Birthday Season

Tulips and sidewalks and sun (in Pittsburgh) -- oh my!

This season (as always) is so busy there’s not even time or energy to blog!

Blossoms are popping everywhere and new energy and creativity are in the air, when I’m not exhausted or overwhelmed.

Salmonberry blossoms grace Vashon Island at this time

The demands of Journalism That Matters (I finally got to speak about it at the Green Festival at the end of March), taxes, house/garden maintenance, and ramping up the Big Joy Project have made it difficult to smell the apricot blossoms.

Soundcliff (our house) in spring -- it doesn't get much better!

It’s a good thing I celebrate the entire month of April as my birthday, because the actual day was a disappointment – conference calls all morning, and packing all afternoon. The only delight was a beach walk with Gordon and a fabulous dinner of barbequed lamb, fingerling potatoes, and mustard greens.

But the trip that came next was amazing, and I may have to do several blog entries to do it justice. I flew to Pittsburgh, where my friend Dr. Owen Cantor, a well known dentist and cultural maven, picked me up at the airport. He whisked me to a floating gay gathering known as G2H2 – gay guys’ happy hour – which happens at a different straight bar every month. Then we went to an amazing Turkish restaurant with live music. Pittsburgh is the friendliest big city I’ve been to in a long time; when no tables were available, a group invited us to join them! We had a great time, and by the end of the evening it seemed like we’d known each other for a long time. A woman belly-danced.

The Czechoslavakian room at the University of Pittsburgh's amazing Cathedral of Learning, which dominates the Oakland neighborhood

Just one of many great birthday celebrations -- thanks, Owen, for the amazing time in Pittsburgh. I loved so much about it – the weather, the music, the healing of an industrial city.

And now the celebrations go on – Gordon and I heard Leonard Cohen in concert Thursday night in Seattle, and in early May we’ll witness the Seattle Opera’s production of The Marriage of Figaro.

This is always a busy time – the Open Studio tour in early May, followed by the Youth-Adult Dialogue and Media That Matters at Hollyhock. Whew!

Birth mirth
Easter feaster
Devilish dervish
Gardening fiend
Open to the new sounds
The sounds of reconciliation

Moonrise, Moonset

Amazing pitcher plants at Sarasota's Selby Gardens can catch and devour animals

Hourglass sand on Longboat beach
Slips through toes and memories
Heart pounds as waves burnish shells
And pound sand dollars into dimes

First love flutters when
Sounds of music and surf keep
‘Comin’ back to me’ ...

Florida’s not usually my favorite place, but I just had two great weeks there.

Howard Finberg and Ellyn Angelotti were our hosts and co-convenors at the Poynter Institute

The first week was the Journalism That Matters gathering at the Poynter Institute in St. Petersburg. It was extraordinary in that 85 people from all kinds of media (print, broadcast, online) and educators, authors and activists showed up and participated in a lively inquiry on journalism in the new news ecology.

Mark, Gordon, Helen and her good friend Jackie took a break from looking at Gordon's amazing bells

Then, Gordon and brother Mark flew in and we had a great week with my mother, Helen, at her condo on Longboat Key. The weather couldn’t have been better.

We even got to see my cousin Alice Deck and her husband Jerry -- traveling in their extraordinary mobile home-away-from-home

I was reminded of visiting that same beach as a kid, when the white sand was even whiter and it was easier to find sand dollars on the beach. I recall walking that beach when I was first in love, feeling more alive than I thought possible. Seeing sunsets through palm trees unlike any I’d seen before.

This time, I got to see the full moon rise from Helen’s condo on the east side of the key, and then saw it set while jogging on the beach the next morning. We all got a little sunburned, the kind that itches and feels good.

Mark and I had a ball swimming in the Gulf of Mexico on Longboat Key

It reminds me how important it is to spend time in nature every day, and how important it is to take breaks from our usual routines.

And despite some dismal economic news, I feel more hopeful about the future of journalism and the future of the U.S. given current leadership. It’s ironic, though, how complex new stories are emerging (not just in Washington) and mainstream media still for the most part don’t get it. They continue to try to polarize, oversimplify, and cover everything like a horserace. It’s a good thing there’s a new ecosystem of news.

The censored invocation

Before coffee this morning, the almost ex-President hosted the new one! Photo from CNN.

Today is the first day since the Iraq War started in 2003 that I am wearing no black. It's a great day in America. Even Karl Rove says so, now that he's a Fox News commentator. We're watching Fox on TV and Democracy Now online. It's a good balance.

Some say they're shocked that Bush didn't pardon Scooter Libby or Ted Stevens... yet. Here, since it was omitted by NPR, HBO, and others who broadcast Sunday's inaugural kickoff concert and event, is the invocation delivered by Bishop Gene Robinson, the openly gay Episcopal bishop.

Bishop Robinson at the Lincoln Memorial. Photo from USA Today.

Opening Inaugural Event
Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC
January 18, 2009
Delivered by the Right Reverend V. Gene Robinson:

"Welcome to Washington! The fun is about to begin, but first, please join me in pausing for a moment, to ask God's blessing upon our nation and our next president.

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will:

• Bless us with tears -- for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.
• Bless us with anger -- at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
• Bless us with discomfort -- at the easy, simplistic "answers" we've preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.
• Bless us with patience -- and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be "fixed" anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.
• Bless us with humility -- open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.
• Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance -- replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.
• Bless us with compassion and generosity -- remembering that every religion's God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.

And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln's reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy's ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King's dream of a nation for ALL the people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.

Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead. Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters' childhoods. And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we're asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe.

Hold him in the palm of your hand -- that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.

AMEN."

New Years Evolution

Poetry stenciled on the window at the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center on the Long Beach Peninsula

Forget what I might resolve
It's more prescient to evolve
What's giving me labor pains? What's rotting my fetid brain?
Look -- look out over the sea
Fierce blanket of blue-green fudge
Roiling tides of question marks
Thick crashing expletives
Do a downward dog --
Look between your legs
Say goodbye to lies and hate
Leave them back in '008
Say hello to mystery
Open lines of conversation
Ask questions of the moon ...

I'm standing with Malcolm Dorn as my scarf whips in the chilly wind on Long Beach

Indeed, it helps to go to the sea when things seem murky. The constant crashing, the negative ions, the tidal motions – the inside’s out. You move through different states of consciousness more easily. Perfect for this particular new year, which feels in many ways like the beginning of the 21st Century.

Clearly, the 20th Century was amazing – incredible inventions, horrible wars, great art, horrible and wonderful movies, astounding progress in civil rights in many places. It was the century of exponential growth. And that, in 20/20 hindsight, didn’t work. The Club of Rome was right. There ARE limits to growth, and other things. The planet is showing us now with its pains and strains, its new extremes. Unchecked greed kills (thanks, Cheney et al).

So now, where? Fortunately, we have a new leader who does not have all the answers. He sees the complexity of it all, and welcomes everyone’s ideas. And the Internet provides a way (albeit imperfect) for us to have more global conversations.

Parker Lindner's beautiful new house in Ocean Park sits beside the 12 x 14-foot beach cabin where she escaped for 20 years

Seven of us danced in the new year with 10 dozen oysters, champagne, and a beautiful new house to christen at Ocean Park on Washington’s Long Beach Peninsula.

The oysters from Oysterville -- just of few of the many we shucked and sucked

We enjoyed group-facilitated yoga, stories by the fire, 8-handed massage, and underwear fashion shows. Four of us made timelines of our lives, through 2040 (we’re still working on parts of those).

Inaugurating Parker and Ann's new house with New Year's Dancing: Gordon, Malcolm, Parker, Collin, Tuti (from Hawaii)

We walked back in time at the amazing village of Oysterville (where we actually bought 12 dozen oysters and two oyster knives). In the church there, Malcolm played the piano and we waited for someone to light the gas lights. (Nobody did, so we enjoyed the dark.)

The Fresnel lens which used to send beacon 20 miles out to sea from Cape Disappointment has been replaced by a weaker, electronic light.

Gordon and I stopped by the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center, where they ended their expedition with a wet, wet winter and Maia Lin has created some stops on the Confluence Project.

In fact, our time on the coast was also wet and windy, but that didn’t keep us from beach walks, beach runs, and amazing times together. What a great way to enter this new time.

We left a snowy scene at home, but by the time we returned it was gone. Happy New Era!

A gift from the heart: The golden keychain

With Ilka in Salzburg, Austria, in 1983 (Photo by Robert Huber)

“The key is in the light at the window.” It was engraved on the back of a golden pocket watch that had been made into a keychain.

This is the gift I most cherish. An idea that keeps me sane in times of insanity.

The real gift was the friend who gave it to me, Ilka Chwatal -- a surprising figure in my life, a woman who loved aphorisms and spouted poetry without thinking. (She died in a kitchen fire in 2001.)

When I went to live in Vienna, Austria for a year working with the United Nations, a friend of a friend wrote a letter of introduction to her sister-in-law, Ilka. I called Ilka when I got there, and she immediately invited me for a tour of the city. She and her husband Peter drove me around, then invited me to their house, a modest apartment in the working-class 20th district.

I felt instantly at home. We became family. Ilka and Peter took me under their wing, introduced me to Austrian culture and cooking (Ilka made a mean Cordon Bleu – a Wiener Schnitzel stuffed with ham and cheese), took me on trips around Austria, Germany and Czechoslavakia.

When friends visited Vienna, Ilka always rolled out the red carpet and treated them like they were friends of the family.

My family also adopted her and Peter. When they visited the U.S., they stayed with members of our extended family across the country. I drove them once from Minneapolis to Seattle on a memorable trip that included the Corn Palace in Mitchell, S.D., rainbows in the Black Hills, Mt. Rushmore and Geronimo, Western museums in Cody, Wyoming (“a thousand Winchesters!”), geysers, elk and buffalo at Yellowstone, and even the squalor of the Spokane Indian Reservation. When they saw the open expanse of I-90 sprawling as far as the eye could see, they gasped, in German, “Oh, what a huge street!” They loved Vashon.

The last time I saw Ilka was in northern Italy in 2000. Her husband Peter has visited recently

They taught me to love opera, which I’d always shrugged over before living in Vienna. Their favorite opera, Beethoven’s Fidelio, they’d seen scores of times.

After Ilka died, I invited Peter to the Seattle Opera production of Fidelio. We cried together as we wished Ilka were there. And then I saw the light. It’s in the window of my heart. “The key is in the light at the window.” I knew she was there.

(A version of this article appeared in the Vashon Island Beachcomber, December 2008.)

Open Studio time..

Gordon's distinctive signs let people know this isn't just ANY old art studio

It’s a big deal around Soundcliff (our place) when the GRB Bells studio – which literally holds down the fort in our “garden level” – opens its doors and its larder to the public. This happens the first two weekends in May, and the first two weekends in December.

We spend a lot of time preparing the house, the garden, the bells and ourselves for the opening. And people usually appreciate the beauty and majesty of this place where we call home. Gordon has been making small jewelry-scale bells for 27 years, and casts them in silver, bronze and gold. I get to polish the more than 200 designs!

Gordon in his bell studio in the lower level of our house

This year of course we were worried about the economy and how it would impact bell sales. They weren’t as brisk as some years, but actually we were pleased (and so were some other artists we spoke with who were on the Vashon Island Art Studio Tour ).

The entrance to Gordon's studio on Sunday December 14, after a fairyland snow the night before

People were amazed to see the new This Is It bell, which isn’t yet in production but which has all 16 lines of James Broughton’s poem on it:

This is It
and I am It
and You are It
and so is That
and He is It
and She is It
and It is It
and That is That

O it is This
and it is Thus
and it is Them
and it is Us
and it is Now
and Here It is
and Here We are
so This is It

People fell in love with bells, and some people fell in love with this part of the Island, which has such spectacular views of Mount Tahoma (Rainier).

The Forge (my writing cottage, left) and Soundcliff in the snow; lots of people walk in because parking is limited

Despite being under the weather, Gordon was an expansive and gracious host. He put out an amazing spread including mulled cider, juices, coffee, scones, brownies, nuts, fruits, vegetables, chips and dip, truffles, cheese and crackers. On the second Saturday night, the Open Studio morphed into an Open House and a number of our friends joined us for a holiday party.

So yes, the season is in full flower, and the snow only made it more so!

The yurts under the walnut tree at Fiddle Home Farm, where Emily and Shane make and sell beeswax candles and Ukrainian painted eggs

The We to Be

The kitchen resounds with creative anticipation as Doug Gosling puts finishing touches on the Mother Garden salad

Thanksgiving continues to be my favorite holiday, because it’s about gratitude and blessings, toasts and being with family and/or those you love most.

Our gathering at Soundcliff this year was slow, sweet, and amazingly delicious.

Our theme: The We To Be. Living the Future.

Our tradition includes a wonderful meal with courses brought by different guests, punctuated by poetry, beach walks, stories, and circles.

We had 11 for our repast, which began at 12:30 and went deep into the night.

Our first course included a quince paste with fromage blanc, lamb liver mouse, and goat cheese bruschetta with sun-dried tomatoes and roasted garlic.

Christopher Young chops rosemary while Whit Kimball shucks garlic as the meal takes shape, slowly and synergetically

Our soup was a mushroom delight – chantrelles and cauliflower mushrooms which Malcolm had foraged – in a light salmon broth. Local heaven.

The salad, from the Mother Garden at the Occidental Arts and Ecology Center, was a true work of art, complete with crostini and leek butter, baby carrots, beets, various kales, arugula, lettuces, tatsoi, rose petals, flowers from the Soundcliff garden, and dressed with a pineapple guava dressing. Doug Gosling always outdoes himself!

Gordon’s roasted brined turkey, cooked simply without stuffing, many said was the best they’d ever had. It was augmented by Christopher’s oven roasted vegetables and Mama Stamberg’s cranberry relish made and served with relish by Sequoia. Malcolm made rich gravy, and Michael Hathaway’s Brussels sprouts were so rich as to taste like foie gras (see recipe below).

Neil Robertson’s desserts, as always, were more than just. Having just won the prize for best restaurant dessert by Seattle Magazine for his chocolate upon chocolate special at Canlis, he decided to go “traditional” for Thanksgiving. That meant a deep dish apple pie that would have your mother’s mouth watering for weeks, a classic pumpkin pie with bourbon-whipped cream, and a pecan pie made with espresso and a hint of chocolate.

As part of our future theme, we celebrated the election of Obama in many ways. And the kickoff of the Big Joy Project, a celebration of James Broughton which includes a documentary which I'm producing. In honor of that, Michael Hathaway recited a poem he wrote for James at Eastertime, 1993:

SAP SONG

While admiring a white-and-cerise
blossoming Crabapple

for James Broughton

Here we are again, oh yes!, hear hear!
Oh Desirous! Oh God!
Oh light Love and oh bright Beauty!
Oh look where we are heading:
Oh yes, for Life again!
Be sweetly dazed and slightly dazzled:
Breeze me and sneeze me,
Waft me and small me,
Touch me and tell me: my petals, my bliss:
Don’t you just adore my special effects?!

Sprinkle picnics around me,
Weddings and prayers and trysts!
All hopes that rise,
and all fulfillments, all delights!

Doing our meticulous anabolizing work,
Transceiving the sun’s intents,
(which thus give form to ours),
We can only be Love Made Visible
again, now, so freshly, Oh Yes!!
And again, now, so freshly, Oh Yes!!

(more coming)

Michael Hathaway and Doug Gosling help prepare the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving evelskiver breakfast

It doesn't get much better than sunrise at Soundcliff!