The Day After

Boulder Colorado- November 9, 2016

From The Inside Out

Today my heart is full.

Fear, yes,

As always the fear of the unknown.

Fear of the cold heart, the fence, the dismiss.

I find in there too a curious compassion-

Whatever it has been that has kept me unaware,

Has neglected the pain of my country folk.

What is my path to connection?

These questions that arise are familiar:

What has meaning? What can I do?

Where and who and when?

After calamity, they bubble up,

Suggesting change,

Requiring reflection.

In my deepest heart

That first beat is

‘It will be okay,

There is a way forward,

I can find it, we will find it.’

Today I look people in the eye,

I say “Good morning.”

Today of all days,
Being human calls for the best in us.

Kansas: Not Just Another Grassy State

More Assumptions Turned On Their Heads

Manhattan, Kansas- November 2 - 4

Such an array of colors I traveled
through on my way to Kansas.

Okay, who have I been listening to that makes me think I know anything about places I haven't been yet? Really! My assumptions about Kansas are a lifetime's worth of input that it's white, flat, monochromatic, neutral. Investigating Lawrence and then Manhattan proved me delightfully wrong.

Kansas has nothing to do with Oz. As I learned from my travels in Lawrence and Manhattan, Kansas couldn't have been more at the crux of things. Before the Civil War, it became the proving ground for FreeState vs Slavery. Abolitionists flocked there to try to claim it as a Free State, Missourians crossed the state line to try to keep slavery legal there. The Underground Railroad set up shop to move slaves north.

Kansas and Osage Native Americans were pushed west as settlers moved into the state. After the Civil War, Native Americans were 'rehabilitated' at the Haskell School in Lawrence to force them to give up their families, language and culture. Today it is Haskell Indian Nations University, run by and for Native Americans from all over the country.

The Konza Prairie Preserve next door to Martha and Dick's land.

And then there are the Flint Hills Tall Prairie Land and Konza Prairie Preserve. I was lucky enough to stay with some wonderful new friends, Martha and Dick, on the edge of the Preserve, with vast hillsides of varying buff-colored prairie grasses. Martha and Dick grew up in Manhattan and are ambassadors for the wonders of the prairies. The Flint Hills stretch from northern Kansas into Oklahoma and have maintained their original tall grass prairie state since they're so rocky. It's a new vista for me and one I could have easily written off as 'all the same'.

My new friends, Dick and Martha Seaton, longtime
residents and lovers of the Kansas prairie.

So... lots of history. What's the point? My 'aha' is the realization that taking the time to learn about a place gives that place deep meaning and beauty. Having now stayed with multiple families that are committed to their place on earth, I realize how important their perspective is for me as an outsider to gain. If I were to travel again like I am, I would try to find friends of friends of friends to stay with who are in love with their towns and states. Having had my eyes pried open in Idaho, Montana, Chicago, Ann Arbor, Cleveland, Virginia, and now Kansas, I 'get' how terribly blithe we can be when we don't scratch the surface.

From Colorado:

Today is Election Day. What I've learned about places can be applied to people. I DO NOT KNOW my fellow Americans. I don't know them past their skin color, political leanings, religion (or lack thereof), and place they reside. I am ignorant. I must stop believing that I know ANYTHING about what makes them tick, what propels them in their particular direction. My views are scant and slanted.

I have arrived at the uncomfortable but realistic place my mediation trainers always called the place of optimal learning: conscious incompetence- I am aware of the vastness of what I do not know. I want to hold onto this place of curiosity as our country moves past today and into the future. There are millions of beautiful stories out there to hear.

What To Make Of The South?

Northern Southlands- October 28 - November 2

The Blue Ridge Parkway- full-on autumn color in this
predominantly oak-filled stretch. Camped in the National
Forest- a morning in the 40s.

I’m not at all sure what to think about ‘the south’. I have so many conflicting emotions and thoughts about being ‘down here’. It causes me consternation. You will find that my words and photos are at contrast to each other.

Growing up in the Civil Rights era, the south was a dirty word, a place full of people who held blacks/African Americans in contempt and weren’t afraid to act on that in all kinds of horrible ways. I remember seeing ‘In The Heat of The Night’ and just hating those accents and that snide, above-it-all attitude of Rod Steiger. 

Depending on elevation, the Blue Ridge Parkway went from
green to multi-colored to almost bare limbed.

And then Hollywood gave us ‘Deliverance’ and a whole new type of bad Southerner was introduced for Northerners to scorn.

There are statistics today that cast the south in a lousy light: more divorce, more welfare, more poverty, more unplanned pregnancy, more conservative (heaven forbid), for starters. From the lofty perch of New Hampshire or Hawaii, it all sounds like a mess.

Sunset on Lake Blue Ridge in Morgantown, Georgia.

But mostly I feel fear. Here I am with my California license plate, my Prius, my northern accent, and I’m afraid they’ll hate me right off the bat. They’ll hate my car as I’m driving, they’ll hate my high-falutin’, eco-minded ways, they’ll hate my northern-ness because they’re used to being looked down on by northerners. 

The fear is there as I drive down the wonderful back roads my GPS system takes me on- what if I break down? It’s there when I go in a local café and ask for coffee and pie. It’s there in the semi-deserted state parks I’ve had the good fortune to camp in. It's there on the trail or as I dunk in watering holes. Until… 

Glass horse created before my eyes in an Off The
Beaten Path artists Open House in and around
Smithville, Tennessee.

It isn’t there because I haven’t gotten an unfriendly look yet, nor anything but extreme politeness and friendliness. I wonder how long and how far I’d have to go to really get that people are just mostly friendly, and if I’m friendly that will be returned six-fold. 

Magnificent stalactites seen 250 feet
down at Mammoth Caves National Park.

Mammoth Caves, in central Kentucky, is the
longest cave system in the world- 400
miles over 7 square miles, 7 layers deep.
And they're still discovering more.

A peninsula of Tennessee bordered on both sides by Kentucky,
this National Recreation Area is called Land Between
the Lakes. I took the opportunity to skinny dip after
dark on a warm evening on October 30 in Lake Kentucky.

Because the fear is still there. I don’t know about the south. I don’t know the frustration that motivates all the Trump signs I see everywhere. And the job before all of us after this election is to learn, deeply, what is dividing us. To understand in a complex, compassionate way about the anger and the fear and the sense of hopelessness… truly, that is present on all sides.

The nearly deserted campground I stayed in in central Missouri.
The crew was closing up shop the morning of November 1.

I’ve dipped a toe into the South, that’s all. But I continue to look for the sweetness in people, even as I’m afraid. And so far, it’s alive and well in Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Missouri. I’m happy to report.

The Meramac River in Meramac National Forest
Campground, Missouri. Another warm afternoon, so I dipped
in here too- this time with bathing suit! It was deceptively
swift flowing.