retreat

this weekend i decided i need to talk a lot less.

i went to a wedding on john's island in the san juans. according to the 2000 census, the island has a population of five.

this weekend was multi-generational summer camp. it was community yoga and hippie dancing and deep, goofy discussions and vegan food that made you think, "i would be vegan if i got to eat like this everyday."

it was peace and love, mixed with a healthy dose of sarcasm and shit-talking.

my body hurts a lot, but in a good way. in a stretched out way and in a my-hips-are-bruised-from-sleeping-on-the-ground-in-the-fetal-position way.

i saw baby deer eating some leaves outside my tent. and a seal and an eagle.

at midnight, i sat in a meadow under stars i haven't seen in a long time with someone i love who said, "i figured it out: you're not a person, you're just another part of the universe."

the next day we were supposed to be silent, but i wanted to talk. i had a lot of things to say. i wandered away from everyone and took a sun nap for a while, so i wouldn't bother the silent people.

i've been spending a lot of time this past week in the space between awake and asleep and my brain has been coming up with some crazy things.

instead of writing in my journal or blog, i've been keeping a running log on my typewriter (that's what happens when you don't have the internetz in your home). i just write the things that happen like, "accidentally left a red sharpie in my pants pocket and did a load of laundry" and "on my bike ride to work today, i was behind this girl all the way from 19th and yesler to gasworks park. i felt like a creeper, but we just have the same commute."

did i ever tell you about that tree in la push? it was a giant, giant tree. hundreds of years old before the ocean decided to wash it onto that particular beach. i actually thought it was a whale at first. it was so dark and the waves had hollowed out the bottom of the tree a bit, where the roots are. we climbed up inside when the tide was low. we heard the waves and nothing else. and it was pitch black, so we couldn't see anything. sky, ocean, beach, tree, people...there was no difference because there was no light.

so when i was taking that silent sun nap and lingering between consciousness and somewhere else, my brain was generating images of that tree and my typewriter and that conversation in the meadow.

when i woke up i felt: small and connected.