Rune stones, like throwing bones, like reading tea or coins or tarot. I’m groping through this bag of smooth clay charms, hoping something else will give me an answer. Our desire for destiny, a divine plan, and our need to break the mystery. Again in transition, always in between it seems. And spun to exhaustion … Continue reading Little Steps
“A story is a meaningful pattern of events. Through finding a story’s shape within your life’s shape, you could know what your life means.” Continued from - "Valli's World, Collooney Ireland" It was 4:45. Something woke me. I think my phone buzzed, and now I had to pee. I ducked out of the mosquito net … Continue reading I Am A Writer
Discussing the pitfalls of alcohol from the edge of a bar stool You nod and agree, emphatically, and sip from the drink glued in your grip My island, my friend, I meet you again, years down the street, I wonder if you might have changed Or perhaps me, if I might have loosened up But … Continue reading Little Plastic Cup
Exploring a hidden Irish glen. (Backtrack to Europe exploration.)
I am developing a roll of forgotten snapshots. I am tracing a dark line over the faded route we took when I was eight, connecting dots of scattered memories that still flash up through layers of time. It’s taken me years to return to this place. It is a good story, one I will write … Continue reading Trapped in Paradise
Just an hour from Union Island, smashing upwind, motoring at three knots, we pulled into the open bay at Mayreau. The flocks of boat boys in their brightly painted launches circled and touched down for just a second, much less insistent than in Chatham Bay. Their easy attitude left me wanting to buy something from … Continue reading Frank the Security Guard
We hiked all over that damn island! Bushwhacking with our loyal stray dogs. Two golden labs who found us on the beach and followed us all day. Compared to the rest of the island dogs they were bigger, whiter, furrier and seemingly more civilized. (Except when the young male snatched and crushed a baby chick … Continue reading Bushwacking Union Island
We were a group of five gringoes standing beside the main road, a strip of narrow, pale pavement, unlined although there were supposedly two lanes. Flexible lanes, determined by the route best to avoid potholes or other cars. Steve, the Kiwi, and Cammie from Luxembourg, both off Proxima Vida, our buddy boat. Chris, one of … Continue reading Barbados By Bus (And Mini-bus)
Today I know what I need. I feel it in my cells. They are thirsty for it, aching for it. To soak it in, to soak in it. I swim to shore. The water is too watery, too salty, too dry and windblown and barren. Today I do not need the sea. The sea is … Continue reading Almond Energy and Rasta Reasoning
Halfway between the Canaries and Barbados, Arek, one of the Polish boys on our crew, asked what the main difference was between childhood on a boat in St. John and childhood on land in Oregon. I thought harder than I usually do before answering questions about our unique childhood. Honestly, we left that lifestyle so … Continue reading Barefoot Freedom
Knowing Home 