nevermind

i am incredibly excited about this year. i'm going to play a whole lotta banjo.

and plus, i think my dog bella has super powers to run faster than any other dog on the planet.

maybe i'll enter her in the ky derby...

nagging doubts...

Now that I've decided to try staying put for another year, I'm beginning to feel creeping doubts sneaking up on me. It happens when I try to sleep at night. When I'm devising garden defense plans against the rapidly multiplying deer population. When I'm sitting at home alone at night. Am I making the right decision? How will I keep from going stir crazy or falling into another deep depression if I spend another year here in the backwoods?

Oh dear.

Full Circle

I'm the kind of person who tends to get attached to a place. Many people in my life have called me a "nester," because I quickly go about making a new place my home. Those tendencies make it a real emotional struggle when I have to decide whether to stay or pick up and move. For quite some time, I've felt a need to get out of my current life situation and start afresh someplace else. My moving dreams have been focused on the Pacific Northwest, with the hilly, forested landscapes that remind me of home and the lure of the Pacific Ocean.

This summer has been one of the best summers I can ever recall. And this has been because of a mix of wonderful encounters with musical friends both here in the Appalachian hills and on the northern Pacific coast. I've felt myself pulled in two directions. One moment, I'm certain that I'm packing up and moving across this great continent to seek new adventures. The next moment, I'm blissfully content in the love of my mountain friends and family, and I can't imagine why I'd ever want to leave.

One factor that has been playing into my urge to move is my need for romance. Living far out in the mountains, a girl doesn't come across many romantic opportunities. I get lonely, and since I'm not big on dating people I really don't feel connected to, I can go on being lonely for a very long time out here. I have been jokingly telling friends, "I'm going to move to Oregon to find myself a man and bring him back to Kentucky." While that may be partially part of my motivation, I wasn't planning to move just to improve my chances of finding a partner. I have been thoroughly burned out at work, and I have been looking for an out for quite some time.

Some unexpected twists have happened, and somehow all the decisions made themselves for me. First off, I've met a fellow who I feel connected to on so many levels that I can't believe I put up with all those past dating experiences (which now seem excruciating). I never knew it could be so easy to fall for somebody. He doesn't live here, but he certainly lives closer to KY than OR, and I do love to take road trips.

On the work-issue, I have found an "out," but it also wasn't the one I expected. I'm going to stay here, for one more year, and I'm going to follow my heart's work by taking a job working with the Cowan Community Center/Cowan Creek Mountain Music School. I know the energy of the folks I'll work with at the community center will revitalize my spirit, and I'm looking forward to working with such a vibrant team to develop ways to make our community a better place for us all. I'll be keeping up my other job on a part-time basis, and I'm going to submit applications to PhD programs for next fall.

Somehow it has worked out so that it seems I'm going to get to choose all the options I thought I was struggling to choose between. I get to stay. I get to fall in love. I get to plan to embark on a new adventure someplace yet to be known.

Wow, isn't it crazy how life works itself out no matter how much your brain tries to interfere?

Faerie Godmother

I wanted to explain something to those of y'all who may not know. One of the greatest blessings bestowed on me when I moved to Kentucky was that I met my Faerie Godmother. Now, I'm not a Cinderella kind of girl, so I want to make sure you readers know that this Faerie Godmother ain't no fairytale kind of lady. She's magical and mischievious and beautiful and creative and inspires me at every encounter. She loves the mountains, the woods, living on a farm among all kinds of critters, growing vegetables, swimming in clear, cold Smoky Mountain streams, running around barefoot, drinking wine and gazing at the stars, sitting on the porch tellin' stories all night. That's the faerie in her. But there's another side too. She's fiercely protective of my heart, a voice of wisdom, a shoulder to cry on, a hug whenever I need one, a person to celebrate and be silly with. A guiding light and an ever patient ear. She gives me insight and hope and teaches me so many things that only she knows.

That's who my faerie godmother is. Ain't no Cinderella to that. She's the one who wears the prettiest dresses, if you ask me! And ain't neither one of us would be caught dead or alive in a glass slipper!

Lucky

Lately, I've been feelin' lucky.

Lucky on so many levels. First off, I am so damn lucky to have the best friend a girl could ever wish for - Bella. She's my guardian, my familiar and (according to most who meet her) the best damn dog on the planet. Why she chose to adopt me when she was a puppy, I'll never know. I just live every day with her appreciating how lucky I am that she walked into my yard and told me she was moving in.

Lucky to live a life encompassed by music and mountains. Lucky to spend my hours either alone in the quiet of an Appalachian rainforest or in the company of people who appreciate the really good things in life, like a good story, the sound of katie dids and bull frogs, the moment a colt takes it's first step, the taste of fresh corn, the art of making fried green tomatoes, learning a new tune from someone who plays a completely different instrument. Playing music until dawn.

Lucky to be blessed with a faerie godmother with whom I can share adventures and from whom I can learn the art of living life to the fullest.

Lucky to have a family that I love and respect fiercely, and who embrace me.

Lucky to have met a fellow who I can talk to on the phone for hours, even though I usually can't be bothered to pick up a phone for weeks at a time.

Lucky to live on Judy Branch here and now and to spend my evenings fussing at deer, harvesting corn and tomatoes, cooking a late supper, wrestling with Bella, fishing with Sid and Rosie and playing the banjo until I can barely keep my eyes open.

Is It Time to Slow Down Yet?

It seems like I've been running around like a chicken with her head cut off nearly all summer. Except I have probably had more fun. The Kentucky Camp moved to West Virginia for a week, and we had us a big time playing music in the woods and just sitting around talking. I must say that musically, this has been the best summer yet.

On the Judy Branch front, my poor garden has really grown into a jungle, and were it not sweltering hot every day, I'd be out there pulling weeds and making sure my beans have room to grow. The corn, at least has done quite well when the deer don't knock down the stalks. I'm hoping for a cool down sometime over the next few days so I can tidy up at least a little bit. I have a feeling that I'll be fighting a losing battle trying to keep the deer out of my garden. They have taken over in my absence, and they don't seem bothered one bit by my return. I've resorted to yelling at them. They just look up and stare briefly, then go back to grazing in my yard. At least they haven't gotten into the garden with me watching. They'll get it if they get that bold!

I'm not feeling in a hurry about much of anything these days, and that even goes for figuring out my exit plan from my current life situation. I figure that I'll move on whenever the appropriate opportunity presents itself, and that could be anytime. I'm still intrigued by the Pacific Northwest, but I'm becoming more open to other places. As long as they ain't flat.

Other news is that my insurance finally coughed up permission for me to get an MRI on my back, and - BIG SURPRISE - I've got a severely herniated disc between the L4 and L5 that is pinching my sciatic nerve. So next week I go to a back specialist with a CD of my MRI results and figure out what can be done to get me out of this pain.

The Kentucky Camp

This weekend I headed a few miles north for the Morehead Old Time Fiddlers Gathering, which for most of us involved is like an extension of the family reunion that is Cowan Creek Mountain Music School. No matter how challenging the past few years have been living here in KY, I can’t think of any time or place in my life that I have felt more loved. There are so many people in my life that I've come to love and care about deeply because of this impossible to describe, magical network of musicianers/old time music lovers. I've come to feel the same way about this family as I have always felt about the Appalachian hills. They are an extension of my core being, linked to my soul, a soft embrace of life-breathing, music-filled, rolling hills, timelss and ever present.

There’s so much change in the air, for me and most of the people around me. It seems I'm in a near constant state of awe in the experiences I have just surfaced from. I barely have time to stop reeling from the disbelief of how incredibly wonderful yesterday (or earlier today) was before another unbelieably full moment is upon me. And right now, all of these are swelling in my heart with the enormous amount of love that I feel pouring out of every pore of my skin.

In between these gushy moments when I am in love with everyone in my life, I have found a peace of mind at not having the faintest clue what my life will be like in a few weeks, much less a few months or years from now. I feel a calm certainty and comfort that these people I've bonded myself are going to be part of my life forever; the circle is going to continue to deepen and draw more people inside; and we are all going to take care of each other, no matter where we all end up.

Something significant changed in me living here on Judy Branch, and even though I used to think I’d always be a Tennessee girl through and through, the biggest part of my heart belongs to Kentucky, and I think it always will.

Kids

Judy Branch is the perfect place to raise your kids, no matter what species you happen to be. It seems, this summer, that around every bend of a path, gravel road or turn of the day, I am reminded of the ever-extending family tree belonging to this place. On the twice daily pilgramages out and then back into the hollow I have encountered a newly dropped foal taking a precarious wobbled step, young yellow chickadees taking first flight, a young goat couple fretting over their new kid. Sitting on the porch at home here at the head of the hollow, I dim down my day with the mingled sounds of children of all sorts making the sounds of playful discovery, free of fear and full of curiosity. There is danger here, but hardly ever any fear. With an edge of reverence and thrill, neighbors tell of the forty-three inch rattler a young mother killed in her yard down Line Fork. None of us would ever seek out snakes, living by the code that you only kill when they become an obvious threat. And the next day, we are still walking barefoot to the garden, keeping a watchful eye lest another one gets too close.

I love living a place where nature is simply part of life and not something to be fought back with pesticides and shrubbery. I love that my own little girl - a bright eyed hillbilly pup - can run unleashed and unfenced up and down the mountainsides, playing in the creek and lounging in tall grass. I love that when my neighbor's cows decide to come over the creek to chew on my grass, that all I have to do is walk up and talk to them and they go right on back home. And I love how my neighbors tell their friends and relatives how much they love hearing the music come drifting over from my porch, no matter what time of day or night, and those stories get back to me at the grocery store or at work. We all share this place and work together to keep the delicate balance that makes this the kind of place where we all feel free.

I don't really know if I'll ever want to have kids of my own, but I know that I'll always want and need a family. And Judy Branch is a place where I belong to a family that resembles the cross section of an old tree trunk, with rings and rings and rings of circles. Right now, at the center, is me and the critters. Hopefully, someday soon, there'll be more that just us at the heart.

A friend of mine recently told me, when he was first courting the woman he's now married to, there was a moment when he had an ephiphany: this was a gal he could move to Alaska with. And that's when he knew she was the one he wanted to be with forever.

That's the feeling I'm waiting for. Who knows if I'll move to Alaska (although a part of me would really like to try it out for awhile...). The precise place, other than being in the mountains, is not so important. It's meeting someone who, without any hesitation or doubt, you'd want to be with in the middle of the wilderness and who could relish that experience with you, helping to maintain the delicate balance of life and being with you at the center of the circle of famiy you naturally become a part of when you live at the edge of the wild.

The Neglectful Gardener

Seems I remember this blog used to be mainly about my life on Judy Branch, and much of that concerned my garden. I've been sidetracked by world travels, disabled by back pain and distracted by major life changes, but nevertheless, I have actually managed to pull off some bit of gardening. I've been a neglectful gardener, but I have managed to plant some seeds. I had an early crop of peas, turnips and beets, but I missed the most important planting time by being away May through mid-June. I came home to enjoy a harvest of sugar snap peas and to see that I really should have thinned out the turnips before leaving for a month.

The heirloom tomato seedlings neighbor Bill gave me really grew fast, but the local deer population has taken it upon themselves to prune the poor plants down to nearly leafless green skeletons. I was surprised to see one lone green tomato hanging on one plant. It may be too late, but I built a sort of fence with a top over the poor plants in an attempt to preserve whatever else the deer might find tasty.

About a month ago I planted four different varieties of basil around the tomato bed, but I've not seen them pop out of the ground yet. Neigbor Bill sowed my corn for me while I was away, and it is really coming along. The week after I got home I planted butter beans at the end of hte corn rows and squash interspersed among the corn. The squash is now coming out, and I think I better mulch it in case we actually start to get rain. Last year my squash plants rotted away because I didn't mulch. As lazy as I've been this summer, I'm determined not to make the same mistakes I did last year!

I also managed to plant about four or five long rows of okra, the Cajun Jewel variety and maybe one other kind. Still not sign of them, but I always have a hard time telling what okra looks like when it first comes up. they don't become obviously okra until they get a bit taller.

Last night I was in need of some serious comfort food, so I went into the zone many Southern women go into when they get that urge. I spent about an hour preparing myself a big supper of mashed potatoes, sugar snap peas, bbq tofu, fried green tomatoes and cornbread. Oh, and brownies with dark chocolate chips for dessert.

Lazy or Forgetful?

I don' really know if I should still be keeping a blog. A while back I got quite a shock to realize that people sometimes actually read this damn thing. I never really thought that would happen (except for the lot of you who read this to check up on me and make sure I'm still alive here in the hollow).

I've been feeling the winds of change for some time, and I must admit that it is terrifying at times. I'm about to be uprooted, and I don't know exactly where I'll end up or what I'll be doing.

There are times when I wish I could forget all my old ties and start anew. But then I can't bear to let go of the truly amazing friendships I've been blessed with all these years. There's certainly been tough times. I'd rather not count how many dead friends I have, and there are others I have been saddened to watch drift away from the selves they once were. I'm glad I never got hopped up on pills or the like and became a ghost of myself. Hell, I still feel like the same person I was when I was 17. 'Cept I'm older, my back hurts and my joints ache. And now my old hell raising hometown friends are putting out country records while I'm playing clawhammer banjo on my porch. Who would have thunk it?!

A little over a week ago I got to spend several days on the Olympic Penninsula at the Festival of American Fiddle Tunes. Lee and Opal had told me what a time they had there when they went out a couple of years back. I was there with some other KY folks, and we sure did have a good time! Still, I can't say that going a week without sleep beats Lee's story of the first time he saw the ocean. He got hit upside the belly by a wave and then a seagull pooed on his head. Now that's a memory!

Family Reunion

There's family, and then there's family. In the past three weeks I've been surrounded by people, who in some way or another, I consider my kin. First it was coming home to my Granny's funeral and falling back into the comfortable place I always get when I'm around all my cousins, aunts, uncles and, of course, my parents and brother. I was lucky enough to grow up really knowing my family, especially my cousins. It seems that no matter how old we get or how much our lives change, we fall into this eternal dynamic each time we gather together. There's a lot that has happened among us, and there are some that have done some things that has caused some rifts in our tight circle. Yet somehow we still manage to return to our tight-knit clan. What I noticed over the weekend of Granny's funeral was that when I see myself and my cousins all together, I can simultaneously feel the presence of our child and adult selves. We still communicate in a certain way that is timeless, and being the oldest granddaughter, I can see all my cousins as they were when they were just little. It's the next best thing to having a big passel of brothers and sisters, and I'm glad that every time one of us brings a stranger into the fold (new girlfriend, husband, etc.), that person is immediately struck by the closeness of our clan.

The other family I've been so aware of is my mountain family. These are people who know and understand me in a way that my blood family, even my own brother, cannot comprehend. I've got grandparents - Lee & Opal, Charlie & Joyce - a Faerie Godmother who is a sister, mother and best friend all wrapped up in one - and several foster parents, including Judy Branch's own Bill & Billy Joe. Since I've returned home I've been really feeling the presence of these family members, and these feelings only intensified during the Cowan Creek Mountain Music School.

Knowing that I will soon be leaveing this place to embark on a new chapter in my life has put me in quite an emotional state. It's as if I'm a rock out in the ocean, a great waves keep crashing over me. Sometimes it is pure excitement at the possibilities of a new life someplace else. Other times it's a cold soaking of grief and homesickness of leaving all these folks I've come to call family. And then there's waves of panic in which I feel as if I'm drowning and if I don't get out soon - NOW- I will suffocate.

There are certain friends that I give me hope and comfort as I prepare to jump into the abyss. Many of them are friends I've just recently come to know, friends who I met feeling as if I'd known them my whole life. This year's Cowan School was especially fulfilling, because while surrounded by my mountain family, I met several new friends from off who, in my soul, I've known forever, and in my heart I know I'll be friends with for a very long time.

I am now on the Olympic Penninsula with some KY folks, sharing a house with some SW Virginia folks and hanging out with folks from Louisiana and all over the west coast and other parts of the country. Being near the ocean and surrounded by wonderful fiddle music is just what I've needed to bring myself out of a sleepless seven weeks.

Searching

I have felt a bit paralyzed since returning home from Poland. The only times that I get to feeling comfortable are when I'm sleeping (when I can sleep) or working in the garden. I was home for just a few days last week when I took off and drove down to Tennessee to spend the night and my parents' house. I'm glad that I followed my flight instinct, because on Friday I met up with my dad for lunch, and we ended up sitting and talking for about three hours. With us both returning from far off places to meet at granny's funeral, I think that none of it really sunk in until a few days after the fact. We could finally talk about losing granny and finally talk about our foreign adventures. There was a lot to talk about, and I suppose there still is.

One thing that I kept feeling when I was in Poland and Ukraine was this strange sense of understanding when my local hosts would hint at these undercurrents of resentment and/or other indescribable emotions toward neighboring nations (Russia, Poland and German for the Ukrainians and Russia, Germany and Ukraine for the Poles). As a Southerner, I could relate on a certain level to these feelings some of my new friends would allude to. But there was no way I could really communicate this to my fellow traveller, who wasn't from the South. I was both surprised and relieved when talking to my mom about my trip, that she actually brought up the mutual understanding that Southerners could have with the Polish people. I told her how one of the most interesting things for me was when I got to spend some time hanging out with a young Polish woman my own age, and how she talked about the process she had gone through with her feelings toward German people. First hating them for all the recent history, then falling in love with a German boy in college and making some really good German friends. Then being treated like a piece of "Polish trash" by a German man her dad's age that she met while traveling in Ireland and feeling those resentful emotions rekindled. Mom made the comment that as Southerners it was easy to relate to being automatically treated a certain way by people when we travel. Reconstruction wasn't as recent nor as horrible as what happened to Poland, but those feelings really do continue, and it is a difficult thing to describe to people who have never felt that. I have an uncounscious tally stored away of particularly nasty encounters in which mere strangers have treated me like I was stupid or backwards or racist or all of the above, simply because they heard my accent or learned that I was from the South. You don't forget those moments, and it makes you automatically weary and/or suspicious of folks you meet when you travel. For her it was Germans and Russians. For me it is Northerners and Californians. We both have friends from those places, but there's this unspeakable divide. I hope I got this down in a manner that does not offend my non-Southern friends. It's just something that is there and very difficult to describe, but if you're a Southerner or Polish, you may just know what I'm talking about.

Enough banter. Sunday evening, I managed to weed a good portion of the garden and plant basil and peppers next to the tomatos, squash and butter beans in with the corn and plant a good three rows (well, 9 rows if we're talking actual plants) of Cajun Jewel okra. I hope to clear the rest of the weeds out and plant a few other okra varieties and some more basil later this week.

Today was another day that I could not make myself go into work, instead choosing to catch up on emails and other projects from home. I think that I have it set so that I can do almost all my summer work away from the office. This will make easier the inevitable transition (my insides keep screaming "Must move SOOOOON!").

You Can't Go Home Again

When you leave home, even if for a brief spell, it never is quite the same when you return.

I came home in time to drop off my suitcases, pack another and head to my Granny's funeral.

When I finally made it back to Judy Branch a few days later, it was to an altered place. The most obvious is that the forest around my house is being logged. For what it's worth, it is part of the forest management, meaning that it's selective logging using sustainable practices. Still, it is loud and there are people around my house when usually there are only dogs, cows and wild beasts. It's unsettling, especially since the only thing I have really craved since coming home and burying my granny is to have some time of perfect solitude at home.

I am not sure this will be possible.

I feel unsettled, and I think that I am supposed to do something about it. Soon.

There are some things that bring you home, even when your own homeplace is in a state of upheaval. I found deep comfort when I ventured over to Family Folk Week at Hindman last night to visit with my friends and join in the square dance and the late night jam session at the wood shed. It's nice to run into music buddies I only see once or twice a year and find that they already know where I've been and what I've been up to. It feels like a family, and I enjoy being a member and watching how everyone interacts. Some of these folks I see nearly every week, while others I may only see once a year. And how wonderful it is to see old friends with such long histories reunited and playing music late into the night! If only life could be like this all the time.

It's all up in the air...

Tomorrow will be the last day of this adventure across Ukraine and Poland. I am always amazed how condensed time and space become when you live as a traveller (note: this is very different from life as a tourist, but I do not need to tell YOU this, do I?!). It feels like my brief life in Ukraine was years ago rather than a month.

I have met so many interesting people and lived a life in which every day was a surprise.

For the most part, these times have been incredibly good [bardzo dobry!!!]. But there have been times when I have yearned for my own free will and some time to myself.

There is a trade off from being a traveller who is a guest in people's homes and towns or cities as opposed to being a traveller who is a passerby in these places and, for the most part meets only other such travellers. Good points to both, and I hope that my future will allow me to merge my usual style of travelling (the latter) with the kind I have been involved with this past month.

I have a big desire now to learn a language like Polish, as fluently as possible. And I am sad to say that now my desires to once again live in a foreign land may be much more easily achieved.

A few days ago, my best friend in the whole world, my granma, passed away. As long as she was alive, I could not bring myself to move too far away, because she is so very special to me. It does not yet seem real to me, and I know that it will be especially difficult when I return to my life after this journey, because my instinct will be to go visit or to call her first thing. Before sleep, before anything else, the top of my list would be to tell Granny all about my adventures while they were still fresh on my mind.

I have no idea who I will talk with now that she is gone. It is terrifying for me to imagine the loneliness that I will feel in her absence. No matter where I may make my home, I will always crave hours of late night conversation with my granny.

Maybe I will move to Poland or Ukraine?

There are certain characteristics of the communities in both Poland and Ukraine of which I feel a very strong kinship. I like how they actually embrace the idea of laissez faire in everyday life. There's an intense difference of cultures when you cross the border from Poland to either Denmark or Germany. Much more order and tidyness in those countries. I like the relaxed atmosphere of my host nations.

My friend Deborah and I have had many opportunities to share music with our hosts in many different places. Just now we are at the home of a Vetrinarian in Swinoujsin, the most northwestern point of Poland. Before we arrived here, I injured my back even more (I did something bad to in in November that has caused chronic sciatica) when I fell down some steps on the ferry from Copenhagen. I got to experinece the Polish medical system and am now on some amazing medication that actually stops the muscle spasms from both this current injury as well as the back pain I have been struggling with since November. I will bring the bottles back to KY and try to get my doctor to figure out what actually works for my problem. How funny that the Polish chiropractor immediately found somthing to cure my pain, while I have spent weeks, moths, etc. in KY trying to get just a little bit of relief!

One of my favorite aspects of this trip is that we are making real connections with people, visiting and often living in their homes. I hope to re-visit both Poland and Ukraine again and again, and I most certainly hope that my new friends will come to visit me in the states.

I don't know what my life will be like when I return home, but I know that this will be one of the most important experiences I have ever had. Americans, in general, know so little about the world outside of their own small spaces. There are so many extraordinary people in the world, so many common grounds to discover. I know that for the entirety of my life that I will be a rambler, and this soothes my soul.

Life is short, and we must make the most of it. Love the people you meet and cherish every breath that you breathe.

Today Deborah and I rode bicylces to the German border and back and explored the city of Swinoujsin. Tomorrw we depart for a new home, Wolstyn, perhaps?

A Wanderer's Update from Szczezin

Internet has not been part of my reality for the past couple of weeks, and I am doubtful that it will be in the coming weeks. I will try my best to provide a concise update of my adventures.

It all began with a three hour drive from Judy Branch to Berea where I met Deb and Frank, and Frank drove us another two hours or so to the Cincinnatti airport where Deb and I met up with our fellow travellers. Then a flight to Chicago. A delay followed by a hellacious change of planes which involved leaving the secured area, re-checking in, taking a train to the other terminal where our plan had already been boarding for half and hour. Packed flight on AirLOT (Polish airlines). I watched Night in the Museum with Polish voiceover, very entertaining. Arrived in Warsaw after 9.5 hours and waited several hours for our delayed plane to Lviv, Ukraine (Lvov in Polski). The real adventure began when we landed at Lviv. The airport was one small palace looking building with high arches. Beautiful. We went into the main room of the building and were locked in to go through a detailed customs accounting. When we finally made it through into the open entrance, our host families were there to greet us.

I fell in love with my first host family, and I could live with them forever: Voldymyr, Nadia and daughter Iryna. All musicians and all genuinely amazing people. Voldymyr is a professional musican (rock n roll) as well as a conductor; Nadia teaches at a music school and Iryna is a university student who also sings and plays bandola (a traditional Ukrainian instrument). They live in a small village just outside of Lviv called Navaria and their house was a work in progress, with Voldymyr working on it as he had time. Very nice and a place that both Deb and I could easily, immediately call home. My fondest memories are of the many cognac or vodka toasts (along with chocolate eating)before bed, watching the end of the Eurovision competition (Ukraine placed second. Serbia was the winner), Voldymyr's sister's birthday party (where Deb, Iryna and I were the only English speakers) and a wonderful bbq at their friends' home in a neighboring village in which we played a mix of old time Appalachian and Ukrainian music (banjo, guitar, accordian, spoons) and I taught Nadia and her friends how to flat foot on the back of a work trailer! I learned from them that in Ukraine you must always toast three times: 1. For family/children 2. For friends 3. For love. And then, you find countless more things about life to toast, even when you are so sleepy you can barely keep your eyes open.

Next we were in Uzhohord, south of Lviv and across the Carpathian Mountains in the Transcarpathian region bordering Hungary and Slovakia. I thought that this small city was much more of the type of city I would enjoy living in, with the Uzh river cutting through the center of town and many open spaces, small winding cobblestone streets, theatres, opera houses, etc. I stayed on my own with a "New Ukrainian" family (meaning the new wealthy, which is increasing, but a minority) just outside of town in a very, very nice house. I LOVED the back garden area, but I was a bit scared that I would mess something up in the house, it was so nice and so spotlessly clean. Yuroslav and Oxana (my host family) had a fantastic 3-yr old son, Sasha (nick name for Alexander) who immediately became my best friend, b/c no one in the house really spoke English. Also, I gave him a wooden, magnetic train set first thing, and it became his favorite toy (at least for the time I was there!).

The next leg of the journey involved an overnight train journey with some of our Rotary hosts from Lviv to Szczecin. This was quite a trip. Six people to a car, with six bunks. We had a blast testing our Polish out on our car-mate, a young man from Szczecin who we befriended when we noticed him laughing at some of the things we said in English. We gained an audience from our train mates with our game-show style game with Polish and English language, and then, of course, the Ukrainians got in the mix and it became a total riot with everyone crying from laughing so hard. Our party was cut short when a German woman arrived as a passenger on our car and immediately demanded that it was time to go to bed, which meant we all had to fold dopwn the beds and could no longer sit together. But our new friends from the next car over began a little music concert and everyone gathered in the hallway and sang songs and Deb and I danced a little. Even the conductor got involved a little. He was going to tell us to be quiet, but when the majority of train folks (most were in the hall) said they didn't mind the music, he seemed to dance a little too on his way back up the car.

Our first few days in Szczecin involved some Rotary activities, but we have also had time to really get to see the city, which is beautiful. Szczecin is about as far away from Ukrain as one could possibly get, on the NW corner boarding Germany and not too far from Denmark. The Rotary hosts in the club that are hosting us are much younger than those we met in Ukraine, and all seem to speak English. The city is really sort of cosmopolitan, esp. in the architecture and layout of the streets. The streets are more similar to Paris, with large round-abouts. It's a shipbuilding, port city and the greenest city in Poland with many large forested parks. Very livable place.

Tomorrow evening we will head northwest to the coast and take an overnight ferry to Copenhagen where we'll have a day and then return the next night by ferry. Then we'll spend the weekend on the coast and then head south of Szczecin to some other places. For the most part, we do not know where we are going or what we shall do until it happens.

Do widzenia, for now!

Wisdom of Pebbles

A long time ago, a Tom Robbins book profoundly altered my relationship with the world and my perception of consciousness. _Skinny Legs and All_ extended my empathetic capacity to inanimate objects, and although the novel's protagonists were ordinary houshold objects-can of beans, silver spoon and a sock- I have ever since felt the life and consciousness of rocks and soil. I think that feeling was already there, especially for rocks, and Robbins validated my sense that there is a consciousness far beyond what humans have speculated.

The first time I ever went hiking with my family, age 4, I began within the first few feet, picking up rocks and putting them in my pack. One would guess the lesson I should have learned that day. I don't take as many rocks with me as I would like to, but to this day I can hardly go on a walk without picking up a stone. I have always felt connected to boulders, stones, rocks and pebbles. I love the feel of sun-warmed stone under my bare feet. Growing up in the Smokies and living my early adult life in the Blue Ridge, I would spend hours hiking mountain streams. Barefoot and with no constraint of time nor any concern for what dishelveled, muddy condition the river would release me, I would explore the feeling of the stream, the way the different kinds of rocks felt under my feet. I usually walked up stream, and I would boulder up onto the larger rock formations and stretch my body over them, feeling the grooves, finding the perfect fit. When I would find that stone that was a perfect fit, I'd lay there and stare into the water, enjoying how my perception of the life of the stream would gradually awaken, allowing me to see the life in fluid motion.

Faerie Godmother wrote in a comment that a stone told her "Don't let yourself be strip-mined. Don't let your grief pollute! Be a clear spring where the water is pure." Now that is the kind of wisdom that comes from a rock. Life is too precious to spend your time in grief and worry. Surely, if Ghandi had allowed the grief he often must of felt to overtake his life... well, just imagine!

A quick weekend jolt to my hometown fed my soul with a deep appreciation for the relationship I have with my parents, which is now emerging into such a wonderful friendship. I also got in a few hours of catching up with one of my long-time close friends, who first inspired me to visit Poland when he was living there a few years ago. Between my upcoming travels and all sorts of insane and mundane life things, we certainly didn't run out of things to talk about. And then I came back home to three animal companions who, after I've left them for a day, want to spend every second by my side. The rest of my time has been spent enjoying the company of our Indonesian visitors and learning to see my life and home through new eyes. Last night Lee & I played music for our visitors, and Lee brought the house down when he played, by request, "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain," and our visitors sang along, with great enthusiasm, about 15 verses in Javanese.

That little stone's message rings true through these many joys that bless my life at nearly every unexpected turn. Of course there will be grief, hurt, self-doubt. Hearts and mountains both are vulnerable to strip mining. But life is always ready to spring forth. You should see what's happening out here on Judy Branch!

Why Can't We Be Friends?

Today my dad and I got into one of many discussions we tend to have. Basically, it comes down to our mutual lack of understanding of how so many outspoken people can get away with saying such stupid things, and people can actual stand to listen to it... and many of them actual agree. Whether it be the right-wing "moral" upholders (who patronize high price call girl agencies while fighting prostitution on a global scale) or the hungry media scouring blogs in search of the "real" story of those impacted by the VT incident, they are all specimens of the human race that leave me feeling that there's little hope for our species. I'm with Tolkein. I just wish I could have been on that boat with Bibo, Frodo and the elves.

On the other hand, a slew of visitors from Indonesia have rekindled my joy in the human race. For a week they have, unexpectedly, been at the forefront of my everyday life, communicating with pure expression, music and mime mixed with fragmented, translated words. The first night I met them (all fifteen or so...) I ended up giving banjo lessons and exchanging dance steps. It was such a grand musical evening that I scrapped together my slim resources and gifted Sofie with a small gord banjo and Anneng with a full-sized banjo to take back to Java with them. We have a few more days left together, and I am so glad that this is so, altho I'm a bit terrified at their request for me to join in a musical collaboration for their puppetry presentation. Javanese music is entirely off the scale of any crooked KY fiddle tunes I've ever heard! I'm not sure I can even find these notes on my banjo... but I'll sure as heck try! I hope that Faerie Godmother will come up to stay on Judy Branch Tuesday evening so she can witness the beautiful Wayang puppetry performance. It is going to be something.

I'm also looking forward to bowling with them tomorrow and then Monday night when they get to meet my esteemed banjo mentor, Lee. He's always so good with entertaining folks, and I think he's excited about meeting visitors from so far away. I'll head over to his house tomorrow after bowling so we can practice up some tunes with him on fiddle & me backing him on banjo. So many good things to get into just in the next 48 hours. That restores a little faith in the human race.

Having all these folks come and stay with us in our little town reminds me of why I love to travel and meet people along the path. The most amazing people you could ever meet are those you meet unwittingly. We are from such varying religious and ethinc backgrounds, but we are all joined together in this shared experience, this common ground of being here now. I am going to miss these happenstance friends when they go back home, but I'm sure glad to be guardian of a long list of Javanese towns as destinations for the next big adventure. (MW, are you ready for our next trip? I'm voting for someplace more tropical... but it's your pick;)

I'm gettig ready to embark on my own exchange trip to small coal mining towns and whatnot in the Ukraine and Poland. I can only hope to make as deep connection with those I visit there as these visitors have made with me. And I wish I could take my first Ambassador to Poland with me.

Preparing for Departure

Preparing for departure is never easy. It can be exhilarating, exhausting and damn near impossible. Is anyone ever really ready to leave?

First off, there are so many things to be done. House needs cleaning, garden tending, laundry washing. How do you want to leave things when you go? And what to bring with you? And whom do you need to connect with before you go?

14 days until I get on a plane for Lvov. And really, all I want to do is get my garden planted, play music and just soak in springtime in the mountains. I love being disconnected from the rest of the world. No news, no TV to muddle the experience of being here now. I hope I can feel each moment in the Ukraine and Poland as intensely as I feel it here on Judy Branch.

When I come home I know that there will be many other kinds of departures to deal with. We are always leaving or being left behind.

One of the hardest things about living here is when entire mountains disappear. When I was driving to Berea last week, there was a roadblock. We were being stopped to witness a few men in backhoes systematically tear down trees on the mountainside. The mountain will be next. Living here, you become somewhat hardened to the death of mountains. You just don't have enough emotional energy to deal with it. Sitting there in my car, watching the dozer take down tree after tree that had just begun to sprout spring greens. Deep from within a sob came to surface, and before I knew it I was crying uncontrollably. For the life of me, I can't understand how any living being with a soul can actively participate in the murder of a mountain. I know all the complexities. The people behind the machines have to do those jobs to feed their family. There's a long chain of complicity. Still, I just don't understand humankind's capacity for cold-blooded murder, whether it is against each other, other living beings or entire ecosystems. It's things like this that have me convinced that I missed the boat. How can I be part of this species?

I tend to think too much and live too much in my head. Most of my life I have been terrified of my potential, as a human, to cause pain or harm to others. I have a tendency to want to protect others from myself, and I go through phases where I sort of quarantine myself away from the rest of the world... for their own good. It's not exactly a healthy way of approaching life or relationships. I have so much admiration for my friends who are outspoken and passionate and unafraid of the potential consequences of following their hearts. Maybe my heart has always been uncertain, or perhaps my brain just gets in the way. I am always trumped by this deep need to do what is best for everyone involved. I'd probably make a good mom, except that I really don't want to bring kids into this world.

I don't really expect many people read this blog. I don't try to get it out to the world. I only tell a few friends about it with little expectation that they'll actually read it. Mainly, this was something I set up to force myself to write on a regular basis, something other than grant proposals, reports or journal entries. I try to keep it to what is at the foremost on my mind, while keeping an intentional distance from my job. It seems that even in writing about things that I felt really only related to what was going on in my mind, I still manage to hurt or upset other people.

Someone recently made a comment about an entry I wrote after I learned some pretty devastating news about an old friend. I tried to keep it vague and not easy to identify, but that was under the assumption that my readership is primarily people from this life, not old high school friends. The person commenting used the word Schadenfreude, which means someone who takes pleasure in others' misery. Pretty harsh. It hurts to know that is how, after all these years, she thinks of me.

I hate that horrible things have happened to people I admire and respect. I hate that what I wrote could be taken as an insult when I meant it as homage. I don't enjoy knowing that others are experiencing unimaginable agony. It makes me feel sick. And that's why I wrote something down.

Out of respect for that friend, I will remove the entry and apologize for any pain it may have caused. I figured those old feelings were water under the bridge and that reflecting on them could do no harm. My bad.

Almost perfect storm

Another spring finds me traveling for a weekend meeting in Texas. Last year it was Dallas, and right now it's San Antonio. I have to admit that I have actually really started to enjoy going to this meetings, and not simply because of the travel. I have learned to trust that no matter how skeptical I am about the meeting's locale, it is going to be loads of fund because of the people who I'm going to meet. This is one of the aspects of my job that I really don't mind letting seep into my personal time(i.e. weekend and nights).

Last night I dined at a great Mexican restaurant with about ten artists and arts presenters. Then, after taking a little break, a few of us walked from the hotel down to Market Square to check out the opening of a new museum, complete with a FREE outdoor concert with Linda Rondstant. Prior leaving the hotel, we had gotten wind of reports of a major storm and tornado watch headed directly for San Antonio. Relying on our sense of adventure and the reassurances of a local colleague, five of us set to face whatever may hit us. We figured, how much safer would we be on the 5th floor of a hotel?

The square was lively, but not too crowded as the winds began to pick up and lightning could be seen in the near distance. Literally 20 seconds after we turned the corner to face the stage we heard a few strains of Linda's voice, followed by her explaing, "I'm sorry, but they're telling me I have to stop now." Then the announcer warned everyone that a severe thunderstorm was minutes away and everyone should safely find their way to cover. We found our way to a great mariachi bar and rode out the storm in style. The bonus? Music provided to a neighboring table by a huge band, complete with two fiddles, two trumpets, a guitar, that intstrument they use that looks like a seriously over-sized guitar (bandola?) and... a harp!!!