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.