Love, Mountains, Psytrance, War...

She said, “It’s deep and intimate.” And I said, “What more could anyone want?” 

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Chops WanderWeird, an artist and Jeff - generations, at NET

I’ve been planning on hiking the Elk Park/Chicago Basin loop in the Weminuche Wilderness this summer. It’s a little over 40 miles and close to the end the trail passes the Chicago Basin, a beautiful alpine area surrounded by some of the biggest mountains in Colorado. I’ve been wanting to do it, but not inspired. This morning I thought, why not just hike the other way and get to the basin in about 9 miles? Hang out in the rock and tundra and snow and wind for a few days and suddenly I’m inspired. I realize I don’t have to do epic hikes. Whew, what a lightening. Why would I want to do an epic hike? Because I can, or maybe because I could, and because the rewards are so great, e.g., Northern Wind Rivers. But I don’t seem to have the push now.

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The stage Friday night. Saturday night the lights really came on.

Last weekend we had the annual Atrium Obscurum psytrance gathering (New Era Transmissions) in the deep woods of East Texas. It was a deep experience for many of us – a transformational gathering. There were just over 200 people camping, talking, dancing, in an amazing sparkling now – together. The music started about 9pm Friday and continued without cease until 1 pm Sunday.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFPPAArPHeE

We worked hard setting up, keeping it going, and taking it down. Happy to say that cleanup was close to zero – a few cigarette butts was about it.

From my Facebook post: I want to say that I am proud to have worked with AO on NET – not in a prideful sense, but in a humbled sense of having helped create something beautiful. I’m grateful to be part of this good work. And I had a really good time. Big respect and appreciation for all the AO crew.

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Sometime Saturday. Rope, one of the people I camped with in green shirt

Leslie, Sometimes we meet in the hall or somewhere and it’s almost unreal. Like in a dream.

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From the book The Hill Fights: The First Battle of Khe Sanh, p. 94-95 (This section is about a Marine named Montgomery): “When he came to… blood flowing from shrapnel wounds. ‘I looked around. No one else was there. Mortar shells still exploding… I crawled on all fours to a bomb crater. I hurt too bad to go any farther so I started calling for help. Two Marines hiding in another crater answered. As soon as I told them I was wounded, they crawled over and patched me up.’ (Montgomery asked them to take his photo.) With mortar shells crashing behind them, the man took Montgomery’s picture.”

Part of Atrium Obscurum crew at Friday morning meeting
Willa, person I don't know, Nick, Kitty, Laura, Luis, Jessica reading,
and Dawn standing

I was the one who took his photo. What he didn’t mention was that he was covered in blood, smiling (going home – if the medevac isn’t shot down), and shooting me the finger – so long, sucker. I’ll think about your dumb ass out here in the boondocks while I’m laying up in a hospital eating ice cream and checking out the nurses

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This was written in 2005, on what I thought was my last trip to Hong Kong: On what I thought was probably the last Star Ferry ride of my life I'm staring across the harbor, feeling the engines throbbing under the deck, feeling nostalgic ... a little girl, maybe 4 or 5 years old, sitting right behind me in her Dad's lap - starts singing over and over again, first in English and then in Chinese ...
"Row row row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily merrily merrily,
Life is but a dream."
Another grace note for the trip.

The AO DJ set-up. Sunday about noon

On the last day David and I went to Big John's cafe on either Lock or Hankow Road, parallel to Nathan Road. Big John's is a small place serving Chinese and western foods - including salads that seem safe. Always good vibes in Big John's. This last time the music included the song from long ago...

"Those were the days my friend,
We thought they'd never end,
We'd sing and dance forever and a day.
We'd live the life we'd choose,
We'd fight and never lose,
Those were the days,
Oh yes, those were the days."

Of course I'm thinking of Leslie - talk about nostalgic - yet thinking, yeah, that's pretty much how it's turning out. These are the days.

Rode that big 747 to Taipei, on to LA, and then Dallas. Home. 

Charles Kemp, working on decos

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The other day someone said (rationalizing giving up his dreams), “You can’t change the world.”

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Reality, when I experience Leslie…

© What I see now

© What I remember

© What is real/50+ years of loving

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High tundra - rock, ice, sky

Here we go again and as always, wherever you are, Leslie, you’re with me – through the endless Texas plains, the edge of New Mexico and over Raton Pass, into the Colorado flatlands, the foothills of the Rockies, stopping in Fort Collins - the city of my dreams, past the Snowy Mountains, into Wyoming’s high desert, and finally the Wind River Mountains and all along the way, Hello Kitty sticker (surrogate Leslie) reminding me, “The speed limit is…” and “Don’t you want to…” and "uhh..." and of course, "Hello."

David and Leslie, near Hue

Last night we were lying in bed talking, cutting up, laughing and laughing about I don’t remember what – like so many other nights... and then sweet mornings. These are the days. It’s been more than two months since the hail storm that turned things upside down for us. Except you and I never got turned upside down – together and these really are the days.

Sweet afternoons.

When I think of you my heart is full, all the love, the joy, the respect, all the fulfillment, all the everything.

And, incredibly, besides all that: http://ckjournal.blogspot.com/2010/04/leslie-retires.html

From Hue 2011/2012: After a banana pancake breakfast (with honey and yogurt) and not forgetting a glass of very strong cafe sua and a few minutes later splitting an omelet/baguette sandwich, we took a riverboat cruise for 100,000VND (Leslie's bargaining acumen) to Thien Mu Pagoda, 45 minutes up the perfume river. This where the monk Thich Quang Duc lived before he went to Saigon in 1966 to immolate himself in protest against the VN government and the war. The pagoda and grounds were quietly beautiful –understated and mossy with just a few people around and a view from the grounds across the wide river, past the plains, to these mist-covered mountains where we fought and bled, where so many from every side fought and bled and died, aching for life – me for a beautiful dark-haired girl whose photo was so washed out from the water that only the shadow of her left eye was left and now, 45 years later, looking across the room from where I write she's sitting on the bed, the love of my life, beautiful, her hair white now and here we are in Hue and I look out through the glass-paned doors toward palm trees and mossy buildings - it's misting in Hue.

I’ve loved you a long time.