system will feel no sympathy for me wanting this indulgent escape. Perhaps if I can create this utopia for myself, and link it with others, we can continue to expand this alternative universe to include you and all who with to join. What else can we do?

Home?

There's the place you live and there's the place you're from and there's the place you belong. I'm trying to get those all lined up. I have arrived in Los Angeles and my first scheduled appointment happened to be just 6 blocks from the place I was born. It is now the Dream Center, a Christian community service center. At the time of my birth it was Our Lady Queen of Angels hospital. And so it went throughout the day. All the old sites and sights and even the changes remind me who I am and where I'm from. That doesn't mean I belong here or that I'll be able to live here again, but I am definitely from here. 

Here's a snippet of Robert Frost that has been stuck in my head. It's from Death of the Hired Hand, North of Boston, 1914

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there

They have to take you in."

Closer

As I approach my native home place I see the plants and patterns that resonate with my native self. Here is Mansanita of the peely red trunk and slow growing steel hard wood. You can no more grow this in Louisiana than you can Spanish Moss here. Here in Santa Cruz is the first I've seen my familiar chaparral ecology. It's not better, it's just what I grew up with. And now, seeing it again transports me like to ride a bicycle or the first kiss. 

Thankful

Here are three vessels made by the adult son of my hosts these days. I am grateful for the many ways people have helped me along this way, especially recently. I have been empty and people have filled me up. I have then filled others and become empty again and so it continues. It's humbling to be a guest and to receive. And there is a temptation to dominate when we give. There is a Zen lesson, "Let the Giver Be Thankful", but even Zen masters can miss the mark and be jerks.

I'm not done asking or giving. I am open, full, and empty.

A visit to Bremelo Press

I am nearly overcome with excitement and challenge when I spend time with a new (to me) printer friend. Lovely to spend a fluid hour with Lynda Sherman of Bremelo Press. We are not exactly on the same path but we're in the same forest.

I'll get better at this social media thing (by which time it will be obsolete), but for now make do with this photo of the two-sided wood type card (8x10 inches) that I gifted her. I'm glad we didn't conduct the whole visit with me looking through my phone, but a picture of her, her space, her work, ... would make sense here.

Lynda helped me form my ideas around how we are to live. We are people who print. We can draw to ourselves what we need of money and attentive connection when we put the work first and trust the unnameable force of nature-spirit-community to hold us in power and love.

Again with the poor control of these tools. I'd "tag" or "link" or something to make it easy for readers to find Lynda and Bremelo but in the meantime you can look her up

Transition

My son Max is now a high school graduate. I'll always have the responsibilities of a parent but it changes now. I no longer need to be right there, able to meet a crisis at the drop of a hat or a crosstown drive. He and I are both transitioning into a new phase. I'm sure I don't remember correctly but it seems to me that starting a new life was easier for me when I was a teenager. 

Max is kind and brave and smart and he'll do just fine and so will I. 

Time on the farm has taught me the productive wisdom of the old nursery rhyme:

1-2 buckle my shoe (essential skill before any child can help out.)

3-4 shut the door (keep the goats out of the living room.)

5-6 pick up sticks (a good way for a child to be helpful.)

7-8 lay them straight (makes for a neater, more effective pile. Not a comment on sexual preference.)

9-10 a big fat hen (a lot of that going on here, plus now the child can count to ten.)

My first stop on this journey of discovery is a week at my brother's farm in Minnesota. This is a wonderful way to start. Here it is not possible for me to continually stress out about how I am to live. I can only do that some of the time. Other times I need to stress about the chickens. They are super-anxious and never seem to be having any fun. Perhaps, if I listen, they will speak to me.

I take walks these early mornings. No phone or earbuds or any of that. No camera either, so you'll just have to believe me that I saw a pair of Sandhill Cranes in a fallow field. Or don't believe me. I can hardly believe it myself.

  Magnificent. (Not the chickens, the cranes.)

 

Appeal

Here is a card I made using only hand-set type and a linoleum block I carved. I've sent out a few dozen of these and I have plenty left. Send me a mailing address and you can have one ( or more) too.

Looking for a home

For a whole lot of reasons I am on the road, scouting for a place to move. To share this journey, and to recruit help, I am reviving this blog. My itinerary started with a flight from New Orleans to Minnesota. I'll stay here at my brother Billy's farm in North Branch for a week. Then on to Amtrak with a 30 day pass. My route sends me through Seattle, Portland area, SFBay area, Santa Cruz, Los Angeles, and New Mexico. This route is based mostly on where I want to move and where I can cop a free couch-surf.