The Day After Solstice, and All the Days to Come

Solstice was yesterday. I have less than an hour until that is no longer true here. Thus flew time since I returned to Homer yesterday--two parties, goodies-making underway, and a lot of intense and important conversation. Otherwise, I would have written sooner, and would have gone to bed already tonight!

On the road yesterday, I got to see the Solstice sun rise--this picture taken around 11am... 

 The whole of Turnagain Arm frozen with that rumor of sun.

So cold, the water was boiling off the ocean as it came into the inlet.

A long, cold drive for me. The heater had been working some, but quit completely, and the outside temps were somewhere from five to fifteen below, plus windchill. A small amount of water I'd left in a cup froze inside the car between Cooper Landing and Soldotna (less than 60 miles). The hand warmers I had on my gloves and in my shoes felt like they weren't working, but they were just up against so much opposition. Lesson learned from last time, I stopped pretty much at every opportunity and sought out warmth!

But I thought it was important to register that the world did not end yesterday, as confirmed by "The Moose is Loose" bakery in Soldotna.

The stretch before Soldotna was a problem last time, so safe arrival in Soldotna seemed a good indication that the world was still here.

As it turned out, the final 72 miles home from Soldotna were the hardest. The sun had been making its long slow descent--in the south at this time of year, directly into my eyes--and finally finished the job around 3 or 3.30. The roads in this stretch were icier than anywhere else that day. So we went from driving with a bright light directly in your eyes (so that you can't see the road, or anything, at times) to driving in the dark on ice. Which is why there isn't a photo of the sunset.
Home safe and straight to a party.

Freezing my tail off aside, I'm grateful to have been able to reinscribe that rather stressful journey as something accomplishable. It's similar to what I hope for this 2012 Solstice. Many people were sincerely expecting some grand cataclysm or epiphany or ending. Many others, probably a greater number, thought it was a load of twaddle. My hope is that all the energy toward positive change and clearer intentions generated in preparation for this moment can be used to clear the psychic air around us, allow us all to become more conscious of how what we do affects the air, the space, each other, ourselves, and from that consciousness to make our choices. "No good or bad but thinking makes it so?" Well, I do think so; and, notwithstanding, simply these words, with no "think," no "believe," no "feel" attached to them: 
Peace.     Love.     Kindness.     Attention.     Intention.   Happiness.     Awareness.      Acceptance.

Happy Solstice, and all the days to come.

Postcard from Fairbanks - Generosity of Strangers, Long Drive, Long Hike

Here I am in Fairbanks! I'm in the 'Great Hall' of the Fine Arts Department of the University of Alaska at Fairbanks: it's been a long time since I've been in a school building like this one and certainly long since I've been in an arts complex that seems so well-endowed. This hall opens into a concert hall on one side, with a corridor connecting to the rest of the building, and a theater on the other, the third is open to the outdoors, and the fourth is that back entrance/loading zone that one always finds around the side of a theater. I've been told I'm a bit early for them to answer my questions or find me the promised bus pass, so I'm cooling it off to the side. Someone is practicing an accordion in the middle of the room with various commentators around her. There's a general hubbub of activity-in-potential, coy squawks of woodwind instruments backstairs, kids asking incredulous questions, people walking around with bulky keychains around their necks, cameras, instrument cases squashing them asymmetrical. 

And now registration is underway in full swing, officials are fast-walking around balancing laptops on palms and looking harried, an epidemic of name-tag necklaces is going around, the space is filling up and the impression is generally one of a lot of people who are very enthusiastic to be here, to immerse themselves in their music or art and in all the outward stuff that goes with it - a variety of partnered poses are struck.

When I got here last night, it rained in torrents! I took a hike to the Fred Meyer three miles away from where I'm staying, partly to get a look around, partly to get essentials like 'Bengal Spice' tea, jicama, lettuce. I got absolutely soaked - my boots still aren't quite dry - but I also got to see an amazing double rainbow 

and several other things I'm glad not to have missed. A full-blown garden outside a university building, with cole crops, mint, bolted basil, the sunflower-looking plant looks like Jerusalem artichoke to me -

The Chena River, swollen with the heavy rain, gilded with green -

And this intrepid little fireweed, flowering in the gutter at the roadside, right next to the trash!

That was a big hike, 6 miles round trip, for a chronic-fatigued person! I was proud of myself for having done it, taken care of supplies, and shown myself that the walk to the campus, which is about a third that distance, should be quite doable. At the same time, I was nervous that such a strenuous mission right at the start might leave me more tired than I'd want to be. I'd say I was right both to be proud and to be concerned - I am very sore and fatigued today, but I'm also taking it easy. After the more-than-six-hour drive to Fairbanks, a long walk seemed indicated!

I had a ride to Fairbanks from an extremely interesting person - an amazing storyteller: I spent a few hours last night just getting as much as I could of what he'd said and told written down. I'm so grateful for that connection, and for having undergone the extra stress of getting a ride on Craigslist for the eventual opportunity to get a ride and meet someone really interesting whom I never would have met otherwise. Great company for a long ride. And when I got in from that long hike around town, I got to meet the guy whose cabin I'm crashing in. He's one of the festival directors and extremely busy, but he's a totally kind, awesome, interesting and very welcoming person too - and once again I feel doubly lucky in my choices.

Today, it rained in the morning but now the sun is out and the air is warm in that spongy, post-rain way. Walking up to campus, feeling my apprehension at not knowing where I was going coupled with the certainty, soon-validated, that I would see a map and find my destination very quickly, I could feel the warm vapor coming up at me from all the fumey plants beside the path: the air seemed constantly on the verge of sending a gently cooling breeze but never quite blowing.

The library is a welcome refuge from the registration hubbub, but the orientation is soon-to-begin. I'm not yet sure how much I'll be posting during this intense course - my internet access should be good enough to make regular posting possible but we'll see what the other constraints are...

Much love and happy weekend!