the angel says I found you on your blog
it's good to know I have so much love to give
The angel wrestles a beast to the ground for me, when I walked the spillway
past the Indian village on one side and the Indian reservation on the other,
dogs barking at us and invisible coyotes lurking on the other, I felt so depressed
I thought something was following and stalking me. Brain chemistry dewired.
I felt the energy come off of you and I wrestled it down for you.
The angel is a former student who is now a colleague,
someone I helped write her childhood stories, now in a PhD program
and full of light and collegiality and love - in the hall, and she was looking for me
a fluke because I am now usually invisible on the job
The angel is my mother, taking time to talk to me by the pool
and help me see who and what are good for me and what is not
The angel is a pregnant belly full of poems, waiting to be born, gestating
and ready for labor when I am
The angel is a class of new creative writing students tonight,
some from last semester I felt like giving hugs
some from classes years ago who said they are back because I'm cool
so good, to send out energy that is good and now returns to me
with a boomerang effect.
The angel is a Christmas card in my office mailbox, from a month ago,
a wonderful new acquaintance comrade light-worker working tirelessly
for desert conservation and protection, full of kind words
and love, the angel is a poetry book in the mail from someone I met at the
Heyday Christmas party last month and lost his address, a Steinbeck scholar,
what a gentle touch, to receive his beautiful book of poems
The angel is my friend who says he is incredibly touched by my generosity
when all I did as give him a birthday card and a few books
The angel is my friend who takes me high and far into the most rugged desert
mountains I've ever seen - thick stands of lavendar, mesquite, ocotillo,
wildness I forget could exist - amazing rockslides and falls, boulders,
and who built a fire and let me burn some inner anguish away
The angel arrives to ease my burdens of work, brilliant enough to
know exactly what to do and take excitement in doing so,
The angel is my hot cup of chamomile tea with honey, the soft of my
down comforter - it's cold these past few January nights! - a slice
of Williams and Sonoma white and dark chocolate, with cracked bits
of peppermint candy on top, from a huge tin I've been working through,
my daughter received this at work from some of the wealthiest people
in the valley who are patients at her doctor's office, the angel IS my
daughter, heating the water for her mom, and thankfully giving BACK
the puppy chihuaha she brought home to babysit the past four days
The angel found me on my blog
my life, this day, little electrical impulses firing, imprinted in safe eternity
it's good to know I have so much love to give
it feels so good to love
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Ruth Nolan + Phantom Seed Reading Saturday, Jan 31 2-4 pm
Ruth Nolan + Phantom Seed Magazine Poetry Reading
Saturday, January 31, 2008 2-4 p.m.
Santa Catalina Branch of the Pasadena Public Library
999 E. Washington Blvd. Pasadena CA - free!
for more information contact Ruth Nolan @ runolan@aol.com
or Don Kingfisher Campbell, host: kingfisher1031@charter.net
All Phantom Seed Issues 1 & 2 poet/contributors welcome to read!
Please note that Phantom Seed is taking submissions for Issue 3, to be published this spring. Email your "desert" writing (all genres) to runolan@aol.com
Also, the San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly #41 is now taking submissions - submit up to 3 poems for publishing consideration by February 21st in the body of an email message to: kingfisher1031@charter.net - the March 7th Catalina Branch of the Pasadena Library reading will be an open reading for SGVQ #41 contributors!
Saturday, January 31, 2008 2-4 p.m.
Santa Catalina Branch of the Pasadena Public Library
999 E. Washington Blvd. Pasadena CA - free!
for more information contact Ruth Nolan @ runolan@aol.com
or Don Kingfisher Campbell, host: kingfisher1031@charter.net
All Phantom Seed Issues 1 & 2 poet/contributors welcome to read!
Please note that Phantom Seed is taking submissions for Issue 3, to be published this spring. Email your "desert" writing (all genres) to runolan@aol.com
Also, the San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly #41 is now taking submissions - submit up to 3 poems for publishing consideration by February 21st in the body of an email message to: kingfisher1031@charter.net - the March 7th Catalina Branch of the Pasadena Library reading will be an open reading for SGVQ #41 contributors!
Anza-Borrego Desert : Kumeyaay Indian Pictographs + Village
I visited the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park in southernmost California last weekend, Jan. 17, after giving a desert literature lecture at the Anza-Borrego Desert Natural History Association the evening before - located in the town of Borrego Springs, California. I enjoyed a warm January daytime visit to Blair Valley, an amazing area in the park that I discovered last March. The following pictures are from that trip, but last Saturday, I visited again...
There's me, being a little cheeky with one of many mortreros! I was amazed to disover numerous more mortreros recently than I did a year ago, at this Kumeyaay Indian village site.
My friend P., standing tall next to an amazing outcrop with a living room to one side...at a Kumeyaay Indian village site, not far from that motrero...
These pictographs are located near the village site, one canyon over, and also in a "pass" region that follows an ancient footpath. This is one of the most powerful, amazing areas I have ever visited in the California desert. I also found much more detail in the nearby pictograph - colored rock wall art - this time with a background of yellow added to the stark ochre/red drawings.
There's me, being a little cheeky with one of many mortreros! I was amazed to disover numerous more mortreros recently than I did a year ago, at this Kumeyaay Indian village site.
My friend P., standing tall next to an amazing outcrop with a living room to one side...at a Kumeyaay Indian village site, not far from that motrero...
A view of the part of the village site - it's situated in a pass. I would love to camp here.
These pictographs are located near the village site, one canyon over, and also in a "pass" region that follows an ancient footpath. This is one of the most powerful, amazing areas I have ever visited in the California desert. I also found much more detail in the nearby pictograph - colored rock wall art - this time with a background of yellow added to the stark ochre/red drawings.Desert Anthology Sneak Preface!
Enjoy! This is from the preface I've written for the California Desert Literature anthology I'm editing for Heyday Books, to be published in fall, 2009.
I was ten years old in 1973 when my father first drove me in his old Volkswagen Bug up the long, steep grade of Interstate 15 from my hometown of San Bernardino, 60 miles east of Los Angeles and imbedded in the smog of southern California’s Inland Empire region, and over the 4,000 foot lip of California’s Cajon Pass summit. I held my breath as we reached the top of the pass and beheld, for the first time in my life, a horizon of land that was as wide and vast as the sea. From there, at the edge of the Mojave Desert, a long necklace of headlights stretched east for 40 miles, and the western sky was lit with rose and orange hues. We descended downhill, towards the small town of Victorville, racing past Joshua Trees, their thick needled fists etched gracefully and fiercely against the colored sunset. I knew then and there that I’d found my place, my calling, my landscape, my inner wilderness. I stuck my head out the window and looked up: the evening star, with a slice of moon alongside it. I was instantly and forever smitten.
This was an empty and imposing land, rife with promise of danger and thrill. I sensed that for our family, soon to re-locate there to be near my father’s new job, an entirely new adventure lay in wait. Three years later, when my mother opened a kitchen drawer to find a baby Mojave Green rattlesnake; when I went to bed serenaded by a symphony of coyotes every night; when my brother went to the hospital with dehydration after summiting a harsh rock peak near our house on an August afternoon, my intuitions were confirmed. The desert was as silent as a church during a funeral, and it was as wide open and empty as a schoolyard on a Sunday, but it was never, ever boring.
Little did I know, on that first drive to the high desert, that the road we traversed was overlaid upon an older, centuries-old route: the old Indian trail used for thousands of years as a cross-desert pathway for Native Americans of many tribes traversing their way across California’s desert from the coast to the Colorado River and other inland areas, working their way from waterhole to waterhole, and in part, winding across and near the Mojave River, which sometimes flowed, and still flows through dense shoulders of cottonwoods, and at other times, moves northwards silently underground in a vast and arid wash covered with deep sand. By the 17th century, this same route came to be used by early Spanish priests and explorers, and in the 19th and 20th centuries, by western-bound settlers – the Mojave Road, the Mormon Trail – same route, different name, and similar purposes – to cross the desert safely to and from California’s densely populated and climate-friendly coastal regions and the interior regions of the country.
copyright (c) 2009 Ruth Nolan
I was ten years old in 1973 when my father first drove me in his old Volkswagen Bug up the long, steep grade of Interstate 15 from my hometown of San Bernardino, 60 miles east of Los Angeles and imbedded in the smog of southern California’s Inland Empire region, and over the 4,000 foot lip of California’s Cajon Pass summit. I held my breath as we reached the top of the pass and beheld, for the first time in my life, a horizon of land that was as wide and vast as the sea. From there, at the edge of the Mojave Desert, a long necklace of headlights stretched east for 40 miles, and the western sky was lit with rose and orange hues. We descended downhill, towards the small town of Victorville, racing past Joshua Trees, their thick needled fists etched gracefully and fiercely against the colored sunset. I knew then and there that I’d found my place, my calling, my landscape, my inner wilderness. I stuck my head out the window and looked up: the evening star, with a slice of moon alongside it. I was instantly and forever smitten.
This was an empty and imposing land, rife with promise of danger and thrill. I sensed that for our family, soon to re-locate there to be near my father’s new job, an entirely new adventure lay in wait. Three years later, when my mother opened a kitchen drawer to find a baby Mojave Green rattlesnake; when I went to bed serenaded by a symphony of coyotes every night; when my brother went to the hospital with dehydration after summiting a harsh rock peak near our house on an August afternoon, my intuitions were confirmed. The desert was as silent as a church during a funeral, and it was as wide open and empty as a schoolyard on a Sunday, but it was never, ever boring.
Little did I know, on that first drive to the high desert, that the road we traversed was overlaid upon an older, centuries-old route: the old Indian trail used for thousands of years as a cross-desert pathway for Native Americans of many tribes traversing their way across California’s desert from the coast to the Colorado River and other inland areas, working their way from waterhole to waterhole, and in part, winding across and near the Mojave River, which sometimes flowed, and still flows through dense shoulders of cottonwoods, and at other times, moves northwards silently underground in a vast and arid wash covered with deep sand. By the 17th century, this same route came to be used by early Spanish priests and explorers, and in the 19th and 20th centuries, by western-bound settlers – the Mojave Road, the Mormon Trail – same route, different name, and similar purposes – to cross the desert safely to and from California’s densely populated and climate-friendly coastal regions and the interior regions of the country.
copyright (c) 2009 Ruth Nolan
Thursday, January 22, 2009
My two cents on our new president + hope
America
by Robert Creeley
America, you ode for reality!
Give back the people you took.
Let the sun shine again
on the four corners of the world
you thought of first but do not
own, or keep like a convenience.
People are your own word, you
invented that locus and term.
Here, you said and say, is
where we are. Give back
what we are, these people you made,
us, and nowhere but you to be.
c. Robert Creeley
by Robert Creeley
America, you ode for reality!
Give back the people you took.
Let the sun shine again
on the four corners of the world
you thought of first but do not
own, or keep like a convenience.
People are your own word, you
invented that locus and term.
Here, you said and say, is
where we are. Give back
what we are, these people you made,
us, and nowhere but you to be.
c. Robert Creeley
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Santa Rosa Mountains Wilderness 1.14.09
A good way to be wild - visit the intelligence of the untempered desert: January hike in the California Desert....warm temps in 70's and new life in the cactus and hillsides, already becoming spring, wild and alive, animated, rebirthing in green - the amazingly lit Santa Rosa-San Jacinto Mountains National Monument, one the most rugged areas in southern California.....we hiked all day and found an old Indian Trail that led us straight up and over a very deep canyon that contained a 4 story high dry waterfall inside of it - and found our way back into the canyon, past the waterfall and safely down. Much sign of peninsular bighorn sheep, and water filling the deepest holes....
Grateful ocotillo, bursting with green in the first winter of significant rainfall since 2005-06 
More ocotillo, in fact, a natural ocotillo farm backlit in mid-winter sun, a hillside full... dangerous on this hillside - extremely narrow Indian trail, and a several hundred foot dropoff just to the right - I admit I experienced a bit of vertigo - don't - look - down - heart-stopping hike...
View looking east, across the lower Coachella Valley just adjacent to the Salton Sea, towards the Mecca Hills and, left of them, the little San Bernardinos and right, the Chuckawalllas.
Bird's nest tucked into a cholla cactus nearly 6 feet tall - fresh life vibrating intelligently from the dark stem of a plant that was once dying - beautiful. It was a great day, wildness survives.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Get Me Into the Desert....
away from the laptop
away from an email inbox brimming with messages that need to be answered dating back almost a month (forgive me, friends who are waiting to hear back!)
away from permissions-seeking-endless-circling-round-and-round for the desert anthology
away from the city away from an empty house
away from hating a mortgage payment
away from being tempted to foreclose - not so much "the economy" but that I'm hitting another time in my life when it's time to move - this happens in a pattern in my life. I max out on place, location, and when it's time to go -I go. My daughter is grown up - and I'M ready to leave home!
But now, it's weird, because I have a house to sell. For the first time, and in the worst time possible. Agh! I move away from things, and on to new things, challenges, geographies, people. From here, I will move away from isolation Palm Desert, the town, is much more lonely than the open desert 10 miles out. One of my favorite little ironies. I've resolved to get out of here before it gets hot, and knowing this place, I've got just a few months left!
photo of my friend G, Indian Canyon Palm Springs - not photoshopped.
the desert,
the real desert, not the designer,
is a firm companion, slippery in its committment
to landlocked desire
a poem surely awaits me there, in the clear language
of retro-neo-articulation, oh, original moon
mouthed by the clear language of sky
you brighten
and awaken us
when we tire, the new year heavy with expectation
the desert solstice dark time of year cold spell
seems to have lifted, and we are warmed by Santa Anas,
the storms that gripped us have shifted north
but the shortest days weigh our hearts with dark
tunes - my therapist says that unexplained anxiety
may be a psychic pitchfork for errant understanding
what I perceive as my own life falling apart
in the past year - crumbling, crashing, while
simultaneously my professional life spreads wings
and successes flow my way like a river towards sea
I'm along for some amazing rides! Yet this dissolution
of so many things in my personal life, sense of safety
is the flavor of our times - do I take it personally
that in 2008 I turned 46, that my daughter shifted away
from home and into her young adult life, that
a colleague burned me on a major project we worked on
together for more than a year, is out there taking all the credit,
making presentations and cutting me out of the loop -
that my home equity value dropped by about 100K of
imaginary mid-life security, that I panic suddenly about being
single and handling it all on my own, forced indpendence
seems irrelevant and laughable now, we've humped the
last throes of the rugged individual in America? Ha.
I say, shed material things - hang onto people.
The time has arrived for tribe. Again. We have no choice
but to seek water at our own level, and mine runs high.
And I've done this in the past few days:
taught a writing workshop at Riverside Library - cool
hiked Mt. Rubidoux in Riverside in screaming winds
chanted in Venice Beach with Jai Uttal
planned a Wednesday hike in a remote desert canyon
hosted a terrific poetry evening in Palm Springs,
even though I only felt halfway there, blurry --
I've let the wind blow me off a mountaintop.
I've walked the dogs, who are so restless and toddler-ish
in their frustration at how I ignore them these days.
I've broken the law with an open container and
talking a lot on my cell phone while driving.
I've taken notes, during last night's reading, for
a new poem or two - yet to be entirely consummated
but soon to appear on this here blog -
I've read four emails from assorted friends and family
who express their dire circumstances and ask for prayer,
support, and money - what do I say? I love you -
I'm praying for you (although I am not sure the fundamental
amongst my extended family will believe me, that I can pray
at all, because I'm not "saved," like them, but I try) -
I can't send $ because I just lost a fat paycheck when they
canceled winter session, $ I usually earmark for those two
months in summer when I don't get paid - and they might
cancel s-school too, so it's penny hoarding time, sorry -
guess I'm not alone - there ya go - as my cool therapist
says, my anxiety levels of recent months must be but
an innate talent, a gift for tuning into what's around me-
mine may be more existential, and yea, I realize it's
WAY politically not PC to say, today: "I hate my job I'm sick
of working there my talent is busting out and all I wanna
do is write and write and put together books" (and of course
spend lots of time in the outdoors), ahh, those without
jobs hate on me, but fuckit. Angst is angst, no mind the shape.
I've bought a stack of tabloid magazines. Which I am now
going to read. That, and the amazing book by Susan Lang
of her mother's homesteading years in Pipes Canyon -
true story - Small Rocks Rising. I recommend it!
A big hug and showing the love to all of you - may
you be a little less alone by sharing my solitude 2nite.
And smile. Gas is now less than $2/gallon. Who would've
imagined this miracle mile just months ago? One good
side to our pendulum-busting economy and times.
The dogs sleep tight. Curled at my feet, by my side.
away from an email inbox brimming with messages that need to be answered dating back almost a month (forgive me, friends who are waiting to hear back!)
away from permissions-seeking-endless-circling-round-and-round for the desert anthology
away from the city away from an empty house
away from hating a mortgage payment
away from being tempted to foreclose - not so much "the economy" but that I'm hitting another time in my life when it's time to move - this happens in a pattern in my life. I max out on place, location, and when it's time to go -I go. My daughter is grown up - and I'M ready to leave home!
But now, it's weird, because I have a house to sell. For the first time, and in the worst time possible. Agh! I move away from things, and on to new things, challenges, geographies, people. From here, I will move away from isolation Palm Desert, the town, is much more lonely than the open desert 10 miles out. One of my favorite little ironies. I've resolved to get out of here before it gets hot, and knowing this place, I've got just a few months left!
photo of my friend G, Indian Canyon Palm Springs - not photoshopped.the desert,
the real desert, not the designer,
is a firm companion, slippery in its committment
to landlocked desire
a poem surely awaits me there, in the clear language
of retro-neo-articulation, oh, original moon
mouthed by the clear language of sky
you brighten
and awaken us
when we tire, the new year heavy with expectation
the desert solstice dark time of year cold spell
seems to have lifted, and we are warmed by Santa Anas,
the storms that gripped us have shifted north
but the shortest days weigh our hearts with dark
tunes - my therapist says that unexplained anxiety
may be a psychic pitchfork for errant understanding
what I perceive as my own life falling apart
in the past year - crumbling, crashing, while
simultaneously my professional life spreads wings
and successes flow my way like a river towards sea
I'm along for some amazing rides! Yet this dissolution
of so many things in my personal life, sense of safety
is the flavor of our times - do I take it personally
that in 2008 I turned 46, that my daughter shifted away
from home and into her young adult life, that
a colleague burned me on a major project we worked on
together for more than a year, is out there taking all the credit,
making presentations and cutting me out of the loop -
that my home equity value dropped by about 100K of
imaginary mid-life security, that I panic suddenly about being
single and handling it all on my own, forced indpendence
seems irrelevant and laughable now, we've humped the
last throes of the rugged individual in America? Ha.
I say, shed material things - hang onto people.
The time has arrived for tribe. Again. We have no choice
but to seek water at our own level, and mine runs high.
And I've done this in the past few days:
taught a writing workshop at Riverside Library - cool
hiked Mt. Rubidoux in Riverside in screaming winds
chanted in Venice Beach with Jai Uttal
planned a Wednesday hike in a remote desert canyon
hosted a terrific poetry evening in Palm Springs,
even though I only felt halfway there, blurry --
I've let the wind blow me off a mountaintop.
I've walked the dogs, who are so restless and toddler-ish
in their frustration at how I ignore them these days.
I've broken the law with an open container and
talking a lot on my cell phone while driving.
I've taken notes, during last night's reading, for
a new poem or two - yet to be entirely consummated
but soon to appear on this here blog -
I've read four emails from assorted friends and family
who express their dire circumstances and ask for prayer,
support, and money - what do I say? I love you -
I'm praying for you (although I am not sure the fundamental
amongst my extended family will believe me, that I can pray
at all, because I'm not "saved," like them, but I try) -
I can't send $ because I just lost a fat paycheck when they
canceled winter session, $ I usually earmark for those two
months in summer when I don't get paid - and they might
cancel s-school too, so it's penny hoarding time, sorry -
guess I'm not alone - there ya go - as my cool therapist
says, my anxiety levels of recent months must be but
an innate talent, a gift for tuning into what's around me-
mine may be more existential, and yea, I realize it's
WAY politically not PC to say, today: "I hate my job I'm sick
of working there my talent is busting out and all I wanna
do is write and write and put together books" (and of course
spend lots of time in the outdoors), ahh, those without
jobs hate on me, but fuckit. Angst is angst, no mind the shape.
I've bought a stack of tabloid magazines. Which I am now
going to read. That, and the amazing book by Susan Lang
of her mother's homesteading years in Pipes Canyon -
true story - Small Rocks Rising. I recommend it!
A big hug and showing the love to all of you - may
you be a little less alone by sharing my solitude 2nite.
And smile. Gas is now less than $2/gallon. Who would've
imagined this miracle mile just months ago? One good
side to our pendulum-busting economy and times.
The dogs sleep tight. Curled at my feet, by my side.
Anza Borrego Desert Literature Lecture
Anza Borrego Desert
Natural History Association presents...
Desert Literature: From Arid Land to Literary Bounty - lecture by Ruth Nolan
Jan. 16, Fri., 6:30 - 8:30 p.m.
ABDNHA Visitor Center
Borrego Desert Nature Center
652 Palm Canyon Drive off Christmas Circle
Borrego Springs, California. (760) 767-3098.
http://www.abdnha.org/
What do the authors Mark Twain, Mary Austin, Katherine Siva Saubel, and Lawrence Hogue have in common? They, along with an astonishing number of writers, have written about the California desert; in particular, the Anza-Borrego Desert.
This lecture will focus on the literature and stories emanating from the Anza-Borrego Desert, from pre-history to the present. Ruth Nolan, a writer, editor and teacher, is compiling a new anthology of California desert literature, to be published by Heyday Books in fall, 2009. The lecture will showcase some of the works included in Ruth's anthology.
You may come and sign up on the day of this event, or make a reservation in advance (not necessary.) At the ABDNHA Library, call the Nature Center to reserve. NM: $12; M: $10; V: $8.
Natural History Association presents...
Desert Literature: From Arid Land to Literary Bounty - lecture by Ruth Nolan
Jan. 16, Fri., 6:30 - 8:30 p.m.
ABDNHA Visitor Center
Borrego Desert Nature Center
652 Palm Canyon Drive off Christmas Circle
Borrego Springs, California. (760) 767-3098.
http://www.abdnha.org/
What do the authors Mark Twain, Mary Austin, Katherine Siva Saubel, and Lawrence Hogue have in common? They, along with an astonishing number of writers, have written about the California desert; in particular, the Anza-Borrego Desert.
This lecture will focus on the literature and stories emanating from the Anza-Borrego Desert, from pre-history to the present. Ruth Nolan, a writer, editor and teacher, is compiling a new anthology of California desert literature, to be published by Heyday Books in fall, 2009. The lecture will showcase some of the works included in Ruth's anthology.
You may come and sign up on the day of this event, or make a reservation in advance (not necessary.) At the ABDNHA Library, call the Nature Center to reserve. NM: $12; M: $10; V: $8.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Trapdoor Poetry Sun Jan 11 6:00 pm
TRAPDOOR POETRY READING
SUNDAY, JANUARY 11, 6 PM
Trap Door Poetry Series proudly presents....
free & open to 21+ public.....
open mike + featured poet
Judy Kronenfeld
Palm Springs Wine & Art
242 N Palm Canyon Drive
Palm Springs, CA 92262-5510
downtown Palm Springs
(760) 325-5991
Inlandia Writers Workshop Starts Tonight Thursday, Jan 8th, 7:00 pm
Join us for a free writing workshop at the downtown Riverside Public Library! The public is welcome, the workshop is free, and will run from 7:00-8:30 p.m. Workshop leader Ruth Nolan, M.A., is a college professor, writer and editor, and has a successful background in leading writing workshops throughout our region.
The Winter, 2009 Inlandia Writers Workshop series is part of this writing workshop series successully initiated in summer, 2008 and culminating in the publication of a collection of participants' writing, Slouching Towards Mt. Rubidoux Manor, #1, along with a well-attended public reading from the book.
The Riverside Public Library is located at 3581 Mission Inn Avenue in Riverside, adjacent to the 91 Freeway. For more information call (951) 826-2420 or email inlandiainstitute@gmail.com
Class dates are on Thursday evenings, as follows
each meets from 7-8:30 pm
Thurs, Jan 8; Thurs, Jan 15; no class Jan 15; Thurs, Jan 22; Thurs, Jan 29; Thurs, Feb 5; Thurs, Feb 12; no class Feb 19; Thurs, Feb 26.
Bring something to write on and with; laptops are welcome!
The Winter, 2009 Inlandia Writers Workshop series is part of this writing workshop series successully initiated in summer, 2008 and culminating in the publication of a collection of participants' writing, Slouching Towards Mt. Rubidoux Manor, #1, along with a well-attended public reading from the book.
The Riverside Public Library is located at 3581 Mission Inn Avenue in Riverside, adjacent to the 91 Freeway. For more information call (951) 826-2420 or email inlandiainstitute@gmail.com
Class dates are on Thursday evenings, as follows
each meets from 7-8:30 pm
Thurs, Jan 8; Thurs, Jan 15; no class Jan 15; Thurs, Jan 22; Thurs, Jan 29; Thurs, Feb 5; Thurs, Feb 12; no class Feb 19; Thurs, Feb 26.
Bring something to write on and with; laptops are welcome!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Joshua Tree Queen Mountain Hike 1.3.09
A long hike taken on January 3, 2009 to an amazing birthing cave deep in the Queen Mountains of Joshua Tree National Park. Recent snow and ice in the park lingered, adding mystery and timelessness to the location.
And Ruth, standing beneath the overhang of giant granite rock. This cave is on a hillside and looking out across the entire Wonderland of Rocks. I was overpowered, amazed, and inspired by this site. Thanks to the friends who took me there. As you can see by the way I'm dressed, it was a very cold day, temps only in the 40's and an icy wind. Elevations upwards between 4,000-5,000 feet. In Joshua Tree.......
This was the entrance to a tunnel on the side of the cave that could be crawled through - I did it - as part of the ritual ceremonies conducted here, probably puberty ceremonies for girls -
A petroglyph on the ceiling, traced in ochre...
An ice floe in a canyon not far from the cave, where ice was thick and designated in unique patterns....
And Ruth, standing beneath the overhang of giant granite rock. This cave is on a hillside and looking out across the entire Wonderland of Rocks. I was overpowered, amazed, and inspired by this site. Thanks to the friends who took me there. As you can see by the way I'm dressed, it was a very cold day, temps only in the 40's and an icy wind. Elevations upwards between 4,000-5,000 feet. In Joshua Tree.......
Thursday, January 1, 2009
First Posting, 2009
Namaste and walk in beauty!
I ushered in 2009 with a drive to the beautiful, cold, star-magnificent high desert town of Joshua Tree, and brief stops at two parties there. All the snow from the big storm that hit a few weeks ago has melted, but the ground is still very richly moist and the desert just felt good there! It was such a joy to drive on dirt roads pillared by giant Joshua Tree forests, warming me with their loving arms and wild gesticulations through the headlights.
It reminds me of a camping trip I made there on another New Year's Eve, 1988 I believe, with friends from the BLM fire crew - we camped at one of the park campgrounds, and it was cold - dropping to 14 degrees that night!
Like everyone else, my life is filled with many senses of loss, anxiety and concerns over our rapidly shifting economy and world, and also, at the same time, excitement and hopes for the big changes we are collectively and individually going through.
I happen to be one of the people who is ultra-sensitive, like it or not, to the collective "vibes," which has me alternating between an extra dose of anxiety, sense of loneliness and loss, and a feeling of excited anticipation over the rapid-fire changes occurring. I'm heartened to know that this is a time that "tries men's souls" (I like to think of "women," too) - as Thomas Paine, the great Revolutionary War era writer said - in short, we're all being called on to look deep into ourselves to find what we're made of - to get real, to understand that we each create our own reality, and the ultimate obligation we have to make our lives and society work!
That means working together, and working from the heart in a real way that I know so many of us have slid from in the past few decades of excessive spending and living, years of growing more and more detached from families and the little things that nurture us and so often sidelined by "doing too much" and "watching too much TV" and "withdrawing into cyber-worlds."
And so, with love and compassion for myself and for humankind, I put these energies into the open arms of the Great Spirit, the eternal and cosmic OM vibrations, Father-Mother-God, Earth, and the universe!
2009 will be the year I sell my house and move from Palm Desert and start something new
the year I allow love to come into my life, to allow myself to be loved
the year I trace the desert earth, and mountains, and all outdoors possibilities, reconnecting to my lifelong passion and love and healing passion of nature, hiking again, more and more
the year I continue to build my writing life and career
the year I give myself love, the love I showered on my daughter all these years
the year I face my fears of "empty nest" now that my daughter is grown, and bring new relationships into my life-fold - healthy and loving relationships
the year I walk in beauty with every step, awake and aware, even if scared and feeling alone
the year I give thanks for all I've had, and have, and will have, even though so many things feel empty right now. I choose to see that this is a "good" type of empty, that will allow "new" things and people to enter
the year I walk into the steps of my new life as a writer and poet and editor, embrace that more fully and continue to professionally grow - seeing my current job not as a limit, but a launchpad for the next adventures
the year I make friends and family and time for them a top priority
the year I fully learn that my spiritual name, Prema, means love, and to continue to share the love through my writing and creative work with those who cross my path
the year I create an entirely new and sustainable paradigm for my life - shedding the 10 year Palm Desert, daughter-raising old, and building a new chapter in my storybook
the year I learn to invite postive, forward actions to walk alongside my fears and anxieties and old and no longer useful concepts of my life and self that have pulled me down and that I'm now breaking free of
the year I am back on the move, and notice the moon and stars, and wrap the blanket of night sky around myself and shine
I ushered in 2009 with a drive to the beautiful, cold, star-magnificent high desert town of Joshua Tree, and brief stops at two parties there. All the snow from the big storm that hit a few weeks ago has melted, but the ground is still very richly moist and the desert just felt good there! It was such a joy to drive on dirt roads pillared by giant Joshua Tree forests, warming me with their loving arms and wild gesticulations through the headlights.
It reminds me of a camping trip I made there on another New Year's Eve, 1988 I believe, with friends from the BLM fire crew - we camped at one of the park campgrounds, and it was cold - dropping to 14 degrees that night!
Like everyone else, my life is filled with many senses of loss, anxiety and concerns over our rapidly shifting economy and world, and also, at the same time, excitement and hopes for the big changes we are collectively and individually going through.
I happen to be one of the people who is ultra-sensitive, like it or not, to the collective "vibes," which has me alternating between an extra dose of anxiety, sense of loneliness and loss, and a feeling of excited anticipation over the rapid-fire changes occurring. I'm heartened to know that this is a time that "tries men's souls" (I like to think of "women," too) - as Thomas Paine, the great Revolutionary War era writer said - in short, we're all being called on to look deep into ourselves to find what we're made of - to get real, to understand that we each create our own reality, and the ultimate obligation we have to make our lives and society work!
That means working together, and working from the heart in a real way that I know so many of us have slid from in the past few decades of excessive spending and living, years of growing more and more detached from families and the little things that nurture us and so often sidelined by "doing too much" and "watching too much TV" and "withdrawing into cyber-worlds."
And so, with love and compassion for myself and for humankind, I put these energies into the open arms of the Great Spirit, the eternal and cosmic OM vibrations, Father-Mother-God, Earth, and the universe!
2009 will be the year I sell my house and move from Palm Desert and start something new
the year I allow love to come into my life, to allow myself to be loved
the year I trace the desert earth, and mountains, and all outdoors possibilities, reconnecting to my lifelong passion and love and healing passion of nature, hiking again, more and more
the year I continue to build my writing life and career
the year I give myself love, the love I showered on my daughter all these years
the year I face my fears of "empty nest" now that my daughter is grown, and bring new relationships into my life-fold - healthy and loving relationships
the year I walk in beauty with every step, awake and aware, even if scared and feeling alone
the year I give thanks for all I've had, and have, and will have, even though so many things feel empty right now. I choose to see that this is a "good" type of empty, that will allow "new" things and people to enter
the year I walk into the steps of my new life as a writer and poet and editor, embrace that more fully and continue to professionally grow - seeing my current job not as a limit, but a launchpad for the next adventures
the year I make friends and family and time for them a top priority
the year I fully learn that my spiritual name, Prema, means love, and to continue to share the love through my writing and creative work with those who cross my path
the year I create an entirely new and sustainable paradigm for my life - shedding the 10 year Palm Desert, daughter-raising old, and building a new chapter in my storybook
the year I learn to invite postive, forward actions to walk alongside my fears and anxieties and old and no longer useful concepts of my life and self that have pulled me down and that I'm now breaking free of
the year I am back on the move, and notice the moon and stars, and wrap the blanket of night sky around myself and shine
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