Sometimes, let it break.

I remember something Gino said to me once. He said "you know Makeba, when I meet an awesome person...someone I really admire, I don't always want to see them again. I am just happy they exist." And for the last near twenty years I have not known what he could possibly mean. Clearly if something, or someone, is awesome we want more. I always have.

But then a few of those people that I wanted more of ended up dissapointing me in a big way. A few may have even torn me asunder. But I wanted more. Gino is a dark one, but he may have had a point he was too lazy to explain.

Someone else said he admired my ability to feel passion and willingness to open myself up to others. But he also felt it increased the amount of pain I was going to feel in life. When I offered to learn how to be colder, he said that would not work because I was what made him feel warm. And I clearly did for a while. But to be a good soldier one masters the art of felling nothing when it counts.

I don't know how to do that. And when I find a person who makes me laugh out loud, I don't know how to say "when." If I love you, I want to do so for life. When it breaks, I feel it on my chin. I am devastated and disoriented as I exit the scene alone. I survey the damage and wonder the meaning...as usual. And as usual it is to no avail. A million hallmark cards and a million shots of Jameson won't change a thing. There is no meaning you can grasp, only purpose...if you are lucky and open. To make you stronger, to encourage you to appreciate the relationships that remain intact, to whatever.

I will never be sure of the meaning of this trip in general, or this stop in particular. But one purpose has been to put me in a position to come closer to mastering that art of letting go. Not just of people, but also the emotions around them. I have bumped into a lot of human beings so far, and there is no way I can take them all with me. And I have seen some friends in a whole new light, not all of which are all that flattering. And maybe I am going to have to say goodbye to a few I had not planned on. Old friends and new. You gotta love the road I guess.

I see it from both sides, been on both ends. And it hurts to say goodbye when you have a feeling it is the last time. But it does not have to be a tragic thing. It may even be the kinder thing whether it feels that way or not. I look at a few people that I love and think I may not have another thing to say to them. I am not hateful, just out of speak. Don't love them any less, just less interested in carrying them with me.

But how do you say it's over? Anyone says that to me and I am going to rage if I am not ready, where they are. I mean really, who would want to end things with me? And that is what I mean by looking at it from both sides. I have had people I love to death say "goodbye" to me. And I have done the same. But forever is just for now and who knows how the Lord may provide an opportunity to say "hello again."

Let go and if necessary, let it break.

There is always duct tape.

"Tip me over and pour me out."

Do you ever feel like you are waiting at the edge for someone to tip you either way? Is it possible that we can vacillate for so long that when we feel an external force push us in one way or another we MAKE it a deciding factor? Seems that way at times. And I don't think it should be so.

I set out on a path and it is one I have to finish, one way or another. But along this route I have seen numerous alternatives and there is a weight that comes from rejecting each one of them. And in postponing others.

There is plenty I can't do shit about while "on the road." That is just the reality of it. I can't work on certain relationships that mean a great deal to me. I can't have a proper home for my children or feel at home in a church. I just have to keep on moving and hope it all catches up to me when at last I stop. And then hopefully I am able to catch my breath, and again begin again.

As a mother I can not simply live out my dreams because they are laid out before me. Even a dreamer's child needs stability. Even my children need routine.

It is very possible I will be offered a position in my field, in Montana, in the next week. It's a position that I applied for before I set sail, and one that I did not take all that seriously. I just figured I would apply and do so in the most honest way possible and then keep moving. But I stopped long enough to finish the process and it may have done me in. At least as far as the massively long trip goes. If I get the job, I would be foolish to reject the offer in order to go starve a bit longer from coast to coast. Even if that is what I truly want.

We all know I struggle with the concept of what is "meant" to be. And most often it seems we can tell ourselves that it is meant to be if it comes easy. I am not so sure. Maybe we are meant to turn our back on the road that is laid out before us and forge a new one out of the alternatives? Maybe in some cases this is what is meant to be?

In my case, I guess I will see when I get the call next week. I will either begin a new position in a new state, or I will set sail again. And as of this moment I feel on the edge, just begging to be tipped.

"Go and Sin no More"

I guess even the good stuff will eventually tire you out.

Driving across the country and attempting to find something has been, and continues to be an amazing thing for me. I could use even more cliche words to describe it but I think by my journeys end my photographs may be able speak for me, and do without the same cliche's. And that alone would make the journey worth it. If people just took a look and understood. And is that not what it is all about? Maybe what everyone needs most is to simply be truly understood. And whether it is art, or writing, or whatever....it's just all of us communicating and hoping we do ourselves justice. Because if the world only knew us, truly, they would do as we wish. Then maybe everyone would just play the part we have in mind for them?

Che and I have gotten far enough that when I look on the map, I am not inclined to turn backward. And yet we have been still long enough to miss the things a still person takes for granted. My bed, my La Crouset wok, and my electric tea kettle all call me intermittenly. And I feel guilty and weak when they do. I am strong enough to stay this course, and see this country, but I am easing down no roads. It does not work like that. As a matter of fact I think seeing this country in the shape that it is in, and in the shape that I am in, may land me in therapy. It can get heavy. You take sooo much in and find it is difficult to let go of a comparable amount. And so your balance is not constant and takes it's toll. But you roll on and think "I will think about that at journey's end."

It's not like the thought of tragedy and the increase of risk escapes you. It is just that you believe it is worth it. You skip by some, and see others a little too close. But that is okay because there are still a number of places that you have to go, and more film to waste. You just sort of walk on and do your best to simply love it all.

And though you understand nothing, you hope a few hearts or minds get you in the end.

"Let go of it" may not mean "throw it away" after all?

I am telling the truth, and doing my best to be kind. But it does not smooth my path. I still bump into concern.

My daddy told me to get rid of ego and expectations and I would be a happier camper. Well, Dad...I can't. When I am real with someone, I expect the same in return. And when I am wrong about someone, my ego is bruised. Malcontent is the result. I have not learned to avoid it.

I mean have you ever tried soooo hard to avoid something that you almost seem to inadvertingly manipulate it into being? Well, that may be me. I try to be as honest as possible so as to avoid communication error and "expectations." Then by some design my attempt at communication results in a whole new set of quagmires. I find myself wishing that I still had the option to just not say shit.

Too late.

Path and Point

Woody Allen said that "If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." And I believe he states the truth.

If you wanna get through this life even close to intact, you had better learn to bend and flow. As a young child I was crazy about "Kung Fu." I was one of those 5 year olds interested in the travels of a shaolin monk. I could relate as he frequently kicked ass and it was NEVER his fault. Caine seemed to have no plans and still managed to be right on point and on path. He just sort of rode waves across the dessert finding himself where he was meant to be. No stress. But maybe eventually we all need to learn the lessons that come from staying still?

I get that all things need to adapt and evolve to be truly living...but that don't mean I'm ready. I crave stillness but doubt that I am capable. It's gonna be a hard one for me. Stopping, and letting it all just be? I don't think I am alone but accepting that I am indeed "at home" is near to an alien concept for me.

But as long as this road in front of me is turning out to be, I may well be done by the time I reach the end of it. In the process I may just cure myself of the need to wander.

And besides, it is so hard to have a garden while on the road.

So far...Soooo good.

The Lord never sends Moses down to part the seas or anything else just because you have an idea that needs to see its way through. It may be a great idea, and the right thing to do, but that don't mean you can count on any sort of divine intervention. Sometimes quite the opposite.

I am not any sort of biblical scholar. And I do not have a degree in Philosophy.
But I believe that some times; some people are meant to go the hard way. You may indeed be "meant" to do something and yet still see what seems to be a divine hand throwing obstacles in your path. I see it in the people I meet, and also see it in me.
Sometimes.

And when this happens?
What of the person who upon being met with these obstacles, changes course? What does someone like that look like? Is it that haggard man drinking coffee and smoking Pall Mall non filters while staring into space at the end of the counter? I mean really? Because if you truly believe that you are called to do something, what does it feel like to then hit a wall and then decide that you are meant to fail at that very thing? Is that when you "wake up" like they told you to? Or is that when you just give up?

And what if you just stay the course and keep on moving?
Is it all gonna be okay in the end just because I am meant to be here and now?
Possibly no. I suppose one can never know. But I am pretty sure that when it gets hard, it is not a sign from God telling you that "you are as stupid as you look and best give it up now." Even if I am.

I have taken a lot of pictures lately, and many of them were of someone I've seen everywhere lately. The person who gave up only to realize later they did not have to. And it is no one I want to be.

We make wagers all through life.
And all of the different methods of gambling really only produce one absolute.
And that is simply the knowledge that even though we don't know much of anything, we still better get busy doing something.

The train does not stop so that you can get yourself a bit more ready for the trip. And contrary to popular belief, You can NOT just sweat it out at the station while the train leaves you behind. No. Everyone rides or dies.

Hear me Pac?

"Yes, his name is Charlie."

I took Che to a park today and found a friend.

The old man saw me just this side of the bridge he was crossing and as he stepped off he said "hello" in a way that only an 85 year old Navy Vet could have. With confidence in goodness and pride in the life one had lived. With grace.

He thought he heard me yelling "Charlie" rather than "Che." He said his name was Charlie and asked me if that was my son's name. I couldn't dissapoint him so Che was Charlie for just a short while today.

I don't like people much. Even the best of them can hardly help being hypocritical and fake a disproportionate amount of the time. But the very old and the very young have a harder time cloaking their transparency than the rest of us. Or maybe they just can't be bothered yet? Or anymore?

He fought in World War II, he lost two wives, he moved home to Montana and took a walk, and then he let me in.

I thank him for it.

There are beautiful people everywhere. Even on the street.

Sometimes it is hard to rid ourselves of the belief in the "other." That sneaky feeling that somehow we are essentially different than those who follow a different path or end up on a different corner.

It is getting easier though.

The state of being homeless has never really concerned me. I have not feared it as I so often experienced it as a young child. In fact we were left on the edge so often that it nearly seemed the natural state of things. And when I walked by homeless folk on my lunch break, in my uncomfortable shoes and even more uncomfortable tights, I never felt there was a distinction between them and I. Not beyond the fact that I had someone to report to if my lunch break went over and for the most part knew where I would be sleeping.

Nor did I ever have an opportunity to form an opinion of the homeless that blamed their position on any sort of lack of character or motivation. Even as a child I understood the unpredictable element of luck. Some people had it. Some people didn't.

My family belonged to the latter, much bigger and more inclusive group.

I'm not sure of luck even now though. If one is born unlucky, can we alter this reality as we alter our course? I don't know. Not yet.

You can not tell from the video that my new friend has no legs. Eventually you, I hope, will see my photographs and will see then. I only mention it so that you will have some small piece of context. I stood there taking photographs of some of the other men in his company and then turned my head to see him wheel himself close to me and ask "And what tribe are you from?"

"My mother was Choctaw, but me, I'm just Black."

"Well you look more Indian than Black. Let me sing you a song."

My mother used to say teh same thing when I had my hair in a braid down the back of my head. And instantly I remembered her, deeply.

I think it's possible for others to be welcomed into the comradery of these groups as I have been. All it takes is the understanding that nothing is simple.

Snell was not simply an alcoholic Indian. I am not simply a single mother living out of my car for a spell. And so on.

Nothing is as simple as we make it in order to more easily deal.

Walking by Snell, as most do, without even a thought as to whether these complexities exist says something about our society. We overlook the "other" to lose ourselves in routine. "I can't look down at that drunk Indian because I am late for my lunch date" or "I pay enough in taxes that I am sure there is a program he could be applying for" fall from even the most kind hearted "liberal's" lips.

But things just are not that simple.

Every beginning must have an end.

I must have called 10 shelters in the area tonight.
Sacred Heart, Helping Hand, Way Back Inn, YWCA, Salvation Army....
Thank God I have a car and the weather is tolerable.

I feel sorry for those families that, unlike myself, have little else to look forward to and I can't imagine what it must be like to do this for an indefinite amount of time.
It does sort of suck the hope right out of you.

My car is parked behind an Episcopal Church...I think.
Che is sleeping beside me on the passenger's side lips all puckered and just begging Mama for a kiss.
It's good that he can sleep.
This first night...I don't think I will.

Times like this, you figure out where the love is...and where it may never have been.
And it is a good thing.

Since the storm I have neglected the relationships that matter most,
and engaged in the kind that simply get you through.
Having this solitude is allowing me to see some things....not all of which I have wanted to.
Can only imagine what a few months of this can do for a soul.

We will see.

You would think that fear would be an issue.
It has gotten dark outside the car and most of the house lights I can see have gone out.
But now is different.
Less to lose and more pain under my belt.

I am okay.
And getting even better.

Adjust

A writer has discipline....something that I don't.

My mother said that one had to write when they were called to,
not when they felt like it.
Well, I sure as hell do not feel like it.

I didn't feel like running a marathon either.
So I told everyone I would.
That way it would get done regardless.

Maybe that is what is happening here?
I'm really just in a "I'll show you" mode
and it will fade the first time I have to go 3 days without a shower.
Maybe. But is much more likely that I will adapt.

I don't know where I will be for the next two days.
Saturday though....I am photographing a Muslim family.

All day.

And I have to say that I am honored that they are willing to allow me to begin documenting this time in America with them.
Blessed.

Scared too.
not by them, but by the thought of colored film.
I have never used it for artistic purposes...maybe a bit in Jamaica?
But there is no way to do this without color.
This I can see now.

A few pictures today.
I can feel my eyes warming
and the sound of the shutter was a comfort.

As long I have film,
and Che continues to smile wide....
things are as they should be.

I believe.

D Day

I don't think I was prepared for the worry coming from all the corners of my world.
But I wasn't ready for all the encouragement either so I guess these things balance out like all else.

One person was worried about how I will keep up with all my hair while on the journey.
What do you even say to someone who has a concern like that?
Others think it is a big "risk" and are not sure it is worth it.
And others see the risk and say I am "brave" to take it.

If you are backed into a corner and come out swinging....is that brave?

Others seem to not know what to say and so say nothing.
That works too.
Better that then to be trite or opportunistic.
better that than to lie, even if only to yourself.

But let's be clear.
I am just fine.
And whether you know that or not is not the point.
The point is that I do.

At any point on this journey I can say "enough."
Pride will not keep me from that if it is necessary.
But it will not be.

I am happy to engage on the question of whether this is a smart idea.
Feel free to comment below rather than send me messages though.
Share that concern or encouragement with everyone, not just me.

But we won't really know the answer to these questions until all is said and done,
the photos are hanging on a wall,
the interviews have been edited,
and my boxes unpacked.

If you can relate, I am blessed.
If not, I am fine.

If you wanna be there for me, be here for me.
And if not, well.....

So this is where it starts...

It all starts with closing a few doors for the last time.

We hit the road tomorrow, the streets, whatever.
And soon after that, I better get moving too.

Over the next few months it appears I will get to experience damn near the entire country.
It's just time I guess.
Have to get home somehow.
And I have to be whole when I arrive.

Weighing my options I decided to drive.
And to take 4 cameras with me.
2 Nikon FE-8 cameras - these used to belong to a vietnam war photographer named "lucky" who blew is head off with a shotgun...I need to finally put them to good use again.
A Canon EOS SLR  - I took this to Jamaica when I was pregnant with Marina and took the photographs I am the most proud of.  (May they rest in peace.)
And a digital cam corder I have had for a loooong while and never used.

And I am going to doucument what I see.
And all those people and places that choose to speak to me.

There will never be another "opportunity" to see what I can choose to see now.

I once said in jest that "life would be swell if I could live in my car."
There is the weight of our things,
and then the weight that comes from fearing their loss.
It is probable that the fear of that loss is far worse than never having an accumulation of "things" to begin with.

Reminds me of my dad...how he so often quoted William Wordsworth's "The World is Too Much With Us."   http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww317.html

Easter Sunday in Jamaica.
I went to church in  in the back of a vacant store with all manner of wandering goats, dogs, and such. 
No sanctuary, much less a gym or library. 
(My god, they have churches with espresso stands now!)

But on that Easter Sunday, I saw true joy. 
Since then I have been in both posh and tall buildings finding no joy there. 
And not too much reality either.
Life though, is about the balances we strike.  Right?

No one is judging, whether there is a right to judge or not.
But it seems to me that when a country can make as much war as we do,
we should also be able to take care of our neighbors here at home. 
We can not either save or rule the world.
But we can take care of this coutry and its citizens.
If we wanted to more than other "things."

Compare defense spending to education or workforce training. 
Appalling.
This system is something else.
And if you don't can not work it that system,
or just dont think it right to try, your done.

There are a lot of people walking around feeling done.
I'm first cousin to being one of those people.

And I know I am not alone.

Stephen Covey says that we need to "feed opportunities and starve problems."

Here I go then...

I am broke.
Why not just accept it and start hanging out with the others who are broke too?
And if it is true that the best way to forget about your problems is to focus on someone elses....
than maybe I better see how bad it can get,  and how close we each are to that reality.

Not so much that we all are going to find ourselves destitute in the new year, but that we each are closer than we might assume to someone who is sinking and is done asking for help.

It's these people I plan to see, and more importantly listen to.

And then report back to you.
Hope-fully.