Share #30: Bacon and eggs and kale

Angelina and I are sharing a breakfast today. Breakfast is coming back to me. I do love breakfast. I was beginning to wait for her at 10am when I hoped she would arrive. I felt hungry enough then, but she didn't arrive until later. I felt like a dog that knows about when meal time is and who gets perky and paces and reminds its owner it's time, it's time, to feed me, feed me. I should have gone to the paint store.

When Angelina arrived, she mixed up her yogurt. That was my cue to eat mine. It had been sitting out since 10. She started to cook bacon and kale and eggs and poured a glass of carrot orange juice for me. Wow!!!! Wake up, mouth!

In the midst of all this, we were dealing with a host of work issues. Trying to match colors, determining the strength of dye to be used. This work requires important and new decisions all along the way and everything is based on a a set of eyes or a few sets of eyes and the available light. We are dying long fir boards and beams, trying to match a sample. Not all the wood is reacting the same way. Some is lighter and some is darker. The thicknesses and grains are different. But it must all be matched. Our discussion delays breakfast. It's smelling so good in there. The dogs and I are tuned in.

After many photos and texts and phone calls and decisions, we at last sat down to dine. Colorful and fatty. Rich and abundant. I didn't begin to brush the 2nd coat of dye into the boards until 1pm. With the sun setting at 4, this means I'll work til after dark.

In my work, I want to know what I am doing and to be able do it. In my art, I want to not know what I am doing and do it and, by doing it, find out what I am doing. I want to listen to my work, hear what it says. I set up impossible or near impossible tasks. I set up situations in which to not know myself, and perhaps to never know myself, and then I investigate them. This is one of the differences between my life and my art.

Share #29: An upscale burger & upscale fries with a moderate wine

Breakfast with Alexis. I am grateful for this meal. A late morning, thoughtful, calming meal, informal and comfy. Alexis offers me ginger tea with warm milk and honey. It is her signature drink and is taken every day, at a specific time.

Scott is coming to help with a doggy so I can be with Alexis and focused on wood. Alexis is going to California tomorrow, to celebrate her mother's 90th birthday!

After the rain and the rain dogs, we shared a glass of happy hour wine and a kobe burger at a local bistro. Aioli dipping sauce. I cleaned my plate except for a hunk of meat, which will go to a good dog.

Tonight is my first night alone in an awfully agreeable house. A clean bright space. An airy, warm, woody home. I sat on the petting couch with the dogs petting them. I stared off into space. I fell asleep sitting up, waiting for the energy to get up and move. I still need to drive across town to let the cat in. I took a hot shower. I applied lotion. I laundered my clothes. I drank warm vanilla milk. Then I drove across town. The cat was in. I thought he had wanted out this morning. He did not want out now, but wanted love. I gave him some. I fed him and cleaned his water bowl and played some music and watered and fed the chicken. All is well. It is predicted to rain everyday this week. A good day to stay in.

Share #28: Sushi & world peace

I texted Aaron to see if he wanted to meet for sushi or tea. He's been asking to meet and I haven't been free. He said tonight he was open. We met at Musashi's, but first I took a little dog for a walk. There is always a line at Musashi's. That's because the fish is fresh and affordable and the restaurant tiny. Everyone orders the Chirachi or sashimi bowl ($14.95). It's a perfectly memorable dish.

It's rare for me to eat at restaurants and here I am doing it so much. I did not think MyShare would be like this. A celebration. An extravagance. But when I share, I want to offer something beautiful. I imagined picnics on park benches with strangers and invitations into tea house and bringing people off the streets. Romantic, yes, but possible. My life has changed since then. Again. And now I'm everywhere and nowhere again. I worked all spring and summer, day and night, and now fall is into winter and I haven't had any regular rent to pay for 10 months. This means a little money saved up. Feels like a lot. I'm saving for Mongolia.

Aaron shared his news with me. He and his partner are selling their house and moving to Skagit. Debt free in Skagit. And this year he moved his aging mother to Seattle. She brings in more SS than my mother and can afford her rent. He had her things shipped to Seattle and solicited friends to unpack her things and so she arrived to a decorated apartment. She was thrilled. Sounds very unlike what I did for my own mother. Alas.

When we got talking spirituality, he told me about his 10-day Vipassana meditation. Since then, he said, he sits an hour a day. That, as a practice, prepares him for his day. After the meal, we walked to Quan Yin Teahouse and ordered a pot of World Peace tea. They had to ask us to leave an hour after they closed

Aaron encouraged me to watch "A Thousand Clowns." In trying to find it that night, I inadvertently watched "Separate Tables." When the film was over, I realized it wasn't the movie I was meaning to see. I found that interesting as I'm struggling to continue my work on "The Clown" in France and Mongolia and am instead here in Seattle sharing meals.

I stayed up late. I cannot work. I cannot focus in a cluttered space, in a dirty space, in a dark or cold space. I must clean and order it before I can sit down to work in it. All I need is a corner, some free table space and a clean kitchen and bathroom. I did a fair amount of cleaning before I backed away. I gain nothing from this. At some point, when I saw I was not winning, I stopped and sat up on my computer watching a film.

There were two books next to each other on the bookshelf at the teashop. They were part of a set. One had the letter T on the spine. The other had the letters EA on the spine. They were arranged in the wrong order and instead of spelling TEA spelled EAT. The cosmic order is mixed up. I bought a bar of dark chocolate for us to share. Aaron had no difficulty receiving it. He simply said, "Thank you."

For 35 days, I have eaten in community. I have eaten nothing alone. All my meals are taken with others. Because of this, I have missed meals. I have missed breakfast most, but also dinners and lunches. There were no days when I ate nothing. I am considering continuing with this work. Why? Why not? Why? Because I have wanted to cheat? Many times I have thought, "What would a nut matter? I could just have this olive or that piece of fruit or... this whole project is silly! Who cares. And I want to eat." I have not cheated. I have wanted to. Many times there were nuts or chips or cheeses or crackers or fruits or chocolate lying around. I have smelled food cooking in restaurants, scents wafting from neighbor's houses. Mmmm. Food. The sacrament I do not freely take. Eating alone, one day, when I chose to end this work, will feel heightened and luscious and maybe even wrong.

Share #27: Chicken fried chicken & some jumper cables

Some friends invite me to dine with them to be sure I will eat. Others decline my invitations. Who am I responsible for? Who is responsible for me?

A Chicago artist I met through Vanessa contacted me recently. If I was still in Seattle, would I meet and welcome her friend Nate to the city? He is relocating here. Well I needed to eat and thought, yes, I must meet this Nate. We met at a dive bar, a place I'd never been. He had an I Heart Science pin on. The heart was anatomically correct. He was finishing his $2 tacos and beer when I arrived. I asked if he wouldn't have more. If it would help, he said, he would. Let's go somewhere. Too many TVs. We walked to Hattie's Hat. I order a meal and a drink. He ordered a spinach casserole and a beer. We celebrated his new job and his new apartment.

Nate's been living in his car since October. He came to Seattle to start a new life and get away from the harsh Chicago winters. His dream is to live on a boat and travel from the islands, where he lives, to the city to sell his cultivated mushrooms. He is working as a house cleaner. I asked why. It pays $17 plus benefits. During dinner he told me he doesn't kid himself. There are people out there who are more valuable to society, who should earn more money. I stepped into this line of fire to point out his singular perspective, material production. If he were to look into the values of kindness or humility, or were to consider his spirit of adventure, or his volunteerism, or his ability to draw people in and make them feel safe, he might be at a different place on the scale. Why should we live in a one scale world?

He told me about his bicycle trip across Mexico long ago and about his coffee shop in Chicago and about his father and his friends in Iowa. I told him about the books I'd been reading and about my search for the truth and the miraculous. He told me about an experience he had in his early teens. He sometimes saw in blue. Everything was blue to him. He shared this with one friend at the time who said he'd had a similar experience where everything went red. He and his friend invented an explanation for this. They were superheroes, of course.

Nate was raised an atheist and today he claims to loves science. He loves how science can explain everything. He said he'd read about the Tao growing up and his Dad had been into Buddhism, but that mostly he found life and spirituality didn't meet up in the world. Philosophy happens in books and science happens in the world. I scanned my recent history. When didn't I, for sure, feel this way? When I was walking last year. When I was walking in 2011. When I was working and lying down at Mt Pleasant Cemetery in 2012. I asked him if he felt this way on his bicycle trip. He paused. He wasn't sure. We are all agreeing to this, all the time. That's how I feel. This idea that what's real and deep and connective gets shoved into the cracks of our otherwise material lives. What else might we agree to? Or disagree to?

Nate ran his battery down this week charging his tablet. He asked me about the service station on the corner, asked if they were reputable. They are swines, I said. I offered to give him a jump. There are cables in my car. I used to leave my lights on. After not having a car for 17 years, it was a hard habit to break. I used to lock my keys in the car. Breaking into and getting a jump from strangers, these were regular occurrences.

After dinner, we walked to his car. It was loaded with stuff. There was a bike on a rack on the back. Far more stuff than I own at present. It was drizzling. The street lights were hard to see by. Which was the positive and which the negative terminal? We attached what we thought were the right clamps to the right terminals, but then sparks flew out and smoke began to rise. Yiee! Science. The clamps and cable were hot to touch. Something's wrong with this science. I was getting nervous. I started to imagine all the movies I was in. Who'd really sent this man? What end I was coming to? After a few more tries, I located, for certain, the negative and positive symbols imprinted on the battery. We'd had it backwards. We switched the cables and his engine started up. Phew!

No Share

No breakfast. I've lost that meal. Lunch with Alexis then work. I'm working every day now, at Alexis' home studio—an open plan, warm, relaxed space with dogs. I didn't know I'd be working this job when I started MyShare. I've not been considering these pre-work, late breakfasts real shares since they weren't intended as shares, but are shares, shared out of necessity. Is this necessarily harmful thinking? Probably. It is the last day in November. MyShare goes on.

I brought a baguette from Le Fournil and sandwich meats and cheeses. Alexis doesn't eat bread. She didn't share what I offered. She has her own routine. She ate an egg and steamed greens. I left the piece of coconut cake she gave me yesterday in the car. It was gifted to me by her mother, who was already on a plane to California when I received it. I had no one to eat it with. It was cold and damp. I was going to a cold, dark, uncomfortable house. A cluttered space with stains on the carpet. I slept in my sleeping bag and woke and left.

No dinner again. Looking for calories in a hot chocolate. The milk in the frig is outdated and nearly turned. I must get more. Please cow. It was a last leg cocoa, though warm and warming. Then a jasmine tea. Then bed.

Share #26: Post-Thanksgiving Day Dinners

I was invited to a post Thanksgiving dinner with Laura and Clinton and Hugo on Saturday and Sunday. Whenever Clinton and Laura have an abundance of food, they ask me to come help them eat it. It is a ploy and one that works. I am always (often) hungry. While there, I listened to Hugo played his youth symphony orchestral compositions on his new French horn. Then, on the piano, his own compositions. His music lends me to mood and story. This new piece felt literary and stately.

And the meal food was warm and plentiful and lifting my heavy plate was exercise enough, but nobody really ate with me or planned to eat with me, they more fed than ate with me, which was plenty good enough for me. There was lots of talk and laughter and story telling. And that was our share.

On Sunday, I went back again to Laura and Clinton's for a second post-Thanksgiving Day Dinner! This time, Laura's brother Daniel was there. We all ate together then when the other dispersed, Daniel and I talked over dessert--three pieces of bread pudding, all different, with whipped cream. Mmm.

Like Laura, Daniel is committed to meditation and is deeply engaged in a spiritual search. He suggested a teacher to me, a woman in Oregon named Gangaji, who invites people to think about the question "Who Am I?" After dinner, I watched a few of her talks. Her eyes are half-mast, her mouth is firm and her smile is challenging, but when she said, "And then the word 'I' will fall back to its origin," she won me. Her teaching is simple. Letting go of "I" is the hardest thing we'll do, but all the nothing it offers is worth more than all we can achieve. Awareness existed before "I" was formed. Letting go of "I" allows us to reconnect to awareness. To me, it seems everyone is saying the same thing, but some are saying it better, saying it just for me to hear. Gangaji.

I've found Daniel, at times, in the past, to be cynical, short, off putting, out for a shock, flip. Tonight, he was a wise man, tolerant of the worst anyone could offer—negativity, complaints. "Bring it on," he said, "trigger me!" He wants to get all that out of the way so he can get onto what is real. What an invitation to the world! I'm amazed by his resistance-less-ness. Go Daniel! And a little jealous that he and his sister can talk so freely about their personal search. My brother and I used to be able to talk about anything, but mostly I listened and he talked, but back then that was enough. Then I think anger or criticism drifted in and the room started getting cold and eventually the door froze shut. Or is that just  what it seems like? It looks like we have more differences than similarities now, but I don't believe that. I believe he's holding up a world he doesn't really care about. I wonder if he thinks I'm hiding from a world I cannot face up to? I wonder if we'll meet again and where.

No Share

I have three dogs, two cats and one chicken at three houses. Two of these "jobs" are favors. I'm doing them because they need doing. I want to be helpful. My desire to be helpful is a shattering, scattering force. Where is my life? I tell myself I am still in recovery from summer, but then there's no room in this life for recovery, so I'm just holding on or coasting or floating out to sea. Everyday a bit of money, which isn't bad, but then a curbed sense of freedom and a fence between me and my artist. These jobs, all of them at once, require that I borrow a car. I feel alive when I'm walking and the car is the death of me.

Inside all of this, I have one job that is my dream, Mona and Maddie! I've been caring for these two maltipoos (Maltese + poodle) for 3 years now and they have my heartstrings. I'd take them in a heartbeat, anywhere, anytime. Get an apartment. Get a job. Move to the country. You name it. I should say no to all the other friends and just work for them. That would be true happiness. But, as is, coming and going from their house leaves me, or used to leave me, the freedom to write and hike and make art and be social. And they paid my meager bills. And their costs were covered.

Now I am just over committed and caring for too many houses and animals for it to be useful. It is unsettling because these jobs are at the most 20 days long and at the least 1 or 2 days long, which means I am always moving, but this moving has been urging me, more and more, to divest myself of things. Where I used to be Spartan, now I am mobile, or near mobile. I still have some unfinished projects in a bag and a hard-drive and a laptop. What does a pilgrim do with such things?

Did I eat today? What? With whom? It must have been at work again. I'm sure I missed another meal or two. I cannot say.