Dream

I am in line for an initiation ceremony where I will be buried alive for an unknown amount of time. I climb into the casket which is buried 6 feet below, but I do not want them to fill the hole with dirt, I am afraid of having a panic attack. I have recently been scuba diving and was rusty about using the air hose. So I am in the casket and it's dark and suffocating, I climb out to go pee and face some disapproving looks, like I am not truly committing to the process. I rationalize that I am making an okay decision, being completely buried just isn't safe. I convince myself that merely being in the closed casket in the dark is a good enough initiation. I sheepishly get back in and blow all the candles out to prove that I am committing, I am. 

Am I?

xo

perfection

in a snack.

Kathmandu

I have been getting a lot of validation from online sources these days, posting pics on tumblr and checking to see if anyone likes them. It is both motivation and a strange pressure for my picture taking process. 

My style is a bit sneakster, a covert operation. I like the honesty of a candid. As I walk around I see the world in frames, beautiful creased faces, bright colors, shapes and patterns and laughter in eyes. Sometimes my whole focus become pictures I am missing. It is an easy leap from there to self criticism, of my shyness, my introversion. Last week I began carrying this guilt around, as if the problem lay in my fear of asking.

So I made a challenge, to ask 10 people if I could take their picture. I had yet to ask this question in my 6 months of travel. So I went out with my mission, nervously, and noticed some really interesting things. Of the 4 adults I asked, 3 of them were behind something, like a metal gate or a glass window, as if I needed the illusion of separation to be comfortable. One person said no. All were shitty pictures. 

BUT, in the process of talking to one guy (a schoolteacher) I attracted bunch of kiddos which led into a ridiculous photo session of leaping shots and of laughing. The kids actually were the ones to ask me, but I count it anyways. It was exactly what I needed.

I realized that to get the kind of non-sneakster shot I love, I have to build a relationship with the person first. I need to be able to put them at ease so they are reacting not to the camera itself, but to the girl behind it. I can do this with kids and with friends. And with strangers if I am drunk. And that will have to do for now.

Simple pleasures

Of having a home.

xo

I have been attuned

Now may the Reiki flow in like water. 

xo

Organization

Of my art.

Photojournal

Portraits

Fairy tale

Still life

Memoir

Collage

How do the pieces fit together?

xo

Floating

Everything on stilts, in boats.

xo

Kashmir

Shops closed for months due to strikes and political unrest. One man was selling vegetables here.

xo

Buddha

I feel like a stalker, this man is too precious, honest, serene. He is also a complete pain in the ass. I miss him.

xo

Also...

I believe in tipis!

xo

Om shanti shanti

This week, I finally met the gem man. I was interested in his Tibetan mandalas, painted on rice paper with crushed stones and collected by his great grandfather from the mountains. I bought three, and then he opened his suitcases of jewelry.  From packs of folded white paper came a gorgeous array, I couldn't resist a small crystal egg and some moonstone pendants. I asked him if he had any rainbow obsidian, a stone I have been looking for (in the lava flows of eastern Oregon and gem and hippie shops) for about two years. He thought perhaps yes, but at his shop across the lake.  

So today again, he showed up at the island with a boat full of suitcases and an invitation to his home. After tea in a smoky dirt kitchen, and 6 hours and many gems later I found my rainbow obsidian, a 420 carat peridot, various topaz and the shiniest, clearest rose quartz I have ever seen. Like a deer in headlights, I didn't know what hit me.

So here I am, less traveling in India than living in Kashmir, painting on the walls when I feel like it, writing fairy tales to amuse myself and buying ridiculous crystals. 

The hawks are making joyful glides

And I am back in Kashmir. It is a month later and much warmer, though still cold enough for poncho and fire pot. I am staying on the island with two of my most favorite people here, a Finnish snowball and a Kashmiri prince. I am having two long shirts fashioned by the tailor, and a new green poncho. There is a strike and a curfew and all business have been closed for a week. 

More importantly, I am becoming aware of this pattern Hillary spoke of. It is a computer virus of the brain which multiplies at the slightest attempt to shut it down and is the source of much frustration. It has to do with jealousy, desire, and men who call me darling. I have realized that no one can take it away for me, I must bin it myself. 

As wise Ali baba told me, this is all my space. How do I want to use it?

xo

self portraits

From Jaipur and Varanasi.

xo

this place

xo

for manifesting!

a home

a project

health

these are the things I want so so much.

xo

did everyone

survive the apocalypse?

xo

consensus is....

we love our friends. xo

inadvertently avoiding the inevitable

while tending a finicky fire

and making reishi tea.

xo

another

Pinhole shot, from pioneer Henry Pittock's mansion in Portland. I was looking for the Japanese garden and ended up here instead. xo

a picture

From my pinhole camera.

 A 15 minute exposure! 

I like the dreaminess. 

xo