Homage to my Mother

T'was her mother's day gift -although she received this performance live via skype- but I wanted to share it with all of you.

Enjoy!

~Jocelyn

Living Openly, Vibrantly, Exquisitely

The sky cracks and swirls with a thundering rumble that sends a delicate rain sweeping into our faces. Six backpack saddled climbers, grinning from a weekend on the rock, squint their eyes against the fluorescent headlights as they trek along the misty highway. They are dusty pilgrims, searching in darkness for that beloved bus stop. And yes, the gargantuan trucks sailing through the night are their own personal thunders storm.

What more can be said for a weekend in the mountains than all that is encompassed by this one word: rejuvenation. It implies the peace of a mild sun reaching its way through the morning fog. It conveys the striking rebirth experienced upon achieving the highest move at the end of a beautifully challenging climb. It combines passion with majesty, with energy with stillness, and it still has room for the quiet mystery of life’s own beauty –a mystery that a young woman of twenty-one years can dip her fingers into through the fort examination of a red cactus flower. These are the words and experiences that give us much to write about and even more to ponder, but somehow leaves us comfortably empty at the end of the day; as contentedness seeps through our pillows, our eyelids quietly wilt into sleep. May the city stress and urban exhaust hover far from the mountain spirit.

The rock could crumble and the routes are hard, but we constantly retackle that mental game as we strive to overcome the imaginary limits. The area’s called Desplomelandia, or “The Land of Overhangs,” which means that, as we pump our rhomboids and biceps in an effort to propel ourselves upwards, the friend with the camera has to crane his neck backwards to capture a feat that ascends literally above his head. Perhaps more exciting still, our unexpected falls send us down in magnificent pendulums and lowering off of that last clip dips us into an empty expanse, shared only by distant clouds and far off bushes. Our belay partners are perched upon a sloping rock formation and, as they drop us down into that pool of air, we sometimes find ourselves scampering back upwards to meet them. Safety is a given, but the adventure is there.

That day on the ropes gave way to a night of tents, the latter pierced by laughter-imbued pasta and the soft tapping of rain. Rise and shine to a dim foggy morning, and with our spirits high, we sally forth to a glorious rock. And yes, we all smell spectacular right about now.

Riding back on this bumbling bus, I think of the people I love. I dream of sharing these mountainous wonders with those who mean so much to me –in a tent, in Yosemite, with no phones. I dream of living for weeks at a time in a dimension much slower than our own. And now I’m thinking of all the people I’d thank for their part in bringing me to where I am now. And all of these names that roll off of my mind fall like happily-trodden steps through that lovely, mountainous landscape:

Oma, Allen, Vivi, Mom, Esteban, Alejandro, Nials, Robert, Mary HS, Elsbeth, Professor Wood, Jewels, Dad, MaryEllen, Will, Dave, Professor Dave, Mary Jo, Megan Houpt, Emily Jo, Chris Fry, Uncle Mike, GG Jerry, Summer, Allison, Nick Booster, and (just for emphasis) Robert, Mom, Dad, Uncle Mike, Oma, Nials, and Mary Ellen.

In many different ways, all of you (and many others) have helped bring me to where I am now. You may not even know how you have helped me along, but my love and gratitude go out to you any which way.


May peace always be your home.

Love,

Jocelyn

Burnt Toast.

I woke up this morning missing burnt toast -that rich, browned taste borne of mindlessness and multitasking. I'd say we in the states have a culture of burnt toast; with one foot already out the front door and the other back in the bedroom still tying that last lace, the toast is sometimes forsaken.

-9 May, 2010

Poem: Liquid Sunshine

LIQUID SUNSHINE

We talk of liquid sunshine,
But what if it were really so?
And smoldering drops of starry light
Were smattering high and low.

Molten honeysuckle amber honey
Nourishing your very skin,
‘Till all of us are painted gold,
And on every face, a grin.


-Jocelyn
5 mayo, 2010

Fluid Senesence

The beauty of aging.

My Poems from Chile

Now is the time to share some of my poetry:

Leaves Falling
peripheral
cradle held aloft swinging.
Light, crisp, twist, falling
Heart flip, leaf turn
Falling down
Pavement soft


-Jocelyn
27 March, 2010

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Lingering
Beneath the shower
My head is full of water.
Thoughts dribble
Down my cheeks in torrents.
They’re tumbling like flowers.

In just a few more moments
My mind with have been emptied
And a pool of colors on the ground
Will reflect my life and memory.


-Jocelyn
28 March, 2010

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With little more than rainwater
I wash my hands of you.
I throw your dust unto the sky
And mine, at once, is blue.


-Jocelyn
19 April, 2010

*note that this last poem was not actually born of my personal experience. I have to say that everyone in my life at this point is heartily appreciated, irrespective of the hard lessons they may have forced me to learn, and therefore I have washed my hands of no one in recent days. :-)

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Love,

Jocelyn

Thoughts and Joy

11:45 after an evening of climbing, gatherings of friends over good food, and a bit of wine:

I just regaled the front stoop with a joyful serenade, adding color in all the right places and heady, breath-filled pauses in the others. Mother, you know which song I was singing. The stars must be happy tonight.

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Thoughts born of distractibility -between essays and thoughts of you:

I mustn’t let my dreams overrun my actuality. But nor should I let my present moment overrun my dreams. I must find a way to balance the two so that, progressively, my actuality and my dreams will merge into a single image: my life. And therein lies the beauty of this journey.

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May joy spill forth from your life as it does from mine. If I could, I would pour it all upon you.

Love,

Jocelyn

Gracias a la Vida

This song, "Gracias a la Vida," is a collaborative effort including Juanes, Shakira, and many others. It can be bought on itunes and the proceeds go toward Chile's earthquake recovery. The original version of this song is a cuenca, a typical Chilean folksong, written by one of Chile's best-known musicians: Violeta Parra. I'm currently learning to play a few of her songs on the guitar. :-) Below is the original version of her song:

Trembles and Trabajos

These days, the earth trembles little beneath our feet. Yes, we are rocked to sleep from time to time, but we return the china to its pristine place upon the shelf and let the ties lie loose that once snugly restrained the cupboard knobs. Instead, resounding hammers and fresh plywood are our reminders of the earth’s strength. Fragrant sawdust betrays our thinly veiled wounds and sweat falling contains the remnants of tears -but the beams and scaffolding carry us up to a broader, brighter horizon. May the children be the first to scamper up and kiss the earth’s brow, their fear dissipating as they witness a nation on the mend.

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I have a difficult time deciding which Chilean profession I adore most. There are so many to choose from! (Above all within the informal sector!)

Is it the Clown that plays to the crowds on the bus, bringing a few quirky smiles to the faces of otherwise straight-faced folk?

Is it the Night Bus Assistant who informally aids the driver by herding around the drunks as peacefully as possible? (The night-bus ambiance is quite distinct, incorporating black light and loud music as a sort of continuation of club atmosphere. Its quite a public transportation party!)

Or is it the Car Parker that stands on his designated street, directing cars, and rolling them around if need be? I have to admit, the sight of a random man in a jumpsuit rolling around cars that obviously don’t belong to him is something that made me stop and stare the first time I came across it. I was so pleasantly surprised by the novelty of his profession that I had to laugh aloud.

But then there’s that one girl who spends her days doing cheerleader before busy traffic at red lights. Were you to ask her, she would tell you that she does ‘los semaforos’ -the streetlights, receiving small change from her amused traffic audience as payment. She gets thrown into the air time and time again over hard pavement, only to be caught after her striking performance by three pairs of strong, muscular arms. I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind filling her shoes from time to time! (And not because of the arms either; who wouldn’t want to do gymnastics for pay?!)

Ultimately, it does no good to choose a favorite; each of these odd professions brings me amusement and joy in turn, drawing to my attention the nuances of a country that holds so many subtle, unique qualities. Looking back on Chile in years to come, I’m sure my mental image will depict an array of rainbow houses upon myriad hills, all of them gazing amusedly over the clowns and car-rollers beneath them.

Fotos! A beautiful birthday.

Born again in a moment and a half. What better way to become an adult than to return to one candle? As my parents wrote me, my journey is just beginning. And, oh, what a joyous journey it will be!

This image requires no words. Roses like this make you all ready to fall into a world of nuances and deep breaths.

Birthday celebration! My most mom and our neighbor, Mireya. I love her!

Mireya, my sister in law Jenny, and her husband Pepe. He'll be going into chemo tomorrow. Send him positive thoughts.

Mireya and Pepe. :-)