My sister Jeanne’s husband Fletcher began writing his autobiography years ago in dribs and drabs. At one point I transcribed a large piece from his long-hand legal pad scrawlings and found myself transported through a life that couldn’t have been more opposite than my experience. He was a black man raised in the 30’s and 40’s in New Jersey, spoke three languages, and received his medical degrees in Europe. I was mesmerized by his story telling style and attention to detail.

A dear family friend with experience in ethnic studies and writing recently came forward to fulfill a promise he had made years ago to Fletcher to help organize his rough material. My sister and I got down to business and cleaned out the storage bin where we had deposited boxes full of Ric and Fletcher’s stuff three years ago. Our intent to gradually sift through the boxes never materialized so this was a great impetus to bring everything home and go through it. This pile of empty boxes are the fruits of the time I spent in May and June reorganizing and letting go of stuff while Jeanne found all of Fletcher’s written material for Tom to work with.

Tom made the trip to The Number Nine to gather up Fletcher’s material and make a plan to put it all together in a manageable presentation. He delivered that manuscript within a month and met us in Montana to talk with Fletcher’s boys and discuss his evaluation of the product.

From an academic view Tom pointed to the value of Fletcher’s story for its clear description of the demographics of his childhood neighborhood and his struggle to make his dream of being a doctor come true in difficult circumstances. To us this manuscript is priceless and each member of our family revels in knowing Fletcher a little better through his own words. In a larger sense, he touches upon so many issues from the time of his growing up and how the importance of his spirit and upbringing moved his family’s prospects forward. I remember him saying “just keep moving forward”.

So now we have his manuscript and prospects for publishing. But most importantly we have Fletcher in his words thanks to Tom Trzyna.

Jeff Frost came to The Number Nine with the recommendations of two talented Coachella Valley artists, Ryan Campbell and Phillip K Smith III. I was needing a tortoise caretaker while on vacation and Jeff was starting a new chapter in his life and needing space to wrap up a project. It became another perfect match for The Number Nine’s mission: win-win-win.

The Number Nine is not everyone’s cup of tea but talking with Jeff for just a bit revealed he passed desert living muster better than I do. However, visiting Jeff’s website was not a simple cruise through pretty pictures. His complex projects interact with the forces of nature and time requiring my thought and challenging my perception. I could feel Ric smiling on this encounter. Jeff had The Number Nine spirit.

Jeff’s recent work has been focused on chronicling California’s fires and the increasing role they are playing in our new stage of climate change. It appears that fire is here to stay and Jeff is capturing its devastating story in photos and video. He’s also shining light to the creative aspects of fire as a performance piece as well as transforming man’s structures and materials into weirdly beautiful creations.

Consider the razor’s edge man has walked on with fire for so many millennium. Harnessing its tremendous power catapulted man on his way to industry and civiliazation. Yet we have created conditions now in which it blossoms on its own and we are left to contemplate how earth rebalances itself due to our interruptions.

Thank you Jeff – you are always welcome back at The Number Nine and we look forward to following your future projects.

Your mother’s 95^th 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!

Sam and Tootsie

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.

Go Celtics!

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

Travel well Sam!

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!

The fabulous glitter girls!

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 gang at dinner!

The birthday girls!

Four generations of girls!

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!

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:

• Eric Archer  – Eric’s website
• Diana Seiler – Diana’s website
• Master of Alaska – Diana’s father wrote this.
• The Next American Revolution – Grace Bogg’s book and website
• Engaging Lectures w/ everyday experts – Eric and Diana are both participants in this venture in their home town. Abeautiful model for building and supporting a community.

Working with wood and taking photographs compose only part of Ric and Erik Stevens’ common ground. I think they were comrades in arms in a more ethereal realm and take great pleasure when he comes to visit and brings his beautiful wife, Noriko, along. We were hoping for more wildflowers. They were only beginning to sprout though a few of the beavertail cactus buds popped and the acacia trees were in full blossom. Off we went to Noah Purifoy’s Art Museum for a high-desert photo excursion that reminded us of a memorable trip we did with Ric in the past to photograph desert trash. While Erik kept his camera clicking, Noriko and I wandered through Noah’s world marveling at the Yucca Tree blossoms and Noah’s amazing legacy. Then it was off to the Crossroads Cafe for great burgers.

What a special weekend it was for me remembering the time we spent in the pool with Ric at dusk with the bats swooping down to drink all around us. I so appreciate spending time with people I know Ric cared greatly for and who appreciate the depth of the healing power of this place. This spring is one of great anticipation as we sit on the cusp of what appears to be a prodigious wildflower bloom. The potentiality of it mirrors what I feel for the future of The Number Nine.

Erik has agreed to finish a table that Ric designed and partially executed. I found the legs Ric had hand worked and the sketch for what he intended. I gave Erik full rein to complete it with confidence in his woodworking skills and that his design sensibility aligned with Ric’s. Another great pleasure for me to have this project in the works!

Erik and Noriko, Chulo says you are invited back anytime! Consider The Number Nine a home away from home. Thank you for your visit!

ANDREA LIEN (aka Alien) designer and creator of leather work, accepted the invitation and challenge to design calfskin shades for some fluorescent lights at The Number Nine. She intuited from my very brief specifications what I was looking for and I am now happily basking in the new glow the shades give to the light.

Ric’s obsession with lighting could reach manic proportions. As every artist knows, light is essential for judging color and needs to be abundant with no shadows. I have found that I have a huge stash of different kinds of light bulbs and fixtures that Ric rigged up over the years to solve his lighting problems. The bare fluorescent bulbs worked well for him but I was finding them a little shocking and glary.

So the lights have been toned down but Andrea complied with the need to make the shades easily removed for bulb replacement and to release the light if I ever find I have the need for more!

Being an old compatriot of Ric’s from Angel’s Gate, I got great pleasure having her here to share Ric’s dream place. We had lovely conversations and non-conversations of just sharing Ric’s space and things. I drew great comfort having her working in his space knowing that this is how he would want the place used. We laughed and we cried as we connected through our memories of Ric.

Thank you Andrea! Come back soon!

October 2-4 – The brother and sister act of Raminta and Paul Jautokas, with dogs Samy and Zin, visited this past weekend and filled The Number Nine with their unique creative energies. While Raminta shares the distinction of being a tiger in Chinese astrology just like Ric; Paul is a musician, Fibonacci/Golden Mean officianado, and Frank Zappa admirer which puts him right in the core of Ric’s essence.

Raminta shared her new metal working skills and a rough draft of an exciting proposed program for coastline communities to engage in shoreline-based conservation efforts in the spirit of the Japanese concept of Sato-Umi.

Paul installed a new router that rocketed us into a new realm of computer power, enchanted us by playing his African mbira, and fascinated us with his exploration of using fractals in making music. While out hiking in one of Ric’s favorite places, Paul explained in layman’s terms the importance of these concepts that triggered Ric’s fascination with the number nine and gave me new insight into Ric’s vision.

These visits by creative souls is the essence of what Ric was envisioning for The Number Nine as a place away from everyday distractions to share ideas, try out new ideas, or let new ideas be awakened by the raw power of the desert. Paul ‘s comment that he felt Ric had quite a voice as evidenced by his paintings touched me deeply. I love that people can come to know his essence through his art.

We left much undone and all look forward to our next visit together!