Your mother’s 95th birthday doesn’t happen every day. Our whole family arrived to celebrate so that she had all her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren together for the celebration. It’s hard to put into words how momentous this week of visiting meant for all of us. For me it served to remind me to keep making the effort to strengthen family times. Flesh time together is the best!
My college roommate, Liz, came for a visit to process her recent job loss and rest in a place to consider next steps. We went to 1000 Palms Preserve and Sunnylands to bird watch but found the best site to be my house. We were treated to Golden Eagles and falcons! Tootsie the tortoise also woke up while she was here so Liz the animal behaviorist got to learn all about desert tortoises and usher her into activity. Once more The Number Nine seemed to fulfill a guest’s highest need.
March 25 marked three years of Ric’s passing. Two family members called me to tell me of his presence in their dreams. Both had the same experience – a strong feeling of his unique presence in which he was laughing or smiling and made them feel happy. How beautiful to be a haven of love and calmness that loved one’s can visit in their dreams.
I continue to move things around and build new installations in the effort to fulfill one of my missions for living. This one is to repurpose as much of the unused stuff of my life into low-impact pieces. It’s a creative process that seems to have a life of its own, which is fascinating enough! The Medicine Wheel and Memorial Wall have settled into a pattern that will keep growing. The Memorial Wall has spawned a satellite site for remembering the recent Parkland shooting on another part of the property. I’ve started an installation using a palm tree as the structure for holding Ric’s collection of cameras, lenses, and miscellaneous camera accessories. It is called “The Whole World is Watching, Here’s Looking at You, and These Cameras are Going to be Worth a Lot of Money Someday”. I’m also working on a memorial piece to hold Ric’s ashes, a signpost to all my hometowns, and an installation of all our watches called “Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is”.
April brought new neighbors who stirred up fears of my privacy being invaded. In response, I bought myself some awesome earphones and decorated my fence next to their property with palm fronds. I am delighted with both and my peaceful solution to a perceived threat!
So much could go wrong with taking someone into your home; but then so much can go right. When Sam contacted me looking for a home base for a few months while trying to get a book project under control, I suggested we try it for a month. He arrived at the beginning of October 2017 and left yesterday, March 6. Now that he has moved on to the next phase of his adventure, I find myself savoring how special and magical this time has been.
Ric’s vision for The Number Nine was to provide a safe and quiet place for artists to stay temporarily and work on a creative problem. Sam already had one started and needed space and time to firm it up. Bingo! The perfect match up! It is the first extended stay completed here and it couldn’t have been any better. It helped that I knew Sam from 12 years ago when he and my college roomate’s son, Peter, hitchhiked across country from Vermont after they graduated from college. They landed at our place in Torrance to rest up and get reorganized. Of course, Ric loved the free spirit of these two guys and it’s fun for me to think that he sent Sam to me for this first experiment in taking someone into the property.
Whatever forces brought us together, I was happy to see how the property worked in affording us both privacy and common areas where we could meet and engage in talks from one generation to another. In facing this time of daily astonishment at the world’s insanity, I have the memories of the tragic 60’s as a footing in understanding that humanity’s madness touches us closely every so often, but Sam had no close comparative material in his lifespan. It was a comfort for both of us to be at The Number Nine and have priorities of family, love, nature, and art reign supreme. In his tenure here, we battled rodents, played host to an owl I named Ivan, and listened to birdsong and coyote choruses.
For Sam the desert has shown all its colors and tempers; bitter cold and brutally hot, dessicatingly dry and thrillingly rainy; dark moonless nights and super full moons; dog day still and frighteningly windy; flowers a-popping and winter dead brown hills. Sam got to share this special place with his girlfriend Maren and his parents who made the trip from Maine to visit.
Sam introduced me to the concept and sensibilities of
Wabi-Sabi. It fits like a glove for the way I am living on this property and moving forward in my life. His arrival and visit was in that spirit of unexpected beauty and correctness of events; a surprise gift that could not be manufactured. It just came to both of us in perfect harmony.
I’ve heard the Lakota Sioux say “Travel Well” when someone leaves. Travel well, Sam.
December 2018 Update
I asked Sam to write something about what his stay at The Number Nine. I delight in his memories:
Last year I spent the autumn and winter living and working at the Number 9. Each day began when I exited the casita and raised a sleepy hand to shield my eyes from the brilliance of the desert sun. If the day was hot I splashed myself in the pool. If the day was cool I wore jeans and traced paths through Elin’s garden, which overflows with charms and artifacts – my favorite being the strange flower pot with a peaceful resting face and head open to all of the world above. I always peeked into the tree to see if Ivan, the great horned owl, was perched on his branch looking down at me from his wakeful sleep. I took an inventory of new blossoms and watched butterflies flit among the milkweed. I visited the ocotillo and traced my fingers over its deep green leaves growing between spikes. And I always ended up spacing out at the edge of the garden, where the wild desert opened up and the San Jacinto peak stood massive against a crystal blue sky.
Inside the house played a loop of Tibetan healing sounds – the effect was deeply grounding upon entering, and for some reason in my mind the bells and chants are entwined with a memory of the kitchen’s smooth tile floor and blue water cooler beside the fridge. Elin was usually working at her desk (with Chulo in her lap) and would take a break to chat with me before I made breakfast. We checked in on our plans for the day, shared how our sleep and dreams went, or grumbled about the news, which unfortunately was often upsetting and in such contrast to the rhythm and energy of the Number 9. If Elin wasn’t at her desk she was in the studio, up the hill, or off riding horses.
After breakfast I would settle into my work for the day. I was writing a story to accompany a series of paintings made by a friend. I had been working on it for several years, but needed wide open space and time to push the writing toward completion, which the Number 9 graciously offered me. Inside my room I would seal away everything outside and enter my imagination. On some days words and ideas flowed like water, and on others my brain was jammed and rusted, and I would quit writing to lay on the couch and read books, or try and reset my mind by doing a puzzle at a square table in the corner of the room. It was such a gift to spend my days writing without the hassle and stress of day to day living, it allowed my story to unfold and discover itself as it moved along on its own time.
Late afternoons and evenings were meandering and open. I took runs out on the horse trails in the creosote. Climbed into the hills behind the house to hear coyotes, and watched sunsets of exploding orange and cotton candy pink. I drove into the surrounding towns to explore and people-watch. Desert Hot Springs is strange and bizarre in a gritty, sun scorched sort of way, and Palm Desert is the surreal reality of green golf courses and retired wealth stretched along streets named after Frank Sinatra and his Hollywood friends.
Then nighttime would come, and if there was a moon the desert shined silver and everything everywhere could be seen. If there was no moon, then it was dark and the emptiness was huge. A quiet settled down that was endless, and made me want to tiptoe and speak in a soft voice. It was always hard to go to bed, because the depth of night held something secret and and big, and gave me a wild feeling.
That’s how the time passed, day after day for several months. Eventually it was time to move on and return to regular life.
I feel so much gratitude for my stay. The Number 9 is a living monument to the spirit of creation. Ric’s lifetime of work is everywhere in the house. Elin is actively adding her own expressions everyday. The doors are open. Creativity is the bottom line and generosity is the currency. What a special place to spend some time.
Here it is Setember and I just found that I never posted this. I think I was having problems uploading pictures. Better late than never; this weekend in April was magical!
Six, or was it seven, 18 year-old girls going to Coachella for three days put the electrical and plumbing systems of The Number Nine through a stress test and it came through with flying colors. No blown fuses or stopped up drains. Maybe we need a bigger hot water heater; definitely more mirrors, and ideally another bathroom! One time I walked in and there were at least two girls in front of every mirror working on hair and make-up. The only mishap was a glitter accident in the bathroom.This was one of those times when I thought “This might not be such a great idea.” I am so glad I didn’t listen to that thought and just said YES!
The same weekend, my sister visited with her daughter and three grandchildren to celebrate my mom’s 94 birthday and my niece Heather’s birthday. One of the things we did with the kids was go to the Children’s Discovery Museum of the Desert to make houses out of shoeboxes for the caterpillars I had that were ready to make their transformation into butterflies. We had a wonderful time with four generations roaming about the valley enjoying our time together. I kept the butterfly boxes and released them the next week with great fanfare at The Number Nine.
The Coachella gang seemed so much like those caterpillars; struggling to break out of their chrysalis into their new beautiful wings. It was a joyful time for me to hear the laughter and giddy chatter of girl-women getting ready to leave their coccoon of adolescent friendships. This was one last event together before they spread their wings and fly to their new lives.
At the time of this writing, the Coachella girls have all flown to their new adventures; my family has booked a family get together here in the valley for my mom’s 95th bday next April. Here I am; still finding glitter, reveling in memories of their visits, and looking forward to the next!
The Medicine Wheel and Memorial Wall have been morphing into their own creations and rather than being projects they are now amusements that have woven themselves into my daily rounds.
I continue to find the white, black and gold rocks needed for the north, west, and south parts of the medicine wheel on the property. However, the red rocks are not to be found in Sky Valley. I’ve had to be more creative in finding red things to use. I’ve painted some rocks but most recently I’ve stolen gorgeous red rocks from the Nephi Utah Red Bluffs Elementary School landscape features each time we stop there on the way to and from Montana. The symbolism of lightning and rattlesnakes has also manifested itself along with the power of horses all according to Black Elk’s vision.
The memorial wall was disappointing me in that it wasn’t beautiful until I discovered covering the installation of the water bottles with the palm fronds that are periodically cut from the trees on the property. The palm has always been a symbol of peace and they are remarkably malleable and enduring. Not sending all these fronds to the dump is an added benefit. The full moon ritual of filling the water bottles has been changed only in adding drops of chlorine to the water before sealing with beeswax. Threats of nuclear attacks or earthquakes spawn thoughts that maybe this water will be our survival for a while!
The names of victims are no longer important. It seems to be a general reminder of man’s inhumanity to man. The recent airing of Ken Burn’s The Vietnam War put it all over the top. We are fortunate to have been able to count our dead at 58,229, and have their names forever inscribed in black marble. For the Vietnamese, their fatal casualties can only be estimated at 2 million. Most of their families don’t know how, where, or when their loved ones died. The whole countryside is a memorial to their deaths in fighting for their reunification and in the end we left them to fight against each other.
The morning quiet time I used to spend at the pool has moved up to the golden temple. I’ve taken to trekking up there with incense and a trinket from my prodigious stockpile of gizmos that Ric left. As I walk up the mountain, I find a place to set the trinket with some natural element like a special rock, or dried leaves, or a bone so the trail is lined with little markings of my passage. It’s just a thing I started doing with no real plan but is ridiculously satisfying; akin to a jigsaw puzzle. After a bit of reading and writing I come back down into the Medicine Wheel and Memorial Wall to sit and see what they have to tell me about next steps in their evolution. Then I seem ready to start my day or work.
Last year we thought the flowers were amazing but this year is blowing everyone’s mind. People are frantically driving to find the perfect spot and snapping a million pictures for our viewing pleasure. I’ll plead guilty. I took a day off from work to drive to Anza-Borrego with my mom, Ric’s daughter and my sister. We hit the Julian Pie Company first and were rewarded with some hillsides lit up with poppies. Hiking with friends up a nearby canyon was a delight and then a hike up in Joshua Tree where the Joshua Trees are blossoming and we found some Canterbury bells and a couple of blossoming plants that I still have to look up!
We give books at Xmas and one given to my step-brother was a new book about Black Elk, the Lakota visionary and healer. I couldn’t read Black Elk Speaks when it was revived in the 1970’s because everyone else was. It developed a cult following at that time and I am fad averse! But now I have been swept away by both books and am following Black Elk’s visionary descriptions to build my Medicine Wheel. It’s strangely satisfying to slowly bring just the right rocks and objects to the wheel within the framework of his description of Lakota cosmology and relation to nature.
His personal experience of living through the upheaval of his people’s balanced existence in the natural world based on the great buffalo herds to fighting a war they knew they had no way of winning, is a humbling read that sheds light on another era of human insanity. Having previously read a new account of Chief Joseph’s flight with the Nez Perce, these people have crept into my heart. As victims of human brutality and prejudice, they will be remembered in my memorial wall as well.
The wall has been put aside during this native american sojourn I’ve been on. I had to let go of the plan to create ceramic medallions with names inscribed on them because I don’t have the time or inclination to put that much work out. I’d rather move rocks! But each full moon has found me still filling bottles to be bathed in moonlight. A friend reminded me that we are mostly made of water and so the bottles filled with water is feeling very right. At this point the plan is to lay down an audio track whispering the people’s names that will play on an outdoor, motion-detecting sound system. Like those xmas decorations that sing xmas songs when get near them!
So the project continues. It has become my own private workout activity. I’m only building it in ways that I can handle which limits things a bit but I like it that way. There are some big rocks I’d like to incorporate but if I can’t move them by myself, they are off limits! Also it remains true to the limitation to be made of materials on the property. It’s growing where it is planted and a source of healing an meditation for me.
My sojourn to Vermont this past May to Biff Mitthoefer’s Yin Yoga weekend was apparently not meant just as a play date for me with one I consider a mentor nor a little needed excuse to play with my college roommates. Biff always has a live musician support us in our practice and this is where I met Eric Archer. Eric lulled us into bliss and awakenings while Biff recited poetry and we were bathed in the healing power of our circle. In the closing exercise of sharing, I was fascinated by a drawing done by one of the participants and asked if I could take a picture of it with me. In our partings, I gave Eric my card and invited him to come visit if he ever found himself in my neck of the woods. Thank goodness he kept that card and arranged to stay with me while he was attending and performing at a wedding in Palm Springs.
Eric arrived with his delightful companion Diana and another Omega Institute comrade, Majalehn, along with a wicked cold. We dosed him up with rest, Maruka honey, and Diana’s patient care so he was able to enjoy all the wedding proceedings. I was the happy recipient of one of the magnificent flower arrangements from the wedding and came to find out that Diana was actually the one who had made the drawing I was so fascinated by. In showing them my beginnings of making the medicine wheel and memorial wall, she shared with me her artistic project inspired by a similar wish to imagine healing these wounds we have inflicted on ourselves and our earth. Her’s is way more beautiful and skillful than mine but once again I connected with her heart through art.
Ric’s dream was happening that weekend. These are the people he sought to support with the small bounty we have been graced with. Overflowing with talent, deeply valuing life, and dedicated to building a better world for all through community; Eric and Diana’s visit reminded me that we make our own realities. Action is the key word and action at the local level is the best base. Politicians know this, faith based initiatives know this, and our souls know this. Creating a circle of like-minded people builds a base that empowers and lifts everyone up the scale of human vibration. As Dr Martin Luther King said, ““Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.”
So Eric and Diana brought their healing energies to The Number Nine and proved to be exceptional guests, the kind that you want to have come back! They left me with the warmth of their brilliant creative flames, a few books to read, and the eternal power of music. You can click their pictures to check out their amazing lives and the circles that sustain them or check these out:
UPDATE: November 8, 2016:
The land behind the studio is leveled, the outline marked, and the bottles are starting to add up.
Most importantly, I’ve come to terms with the fact that this is a long term or potentially never ending project. As a healing space, it is already working its magic for me in being a work in progress
I had a wonderful time at the rock store picking out rock for each of the directions of the medicine wheel; ultimately realizing I didn’t want to spend the money on it. Part of the spirit of this project is repurposing materials so I’m back to the drawing board for adding color to the wheel.
Carolyn and I have done some talking and December will bring her out here to get me started on the ceramic medallions for each person being commemorated.
There’s plenty to work to be done on it in the meantime and I’m quite content with it being unfinished and ever changing.
UPDATE: November 22, 2016
The previous owners of The Number Nine had a sweatlodge set up behind what is now the studio. The told us they had gone to the Dakotas and been trained by the Lakota in the proper ceremony and we both did sweats with them. When we moved in I consulted
with a friend of mine who was in a native american women’s training program about dismantling the firepit and the sweatlodge. She gave me a ceremony to do it and stressed that the rocks used to heat the water could not be used for anything and needed to be buried. We had someone come with a bobcat and bury them but didn’t do a very good job as some of the rocks have resurfaced and been exposed for a while.
Today I took care of that. I made a pit in middle of the outline I’ve made for the medicine wheel and buried them. I added some clear quartz crystals and a bag of Ric’s ashes mixed with his brother’s and father’s ashes, his mother’s hair, and ashes and fur of three of his cats. I said the native american prayer and chanted my own magic words
over them all while burining sage, copal, and incense. After sitting quietly, I finally buried them all and mounted a basalt column on top. This is the anchor of the wheel around which all spins. The rock is a piece of basalt that Ric got from the local rock sculptor. It even has a lovely sound when you tap it reminding me that this wheel needs to speak to all the senses – not sure how to do taste but we’ll see how that resolves itself.
The November full moon bathed another batch of bottles and they even received a bit of rain water. I’ve taken to putting a penny in each one before closing it. A penny for your thoughts! I needed to come up with a way to protect the tops which I think are the most vulnerable to the elements and the perfect solution came to mind. I’ll be sealing them with beeswax. It was Ric’s last medium to use and he left me a huge stockpile of it! I’m looking forward to working in his studio on that process.
I’m feeling more and more like this is my healing space. The making of it, dreaming about it, solving problems, the heavy lifting, digging in the dirt, moving rocks – all calm my upset over the state of the world. It grounds and centers me and ties me to Ric’s spirit. He always made art in response to passionate feelings.
December 22, 2016
Ric said this and I’m living it. The part I like about this project is not knowing if I’ll end up with what I had envisioned. In business or rocket science it’s pretty important to actualize the initial targets; but for this project I’ve built in uncertainty as a spiritual practice. I’m letting people, materials, time, and happenstance inform this journey.
The December full moon was special in that it was the closest to earth in a long time so the third batch of bottles bathed in its light. I ran out of pennies so I’m using beads I’ve saved from necklaces that have unstrung themselves. I had thought someday I would restring them but now I can take that off my to do list!
The medicine wheel framework is completed and I am content with waiting for it to manifest future additions and improvements as needed to fulfill its role as a healing haven from the darkness of the world. I’ve used the beautiful blue Saratoga bottles that my sister and I are suckers for as a retaining wall and old straw bales Ric had set up for archery target practice as fill where needed. Much easier than dirt! It’s already a comforting space for walking meditation, speaking prayers, burning incense, and just sitting quietly enjoying your breath. Under the view of the Golden Temple outcropping and with the rocks from the prior owners’ sweat lodge buried in the center, it’s feeling very powerful and safe.
The memorial wall implementation has already gone through major revisions based on materials and time available. Also the original inspiration began to change. I was wanting to keep the victims’ names alive along with their perpetrator by inscribing their names on ceramic medallions affixed to the bottom of Figi bottles of water built into a wall. But it quickly became apparent that these enactments on the world stage were actually a pointer to something much bigger. From the time my brain could first cope with the burden of our collective callousness, I have struggled with my own humanness and my role in the family of man that was capable of so much inhumane treatment of fellow humans. I find my spirit still struggling with this essential problem and trying through this project to comfort myself.
Our estrangement from ourselves and each other is increasing as populations vie for the world’s wealth and resources. Coincidentally, it is the globalization of our society and instant transfer of information that while binding us closer has also fueled many of the violent reactions to divide us. It seems we are challenged on an individual basis to decide if we believe in us and them, or just us. It seems to me to be a crucially important fork in the road for us humans but most probably its just the fork I happen to be facing. It’s a time in which we can put an end to ourselves or move ourselves into the next ring of higher consciousness. I’m betting on the later with eyes wide open about the probabilities that we may well annihilate ourselves and our planet. But then we’ve been here before and avoided it by the skin of our chinny chin chin.
Carolyn came this month to walk me through the process of making the ceramic medallions. I whittled her immense knowledge and enthusiasm down to a nub that I, the working girl, could deal with. We came up with an initial plan that didn’t blow my mind with the complexities of ceramic work and came to terms with the realization this is probably a project with only beginnings and no endings. In the meantime, I’m toying with an audio solution for memorializing the victims’ names. I have a musician coming to stay in January whose brain I plan to pick for a technical design of an audio loop that can be played outdoors and run on solar energy.
Some ideas don’t work and Carolyn uttered the magic word, RACK, to solve this one. We both woke up the next morning having found the white steel pieces of griding Ric had stashed for hanging paintings temporarily. The bottles just happen to fit perfectly! Voila – problem solved within my limitation of using materials I already have! The wall moved from the medicine wheel to the wash and does double duty of reinforcing the sides of the wash that is wearing away.
I’m on break for the holidays in Montana writing this. I look forward to a new year in which the thought of this project keeps my mind pointing in a healing direction. I must remember how much human magnificence has come out of human barbarity in the past; like the lotus blossoming from the mud.
A healing medicine wheel with a memorial wall for victims of gun violence.
These two projects have been brewing for quite a while on the back burner of my mind and merged the night of the nearly full moon of Sept 14 that woke me. It was one of those nights you wake up and know you are not going back to sleep. So I got up and began walking around the pool in the moonlight. A stream of intermittent thought and emptiness flowed through my head like Morse code; dots and dashes of ideas and nothingness as I soaked in the moon’s ethereal rays.
This image is a rough draft of the medicine wheel I envisioned when Liesl first brought the notion up about a year ago. Set at the foot of the trail up to the golden temple with rock chosen for the traditional colors associated with the directions. Flags because I love things that move in the wind, tassles are even better! Maybe they will have bells on them?
I envision the wall built on the outer perimeter of the wheel with names visible from both inside and outside. The idea is to build the wall from discarded Figi water bottles filled with water. We drink Figi like crazy yet I can’t stand to throw the bottles away! Ceramic medallions attached to the bottom of each will be engraved with the name of a victim of man’s inhumanity to man. The uptick in gun violence is an inspiration but then there are so many other victims that call to me; firefighters, friends, and celebrities we miss. This is open-ended as it should be. Perhaps there is another memorial wall needing to be made for those who I feel grateful for having known their lives in some meaningful way.
The ideas have sufficiently coalesced to begin acknowledgment of the inspiration for the varying elements by different people. This collaboration of influences is an element in itself and a tribute to my water dragon nature – the integrator of ideas and people. So here’s a rough list of shout-outs and acknowledgements to bring the essence of these people into the being of this project.
Putting this in writing is a good impetus to start doing it! One box is made, a process has begun, and the location has been narrowed down to a couple of sites. There are lots of details to work out and I’m content with this being a work in progress. That tells me I have changed! I’m looking forward to the journey this project takes me on. It will undoubtedly change direction as all good creative works do; but here is a starting framework.