Mr. Kraft does life

I woke up, donned a face mask to cover my eyes, and sat up.  My friend would act as my caretaker and guide if I needed assistance.  I spent the entirety of the day without vision, and also without speech.

I played and sorted through vinyl and my thoughts, for much of the day.  The voices of my friends were fresh.  Flavors were savored.  The pace of the day; slow.  He took me on a trip to a destination that was kept from my knowledge.  Windows down, the air was so refreshing against my face.  I felt so deeply grateful.  It was a time that permitted me to turn off all effort and to relinquish any control – real or imagined – that I am typically highly tuned into.  This type of release and acceptance is something I rarely experience.  After the drive we arrived in a space without the sound of traffic or voices.  Grass was beneath my feet – we had left the city.  He guided me through challenging terrain and set us up under what smelled like pines.  Shoes off, pine needles and soil beneath my feet, I did some exploring.  It was intuitive, finding a sunny spot.  He then set me up to sit against a large wood.  He brought apples and grapefruit which we accompanied the sunshine and silence.  Boys passed us, lost on a trail.  I felt them staring at me.  He brought with us also a singing bowl whose sound provided much detail and subtlety and beauty.  We hiked back through the woods; this time my shoes stayed off and my only guidance from my partner was the sound of him walking a few steps in front of me.  This is an experience I highly recommend.  Balance and the tactile feedback from bare feet along with the senses of smell and sound become heightened.  A drive back, punctuated by a stop for coal-fired pizza – so delicious!  Again, strangers around me.   Are they looking at me?  Do they wonder?

Music, oranges, meditation, sounds, the soft thin mattress.  Rest.

Thank you to my friend and guide.  I will repay you with the same experience you gifted me.

A friend from far away and long ago happened to be in the same underground, windowless room, at the same time that I was there, today.

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Only one other person was looking to camp in that yard. This happened to be the same person who unknowingly followed a craigslist purchase that would bring her to the same neighborhood, the same community, the same house.

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She rolled backwards simultaneously affording her a view of us, and we of her; unsteadily shaking to music, falling over on the sidewalk.

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“I went inside to gather your check and it came up missing. It seems it has been taken care of.”

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The night-time bike ride through the warm spring air led us to a saintly patch of grass beneath an old tree. Lightning in the distance cracked inaudibly, amidst helicopter traffic and road noise. An inner sense spurred me to round up the troops to get a move on. Arriving home, the humid warm envelope was moistened with a few fat raindrops which quickly were replaced by a torrent of rain, thunder, and lightning. Good timing?

Featured in a news article, Matt describes his affinity towards roadkill.

I miss Feral Farm.

dear friend,

come outside; get down with the lonesome sound system on a choice grass-patch between the carrots and the sunflowers. we’ll supply the music, you bring your ears.
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farmer erin has welcomed everyone to bring tents to stay the night, blankets and pillows to rest your sore legs. come and stay a while.
.
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=who= mr. kraft [flatpastic; nomadic] + PatSplit [B-lo] + you and your dancing amigas
=what= house / disco/ funky / deep / eclectic / yum
=where= Mud Creek Farm, Victor (website) — directions
=when= Friday – 05|18|12 — 7p ’til the stars fall out
=why= we had so much fun last time that we have been waiting for the earth to rotate enough so that we could play outside for you some more…
=how= “This party is outside, kids! Bring food and beverages, warm clothes and anything else you need to get down and party, including (but not limited to) all of your friends in your immediate vicinity.” -erin
vinyl starts spinning when the sun’s still up and will keep on going while the stars are shining. Expect a bonfire.

_s+p

The four of us agreed to meet every other Tuesday. We would work in the same kitchen, and cook up enough such that each of us could go home with a quart of food from each participant, to enjoy over the coming two weeks. This one meeting and cooking extravaganza in 3 to 4 hours would provide us with fun, practice in scaling up our favorite dishes, and save us from spending more time dedicated to cooking individual meals.

Our first meeting, tonight, was a smashing success. Two teamed up to produce a chili with local black beans and produce from the public market, my dish was a South-Indian lentil soup, and the last a local root vegetable roast with an almond-sunflower-miso dressing, along with a local roasted organic chicken. To boot, we had enough food for chili-veggie-egg breakfast burritacos and enough to share with our pals.

Our tallied expenditures ran us $26.25 or so, for what we estimate to be 40+ meals, including our dinner for six this evening. We felt good about all of the ingredients and their quality, to boot.

I’m not sure how to call this event but we are most definitely going to be doing it again, and again.

You can, too.

_S

Dear Sugar,

We’re breaking up.  It’s been a long time coming.  I’m still attracted to you for some reason, and against my better judgement I keep coming back, even though I get hurt, without fail, each time we get together.  You give me no nutritional value, you keep my immune system from operating to its full potential, you rot my teeth, turn into fat, poison me, cost me money, and I’m sick and tired of the bad dreams, mood swings, and consistently depressing states I get into that follow our hang-outs.

I often am strong and know what’s best for me.  But sometimes I give in when it’s late, when I get emotionally unstable, or hungry.  It doesn’t make it any easier that you’re nearly everywhere.  I need space from you.  There are better, more wholesome partners out there, who will support me in becoming a healthier, more balanced person.

It’s my fault for coming back to you over and over – no one else’s.  I am not blaming you, so don’t take it personally.

I am truly grateful to be separating from a dark cloud that has been following me for so long.  An energy vampire I did not know I was choosing to have in my life.

While I won’t miss how you make me feel, I’m sure I’ll be tempted to put you to my lips at some point.  However, my understanding of our poor chemistry and my unhealthy reactions to you are now clear and unmistakable.

And although you will always be there – always an option – I gain strength each day we are apart.  That strength, that which allows me to stand unwavering, steadfast in my present awareness of these final and closing terms of our relationship.

It is with great ease and relief that I bid you farewell.

_S

The idea came about naturally, triggered by the onset of sun and warm weather.

“Want to go camping?”

Just like my feelings with large bodies of water, I am hesitant but still curious.

Spontaneity is our structure.  We are free.  Why not go out on a Tuesday?

Letchworth was still so sparsely populated.  Camping hasn’t crossed their minds yet.

Upon the peninsula of the small lake, layers of amber pine needles were gentle under my bare feet.

Spring-colored sunlight projected blues and greens with a clarity unseen for months.

The fire is the evening activity, here.

The volume of the insects around us was unbelievable.  Even in close proximity, our voices were raised to chat.

Morning; cool and so slow.  Another fire.

Rail bridge and waterfall below.  Height and breadth could swallow a tall building.

Thank you for these gifts.