After after thought 4: walking

What about walking makes it so rich with lessons we didn't even know we needed, or know were being asked to investigate? Each time we walk, make or move in the woods this question arises. Meaning there is no real way to prepare for our performance art walking projects, or any of the BH projects really. We set out with maps and a score of sorts: "just" walk, walk in circles, walk from here to there, or find forestland to dance on, make installations only from what is at hand or picked up along the way.
Oh I suppose we could force it a bit and decide to only realize and investigate a single focused idea or hypothesis.  Like, the herbicide road edges, or monoculture crops, or kill zones, or walks at sunset. But so far, we've chosen to listen deep, wait for animal eyes to take over our city eyes, to hear and see what the landscape wants from us each time. This continues to be a fruitful way to accept guidance from what's around us and a perfect "in" into the landscape we inhabit only for a short time. Like staring at the blank page, or the empty studio, making art in this way arrives with it's own score of heeby geebies: will anything turn up this time?
BH supposes, guesses, investigates big questions like the one above, along with all the others that emerge along the way. One thing that's become apparent is that there are many more questions "out there" than answers. And no single answer.
BH resides joyfully in the land of walking, moving and making and we are always so glad to have you follow along.

After-thought 3: history reinactment

Having Egg with us, especially this small blueish egg, reminded me of one of the clearest memories I have from when I was a kid. Remembering what happened and what it felt like while it happened is right at the surface of my consciousness, easy to access. Unusual.
I was 4-5y/o, my brother 6 or 7.  We were at the empty lot at the end of my grandmothers block (in chicago) that all the kids called "the Prairie." It was spring, the Prairie was covered with uncut grass, wild flowers and wild weeds, there were white moths and lots of grasshoppers. Grasshopper were the big draw. My brother had ridden his bike, a real bike, just smaller, the 3/4 of a city block to the Prairie with me on the front handlebars. A very usual mode of transport in our neighborhood.
As we followed the grasshoppers around through the tallish grass, my brother found a single egg---small and bluish--on the ground. We were beside ourselves. Awestruck and sure we were onto something of extraordinary value. Pure adventure. We searched around for a nest but didn't find one. Our talk turned to how we were going to get the egg back to grandma's without breaking it. Taking it to our gram felt very important at the time, a sense of sharing it with her was what was important. For whatever reason I can no longer fathom, having now lost the ability to Totally immerse my thinking into the world of body/child consciousness (tho I get close sometimes), we made a plan to get back the same way we came. My brother riding the bike, me on the handlebars. Only this time, I'd have the egg between my teeth.
My brother got on the bike, holding it steady as I jumped backwards up onto the handle bars. From behind my head, my brother's hand appeared with the egg turned fat side toward my lips. I remember the feel of the egg as my brother placed it between my teeth, just the right fit for my small mouth. Without any trial and error (!!), I held the egg with the right amount of pressure, no cracking, and off we went. Yes, we made it the 3/4 of a block with the egg intact and my grandmother was perfectly impressed by our discovery. 

I told Lisa this story and she requested a picture.  For old time sake. 

Lily and Lily are Body Habitat ... and so are you.

After thought 2: Remembrance installations that came before us

(Memorial Day weekend, 2012)
People die alongside rural roads.  People who care about them make installations of remembrance, usually right at the spot where the person lost their life in a car fatality. We saw many more of these remembrances when we walked 100 miles of the valley in '10.  This is Not to imply in any way that 'more' is better...

The loss of one life.

The loss of 3 lives. The 3rd cross is behind the tree.

May they rest in peace.

Lily and Lisa are Body Habitat ... and so are you. 

After-thought 1: Western valley & self defense art making

Along the route we took west of Mt. Angel, the route we dubbed - monoculture 'farm' death-valley area - we took more photographs than usual. Pictures of Phillip the egg just about everywhere. Using hipstamatic a lot to give the landscape a more living-conversation feel.  Close ups and more close ups.  Again the sense that making art can be an act of self-defense arises; making art as natural movement against whatever reaches out to kill our inherent sense of connectedness to what we are made of, what feeds us, shelters us, informs our minds and bodies of what we are. Somewhere inside, the body begins to suffer from this disconnection, stagnation. Animal eyes detect the lie done to the landscape.  Art; interference into the slow death of factual vitality (ie. BH's Real World). 

Run off next to the road looks like glimpse of diversity.

Herbicide kill zone along side of road. Pretend its sand grass off an ocean beach.

Egg and stone in crotch of giant maple tree just off road, Maple dripping with sticky sap and so was I after photos.

Peony and bee. Planted in front of house attached to mono culture "nursery."

More bee and peony.

And more bee and peony. Hello life.

Behind a falling down fence off the road, a field gone wild with wildflowers. Life-zone.

Egg in hole of barn alongside roadway.

(Hipstamatic) Egg and bones, perhaps possum or rat.

Mandala circle made with bones.

(Hipstamatic) Paper Circle, friend of Egg, in wonky pile of fake golden grass on side of road.

Egg posing in address numbers of nursery, alongside the road.

Paper circle with metal circular circles.

Egg and Paper Circle on rusty farm equipment wheel.

Rusty farm equipment (Hipstamatic)

Off the side of road, coming up on Abiqua or Pudding river. Wild growing rangy wildflowers.

Lily and Lisa are Body Habitat ... and so are you.

Leaving Shalom

We pack up, make the beds with fresh sheets, lay out clean towels for the next Shalom guest, say goodbye (photo), get in the car and drive to Portland. Re-entry is usually a bit bizarre, and this time is no different. Too much of everything human-made, and too little natural sproutings is the general sensation. A little lost.
Have to remember to pay attention with my eyes to what the other cars are up to, use the turn signal, keep eyes forward--no longer able to scan the landscape; the roadside underfoot and up in the tree branches...
Back in Portland, after refilling the bird feeder and birdbaths, we put walking shoes back on and walk from Woodstock to Hawthorne. Eyes gladly relax back into animal eyes. Gardens enliven us, speak loudly. Birds are noisy. Lettuce and tomato plants among the foxglove, rhodies, and rosemary bushes make us smile and breath deeper. How is it that on our feet walking the city neighborhoods, there is more conversation between us and the landscape than when walking in the parts of the valley that grow the foods we eat, and grow the food (grasses & hay) for the animals that we eventually eat?
Decide to keep Walkabouts blog-posting through the weekend even as we both settle back into separate "home" spaces. Let what's left within us and wants to be shared with you arrive in its own time.

We close in PDX

It was our last day of walking together, at least for a little while. Plans shifted suddenly when I got a txt from my son. He was in a bike accident and did a serious face plant on the side of the road. I writing from the train as I travel back to Corvallis. Sad to be ending the investigation for now, but anxious to return to my sons and husband. Life. Pulled one way and another. Unable to bear reading the papers, sad and hopeful, frightened and ecstatic, in love and in pain, the sweet ecstatic melancholy joy that is life. Life. Grateful for this one amazing opportunity to experience the planet.

Here we are. See you soon Lily, xoxoxo

We could not get enough

We fell into the landscape and it held us. The landscape leaned into us and we welcomed it.

Today is a walk with purpose

Last night we realized we are more exhausted than usual. Our best sense is that the exhaustion has been made more profound by traveling too long in the voiceless landscape of the western valley-monocultured, herbicided, pesticided, faux pastural, "farm" land. Feet swollen, legs oddly sunburnt, rashes encircling our ankles, crabby minds, and spirits numb. Sleep helps. But not quite enough.
So today we get in the car and drive 22miles southeast to Silver Falls State park. We considered lying and telling you we walked to the park, but decided against it because, well, we just like you too much. And probably wouldn't have believed we walked 44mi round trip in one day anyway (!!)
Silver Falls was the good medicine we needed. Wild, jabbering, overgrown, watery, mossy, tangled, old growth-y, immensely life-full, happy landscapes.
We are learning something important.

Egg hiding

Here is Philip resting under a clover. It was a good day.

Body Habitat May 2012 Day 3

We fled to the mountains. An easy slow loop around the ten falls trail. Felt delicious to be under the trees!

Art making is good self defense too

> This is a tiny egg found on the side of road. Maybe one inch long. It is Far from any trees or wild grass where a nest might be. Our best thinking is the egg was dropped by a big bird who stole it from its nest-- we fantasize that if fell from the thieving birds grasp as the parent birds dive bombed the culprit. But tiny birds have no way to pick up & carry their egg back to the nest. So it's a sad victory. This tiny egg speaks volumes of how life goes in what BH calls: the Real World.
> We take tiny egg with us, Lisa carries him in her hand, & eventually names him Phillip. Phillip becomes the muse for our art making installations-for making we use only what we find in places we come across as we walk.
> Here is tiny egg afloat on leaf in a puddle that could be the ocean with rock & tin foil tiny boat.
>

We don't want to be angry..

But sometimes anger feels easier than sad. A sign warning of the severe danger of the pesticides used in this blueberry grove. Blueberries, the same ones we eat on cereal, drink in juices, eat by the handfuls now that the FDA approves their designation as healthy & full of antioxidants. Eating Organic is no longer a hip, elite thing to do: eating organic is plain & simple self-defense.

Mono crops

Grasses. Protected by the dead wild tall grasses & wildflowers & underbrush thats been killed with herbicides. The line of defense, this plant kill-zone, keeps us out. Like I said: it's sad out here.

Day three we find sadness in the walk

We walk west from home. In we go into a type of rural landscape that often appears a beautiful patchwork of different soft & vibrant shades of green when driving by. Close up, alongside the road they reveal themselves to be massive amounts of acreage planted with mono crops. Out here the crops are mostly grasses for hay and wheat, with occasional early plantings of peas, or lettuce covering the remaining farm land. The landscape has lost its Voice out here. We walk for miles in silence, grounding ourselves, listening hard. Nothing speaks.
We start making art installations to stem our sadness at being so alone out here. To animate the lonely landscape.
Here is--lost boot:

Yesterday's sunset

Walking from Silverton as the sun set this was on our left--west of course!

Body Habitat Day 3

Day 3: goal-less walking in rural lands. The land feels sad, tired, grief stricken. Where are the wild things? Where can a walker sit to rest? Can I feel safe or at home here? No, I don't think so. I long for wild land. I long for land with a voice.

Two birds right before sunset

We walk back along hwy 214 from silverton to Mt. Angel. 8:40pm or so. The air is cooling, the birds quieting down. Happy we made decision to walk home as sun is setting. All around us, more beauty in the dusky light.

from today

Oregon Gardens has a children's garden filled w evergreen apiary animal shapes: dolphin, bird, llama & bear... It was like the scene in the scary movie, The Shining, where jack nicholson chases people thru the house's garden, a spooky apiary shrubbery; but more fanciful than scary, and much cuter!

Reminded us of a favorite feature of the rural roadways of Willamette Valley that we recognized during BHWalking Corvallis to Portland/09. Many, many householders create folk art in their yards or make their yards into personal- expression-folk-art. Clever, touching, sometimes corny creations, and all exude a sense of generosity.

from today's walkabout

The pond might be the favorite place of the day.

Lily & Lisa are body habitat
...& so are you.

Body habitat day 2. Mt Angel to Silverton

We began by returning. Two years ago we walked into Mt Angel on the Old Mt Angel highway. Today we walked south on Old Mt Angel Highway to Bethany, then turned east to wind our way into Silverton, toured the Oregon Garden, ate salmon and steak on the river, watched cedar waxwings forage and swallows hunt, and walked home at sunset jumping the back fence into the monastery grounds. Home late, tired, and sweaty.

Silverton Oregon Gardens

We are here right now, walking. Following distinct call of redwing blackbird
onto a beaten down path thru talk grass. Frogs jumping into pond gurgle & jump making the hair on the back of our necks stand up each time it happens. Animal response: body over mind. We stand on the ponds banks not knowing exactly where the land ends & water begins. This is a different kind of bravery. On the surface of the pond is algae--and a water snake winding his body across toward the reeds.

Photo is installation behind us; a wood beam covered with large pieces of bark, sticks, and fallen branches.

The Quiet @ the abbey

mary's stone grotto; well-weathered, sturdy, round, feminine, energetically alive with tiny vines & ferns growing in the stray soil between the stones. We feel at home here.
Lily & Lisa are body habitat
...and so are you.

Birds at the Abbey

After awhile all you hear are the birds. Some are visible flying from here, the cedar tree, to there, the massive oak. Most tho stay hidden in the branches & underbrush, singing away because that's just part of what they're here to do. What a life we think.

While holding the audio recorder over head, turning slowly in a circle to pick up the cacophony of different calls, a deer walks close & then stops. The deer gives me the ol' deer eye, that deep unblinking gaze like a question being asked, forever without a suitable answer, and then she is gone.

May 2012 walkabout day 1

Here we go, with bird, sky, monk, and field.

fyi

Shalom ctr card 

Lily

here we are.

we arrive

We meet just about midway, between our two homes. One hour south from Portland, one hour north from Corvallis. Mt.Angel, Oregon, the beginning of the foothills of the Cascades, home of the St. Benedict Monastery, and the Shalom Center, a retreat center run by the Benedictine nuns. Our collaborating home for the next 5 days.

Sitting down to catch up, we also decide on a route for tomorrow, our first day of walking alongside the rural roads again, it's been almost 2 years since we walked 100miles from Corvallis to Portland. Our chosen route takes us out from Shalom along College Way to Miller cemetary. Somewhere between 10-12miles round trip, depending on how long the side-road is that will take us off College Way and up a small hill to the Abbey, home to priests and the main chapel. It feels right to make this small detour as we begin, still sensing our way into the landscape. By our return tomorrow night the conversation between the landscape and us will have begun and where to walk next will come from what beckons us.

After dinner in the dining hall where we are greeted and welcomed by all the nuns, we stroll around the grounds. Huge irises, roses bushes some already blooming, soon-to-be peonies, Oregon grape, a pond with wild blooming lotus flowers, and a two-seated swinging rocker, the kind where you sit facing each other, romantic in that way remembering scenes from childhood can be.

The silence tonight, both inside and outside, is embracing. We are essentially by ourselves in this section of the center where we are staying and yet we whisper, so not to disturb. By not disturbing the great silence, we hope to become part of it. The same way we will tomorrow walking on our own two feet into the rural landscape. Fall in...and if we're lucky, disappear.

If I could take a photo of this silence tonight, it is this picture I'd want to send to you along with this post.


Lily and Lisa are body habitat..........and so are you.