(no subject)
So, almost two weeks on the road, more than half of which has been spent stationary, and here's where it's at:
Four days of biking, mostly half-days actually. I still bike at the same pace, but five months without a bike have softened my road-toughened legs and I'm glad that I could plan this trip to have no days longer than sixty-odd miles; after about fifty, I really have to slow down and take care of my right knee.
Port Townsend sucked me in again, or more accurately this time, Sophie did. I wouldn't have stayed so long, but Kate thought it'd be better if I came Thursday, so that settled it. Had a really spectacular conversation about relationships and mono versus poly with Caleb and Jessie over Wednesday night dinner (Potato-green onion-dill soup and eggplant rollitini; I'm such a foodie, and getting to cook so much is such a joy). Thursday was almost hot, and swimming at Jordan Bridge was the perfect end to the ride. Kate was radiant as she showed me around Pragtri Farm--more on them in a bit--and asked me what I was making her for dinner. We settled in relatively early, and, with some difficulty, she told me she thought we shouldn't be lovers anymore. That wasn't too hard to hear, because it wasn't surprising: She's far more oriented towards a traditional lifestyle and marriage, and has taken certain experiences as lessons pointing towards more formality. What was difficult was being around her and not knowing what or was not appropriate, because everything goes unspoken with her. She doesn't "pry" into emotions, you have to bring it up yourself, and at the same time she doesn't directly "impose" them on you. I didn't realize how based in Victorian-era manners her ways were until I began to ask. So, with her saying neither yea or nay and my wondering if she just wanted more of a show of dedication from me--dedication meaning two different things to she and I, it seems--I was on pins and needles for a few days. But good days, mostly. Friday I was invited to practice Aikido at a Shinto shrine, probably the only place of its kind in this country. I learned much more about Japanese formal etiquette than I'll possibly remember, and much about the principles of Aikido that were missing from my previous lessons, like why it's important to stay close when that will obviously lead to your being thrown (it's not just for the falling practice). Also, hearing that the idea is to make the person attacking you want to move where you want them made me wonder about how that carries into the rest of life and social Aikido. Russ was an incredibly gracious host and teacher, and I like him, even if I suspect his motivations for being so nice to Kate.
Pragtri itself is an intentional community picking itself up from hard times, associated with a few other communities, both urban and rural, but each still seeming to do their own separate thing. It has a lot of potential, as do a lot of these places, but it's going to take the right people to see them through. I could see myself as one of those people, but I need allies, and I don't think that the folks who are already there have the vision to make themselves a force to be reckoned with, or really, much beyond survival. The land is fertile, though, they have large gardens, lots of good connections, are owned by a community land trust, and have been around for 35 years in some form or another. 40 miles from Seattle, ten from the dojo. Hm.
Sunday was the final intense conversation with Kate which finally relaxed the tension. Then she left to look for an herbalist in Friday Harbor and maybe look into grad schools. I spent one more night and rode on to Bellingham in the morning.
The ride along route 9 was gorgeous. Gently rolling hills the whole way, following a valley in the foothills of the north Cascades. Sedrow-Woolley, the only town of any size I passed aside from Arlington, looks like a real western town, but is done up as the "gateway to the north cascades" and therefore a bit touristy. The land reminds me a little of upstate New York and a little of Vermont; I imagined myself doing rides between farms, coordinating work efforts and projects for the whole area, mostly by phone but periodically face-to-face, lending a hand as I move and assess progress towards a self-sustaining region where everyone gets what they need. I passed farms, pastured horses, and lots of almost-ripe apples. People on the west coast seem to keep to themselves more, or at least be less curious about cyclists; from New York to Texas, everyone wanted to know where I was going, where I was coming from, why I was riding that funny contraption, and was that all I was carrying? Here, even out in the country and away from the typical cyclo-tourist routes, no one has a single word for me. Two red-tailed hawks were the best company.
Bellingham's intimidating. Everyone seems to be a talented musician, juggler, acrobat, dancer, or all these. Weekly circus skills at Boulevard Park had people working on five-club juggling and handstands on others' heads, while I still struggle with three balls. The face of the city at night reminded me of Greenville, SC. I'm here on the goodwill of Becketsy, who invited me to visit based on three minutes' conversation at the Oregon Country Fair. It was at her suggestion that I went out last night to hear the Gallus Brothers play. Toe-tappin' country blues, had a blast. Then waltzing in the alley.
Or to better sum it up, borrowing from two emails I sent out today:
Since I straddled this new bike, I have: Met a new lover; lost an old lover; started to overcome leg cramps; gotten a third-eye infection, the worst case of poison ivy I've ever had, and a cold sore; waltzed; received unexpected calls and emails; and generally taken it all lightly and kept my eyes and ears open to what's going on, and what next.
On the second, in Seattle, there's a potluck and open house at the Emma Goldman Finishing School, whose express mission is the same as mine: 'To create a dense network of autonomous and interdependant communities of resistance.' There's a confluence here, too, with a new lover planning to be in town around then, the Bumbershoot Festival, and my discovery of a much larger body of work around bioregional cartography. Tomorrow I hope to ride up to Vancouver. Oh my god, it's speeding up again! I'm learning, putting things together that never made sense. Social aikido, sustainibility chess, my mantra from Aleister Crowley, "purity of heart is to will one thing."
Four days of biking, mostly half-days actually. I still bike at the same pace, but five months without a bike have softened my road-toughened legs and I'm glad that I could plan this trip to have no days longer than sixty-odd miles; after about fifty, I really have to slow down and take care of my right knee.
Port Townsend sucked me in again, or more accurately this time, Sophie did. I wouldn't have stayed so long, but Kate thought it'd be better if I came Thursday, so that settled it. Had a really spectacular conversation about relationships and mono versus poly with Caleb and Jessie over Wednesday night dinner (Potato-green onion-dill soup and eggplant rollitini; I'm such a foodie, and getting to cook so much is such a joy). Thursday was almost hot, and swimming at Jordan Bridge was the perfect end to the ride. Kate was radiant as she showed me around Pragtri Farm--more on them in a bit--and asked me what I was making her for dinner. We settled in relatively early, and, with some difficulty, she told me she thought we shouldn't be lovers anymore. That wasn't too hard to hear, because it wasn't surprising: She's far more oriented towards a traditional lifestyle and marriage, and has taken certain experiences as lessons pointing towards more formality. What was difficult was being around her and not knowing what or was not appropriate, because everything goes unspoken with her. She doesn't "pry" into emotions, you have to bring it up yourself, and at the same time she doesn't directly "impose" them on you. I didn't realize how based in Victorian-era manners her ways were until I began to ask. So, with her saying neither yea or nay and my wondering if she just wanted more of a show of dedication from me--dedication meaning two different things to she and I, it seems--I was on pins and needles for a few days. But good days, mostly. Friday I was invited to practice Aikido at a Shinto shrine, probably the only place of its kind in this country. I learned much more about Japanese formal etiquette than I'll possibly remember, and much about the principles of Aikido that were missing from my previous lessons, like why it's important to stay close when that will obviously lead to your being thrown (it's not just for the falling practice). Also, hearing that the idea is to make the person attacking you want to move where you want them made me wonder about how that carries into the rest of life and social Aikido. Russ was an incredibly gracious host and teacher, and I like him, even if I suspect his motivations for being so nice to Kate.
Pragtri itself is an intentional community picking itself up from hard times, associated with a few other communities, both urban and rural, but each still seeming to do their own separate thing. It has a lot of potential, as do a lot of these places, but it's going to take the right people to see them through. I could see myself as one of those people, but I need allies, and I don't think that the folks who are already there have the vision to make themselves a force to be reckoned with, or really, much beyond survival. The land is fertile, though, they have large gardens, lots of good connections, are owned by a community land trust, and have been around for 35 years in some form or another. 40 miles from Seattle, ten from the dojo. Hm.
Sunday was the final intense conversation with Kate which finally relaxed the tension. Then she left to look for an herbalist in Friday Harbor and maybe look into grad schools. I spent one more night and rode on to Bellingham in the morning.
The ride along route 9 was gorgeous. Gently rolling hills the whole way, following a valley in the foothills of the north Cascades. Sedrow-Woolley, the only town of any size I passed aside from Arlington, looks like a real western town, but is done up as the "gateway to the north cascades" and therefore a bit touristy. The land reminds me a little of upstate New York and a little of Vermont; I imagined myself doing rides between farms, coordinating work efforts and projects for the whole area, mostly by phone but periodically face-to-face, lending a hand as I move and assess progress towards a self-sustaining region where everyone gets what they need. I passed farms, pastured horses, and lots of almost-ripe apples. People on the west coast seem to keep to themselves more, or at least be less curious about cyclists; from New York to Texas, everyone wanted to know where I was going, where I was coming from, why I was riding that funny contraption, and was that all I was carrying? Here, even out in the country and away from the typical cyclo-tourist routes, no one has a single word for me. Two red-tailed hawks were the best company.
Bellingham's intimidating. Everyone seems to be a talented musician, juggler, acrobat, dancer, or all these. Weekly circus skills at Boulevard Park had people working on five-club juggling and handstands on others' heads, while I still struggle with three balls. The face of the city at night reminded me of Greenville, SC. I'm here on the goodwill of Becketsy, who invited me to visit based on three minutes' conversation at the Oregon Country Fair. It was at her suggestion that I went out last night to hear the Gallus Brothers play. Toe-tappin' country blues, had a blast. Then waltzing in the alley.
Or to better sum it up, borrowing from two emails I sent out today:
Since I straddled this new bike, I have: Met a new lover; lost an old lover; started to overcome leg cramps; gotten a third-eye infection, the worst case of poison ivy I've ever had, and a cold sore; waltzed; received unexpected calls and emails; and generally taken it all lightly and kept my eyes and ears open to what's going on, and what next.
On the second, in Seattle, there's a potluck and open house at the Emma Goldman Finishing School, whose express mission is the same as mine: 'To create a dense network of autonomous and interdependant communities of resistance.' There's a confluence here, too, with a new lover planning to be in town around then, the Bumbershoot Festival, and my discovery of a much larger body of work around bioregional cartography. Tomorrow I hope to ride up to Vancouver. Oh my god, it's speeding up again! I'm learning, putting things together that never made sense. Social aikido, sustainibility chess, my mantra from Aleister Crowley, "purity of heart is to will one thing."