Today I  leave for Burning Man. I have an alarming amount of stuff piled up in my living room and it's all supposed to fit into my wee car plus a passenger with her meager (she tells me) belongings. Plus tying the bike to the new bike rack. Plus a 13+ hour drive to the effing desert where it will be a) very hot b) dry and dusty and c) inhospitable to most all life. Plus Felix decided to get diarrhea yesterday twice, poor guy, so I made him a giant container of rice and ground chicken which he LOVES, to take to Randy's house.

My animals know when I'm going on a trip. Felix gets morose and wants to be near me. Lola disappears. They always get good care while I'm away. Otherwise I couldn't feel released.

The garden is watered. The house swept and dusted, a thankless task. My Burning Man hat is complete with twinkly lights.

Anxiety is better. I asked a friend why I've been feeling so anxious about this trip-I prevaricated about everything; the long drive, my stranger passenger, the heat, food, stuff to bring, finding my daughter among 70,000 dusty participants, getting there after dark, etc, etc. He said, "Cuz you're old."

Oh. 

He said we get more anxious as we age. Is that true? I certainly don't trust my knees like I used to. I worry about money (well, that's not new). 

I'm leaving my computer at home. My phone will probably die while I'm there because there is no way to recharge it. Besides signals are spotty on the playa. I hope to get some photos. I will be able to charge it up on the ride home. 

For now, I'm gonna meditate, have some breakfast and continue to contemplate the tight packing situation. Then off I go to Portland to pick up Lisa, my passenger, who will help with gas and driving. And we're stopping about half-way there to spend the night at the Shady Inn Motel-no not the Bates Motel!, a cheap-o place just off I-5. Then on until morning....

Burning Man, here we come.

I just sat down. I danced this morning :-), walked the dog and picked up windfall apples in the park, a bunch of them. I also picked 6 cups of blackberries.

Then-more blackberry jam, apple sauce and a blackberry apple pie.

And there are more apples in the fridge, for another day, lordy.

I intend to take a shower today as I sweated mightily at dance but why?

The kitchen counter is stacked with jars of jam and sauce. The dish washer is running.

My body is so sore, my bones are sore. I could lie down and not get up until tomorrow but there will be women here in a bit to meditate together.

I listened to a TED talk about joy and play. I dance and I just started a tai chi class (!). Three days a week, two of those days outside in the beautiful Kubota gardens

http://www.kubotagarden.org/about-us/history/

The gardener was interned during WWII but returned to the garden and continued his work.

The other students are mostly older folks. The teacher calls out the moves, " white crane spreads its wings' and 'parts the horse's manes" while I do my best to follow along. The classes are free or $2, so sweet.

Today is  Eid al-Adha and down the street from my house, the park and the streets were overflowing with Muslims, the men and women in long flowing robes, little children running around. I worried, to see them all together but there were no incidents. Thursday a young woman confronted the landlord for the building where ICE is located in Seattle.

I'm making a pie and jam. I give jam away to my neighbors. I worry about my non English speaking neighbors. Their son assures me they are safe and citizens. They are old and grandparents.

Edward Espe Brown is my new hero. And he will be here in September. You bet I'll go see him.

https://www.audiodharma.org/teacher/27/

Go ahead, give him a listen. He laughs all through his talk. That's where I want to go, laughing at myself in the most loving way.

The pie smells done. I better go check.

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/09/opinion/roxane-gay-toni-morrison.html?te=1&nl=in-her-words&emc=edit_gn_20190809?campaign_id=10&instance_id=11521&segment_id=16024&user_id=0bae082ea3ab776db3e2aa62524e6279&regi_id=8582783420190809

I'm going to Burning Man. Spoke to a gal in Portland who needs a ride and has a vehicle pass so I'm set. Now it's about collecting gear and wondering if I really am crazy. Supposed to be dusty, very dusty this year. Have ordered goggles and a face mask. Need a bike rack.

But really, have no sparkly clothes. I might just wind myself with fairy lights and call it good.

I just saw a post on their facebook page for smuggling in drugs. Glass butt plugs. Ah, no. Even if I were bringing drugs, which I'm definitely not, putting a glass plug in my butt sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Oh these kids today.

No drugs and no alcohol either. No way. I just hope it isn't a dust storm for 4 days...

In the meantime, I just put up 30 jars of blackberry jam. Blackberries are free everywhere in Seattle.
Free is a great thing.