The smell of whale burp

Yesterday evening, upon my return, a parade went through my neighborhood.
Call: “Whose lives matter?” Response: “Black Lives Matter!” Call: “Get outta your homes, and into the street!” Repeat. I got outta my home and into the street to see what was going on.

I didn’t know what the revolution would look like. I always thought we needed one. For a bunch of reasons. Anyway, here it is.

Driving Hwy 101 along the Hood Canal, I listened to Cafe Chill. It’s the perfect soundtrack. I needed a few days to refuel and recharge.

Eagle above me
Moving through briny moist air
Canal at my toes

Saturday evening was a study in how to linger. The art of lingering. My two friends and I were on Orcas Island and it seemed a perfect place for field work in relaxation.

We departed for dinner at 5:15. Steps we came up with:

1. Leave early; do not rush to your destination
2. Get a table on the patio
3. Order a glass of wine
4. Sit near lavender hedges. Inhale and exhale deeply
5. Pause between bites and sips
6. Pause before dessert; move to smaller table by the water
7. Absorb dessert slowly; watch the soaring turkey vultures overhead; gracefully riding air

Saw many apple, pear, and plum trees exploding with fruit.

Old knotted fruit trees
Continue to bring forth fruit
Aging gracefully

In the morning, it’s dewy. We sat outside in polar fleece and hats. It’s much warmer at home, but this is refreshing. The deer are unafraid, grazing on a wide patch of grass close by. The ravens croak softly to each other. The birds flitter in the apple trees, stringing calls, songs, and squabbles together.

My friend Doug reads to me from his Shirley MacLaine book. This sparks a conversation about illusions/reality/other dimensions. Shirley writes that while meditating, she observed “translucent space vehicles propelled by the thoughts of the people inside.” They were not in the air, they were of the air, she wrote.

We talked about purpose, and how we lead or follow it. The argument to stay or leave the country. The wind blows through the fir trees. We munch our bowls of granola like goats. Doug goes inside for a second cup of coffee. It’s 7:00 a.m.

One day we went to Mt. Constitution. The next day we paddle-boarded and swam at Mountain lake.

The walkabout continued on the grounds of Fort Worden in Port Townsend. Lots of campers around. Full campgrounds.

I finished up on the beach, barefoot. Two people on paddle boards played on the water, one towed the other. It was motorized. The pulled boarder rose out of the water, airborne. They both crashed every time after a few seconds of this suspended animation. It looked fun.

I found a wizard oil bottle for $5 at a sidewalk sale near the waterfront. I went looking for magic and it happened. I didn’t know wizard oil existed and since it is empty I now have to make some. No problem, I have the vessel, I will fill it.

Later at the Pourhouse pub, I sat with a local brew looking at the water and listening to a woman laugh just like a kingfisher.

I didn’t have a strong cell signal for much of my time away and I quickly moved further and further from all the habits. Email, texts, and social media washed out with the tide.

While waiting for the last ferry and finally having decent wi-fi, I tuned into a talk about consciousness. What is it? Consciousness splits itself into subject and object to know itself, to be in this experience. We learn inward from the outward and vise-versa. It is in this way that consciousness thinks it is different from the other, but it’s not really. The point is we are really everywhere and not one person, though that is our perspective in this experience.

When I got home my big pumpkin was much bigger, simply massive, so you might be invited to a pumpkin roast over a fire pit in the front yard to celebrate fall. It will be just like a pig roast but no pig has to die for us. Pumpkin meat has got to be healthier than pork.