Posts Tagged ‘BBQ’

There Is No Dress Rehearsal

July 4, 2015

The tears pricked my eyes as I heard the slow Texas drawl of the man standing in front of the room.

“So live your life now, today, go, do it, what ever it is that you want to do, do it now, don’t wait.”

The tears slid down my face and puddled in my cleavage.

Fortunately I have a bit of cleavage, it can hold a few tears.

It was not the only time today that I shed tears, but it was the most profound and poignant share I heard today.  There were many great and marvelous things I heard today, miracles, and sweetness, and grace.

So much grace.

I happened upon the man with the Southwestern accent completely on accident and I was happy to sit and listen for his entire story.

To bear witness to another person’s life, to grow from their experience, to enrich my own and to understand completely that the things I have done, the risks taken, even when I fell completely flat on my face, were all so worth it.

He spoke of wanting to live in New York, so he and his wife just up and sold all there things and moved to New York for six months.

And he spoke of service and showing up and what that looks like.

It is such a small thing, this showing up, to the page, to the screen, to my words, to my experience, to my life, to show up, be present and accounted for, such a gift.

I don’t always like who I am or what I see, but I am no fool, I see the value of my worth, though I deign to accept much by way of accolades.

“You so, so, so deserve this,” she said to me tonight as we sat in the Georgia Dome counting down the minutes and waving at folks and sitting in awe of the vast number of people present.

She was talking about my graduate school program and my scholarships, my friend has just finished her 3,000 hours required for her MFT liscence and passed all her tests and went to the same school as I am going to for my graduate degree.

She admitted to me that she had wondered what I was going to do and how I was going to handle the financial burden and whether it was the best choice for me.

She and others.

Others who I love and admire and I knew the financial burden going in, but there, underneath it all, was a still quiet, sure voice, that said, do it anyway, the money will come.

And it has.

And that scares me, but also shows me that I am on the right track, walking through the wide open door and walking towards that sunlight I know so well which fills my spirit and leads me forward.

It’s bright walking into this light and I cannot see what it holds, everything is backlit and the screen is dark, I can only see vague outlines, but I can feel the warmth and I know that I am going in the right direction.

I am living my life unafraid, well, mostly unafraid.

I do a lot of acting as if.

Act as if your student loan will get paid off from your undergrad degree.

Act as if you will be able to pay for graduate school tuition.

Act as if you will be able to afford living in San Francisco while going to graduate school.

Faith.

I have faith.

In more and more areas of my life, I have faith.

It astounds me and as I hugged my dear, dear, sweet friend I knew that she was right, I do deserve these things, I do deserve abundance and joy and prosperity, and love.

I do.

I also know that I have to play it forward, I have to be of service, I have to continue to grow and change.

And live.

Because there really is no dress rehearsal, there is only this day, only this life, only this moment.

I got to talk to a friend tonight and share how much I wished he was here, even when I have thousands of people around me I can get lonely, though it was good to have some alone time today, some quiet time just for myself.

Again.

How grateful I am to have my own hotel room.

When this thing goes to Detroit I am booking my own room again, unless I am sharing it with a partner, I want to have my own space, it has been saving my butt.

I slept in today and when I did wake up it was raining, big thunderstorm, flashes of lighting, rain pelting the windows.

It felt so nice to lie in bed and listen to the rain.

I fell back asleep and let myself get the rest my body needed.

Then a nice bit of time sitting and being still and taking a knee and doing that thing and writing, doing the things that anchor me to my day, so that I can go out and experience my life.

This has been quite the experience and I am so grateful to have had it and to have another day of it.

Though, I will be playing hooky a little tomorrow and heading into another part of Atlanta.

I need to get out of the downtown area and get some fresh fruit for myself and wander around a little on my own, do my own exploring and have my own little adventure, maybe go meander around an art gallery, and hit a farmers market.  I looked up a few possibilities and I want to do that for a couple of hours before going back into the fray.

A wonderful, marvelous fray, no doubt of that at all, but a fray nonetheless.

I am glad that I can see that I live my life and take myself places and let myself explore things just a little off the beaten path.

I found a wonderful shop today in my neighborhood and they helped me take care of my humidity hair, homemade pomade with fresh lemons in it, my hair looks amazing and I smell like lemon merengue pie.

I bought a tiny jar of it and a pretty ring as a souvenir of my trip.

A little bauble, but sweet, and it matched my pants–I wore my safety orange cords and took advantage of the warm weather to wear platform sandals all day.

I had a great little conversation with the ladies there and got a great tip on a BBQ joint in the neighborhood and had an amazing lunch, yes by myself, dining alone, but smiling, enjoying the view, enjoying the continual adventure of my life.

More adventures to follow tomorrow.

More adventures every day.

I got a second chance at my life.

I get to live.

And I am going to squeeze as much from this life as I can.

Do as much as I can.

Be as present as I can.

It’s the least I can do.

Considering the gifts I have been given.

So many gifts.

So much.

Love.

Where Are You Camped

June 2, 2013

I don’t remember.

I know I am not going to be by Media Mecca this year, but I won’t be too far off, the big Ranger station?  Somewhere along 3:45 and C.

What about you?

When are you going up?

I’ll be getting there August 17th, leaving the Bay on the 16th, staying overnight in Reno, then hitting the playa that Saturday.

Yup.

I was at a Burning Man BBQ today.

It was awesome socks.

I got to go out with an old friend who picked me up from Graceland today and we drove out to Petaluma for the Media Mecca BBQ and gathering.

I saw faces I had not seen since last year’s event and faces I had only connected with via Facecrack, and a few more friends who I had briefly seen at another Burning Man centric back yard bbq my first week back.

It was lovely to catch up, sit in the sun, in the grass, out in the California country.

To watch the fire under the hot tub licking the sides of the big round trough of water up on cinder blocks.

“It’s like a hilly billy hot tub,” my friend noted as I sat snuggling with his “puppy” ( a four-year old Pyrenees Mountain Dog, a dainty 118 lbs) as we watched the host stuff another log into the fire pit underneath the tub.

“It is fucking brilliant,” I said to the host early in the day as he showed me and my friend around the house and the  gardens.

It, the tub in question, was a large round horse trough up on cement blocks over a brick patio.  Underneath the tub, which had just been filled earlier that day with fresh water, was a fire pit.  The host looked at his watch and calculated, staring now, around four pm, the water should be hot enough to climb into by nightfall.

Good thing we left right before nightfall, another event beckoned my ride back to San Francisco, or I would have been cavorting naked in that tub.

And I am not a ready, set, disrobe sort of gal.

I like keeping my clothes on, thank you very much.

“When are the girls going to come out?” My camp mate asked my first year on playa at Burning Man.

“Uh, my girls?  Do you mean my breasts?” I asked a little askance.

“Yeah, aren’t you going to let them come out and play?” He continued.

“No,” I said, “I am not that kind of Burning Man person”.

I never want the playa name “Dusty Tits” frankly or “Dusty Bits” either, for that matter.

I am not a get naked at Burning Man girl.

I don’t ride in Critical Tits, although one year I got inadvertently swept up in the crossfire, I don’t wear sheer items on playa, I just don’t get naked.  Unless it is pre-event and in the dark and out at the hot springs.

I am not a cavorting topless lass.

You perhaps can conclude then, the hot tub, hilly billy or no, was quite alluring.

It was also fun to hear from folks who have seen the Sparks A Burning Man Story, a documentary that was premiered at South By South West and has its West Coast premier this Thursday, June 6th at the Roxie Theater on 16th and Valencia.

“Have you seen the movie yet?” My friend asked.

“No, I have seen the trailer, but not yet the film, I heard the tickets were sold out to the premier, I am bummed I missed getting one, I really want to see it,” I said to my friend.

“The shot of you is pretty spectacular, you look all blissed out and sunshiney and smiley and like you were just dancing your heart out somewhere or having a cosmic moment with the Universe, you know, like you do.” He said with a fond smile on his face.

You know, like you do.

Yeah, I do know.

I do have those moments.

On playa and off, where I let people in and I get a little dreamy and I recite poetry or get transported by music or I get caught up holding someone’s hand and telling a story.

I have not been a lot of places where I am so my authentic self and so guarded at the same time.

“Where’s your Burniform?” My friend questioned me.

I smiled.

I am in it.

My uniform usually consists of tank tops, boy briefs, tights and boots.  I’ll strap on a pair of goggles to my leg, wrap a bandana around my wrist, and maybe another around a boot.  Slap together some sort of belt and carabiner with a water bottle attached to said belt.

That’s it.

I don’t get too fancy, although I do have a crinoline I break out to flounce around in once in a while.

I will certainly flounce in it this year.

“You should see the picture she took of me,” my friend said, “it was hilarious, it is one of my favorites,” he scrolled through his photos on his Iphone.

“Meet clown at 5:15 and esplanade Monday.”

This was written in black sharpie marker on his forearm.

Neither of us knew what to do with that information, but a clown was expecting to be met the next day, that was clear.

It was a day out in the country, short ribs on the grill, smoking fire warming up a cauldron of water, it’s not a Burning Man party without some fire and smoke happening, pitchers of lemonade, watermelon salad, home-made guacamole, one large dog, and lots of stories.

Lots of stories.

I don’t know where I am camped this year, I forgot and my sense of direction is shoddy anyhow, but I do know I will be there and I will have my camera and there will be more stories to be told.

More memories made.

More life experienced.

I am a lucky, lucky, lucky girl.

You can see it in the smile on my face.

And maybe you will, if you managed to get tickets to the movie!


%d bloggers like this: