Travel Guide for the Soul

DailyGood: In Africa, the Art of Listening, by Henning Mankell

2012-01-17T17:23:00.000-08:00

DailyGood: In Africa, the Art of Listening, by Henning Mankell

Join Blue Fire Muse Mailing List

2011-07-14T10:15:00.001-07:00

Animals for Africa- The Project

2011-06-22T20:09:00.000-07:00

One of my projects that was born in Malawi and midwifed by my VFWI friends (in
response to the poverty and
suffering I witnessed through tours of Tukombo
Village) is a social entrepreneurship
initiative I am calling "Animals for Africa".
Animals for Africa is
transformative art-making project that results in a
simple stuffed animal
made with intention and love, embellished and
personalized with the name of
a specific orphaned child in Africa. I have already
gathered over 160 names
of parentless or vulnerable children (many of whom I
met personally while in
Tukombo Village). Seeing their big eyes, beautiful
smiles and hungry hearts
moved me very deeply. Over time and through many
future transformative
art-making circles (led by me or a trained
"ambassador") we will create an
animal for each one of them. The animals will be
collected and eventually
delivered, along with a monetary donation that goes
towards their other
basic needs of food, clothing, shelter (love, which
is the other basic need,
is delivered through the animal). My aim is to put
an animal in the arms of
every orphaned child of this particular village by
May of 2012. And from
there, the project will hopefully continue to grow!!

The second part of the Animals for Africa initiative
is to provide creative
and economic empowerment to the vulnerable women of
Africa, particularly
those affected by HIV/AIDS, by teaching basic sewing
skills and the
transformative, healing power of creative process.
The animals created by
these African women will feature the name of the
woman who stitched it, and
can be sold either directly in their own villages to
tourists, or through
Animals for Africa awareness projects here in the United
States (and potentially
beyond). I plan to return to Malawi to facilitate
more AFA sewing circles
and to train future artists to become "Ambassadors"
for Animals for Africa.

5.23 Gifts Received

2011-06-01T13:42:00.001-07:00

Feeling gratitude towards my community at home that encouraged and supported me in getting here. The blessings of getting to know a new people beyond the mask of the everyday. Sharing stories, being seen, laughing, whispering roommates at night, stories, stories, stories, a lake of life, opportunities to escape tick-tock routines and see myself reflected in the eyes of each other and the other. A true Malawian Mother Theresa to guide us deeper than we could otherwise go, wise women leaders and mentors making the journey safe, transformative and soulful. Showing up fully, allowing, unfolding, sharing and seeing through creativity & listening. Collaboration, open unfolding alive with not knowing and still, an entire journey ahead now accepted with grace, a full heart, that's been touched and blessed by 9 wise women and a village and more- to roar we have a voice and its love.

5.22 Scrap Poem

2011-05-28T14:34:00.000-07:00

Liwonde National Park, Malawi

This is a poem I pieced together from response notes in my journal during our many VFWI writing circles throughout the trip. the scrap poem weaves the lines of many different women's writings (our groups and the malawian women we wrote with) and comes together in a beautiful way to express our shared experience of this trip... it is quite telling in its truth and of the oneness of all the women who were connected together through this process and journey.

VoiceFlame Writers International
Malawi 2011- Scrap Poem

just beyond the hearts ability to comprehend
trying and failing and trying again
permission to become
the person i am meant to be
old and new voices play
tug of war
as little roads make a more whole me
is there a lesson here for me?

Feed but not fill
imperfection, chipped toe
infant image of an "I"
hidden or hide
long to be seen
shadows revealed
right now

snakes of fear
serpents of disdain
embarrassed and embraced
so familiar, the enslavement
feet meet the earth where i am
starting out
on the edge
we watch babies learn to fly
little girls being called
shoeless walking
into women what matters to me?
singing my heart
voice is talent, how to find
practice missing a friend
stories of Africa
relish
daily task
for women to prepare
sema and rice, two times
partners , family, marriage
one of making friendship
with other people
who you were not thinking of
taking care of

waddle like a pregnant duck
strength of the female figure
navigating the rocky road
what they can teach us
missing husband, worry
visiting opportunities
partner in marketplace
one starry night

names and faces
portray the same heart
tilting some voids
gossip, give and get
a healing
sacred space
infant whisperings
unsure of what i will meet
in the darkness of the African night

Questions
motives
scattering into the jungle
unseen and unheard
naming us
travel is more than the seeing of sights
green depths of the psyche
neon signs of fear
paddle away for the shore
detailed oars
in the water

with the dawn the women who wash
the crashing surf does the work for once
bonded over a jungle ride
and a quilt square
I listen deeply to others
and they do the same for me.

5.22 Blessing for Africa

2011-05-28T13:33:00.001-07:00

Dear Lady Africa,
May your dark soil and soul stay fertile and rich with tangled bush, lush lakes, green rivers, rice, cassava and cotton fields. May your dust always settle and may your wild, rocky roads become paved (but not all of them).
May your dance and your songs like the women's hips of Malawi sway to a drum beat that wakes up the heart of the world. A blessing for Africa, your wildness, your stories, your dangers untold are sweet mysteries...a welcoming womb that we entered, musky and feminine, heated and throbbing, beckoned to be reborn.

Oh dark Africa, you ebony Goddess, yewo, yewo....your large body called us and embraced us home. May your powerful gifts, creative and primal shine through corruption, greed and sleeping apathy, igniting compassion with the bright light and white smiles of your people. May your heart, like a baobab, live forever.

5.22 Where Laughing Hippos Play

2011-05-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

Mvuu Camp, Liwonde National Park

The days flow into new days here, not easily transitioned, but crashing like waves against the banks of Lake Malawi (and i realize i have used the metaphor repeatedly on this journey- the sounds of those waves so embedded in my consciousness now). Now we find ourselves in pampered luxury- every need attended to at Mvuu Camp. Upon arrival we are greeted with luck, as Kari is baptized with a generous dollop of bird dung on her arm as strong Malawian men load boats with our heavy bags- its become our distinctly American signature it seems, these ridiculous bags. The ride across the Shire River is straight out of the African Queen, as the more anxious of our group cringe at hippo grunts and our guide's fair warnings to beware of crocodiles.
We have arrived just before sunset after a long a laborious 8 hour drive from our adopted home in the warm heart of Africa, Tukombo Village. our moving picnic of leftover chicken, hardboiled eggs serves us well for lunch as our great concern to make good time was well-warranted after our wild and seemingly treacherous night on the road to livingstonia. I am withdrawn on the ride, not negatively so, just requiring some blank time without conversation to gaze half-focused out the window at the blurry scenes before me that have become, now 3 weeks into the journey, achingly familar. Poverty. The word reminds me of a phrase used to describe a style of modern art--arte povera- used almost playfully in some of my circles back home...the term arte povera was introduced in at the end of the '60's when artists were taking a radical stance, attacking the values of established institutions of government, industry, and culture, and even questioning whether art as the private expression of the individual still had an ethical reason to exist. ... not surprising then that this term comes to mind here as we move further from the village, and the reality of the people here into this pampered pillow'd palace created for (elite) tourists. I think of the contrasts between high art and the privilege associated with beauty and the sublime and the freedom and potential empowerment held in individual creative expression. Is Africa sublime? beyond a doubt, but it's difficult to frame its truth in a photograph. And certainly the paintings that have been aggressively pandered to tourist at every gas stop through our windows - the same paintings up and down the highway- certainly do not capture the truth of this country or continent's economic condition. or the unique and expressive truth of the spirit of its people ... But I myself can not stay focused on this positive potential. I can not think of Africa without thinking of poverty and suffering, or extreme deprivation and unqualified lack, and yet, i do not, absolutely cannot grasp the entire truth. Everything that i see is distorted through my American eyes, privileged despite my self-identification as struggling middle class. This position is so absolutely untrue here. I am wealthy, rich and powerful in ways that feel extremely uncomfortable. My own shadow is having a heyday here. So now i am sitting on the gentle porch of our luxurious tent chalet, listening to hippos laugh or gossip, it's hard to tell without interrupting my reading roommate, Julie, for her interpretation. The voices of my other friends, Susan, Kari, Sue and Jane carry on the gentle air from their identical tent next door. We've seen nearly 20 species of animals since arriving last night (and our friend and Malawian guide Emily finds it funny (at best) that we non-africans would pay money to see animals that could kill us!) : Eagle Birds, elephants, crocodiles, a crevite cat, two mongoose- mama and baby, and two kudo- male and female. We stopped our safari jeep on the dark road last night to let a bush pig cross our path and squealed squeemishly at warthogs while water bucks blinked thoughtfully and regally for our photos. During dinner ( a delicious gourmet feast of lamb, hot pot vegetables and banana pie for dessert) a tiny tree frog jumped on jane's leg, insisting on joing us (could it have been a prince in disquise? she didn't kiss him!) And now, two zebra birds again (king fishers!) peck the yard in fron of me, reminding me how far i've come since my first writing reverie of the sunrise in Nkhotakota Village. How will i ever be able to tell all the stories? These bookends, like the ebony pair carved into elephants which i purchased for jacob on the roadside of Tukomobo village, are like a prologue and epilogue. But the journey is not over yet. in fact, in many ways, it is just beginning.

5.18 Animals for Africa- Empowering People Through Creativity and Love

2011-05-28T12:45:00.000-07:00

Synchronicity abounds!the creative empowerment of this journey is reverberating beyond our small group of soul-travelers already!

A change in plans and we are returning to Tokumba village to teach sewing skills to the women there tomorrow, through my new project Änimals for Africa" which will ultimately provide personalized love and money for the orphans I've met here. We will also use it as the beginning opportunity to teach a specific circle of women to sew, as the "Dream Quilt" project has taken root as a vision for economic empowerment for the women in the village. and tho we continue to be challenged by this sometimes harsh but beautiful environment, we are truly inspired by it''s people....! Stay tuned because when i get home you'll all have a chance to make an animal for a child here in africa!

(i will post pictures upon return, and more entries, as i am never with my journal when we find an internet cafe, and no time to write much or download images!) thinking of you all....

(above: First "Animals for Africa" committee, Tukombo Village, Malawi Africa)

5.18 Travel is More than the Seeing of Sights....

2011-05-28T08:13:00.000-07:00

Mayoka Village, Nkhata Bay

Feeling refreshed and centered by beauty of our accommodations here at Mayoka Village, I sit down to write for our VFWI process. The scene before me is wide open, deep blue, serene. An ebony man in a bleached white shirt rows melodically past me in a dugout canoe. But travel is more than the seeing of sights, as the writing prompt- a quote by Miriam Beard reminds me. I have savored this day of rest and reflection, quiet conversation, napping, mediations and swimming, as i allow my psyche to process and synthesize so much of what i've seen, felt and experienced. I've been grateful for today's silent reverie. Over these intense past two weeks, I have allowed myself to grieve the loss of a beloved friend, and feel the pain, grief and anger of the injustice of poverty in various degrees and waves. I've allowed feelings of love and joy to mingle with sadness and shame as i've allowed my awarensess of sickness, loss, suffering and compassion to expand with every breath of this dusty, thick, heavy African air. How will i be transformed by this journey? Who will I know myself to be on the otherside of this experience? Already, I am grateful for the space to ponder and philosophize on such questions. to evaluate and compare my daily desires and ambitions here and back home against my beliefs, values and the reality of another place in our shared world. The ramifications of traveling with clear intention of creative empowerment spills into my dreams, fresh ideas and new concern for my return. How can i make use of all i have learned? How best to share my own stories? What does it feel like in my body to know the sweet paradox of empathy for another and attachment to ease and comforts? I have moved from shame for the ase and excessive lifestyle of americans back to gratitude and appreciation of my own awareness and opportunities. I wonder deeply about the conditioning of consciousness, the roots of oppressive enslavement, the negative impact of religious missionaries and the creation of dependency and poverty in service to greed and power. But what about love and power? What about my beliefs in spiritual abundance, creative possibility and a limitless universe...have i been naive? ignorant? too idealistic? or to egotistic, thinking anything i do could change the world? what if i bring it back to love, just little acts of love, small and simple, like breathing in and out in gratitude. no huge goals or ambitions larger than i can hold, but simple gestures, one foot in front of the other, coming from joy and compassion. the simple act of listening, laughing in companionship, understanding, free tears of compassion, open expression of darker thoughs so they are freed from my shadow, embracing my own shame with compassion and curiousity, sewing in a circle, writing with an open heart, allowing myself to learn, be wrong and grow- right out in the open. these are the deep and permanent changes that go on in the living, in the soul of the traveler- the friendships forged and insights (endured) that make me feel alive and aware, living with purpose, passion and grace.

5.17 Quick Stop in Mzuzu

2011-05-28T08:08:00.000-07:00

We are in Mzuzu, a quick stop for lunch and internet before heading to Mayoka village. We cut our trip to Livingstonia short because the accommodations were a little too rustic for some (bats in the bedroom, cold showers, spiders!) but i felt also ashamed by this...the contrasts between our needs and the daily lives of the people we met and wrote with was shocking.

but i am happy and healthy, feeling inspired by the scenery, the thoughts and hearts of my fellow travelers and the courage of the local people.

i have had an experience that has ranged from extremely inspired and creative to incredibly depressed and immobilized by the poverty i have seen. i can't help but wonder if there is a conditioning of consciousness, to be in a dependent state. many lack fertilizer for farming and so many lack resources- not even lights in the clinic we visited that serves of 1300 villagers...they deliver babies there by latern or candle light.

many, many many people have aids/hiv and there are hundreds of orphans. i have met many of them. they all have beautiful souls and bottomless needs. even private schools and reknowned colleges seem to be decaying structures, lucky to have a desk or table and a few benches. the girls dorm in livingstonia felt like a prison and even the tribal chief's office in tukombo village was little more than a shack like, with ripped calendars and papers as shades on the open windows. i have never seen anything like this, not even el salvador or laos...tho those were close. there is just something about the poverty here that feels very different...maybe closer to home? i can see connections between here and the poor south...and feel the roots and connections between slavery and poverty in my own country...i feel so ignorant and privileged. the malawian people are beautiful, ebony skin, strong brilliant white smiles and beautiful postures from carrying heavy bundles, baskets and pots on their heads. very friendly and welcoming. they sing and dance for us almost everywhere we go...many are educated and speak english and even when they don't it is so easy to connect through their easy, unmasked and open smiles. they are not poor in spirit or love, in contrast, quite rich. our guide Emily is from Malawi and she is incredible, brilliant, taking action for the people and quite, worthy of making a documentary about her, and i have had some ideas...many ideas, for creative projects that could make a difference....but i am also overwhelmed by my limitations.

5.16 Fabrics of Malawi

2011-05-28T07:57:00.000-07:00

Livingstonia Writing Circle- VFWI writing prompt

I am walking through a market on a Sunday Morning in Malawi. The smell of fish and diesel gas is pungent and thick in the heat. I step gingerly over broken bricks, used up sims cards, stagnant puddles and trash, and follow closely behind my malawian guide. we are here to shop for fabric and she knows where to find it. we wind through a maze of makeshift brick and tin stalls housing hot, hardworking vendors hawking their wares- everything from handmade shovels to African music cds, and everyday items like tools and tshirts... deep in the belly of this filthy bizarre there's a covered structure which holds rows and rows of old-fashioned singer sewing machines. we've landed in an oasis of fabric- mounds of colorful patterns splash from under the dark tin covered roofs- the bright white smiles of the women vendors flashing like light in a shadowed gloom. the women begin to unfold thick piles of beautiful cloth each covered with its own dance of design. I'm overwhelmed by the choices, like candy and sugar, each color and swath calls my attention. I want to cover my walls, my kitchen my cabinets in African fabric! i want to dress in in, dine over it, and bath in it...a drum and a dance, a song and a ceremony splashed across cotton and cloth.

5.16 What Matters?

2011-05-28T07:53:00.000-07:00

Livingstonia Writing Circle, VFWI writing prompt

Doing creative work while i am here in Africa....

It matters deeply to me that i find my voice creatively in all my work, and this journey to the warm heart of Africa is no exception. I knew that this writing method (AWA) would be one way to feel that creative inspiration in a circles of women expressing their unique life experiences and sharing them in story. But i also wanted to find my own unique and creative way to contribute to the experience and i felt it was also important to bring transformative arts into the creative process of traveling, self-expression and spiritual journey. I feel like my experiences in Tukombo Village really opened me up to the reality of great need here by the people of malawi, and i was able to see it in a personal way, so creative empowerment has become my intention.

5.15 Reflections on the Road to Get Here and an Idea is Born

2011-05-28T07:38:00.000-07:00

Livingstonia, Malawai - morning

I'm sitting on the veranda of the stone house with a spectacular view of lake malawi from atop this mountain and it feels as if all of africa is rolling out like an exotic carpet beneath my feet. I slept deeply, with a couple of nightmares, probably from the dramamine i took to get myself through the drive up here. We supposedly took the best of 3 roads to get here, and still found ourselves confronting deep crevices, soft dirt and hair pin turns every inch of the way. we crawled up this mountain with Roderick (our driver) babying our bus along like a patient mother . many lost faith along the way. it seemed for hours that we were lost, attempting to drive up an overgrown footpath, green maize, blooming tobacco, and wild branches brushing our bus windows like beckoning whores. Still, i was unperturbed until the moment at yet another fork in the dark, when our guide and driver decided to seek help from a house in the bush. I did not feel safe sitting with 7 other white women in an idle bus in the bush. was this our supreme ordeal? the externalized manifestation of our (my) deepest fears? Extreme vulnerability of being naive, soft-footed and a so-called civilized woman to boot? Now i am interrupted in my reverie by three malawian men who approach the porch and ask for a photo with me. I pose with them and wonder what their friends will think about this white woman, who they will imagine me to be (in the same way i try to imagine the malawian's lives as i snap pic after pic from the bus windows). There's so much to process and reflect upon from the previous three days in Tukombo. I was so moved by it all, the orphanage school, the HIV support group, the barely functional but still operating clinic that serves over 1300 villagers, the joyous singing and dancing that welcomed us everywhere we went and the deep gratitude expressed by all those we created with, from the writing experience at tukombo Girls School
to the dream quilt project at the feeding center with the village women. Some of my ideas on this trip for creatively responding to the problems and poverty i 've seen here...i would like to come and create with the children and the HIV patients. Just spend some time in connection. The quilt making was so deeply moving and i am inspired with susan to come back and teach the village women the more practical aspects for a sewing project they could sell...and the wife of the late Aleke Banda, Boomba Senior, was herself touch by the creative process when she made her own square for the quilt...we'll see. And another idea this morning, little dream dolls for the orphans here- each with their name sewn on- so they would know someone loves them. I want to make those today.

5.15 Finding Home

2011-05-28T07:24:00.000-07:00

Livingstonia Malawi, after 9pm

(from letter to jacob in my journal)

...well, we've finally made it to Livingstonia, after a harrowing all day into the night journey where fear crackled in the air and tensions broke like waves against the shores of lake malawi only through the good humor and sense of adventured shared amongst my travel companions. we have certainly turned a corner in this journey. after three intense days of planned activities - tours of KUDO projects in Tukombo village- all tearing at our heart strings and churning our psyches, we moved from pampered queens (riding in a carriage through sherwood forest) to "college backpackers" arriving to the warm welcome by the reverend and his staff here at the stone house. but feeling out of sorts for a variety of reasons. certainly the sustained tensions of rutted roads and unknown directions added to our fears (not to mention warning by villagers along the way to be wary of thugs) or the intentional misdirections my two laughing young men. But my instant impression of our quarters once we finally found "home" was an overwhelming feeling of hauntedness. i had a physical sense of otherness, heavy with a presence of history. I wanted to sage the space and i immediately set about arranging my momentos so i wouldn't feel so out of sorts...finally, i realize my need for the the beaded voodoo ally i created before leaving, which now hangs over my bed, a protector. Also, our wedding album and favorite photo of Peder, watching over me as well here. So i feel better, safer. we'll see how i dream. This is where the real adventure begins, i only really got nervous when our guide emily took the driver in search of directions and left us, 8 white women in a bus in the bush, maize fields of Africa on a dried riverbed of a road, leading down the mountain at night in the wrong direction (as far as we knew) but she returned quickly when she heard our protests and we're safe here now.

5.11 Dream about the Dream Quilt Project

2011-05-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

Tukombo Village, Malawi

(this is a dream i had the night before facilitating the quilt square making project in Tukombo Village...interesting to note, when we actually did the project, we used no tables at all)

I am trying to prepare for the quilting project and i'm running behind schedule. I need to set up some tables but when i arrive in the location many people are already there and the tables have been moved around. They are not as easy to find. I've been talking to Mary(VFWI founder/group leader) for a long time and now it's really time to go get it going. I'm searching for the right table where i can spread out supplies. finally i see 2 that might work, but there's a baby in a car seat/cradle under one and i don't want to move it without permission. the baby belongs to a very tall German woman/couple- i go and try and explain that i need her to move the baby so we can take the tables. She doesn't understand. I begin to do some improv acting to communicate my needs. Kari ( a fellow traveler) says, "that's very good! I totally got what you were saying." But the German woman has taken her baby and both the tables! I tell mary and we go up the stairs outside the German woman's flat to see if we can negotiate the return of the tables. We are all in the bathroom discussing this and finally i say, "this is ridiculous. we are wasting time! i will have to find another way, we don't need her tables." I go back downstairs and outside i find a shabbier, wicker-style table with lots of stuff, utensils, etc hanging on it. I begin to pull it out from under something to see if it will work for our needs. Its covered in an old meal- Carmen's family (a best friend from k-12) cooked many years ago for the lake she says. Its putrid. it's so disgusting that they never cleaned it up. just left it there like this- so gross i almost gag. but beggers can't be choosers and i begin to put the food in my mouth, trying to clean off the table. It tastes like bile. I'm gagging, trying to pull it back up out of my mouth, throat. I'm half an hour behind schedule, wasted so much time and still not ready. I begin walking down into the area where we are going to work. there's a lot to carry, the quilt bag, and several other bags, my camera, recorder, it's all slipping off my arm and very heavy. I see emily (our guide) up at the top of a hill and i need to climb up to join her. but all these bags are awkward. She's reaching down for me as i start to climb up, but i get in a precarious position where i could easily fall. I am unbalanced with all the bags nd now i am hanging on the edge, foot precariously balanced, holding a branch, unable to move. I don't pull myself up, for fear of the branch breaking and my footing is insecure. Emily starts to come down, risking herself to pull me up, but its too dangerous. I fell like we'll both fall, or I will cause her to fall in assisting me. She's determined, but i say, STOP! Stop, wait a second. i can't climb up safely, but i can climb back down. There's got to be another way. I say, i climb down, and she's frustrated, but let's me go. I get back on the ground with firm footing and i see there's a path up the back, behind the tree. I readjust the bags on my shoulders and walk around and up the back as easily as walking up a small slope. There was no need to climb at all.

5.10 ...a dark night of the soul...

2011-05-28T06:48:00.000-07:00

Tues, 5/10 Tukumbo VIllage

(from a letter to Jacob)

...we just arrived in Tukombo Village, the home of Boomba Jr. the sister of Masonko, who is the JFK connection that brought Mary here in the first place 3 years ago. It's an African home with running water and electricity, the only one in the village. It's very nice, relative splendor to what i have seen today, and right on Lake Malawi. Only this side of the Lake seems to be a bit more serene. I'm feeling withdrawn. What I have seen today is absolutely the worst poverty i've ever encountered, worse than El Salvador and even Laos. Maybe that's because it all seems so poor. We stopped in a trading village and it felt post-apocalyptic, barefoot children selling bags of water, bike partys, eggs. i don't know, babe, this world is really impossible to comprehend. It's like i'm upside down in a parallel universe- here i am dripping with wealth, rich beyond belief and i am almost sickened by my own excess. I realize what i pay in interest on student loan debt in a month could feed several families a year here. How will this change me?
What am i to do with this (not new) consciousness, but the sinking in of it through experience? I think of you being so moved by our experience in Laos that you committed to completing your education. I feel similarly transformed- at least in heart, but still unclear as to how it might manifest. Do i let this place, its poverty, its people break into my heart? allow this new knowing to create a personal cause, a sense of responsibility? I have fantasies on the bus of us moving to Africa, or anywhere really, where your skills as an architect and my passion for creative connection would allow us to build a retreat center-- we sell local crafts, bring art tours and economic development to a community. We travel back to the states, sell the people's goods, fund-raise, send money to orphanages, schools, etc. Here it is so easy to see that it would only take a few dollars to completely transform someones opportunity in life. But it seems the organizational structures for distributing these funds are all corrupt, and your best chance is to donate directly through someone you know- like our guide emily, the boomba's and KUDO. Yes, it's easy to let these lives touch my heart- damn, even the dog here has won me over, with his crooked buck teeth and face like emma's (my parent's dog lost in the fire). I want to adopt him and every child here. I feel sad. I think, honestly, a bit discombobulated by the villages and people we passed today. The contrast of being so incredibly wealthy by comparison weighs on me. I feel wasteful and greedy and ungrateful for ever wanting more than i've already got. even in my fantasies of "doing something" like giving towards an education, i feel a strange sense of disproportionate power. I am the archetype of the white, wasteful, gluttonous oppressor. It's not sitting pretty with my heart, i'm afraid.

5.9 First impressions

2011-05-28T06:37:00.000-07:00

Mon, 5/9- Nkhotakota Pottery Lodge- evening

(From a letter to Jacob in my journal)
...you'd be so blown away by the beauty of this place, and no doubt moved by the poverty and the people.

They are beautiful, these Malawians i have met so far. I loved our Potterman, Yousef, with his gap-toothed smile, bright eyes and patient, precise English, explaining each stage of the pottery making today at the lodge.

And our guide, Emily, who lives in Tukombo Village, which we are about to move into, with her deep laugh, strength and stories. There's just so much to share with you, i wish I could send you the images, sites, smells and sounds through your dreams so you'd wake knowing how i spent my day....my eyes are opening up more than i expected. The realization of how much a few dollars can do to improve many lives, the feeling of connection and trust in Mary and these other ladies has grown fast.....I'm in Africa, halfway around the world from you, our home, family and friends. I hear the waves of lake malawi slapping constant, my only sense of time...

5.9 Life's Banquet

2011-05-26T19:15:00.000-07:00

(t-shirts, created for VoiceFlame Writers International at generous discount as a donation by Peder's sister Martha and her daughter Kathy Guziejka)

Mon, 5/9, Nkhotakota, Malawi
VFWI Writing Prompt: What it was that is being offered...

What if life was a plate of food, a delicious banquet, a feast? I would eat mine while chewing slowly, a thousand times, blessing between bites. I'd take my time between courses and dishes, sampling everything, enjoying the spice. I couldn't help but wonder who was in the kitchen, where they'd found this fabulous chef, cooking up such wild fusion concoctions. I would eat slowly, savoring each sumptuous bite, not racing to reach the dessert. I wouldn't wash anything down or gulp, smack my lips or gorge gluttonously. Taking my time, I'd taste everything offered, allowing its flavor to fill all my senses. Oh sure, I might mix one forkful with another, slather on a bit too much butter or add a pinch more salt & pepper, or not- trusting my host would not be insulted but merely amused by my modifications. I would wonder if life were a plate of food at a sumptuous celebration, would we worry about getting enough? Would we eat ravenously, ignoring the waiters, the busboys, the shy girls refilling our water glasses? Would we let anyone else go hungry if we knew the food would never run out? Trusted our divine caterer to have calculated enough for each and everyone one of her invited guests? If life were a banquet, I wouldn't turn up my nose at anything offered, even if the fare seemed strange, unfamiliar or bland. I would pause between servings or trips to the salad bar and take my turn doing dishes, share bites and only send something back to the kitchen if it were not really meant to be eaten. If there seemed to be a lull between courses, I would get up and dance, nodding graciously at the other guests at the party. I might mingle, or just smile, if we did not share the same language and I'd reserve my critique of the meal 'til the end. I would not be a vegetarian or a vegan or a dieter, or judge any others who were...I'd let life's meal fill me up, nurture and sustain me, in purpose & passion. I'd be dazzled by all the creative recipes and inspired to try writing a few of my own. And when my turn at the great buffet table came to an end, I'd toast my grand host with deep gratitude and depart with a happy full heart.

5.9 Sonnet for a Sunrise

2011-05-26T18:23:00.000-07:00

Mon, 5/9- Nkhotakota Pottery Lodge, just after sunrise

The sky was burning red through the windows when I woke and I knew it would be a spectacular show, not to be missed. I slipped out from under the blue mosquito net, grabbing my camera and little audio recorder as I made my way quietly to the door. From the porch of our little beach cabin I could sit in comfort with a prime view of the lake and the east, but instead, I padded barefoot down the gentle slop of sand a few yards and, wrapping myself in a color swath of printed fabric (chitenje), purchased in a crowded market in Lilongwe just yesterday, I positioned myself on the long empty stretch of beach. How many years since I'd seen a sunrise upon waking (and not at the end of an all night party)? The waves from Lake Malawi continued their constant creep to the shore and the mountains of Mozambique were just visible in the red-gray distance opposite. I began to record sounds of the morning just in time to capture a little zebra winged bird (striped kingfisher) whistling between waves. He hopped a few inches along the sand and looked up at me, friendly-like. I smiled, thinking of Peder and his little bird friend pecking on his window daily in the last few weeks of his life, calling him home. Yes, I still miss my friend Peder, even here in Africa. Thanks to his eccentrically strip-painted jeep that has greeted me in our driveway everyday since last May, I see him in all things zebra. I sense him with me though, as a young man again, laughing and winking over all the wild things we are discovering here in Africa together.(remarkably, this was the playground at our kimboko hotel in lilongwe, a similarly painted jeep!)

Now the sky was making a slow show of it, taking it's time like a fat lady stepping into a bubble bath. I didn't mind the wait. I had plenty of time to spare. I released my breath, realizing it was Monday, and I wasn't another poor sucker at work for a change. In fractions, red became pick and grey become blue and soon, a crackling highlight of gold burned between the edges. Today's show, one-time-only, never-again-in-this-variation- and as far as I know, only me in the audience. "This one's for you, kid."
I snapped a few pictures. Breathe in, breathe out, morning meditation, sun salutation. No wonder our ancestors worshiped this god, and don't praise prayers begin in the East? A barely graspable thought flitters by...sunrise and zen, (be)gin, sunset, west what's achieved...perspectives on consciousness. A few more minutes and the embers glowing on the edges come full on, center stage. Rays of light burst through and its oh, just a typical only never exactly the same astonishingly beautiful sunrise. Thank you allah, mary and mother earth. I'm praying with a million monks somewhere. The waves keep rolling, my bedtime story and constant dream lullabye through the night. Now, with dawn breaking, the moving waves stretch and yawn to wake up the fishes and wash the sleep out of everyone's eyes. The sky is full of silent fireworks. I wonder what a time lapse of my photos might look like, knowing its not possible for me to capture the beauty of the real thing. I don't know enough about lenses and photography filters to really express that glowing glow, that gold leafed lining, the divine morning bling. It's refracting and splitting, a preview, first glimpsed through the skinny opening between a bunk-bed of clouds. But now he means business, this sun, and he rises up like an ancient white lion king. Gloriously royal rays radiating proudly. The sound of a gifted chorus could only sing its praise properly. But he makes no demands, this sun. Just lifts his head confidently and dazzles me with a huge, warm smile. And so my first full day in Nkhotakota Village begins.

5.7 A Right, Honorable Beginning!

2011-05-07T07:04:00.000-07:00

Saturday, May 7 - Lilongwe, Malawi

We began our day with breakfast, a book signing and, oh yeah, a meeting with the "right, honorable vice-president of Malawi, Joyce Banda!" In her living room, we gathered around intimately, just our group of 8 to share stories of VoiceFlame Writers International and hear her speak passionately about women's rights in Malawi. She is inspiring and doing so much to empower her people. She felt connected to us, saying that for her, being an African woman of Malawi, it is an obligation for her to do the work she does for the women here, but for us, as Americans, we have a choice to stay comfortable and at home, but instead we are here in her country, working together to connect, learn and co-create with the women of Malawi. http://www.nyasatimes.com/tag/joyce-banda

5.7 Sounds of Africa so far...

2011-05-07T00:33:00.000-07:00

Saturday, May 7
Lilongwe, Malawi

So far this is a trip about listening. Without a video camera (on purpose) to record time passing visually, I feel drawn to my hand-held recorder. I am noticing the sounds of time and place. Philosophically I wonder if this says something about a change in me, a deeper listening and tuning into the world around me. Taking note on a different sensory level that requires more attention.

So far, I am fond of the men's whistling and sing song song I hear floating in from the street to my tiny but clean room at the Kiboko Town Hotel in Lilongwe, Malawi. There's something akin to arabic yodeling, muslim call to prayer, layers and layers of voices booming laughter and shouts even into the late night (early morning) where I sleep off nearly 24 hours of jetlag.

My room is number 2, at the very front of the hotel, upstairs with windows that don't quite seal shut and let a steady stream of street music in, unfiltered by airy curtains, mosquito nets or the night. Sometimes voices and tongue are more round and chunky- African Chichewa sounds thick and bounces like a worn rubber tire heavy and strong down the road. While the other tongue sounds sharper, more rapid, darting and feverish but distant like sunrise and church bells...I can not be sure if this distinction is just my imagination though....All night long, I awoke to different frequencies of the night's music- it was Friday, so some rambunctious drinking raised the decibel for the earlier morning until 1 or so. Later, i wondered who in the world was still on the street, and why. Though it is not like big city noise by any stretch, only 100,000 in this capital city i am told. Just a busy streaming corner with truck sounds and night sounds and birds and sighs.
I dreamt heavy and wished for enough light to write them down, but so tired i could barely bring myself to turn over. Now, well rested and full of light breakfast of eggs, fruit and toast, i steal these few minutes to transfer my journal scribblings to this screen, before Bhatupe's book signing and a surprise honor- a visit to the Vice President of Malawi's home at noon...more soon. Feeling love and gratitude for the gift of new sounds, sights, smells and visions, and feeling happy with free head space to wonder, ponder and dream.

Dreams of Africa Dinner Party & Fundraiser

2011-02-22T08:23:00.001-08:00

Please join me for a late afternoon of creativity and food and fun-d-raising on Sunday, April 3rd from 3-9pm. There will be delicious African fare, music, dancing, films and art-making in celebration and support of my trip to Malawi, Africa in May with Voice Flame Writer's International. A full dinner will be served at 6pm with wine, beer and non-alcoholic drinks. Donations of $25 per person are requested, though not required! Give what you can- your presence, love and creativity count! RSVP please!!!! robbyn@bluefiremuse.com

Dreaming of Africa

2011-01-19T14:25:00.001-08:00

by Robbyn Alexander

Africa. The word rolls and bounces off my tongue, hinting at a mysterious, primal, flavor with an exotic but faded after taste. I swallow, thirsty for water. I imagine (naively) grass huts, spears, mud and near naked children and the occasional smell of gasoline on a dirt road. National Geographic (from the 70’s). Perhaps the Peace Corps. A wilder way of living, harsh, yet closer to intuition and the land. Zebras, tigers, elephants, giraffes and ebony-skinned people move dreamily in my psyche to rhythms, beats and voices unfamiliar to my ears, but deeply embedded in my body. I feel a familiar and ancient song rushing through our veins.

Something heats up my blood and my soul yearns for a stretched and dusty grassland and an orange, enormous, unforgiving sun to work the chronic knots out of my computer-chained shoulders as I travel in the company of creative solidarity and artistic solitude on a bus that should surely break down. I see myself searching for signs of the ingenuity and creative resourcefulness born of poverty and need. I both seek and fear the suffering I might be forced to face and my mind yearns to discover within it joyous smiles, shining eyes, beauty and love- without shying away from the depth of truth and pain. I am seeking my self in the faces and stories of women, so utterly unlike me, and yet , sisters.

I want to shed my insatiable American desire for accomplishment, comfort, privilege and ease and trade it in some crowded and chaotic market for a small, ornately painted mirror -cracked and dirty, but capable of truly reflecting a larger image of humanity. I want to see for myself, that the other does exists, she is there, simultaneously on the same planet at the same time with brashly contrasting concerns from my own daily preoccupations, and yet deeply the same. I seek myself, in a community of creative souls, seeking our voices (individual and collective), answering each other, witnessing, laughing, crying - fully aware of the immensity and impossibility of grasping anything more than the now unfolding. I want to live the story that, in my life, I went to Malawi with a powerful group of women writers to share stories with other women of the world…and you’ll never guess what happened…
Though I hope to connect deeply with my traveling companions of Voice Flame Writers International and the women of Malawi through the creative process, my true intention is to feed my own. I am hungry for travel and time, aching to allow the urgent call of curiosity and wonder to submerge the daily mundane. I seek “dreamtime,” a state of mind unbroken by appointments, schedules and future focused-responsibilities. My intention is to find the safe container and space to allow myself to melt and become malleable by whatever is arising, carried by a current and flow which holds no set expectations, no rigid goals, no roles or identity. I will not know what will happen, and it will not be up to me to decide. I will contribute, without control. I will watch and learn, and allow my self to be in the experience, drinking it in, quenching that thirst, learning what Africa truly tastes like, by heart.

Stitching Stories between Women of the World

2011-01-17T19:46:00.000-08:00

The Dream Quilt Project is a collaborative transformative art project between Blue Fire Muse, VoiceFlame Writers International and all the women participating in VFWI's Writing Retreat in Malawi, Africa, 2011. The purpose of this project is to connect women of various cultures, ages and ethnicities through the sharing of personal legacies, dreams and stories in a transformative process that links writing and art-making through the creation of a hand-made “Dream Quilt”.
Dreams for some may mean real life hopes, aspirations or wishes, while for others the word suggests imagined possibilities, or the subconscious images that arise in sleep. Through the use of color, texture, symbolism, archetypes, patterns and iconic picture systems, workshop participants will “write” the story of their dreams through the creation of an individual square for the quilt.
The Dream Quilt(s) will be throw sized, 56” x 72”, comprised of sixty-three 9x9” squares pieces. Each square will be an individual work of art, created by women in Malawi, Africa and interwoven with squares made by women in the United States, using donated fabrics and scraps, embroidery, buttons, fabric paint and pens, pockets and other adornments. The result will be a collaged collective quilt of dreams by women of the world.
Upon completion, the African Dream Quilt will be exhibited and sold to raise scholarship money for women in Malawi to receive a secondary education.

SUPPORT THIS PROJECT

Please send an email with your mailing address and any reward request to
robbyn@bluefiremuse.com

I am raising $5800 to participate in VoiceFlame Writer’s International program and travel to Malawi to co-create this quilt. This will cover VFWI program fees ($3500), airfare to Africa ($2000) and art materials ($300). Please make a donation in any amount! Not only will your generosity be greatly appreciated, I will also express my gratitude with an award of your choice: (Your donation could be tax deductible, please contact me for more information).

Please help me make the African Dream Quilt project a reality!

$5 Sponsor a “Dream Quilt” square for one woman in Malawi
$10 Receive a DreamArt Postcard inspired by a dream in Malawi
$15 Receive a “Dream Candle” to ignite and inspire your dreams
$50 Attend "Dreams of Africa" dinner/fundraiser on April 3, 4-9pm in Oakland, CA

Or donate any amount of your choice!

JFKU Art & Ecology in Costa Rica- Summer 2009

2009-03-10T21:26:00.001-07:00

Nine JFKU students, a group of powerful, consciousness-shaping, community building, art-making mystics and dreamers, are off for a 3-week residency in Costa Rica, to experientially explore Art & Ecology through collaborations with the residents of Punta Banco, Pretoma (a marine conservation NGO) and 12 students from San Francisco State University. We’ll be pretty remote for awhile, so sporadic in our updates but check back here for news and pics, and links to JFKU student blogs featuring the latest on our ecology-based art projects!

In partnership with ComunicArte Project, JFKU's Art & Ecology in Costa Rica program provides multi-cultural learning exchanges between artists, students, teachers and locals to creatively and holistically address the most pressing environmental issues of our time. Through course work at the JFK University Berkely Campus, and during the three-week summer residency in Costa Rica, up to 14 participants will integrate research in eco-psychology, sustainability and community art into a co-created art project with the residents of Punta Banco. Upon returning to the United States, students will then modify or further develop these projects and implement them in their own communities. Students will also summarize their research and experiential learning in a final presentation, their own personal artwork and an 8 page academic paper for a total of 6 quarter units of course credit through JFK University. There are also limited spaces for non-students to audit the course for no credit.

This promises to be not only an exhilarating summer vacation searching for sea turtles in the sand and listening for howler monkeys among the lush canopy of tropical rainforests, but a chance to deeply connect with others through art and creative play, while co-creating a massive ecological healing initiative for our collective psyche and the planet.

Mural Montage

2008-08-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

Love Letters Back Home

2008-08-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

Now that we are back home, I'm still struggling to summarize my experience in a way that expresses all the meaningful, intense, playful, joyful, long hot days we shared, and realize its impossible! My heart holds a collection of images and sounds, smells and knowing moments of connection that are all my own to cherish. Well, such is life for everyone on the planet. So many stories. I'll continue to remember my own and add some here plus I've got 12 hours of video footage to wade through and edit! In the meantime, I'll also share some notes from my cohorts who are remembering our time there, too. The first here is from the CommunicArte program leader/director, Ashlie Gaos. It was her dream to create this educational exchange for all of us and the residents of Punta Banco, and thanks to her hard work and vision, we were all able to share in this very special, transformative experience! She says it best in her own words. We love Ashlie (and Lia!Lia!Lia!)

"Hi Dear Friends:
It is simultaneously good and a bit sad to be home. I feel like I could sleep for a week and it is nice to be back in my own bed and to wander around the garden with Lia and look at all the vegetables and blackberries that have ripened in our absence. Yet I feel so nostalgic for our little family (that really is what it feels like) and for the power of our combined creativity and passion. I also wistfully think of Alexander's sad face as he tried to be a man and not fall apart when we all got ready to get on the bus. Especially when Jazzy was bidding him farewell :) I know we will be sadly missed and i imagine a day when the good byes will not be so quick in coming and the projects can stretch out into many long months instead of 3 short weeks. I hope you will all come back at some point to be a part of this project all over again.

So, after you all left I ran around and paid off last bills, got Don Alvaro and Doña Alicia to agree to put the billboards up at the entrance to Punta Banco and by the hatchery, and separated some paints for Alicia out of the other things to go to the school. I also left her with the jewelry display and promised to try to get her some more hooks and earring pieces through a friend of hers that lives in the capital. Luckily I had Pops, Willy and Joanna to help with clean up and Cristina to look after Lia. I left the money in the clutches of Doña Juana and Don Patricio (they are family, so can't be a bad thing) and several of the kids who were still practicing soccer moves with the Mayor wanted to double check with me that you REALLY had all gone. I was in such a rush to finish up and depart that I feel like I whisked out of there, but it was a nice end to a great month anyway.

I love you all and miss the people we got to be for the special time we shared together. I hope we can all continue to carry a piece of that identity with us as we move into the next phase of life.

Peace and much love,

Ashlie"

Fiesta and Trash Parade!

2008-08-18T09:27:00.000-07:00

Decked out in plastic boas, the artists of CommunicArte and the children of Punta Banco threw a party for the entire town on the last day of the project. The rain held off just long enough, tho we got a little sprinkled during the ceremonial garden inauguration. Our costumes are the brain-child of our artist in residence from Trash-Mash Up, Bridget (she's the director of the SF non-profit, check out "related links" on right). It was Bridget's brilliant garbage-reuse insanity and creative dedication to trash art that had us washing out everything plastic and re-usable, day in and out. Nothing can be thrown away!! There were many things for the kids to make, from monkey stick puppets, plastic poachers, ice-cream container crabs, plastic jelly fish, and tetra-pak masks and wearable trash costumes galore! Not to mention chip-bag beads and bangles, CD art and indescribable decor made from various consumer detritus. Get me out of this garbage bag! Bridget's vision led us on on a creative junkyard collaboration that had the kids hootin' like howler monkeys and stampeding in plastic through the soccer field to the garden, in one of the most extraordinary parades i have ever witnessed (who are these trash bandits, anyway?) It all culminated in a trash-puppet show on the life-cycle and dangers faced by sea-turtles,which brought our ecology and art lessons full circle. All and all, the fiesta was a huge success, practically and personally. We sold over $100 worth of jewelry, heche-de-mana con amor en punta banco, (made by hand with love) in afternoon workshops with the women, and we're all still swirling with ideas, inspiration and a strong sense of community forged with each other. It seems like a dream.

Budding Journalists

2008-08-18T08:56:00.000-07:00

On this rainy afternoon near the end of our program, Ashlie and I took an investigative crew out to interview local business owners on recycling issues and the connection between trash and turtle conservation in Punta Banco. The boys and girls were all shy at first, but once they got the hang of the camera, they were soon calling themselves "Channel 7".

Escuela de Punta Banco

2008-08-14T17:52:00.000-07:00

Here's a view from the shared soccer field of the school house. The little shack on the left is what we call the "Scorpian Room"...use your imagination. Our group cleaned it out, with plans to make it the staging area for our big Trash Puppet Show during the Fiesta. The building on the right is the main classroom, where first grade on up is taught, combined. I think the oldest boy in the class Alexandro, and he's 16. There are 18 students in all, and we've come to know them all pretty well by now. Its such a magical place by the sea, and all the kids hang out and play together.

Art House

2008-08-14T14:26:00.001-07:00

This is where we call home. There are 4 sleeping rooms ( 2 up and 2 down), 2 toilets and stand-up showers and a kitchen with cement draining sink, small refrigerator and a gas hotplate. You can see we also have a nice big balcony upstairs and a shared open space below. We keep all our art supplies downstairs, though we are so busy with different workshops and art projects, its been a challenge to keep things organized. We have a lot of laundry we are trying to dry upstairs, and the stairs are lined with plastic bottles, we're going to use those to make recycled musical instruments for the Trash-Mash Up Costume Parade before our final Fiesta and Exhibit.

Some interesting things to note about our communal habitat: we have a peeping Iquana in the shower upstairs. He likes to watch Veronica, especially, and she finally was able to snap a photo of the reptilian pervert for our photo archives, which will soon be shared when they are all eventually collected into one place. Other notable wildlife sharing our abode, kitchen crabs that live in the sink. They disappear down the drain when you turn on the water, but are mostly harmless. Just hangin out. Also, speaking of the kitchen, its infested with ants, some the biting kind. They also like to sneak into the "airless room", which we have all abandoned trying to sleep in. Its been mutually decided that it will become a second art supply or artworks in progress storage next year. We also have adopted a kitten, called Coco, LeTigre, Gato and Kitty, depending on who's calling. He/She (that's also undecided) answers to none of these, but comes running at the sound of food, of course. We are sorry to abandon him when we depart, but the Pretoma folks next door have promised to take care of little Gato, and Veronica bought a big bag of kitty food for him/her before we left. Here's Jazzy holding Gato, tho not everyone is a big fan, as he is suspected of spraying in our sewing fabrics suitcase. We also have some rogue chickens than run out back as soon as we do the dishes. They like to peck the rice out of the water, that drains right from the sink into the yard, to a small river that goes directly into the Pacific Ocean. There is no question that what we are using daily is directly impacting our environment. And my guess is, we have probably eaten a chicken or two since we've been here, that's been eating the rice from our sink. I think I may have already mentioned the Howler monkey's. They live in the trees all around us, and wake us up in the middle of the night, and also get rowdy during rainstorms. I've grown to love them, like the lonely sound of a train at night, the Howler's remind me that there's a mysterious and unknown world right outside the window.

Life Lessons

2008-08-04T12:14:00.000-07:00

A lot of deep conversations have taken place over the last few weeks here around the subjects of spirituality, ecology, life purpose, education, feminist perspectives, (motherhood- my dear friend Rivkah gave birth to a daughter while ive been gone, and we all are celebrating that here!) human values, love, relationships, family and what it means to create a conscious, interdependent and supportive community. I suppose 9 women living together for a month (and two men not in the class, but participating whole heartedly- not to mention the volunteers from Pretoma and Yoga Farm) are all bound to do a little processing. One thing that strikes me right off how well we have all meshed, and how, despite coming from different walks of life, we all have the genuine desire to share experience and knowledge in a way that might help someone else grow and fulfill their deepest potential. Our ages range from 19 to 38 (i´m the oldest), and most are in their early to mid 20s. ***Actually, Holly recently pointed out that our ages range more like 3 to 64, counting Ashlie's daughter Lia and her mother-in-law, Christina, who are very much a part of our family here. Our common quest to explore our selves and to live bravely and awake connects us in ways that defy age. I am reminded again that all our uniqueness and wisdom is valuable at all points of life and i have as much to learn from a 19 year old woman as she does from me. I´ve been talking with Ashlie also about the educational impact of this project on the participants...realizing we´ve all learned in different ways through various experiences here. What is the broadest definition of community service learning and how do we define the personal transformations of participants in the program in relationship to the seeds of change and improvement they´ve planted in the community here in Costa Rica...i don´t think they can be seperated. We´re exploring ways to structure and co-create a community learning experience that is both art-ed focused and supports the spiritual develoment of the artist. Certaining, we are all already growing and learning through our connections with each other as much as our daily work and artmaking projects with the community. The experience is integrated and we are challenged on multiple levels as humans to bring everything of who we are into this project and communal living situation. We are challenged in the ways we creatively respond to the community, and in the ways we are testing our own limits and fears - from simply confronting wildlife in the bathroom, to biking through pitch blackness in the rain--trusting that the road will get us there eventually. I have more to share on specific examples on the ways we´ve all personally experienced growth and transformation on this trip, which i will share later. In the meantime, i hope this blog inspires readers to be aware of how creatively we can live in every moment of our lives, no matter where we are. I´m looking forward to coming home and seeing my own, expanded community with fresh eyes. Until then, we´re prepping for our big fiesta here, with trash puppets and a play. More photos from that soon!

Biking through the Jungle

2008-07-29T09:58:00.000-07:00

I´ve finally made the trek into Pavones from Punta Banco by bike to access internet and make phone calls. The journey only takes about 30 minutes (depending on how many pot holes you hit and how often the chain pops off your bike), but its a muddy, sweaty adventure best embarked on in the morning. Hopefully Veronica and I won´t get caught in a downpour on our way back (likely) but i have a handy Vermont Milton High rainjacket borrowed from Riv to keep me less-soaked if it does.

Riding in with the ocean on my left and the jungle on my right, clearing my head after breakfast, all for the simple task of connection with an outside world, larger than our little art-making community on the coast. this ride wakes me up, gets my heart pumping, i am thinking about beauty and life and am highly aware of the road i am taking (literally) otherwise an unseen coconut could knock me off my wheels. seems insane to know how often i mindlessly log in over coffee first thing in the morning at home. something important about a necessary journey as the days beginning just to say hello, i am here. also, the art of living in balance...it happens naturally from the lack of luxury...when you must ride or walk to get somewhere, to extend effort just to aquire and prepare food, to spend time entertaining each other and connecting through games and art, all of the problems we toil with daily seem able to resolve themselves through simpler, mindful living. the residents here do struggle economically, i am amazed by the resourcefulness and simplicity of their lifestyle...converted drift wood makes benches, the town plays soccer together all afternoon... homes are divided and rented to travelers...this pace is slower, but busy in a different ways. we have to work harder to take care of ourselves, simple things that result in a heightened awareness of being alive and having a connection to the food we eat, the people we work with everyday and the intentions of our actions.

I am getting to know the women in our group better through my make-shift tarot card readings. And I have also spent more time with the locals, tho my Spanish is still limited to the very basics. We´ve also included many of the Pretoma volunteers in our art projects and shared breakfasts, and i plan to tag along with them soon on a beach walk in search of nesting sea turtles (i hope to catch on video). Meanwhile, our projects with the town continue to inspire community, creativity and connection, we ´ve made earrings and turtle puppets which will be sold to fund a trash removal service, and our mixed-media turtles will become the design motif that wraps our soon to be available Save-the Sea Turtle chocolate bars, to be made and sold by Lyla´s chocolates in Berkeley, upon our return. A percentage of the proceeds will be dontated to fund continuing community projects in Punta Banco.

Also plans are well underway for an art exhibition and party next week, with a parade and garden inaguration. Meanwhile, i am busy with a video camera in one hand and a paintbrush in another, tho after the sweaty ride back from Pavones, i think its time to hit the beach.

Botanical Collage Project

2008-07-26T19:10:00.000-07:00

These are mixed-media sea turtles the kids made in a workshop I led with Siri and Katrina on Thursday. They are made from flowers and plant leaves-- first, a rubbing is made of the fauna using oil pastels, then a turtle is created with collaged pieces of the plants. Finally, a water color wash is added. The kids loved playing with all the different materials, and we love all the unique turtles they came up with.

A Week in Punta Banco

2008-07-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

Its been 5 days since I landed in Costa Rica, and surprisingly busy almost every minute. First of all, we are constantly cutting, drawing, digging, painting or prepping for our daily workshops at the school. Plus, we are offering additional workshops with the local residents and Pretoma volunteers. There's a place down the road called The Yoga Farm, and we've connected with the teachers there as well. The biggest undertaking so far has been a community organic garden. Siri and Jaimal were able to inspire many of the town's people to pitch in, and its gone from a wildly overgrown public field to a soon-to-be thriving cornicopia of pineapples, plantanos, chiles, cilantro, melons and more. The kids even dug a composting spot and everyone from all over has contributed in some way. The Yoga Farm donated fruit trees and seeds and the Pretoma volunteers were digging raised beds with our crew while the locals used machetes and weed whackers to clear the field. We also got the kids from the school to paint signs to mark what was planted where.

As soon as I arrived, I began documenting all the action, from breakfast to dinner, workshops and beachwalks. Our accomodations are rustic and funky at best, but ther are two indoor toilets and running (cold) water, so I'm not complaining. My first night was welcomed by a screaming chorus of howler monkeys that went on all through the night. But I was so exhausted, it barely mattered, tho some of the more urban girls were a little worried the monkeys might sneak into our shack. Inspired by the close sightings and screechings, we decided to do a monkey theme the next day and did two monkey puppet making workshops. Ashlie connected with an American woman whose living nearby fulltime, doing research on spider monkeys, and she came in and did a presentation in the classroom. The kids literally went apes with the stick puppets they made and i got some great footage of their impromptu performances. At the end of the program we'll have a big party and art show and the whole town (plus extended communities) will have a chance to participate. Meanwhile, I'm excited by all the collaboration going on, not only between Ashlie's art program participants, but also the children and residents of Punta Banco, the Pretoma volunteers and the Yogis. Everyone wants to make art and connect.

2008-07-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

Sublime Awakening

2008-07-26T17:26:00.000-07:00

Costa Rica - Monday, July 21...7am

I woke up just before landing. The clouds were pillowy, nebulas sculptures, thick puffy breaths of soft swirling mountains - floating ethereal islands, splintered by streams from an infinite orange pool of light. This sublime awakening overwhelms me. How do we humans not fall down weeping in utter awe of this world we are sharing? I am humbled by the sheer magnitude of beauty I am witnessing and only realized minutes after we passed through and down into a grayer blanket beneath that i might have photographed the sunrise to share, but now the moment was gone.

An hour later, sleepy and now watching other random travelers...waiting until the next plane to Golfito departs-- at least 4 more hours. Costa Rica, so far, smells like sea salt and gasoline. Its as balmy as a bathroom just before a steaming hot shower.

Time stretches like a tom cat and i consider a taxi ride to waste a few hours, but think better of it. Instead, I hoof around a few blocks in both directions, then settle back with a cafe con leche to ponder the journy before me. The puddle jumper I'll be boarding is in lieu of a 9 hour bus ride, tho I'll still take a taxi from Golfito to Punta Banco that will take close to 2 hours.

Soon, I'll meet up with Ashlie and Siri, my art cohorts from SF State who I met on another community service learning project a few years ago in El Salvador. This project is an art and ecology course in Costa Rica, in conjunction with Pretoma, a non-profit conservation organization in Punta Banco working to save endangered sea turtles.

There will be 10 total in our group when I arrive. We are all artists, teachers and learner, hoping to creatively contribute, exchange ideas and connect with each other and the residents of this rural little sea side village.

Art & Ecology in Costa Rica

2008-07-20T15:54:00.000-07:00

I'm heading off to Costa Rica to join a group of teaching artists who are in Punta Banca. We'll spend three weeks together, developing and facilitating art projects with the local residents and Pretoma, a non-profit conservation group working to save sea turtles. I will also be documenting the program on video. I'll share my stories here, and eventually post pictures, though our location is remote with no internet access, so my updates will be sporadic at best.

The group headed down a week ago, and here's their latest report:
"Thus far, we have started or are about to start: a mural in a reclaimed space close to the school that will be converted into an art studio, a jewelry making women´s group to sell items and raise money for trash collection and hauling, a puppet theater and show made out of all recycled trash materials, a book making and turtle diaroma project and some free-form photography projects. Plus, plans for a vegetable art garden are also under way! " - Ashlie Gaos, Instructor