Sketch Crawl!

On Friday, I did my first half-day Sketch Crawl with friend, Shirley, here in Monterey. The idea for the sketch crawl comes from SketchCrawl.com. What we did was walk around Monterey with our watercolors and paper sketching for 5 hours. We took turns picking the sketch stops and deciding on the time limit for each drawing.
We each did a warm-up sketch and three designated sketches along our route.

The day started at my vihara (dwelling place). I gathered my watercolor set and picnic items while Shirley picked her banjo. Then I read a poem from a little book of Ming Dynasty era poems (Pilgrim of the Clouds: Poems and Essays from Ming China by Yuan Hung-tao, translated by Jonathan Chaves). We packed only the necessities for our day: chocolate chip cookies, crackers, carrots, hummus, hats, gloves, scarves, jackets, and a pad to sit on. We were out the door at 1pm.

Our first stop was on Alvarado Street across from The Golden State Theatre with its ornate golden yellow façade. That was my pick. We sat on the edges of large terra cotta flower pots and set up our stuff. Our time limit was 20 minutes for this first sketch. As timekeeper, I called out the time every so often. At 19 minutes, I suggested a new rule: we could petition for more time if we needed it. Fortunately, the timekeeper agreed. So, we got two and a half more minutes.

Shirley picked our next stop, the stairs of the Osio Theatre looking down and across to Alvarado Street. This stop was partly chosen for the wide strips of sunlight that we could sit in. When we finished our sketch, we unwrapped our picnic right there on the steps in the warm sunshine.

Stop #3 was going to be at the cactus gardens behind Portola Plaza, but there wasn't enough sun to sit in, so we sat along the white benched wall looking onto the plaza and the fountain. By this time, we allowed a few minutes to set up our sketch tools instead of including it within the time-limit. We finished with a little Ming Dynasty era poem. Much in need of a hot drink and a restroom, we headed off to Morgan's for tea and coffee. Seated by the fire, we put some final touches on our sketch crawl sketches before calling it a day. We walked back up the hill to my place as the yellow moon was rising through the pines and oak trees.

Here are my sketch crawl sketches and a couple of photos of Shirley.

pre-laptop days

Last night I was sketching while watching Seven Years in Tibet on my iBook at the same time. Suddenly, I got the idea to snap a digital photo of a scene on the screen. Coincidentally, the scene I captured was of the young Kundun (His Holiness the Dalai Lama) looking closely at his beautiful music box as it played Debussy's Moonlight. Later, I saw that my digital experiment showed Kundun--framed by my iBook--and as absorbed in his music box as we are today in our laptops.

Here is the photo and my sketch:

A corn story

Here's a little translation exercise/story I wrote while in my Hopi language class in the Spring of 2000. Click on the illustration to see a larger view.

Contest #2

I made a big pot of Gypsy Soup last night for dinner. Kathy made a salad to go with it, and we ate buttered toast. Gypsy Soup is one of my favorite cold weather soups from Mollie Katzen's Moosewood Cookbook. The ingredients are first sauteéd together in olive oil: peeled and cooked sweet potato (and/or other orange vegetables like squash and carrot), chopped yellow onions, green pepper, tomatoes without skins, chopped celery and garlic, garbanzo beans, sea salt, bay leaves, basil, paprika, turmeric, a dash each of cinnamon and cayenne, and water.

* * * * * * *

After eating, we watched a documentary on the life of American historian, Howard Zinn, called You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train. While i watched, I ate some juicy, red pomegranate kernels. Is that what they're called? Are they seeds? Fruits? They look like corn kernels to me, only shinier, juicier, and translucent. The photos below show today's soup lunch (Gypsy Soup) with some apple and more pomegranate kernels for dessert. Gypsy Soup tastes even better the next day and the next.

































So, here's the question:

What does a pomegranate and Gypsy Soup have in common?
[Contest #1 was this]

Matzoh: it's not just for Passover

It happened a long time ago, in an arid land of sand and Pharoahs.
There was a tribe of people who spoke Hebrew. We call them the Hebrews; I don't know what they called themselves. Perhaps their name for themselves was something like, the People, for many tribal peoples consider themselves to be 'the People' or 'the Ones'.

This is not a story composed from precise history. Rather, it has been pieced together from stories and lessons I have heard from childhood and into my life now.
A few years ago, at a gathering with a story-telling rabbi in Tucson, I was treated to a new version of the story of matzoh. What is matzoh? Matzoh is the unleavened bread that the Hebrews ate while they fled to the Promised Land. What is the Promised Land? Read on.

This arid land of the Pharoahs was a place we currently know as Egypt. The Hebrews, we are told, were forced into hard physical labor for many many years, persecuted continually, and made to flee from place to place, only to flee again. It was not fun. And, in the Land of the Pharoahs, the mean Pharoahs shackled the People and made them slaves.

One day, an elder of the tribe named Moses declared it was time to leave. They had to leave immediately, he told them, NOW! There would be no time to prepare in their usual way, no time to let the bread rise before baking it, and, in fact, they would have to wander a while--God knows how long or where to.

So, the People heeded Moses' decision, for they respected his wisdom and guidance. Plus, he was a holy man. We all know what happened next. The Red Sea parted for them. Why? Because they trusted Moses' words and they believed they were embarking on a trip to the Promised Land. They knew it was time to unshackle themselves; it was time to flee. They walked, wandered, and ate matzoh, that unleavened bread we relegate to the seder ritual, once a year at Passover.

People are skeptical about miracles these days--miracles are not "scientific," we say; we want proof. We believe miracles happen to other people, not to us, and we believe that scriptural stories are mere myths. These myths, however, are meant to be lived by each of us. It was for good reason that Joseph Campbell titled one of his books as Myths to Live by; there are universal myths that we humans live out, each in our particular way.

The ritual of eating matzoh during Passover is one thing; bringing the essence of the ritual into one's life is another. This matzoh story is about the latter.
Rituals, words of wisdom we read and hear, and sacred teachings are all meant to be experienced.

The meaning/moral of this story?

There may not be time to allow the dough to rise for bread.
If life requires you to walk into the wilderness now, walk now.
Even with crackers instead of bread.
Trust that the seas will part.
Life is full of little miracles--right here--in the wilderness.
The Holy man and woman is alive inside of us. Heed his/her voice.
If you do, you might wander for forty years in the desert, but you will be living your myth, and, you will have a matzoh story (or two or three) to hand down to your People.
And, the teachings will have daily life application.

In the matzoh story of the Jews (the Hebrews), the big, bad Pharoahs actually helped get the People moving. Thus, sometimes what (or who) we label as 'bad' (our persecutors) turns out to be 'good' for us and vice versa.

When it is time to leave a situation or to make a change because you are being 'persecuted', do it now. Take your matzoh with you. Matzoh (the present moment) will sustain you; the Red Sea will really part.
And, don't forget to thank your persecutors.

* * * * * * *

A ship in harbor is safe,
but that is not what ships are built for.
[John A. Shedd, Salt from My Attic, 1928]

朝ご飯 Breakfast

Here's my version of kayu. Kayu is a Japanese/Chinese rice porridge usually made with leftover rice. This kayu is made with Korean pressed barley, cubed tofu, carrots, ito wakame, green onion, shiitake mushrooms, miso paste, soy sauce, and sesame oil. I eat it wrapped in kim, Korean nori-like seaweed. This morning I drank Yin zhen cha, Silver needle white tea, with my breakfast. Yum!

Drawing is funner; cooking is funnest

This simple digital camera is one reason I haven't been posting as many drawings or writing as much as I had previously. It's been fun to create photographic compositions, considering such things as angle, shadows, and light. However, I find drawing funner. Yes, funner.






This morning I ate the above huge, American-style breakfast, which I made at home. It was very filling in a different way than is my usual Japanese-style hot cereal with tofu, vegetables, and tea. After our morning meditation group, my friend Saeko came over. I made us a Japanese lunch of soba noodles with a side dish of sauteéd tofu, green pepper, green onion, shoyu, and fresh ginger and a dish of eda mame. The soba was in a miso broth with wakame seaweed and green onion. After lunch, we drank genmaicha (brown rice tea) outside in the warm afternoon sun. 美味しい！

Watercolor play

This is a watercolor sketch I made several years ago (in 1997, while living in Athens, Georgia). It's one of my Japan-inspired visions using a black ink Rotring drawing pen and liquid inks. It's amazing, curious, and interesting to me that our lives are 'populated by voices' (Bakhtin) and images from the cultures and people we visit and know. Even years later, these voices seep out into our language and art and acts. Maybe nothing is original. Maybe everything is.

Sunday evening

Recently, I've been uploading much more to my Flickr pages and not as much here on turtlevision. Besides being a fun, international forum for giving and receiving feedback, flickr is a convenient place to archive my photos and artwork.

After a couple of weeks living in one of Kathy's upstairs guest rooms, Yuki, Jesse, & I moved into our basement room. New carpet was laid, the walls got a new coat of off-white paint, shelves were made for the closet in my room, I altered new curtains for the windows, put up noren (Japanese curtains), and brought in a new mattress. The room has now been Nicolized (as a friend calls it) for that Japanese-y ambience that is created wherever I live.



Jesse poised at the entry/exit to my room.



Kathy's kitchen.



The vase place in Kathy's kitchen.



Rooftops as seen from one of the balconies in Kathy's house.

One step

We all have a lot of plans and ideas about our lives.



Yet, all we ever need to do is enjoy the step we are taking now.
To feel the earth beneath our feet is a gift.

Enjoy each step.

* * * * * * *

Here's Jesse watching leaves fall in our new backyard. Jesse likes the comfy pine needles to sit upon.

Howdy from Monterey Bay

I've started using my Moleskine 2005 calendar book as a sketch journal. I rarely used it on a daily basis as a scheduler and there are a lot of blank pages left. This is my first drawing in this little book. The pages are 'onion skin' like and much thinner than my other Moleskine journals.

* * * * * * *











Here we are at one of our favorite spots on the Peninsula--Asilomar State Beach in Pacific Grove.

*Our new vihara*

This is one of our new neighbors checking us out this morning in front of my friend Kathy's place, our new abode in Monterey. It's a suitable space for Yuki and Jesse, as well as being a supportive environment for me to finish my MATESOL portfolio.
Last night while walking with Yuki in the neighborhood, we met one of our wilder neighbors, a deer with antlers.





















This beautiful orange apple persimmon was a gift from a friend I met recently who lives in her home on wheels by the sea. I gave her an avocado.


* * * * * *

** vihara is Sanskrit for 'abode' **

A rose

Here's a rose for you....all of you.

Some of my day today

This morning at the hostel I showed three travellers from Barcelona (Barthelona) how to make pancakes. Each morning, a bag of pancake mix and a griddle are supplied by the hostel, along with toppings like syrup, jam, and butter.
In an international environment such as the hostel, one notices that making breakfast pancakes is an American thing and quite unknown to others. The Japanese have okonomiyaki, Koreans also make a vegetable pancake, the French and Dutch have various types of crepes, and the Chinese have moo shoo with pancakes. But these are different than American breakfast pancakes. We even have restaurants devoted to pancakes or where pancakes are the main attraction. I showed the Catalan guests that the pancakes are ready for flipping when the surface of the pancakes are full of little bubbles. I made one batch of pancakes with mashed banana, cinnamon, and diced apples in it. I didn't go into the various names for pancakes: flapjacks, hotcakes....hmmm, what else are they called?
Later, I asked them if Catalán is taught along with Castilian Spanish in schools in Catalonia. Yes, they said, and in fact, Catalán is taught even more than Spanish now. I was happy to hear that, as Catalán was long suppressed under Franco. I then tried out the one Catalán song I know called Rossinyol. It's a very pretty song about a nightingale (rossinyol) that I learned about 25 years ago from Joan Baez's all-Spanish album, Gracias a la Vida. The Catalán guests said I pronounced everything in Catalán perfectly!
Later, while doing my laundry at the laundromat in PG, I went across the street to get a decaf americano, with room for cream, as a treat. As I was entering the café, I saw a group of about 12 people seated together at the tables outside. They were speaking French. I recognized Elizabeth from my exercise/dance class. Smiling, I greeted her with Bonjour! Ça va? Later, another group member invited me to join their French group. They meet each week at the café to speak French, including a couple of native speakers and Monterey Peninsula College French instructors. C'est chouette! Yet another thing to enjoy in my ever-expanding world of enjoying. I have also agreed to takeover leadership of the Thich Nhat Hanh sitting group from Nancy who is starting an additional evening sit at another location.
Later still, I ate a yummy leftover lunch while parked at Lover's Point with Yuki & Jesse. Lunch was farfalle pasta with diced fresh tomatoes and thinly sliced green onion mixed with olive oil and black pepper. I also ate steamed kale with lemon, olive oil, and a sprinkle of fennel pollen. The fennel pollen (grown/collected in California) was a gift I received in yesterday's mail from my friend Amy in Illinois.
After lunch, I heard my cell phone chiming its ascending "Calypso" ring. I've had this cell phone for two weeks. My first cell phone. It was Wanna, a MIIS friend from Thailand who currently lives in LA. She met me at Lover's Point and we walked and talked on the trail with Yuki. A beautiful day. Clear water, blue skies, and sunshine. We met lots of dogs--Yuki did the meeting, really, and the tail wagging. I noticed many birds in flocks taking flight in unison, sunlight catching the undersides of their wings as they flew together in the sky.

Monterey Hostel

I sketched this in the living room of the Monterey International Hostel.

Sketching by the sea

Here are two recent sketches I did while parked along the coast in Pacific Grove. As usual, click on each illustration for a larger, clearer view.

Dittadhammasukhavihari

I have arrived ~
and am here in Monterey ~ dittadhammasukhavihari.
Dittadhammasukhavihari means 'dwelling happily in the present moment' in Pali.














A ponderosa pine outside of Flagstaff, AZ.

















Elyse is my friend from junior high, highschool, and Flagstaff. We've known each other since we were 11 years old.

















The Chapel of the Holy Dove is a non-demoninational interfaith chapel on Hwy 180, the route North to the Grand Canyon from Flagstaff. The chapel is just outside of Flag. People reserve the chapel for weddings by pinning a handwritten note to the inside log walls. You can also place your handwritten prayers into a little box and the chapel people (I don't know who they are) will pray for you/recite your prayer.











































We camped at Mather campground--Yuki, Jesse, and I. The sky was clear at night with zillions of stars; the temperature fell to around 32ºF (0ºC). We were toasty in my tent--too warm even--because I slept in my flannel pajamas, inside a sleeping bag, and with a down comforter over me, next to a furry black cat and a furry white dog.














I enjoyed walking along the rim trail and revisiting places I'd been many times before. I never get bored of being at the Canyon, not even at the heavily touristy South Rim. Though I've been down on the river camping and walking for many days at a time, I can enjoy what the rim area has to offer. At the Kolb photography studio, built on the edge of the Canyon, there was a magnificent gallery exhibit of paintings and sculptures of the Grand Canyon created by various artists in many different mediums. In the Bright Angel Lodge area I visited an exhibit showing the history of Fred Harvey and the Harvey Girls, Grand Canyon tourism, and the visionary architect who created many of the structures at the Grand Canyon, Mary Colter.






























I asked Yuki to pose--this is what I got.













Nice to enjoy tea while travelling...and while not travelling.













I took this photo of Jesse with one hand, shooting backwards while driving on the highway through the Mohave Desert.













On our way to The Channel Islands National Park Visitors Center in Ventura County, I saw all these orange pumpkins in a field. At the Visitors Center I looked at exhibits about the islands. I learned about the Channel Islands' flora, fauna, sea life, and the Chumash Indians, the former inhabitants of the islands. One day I'd like to visit the Channel Islands when I don't have Yuki and Jesse in the car with me.













Morro Bay is one of my favorite stops going up the coast.
I like the look of that big rock in the water. It looms large from wherever you are on the bay. I took a walk with Yuki on a trail near our campground. The trail went past an area of many tall eucalyptus trees with hundreds of birds high up in the branches. There was a sign nearby that said this was a protected area, the only blue heron rookery left on the coast of California. I went back to the car to get my binoculars. Besides the blue herons, there were what looked to be turkey vultures perched among them. And in the background, that big rock in the bay. I don't know why, but I love that rock in the water like that.















Big Sur













What else can I say--this is one view, at one moment in time, from a digital camera, under that particular lighting as framed by my eyes. The Big Sur coastline.

















This is at Asilomar in Pacific Grove.













I met this painter at Asilomar on my first day back. She told me that she comes every year for a week just to paint.













I saw these birds one morning on Monterey State Beach.













Outside, I was eating breakfast in the cool morning air while Yuki and Jesse were taking in the scene. We are on the porch looking out on the courtyard of the apartment complex of a MIIS friend we stayed with for a while.

* * * * * * * *

One of the highlights I didn't photograph occurred at a vista point between San Simeon and Big Sur. I saw three whales on the horizon blowing water from their blow holes. I saw their bodies lift up into the air from the water followed by their flukes. I watched them do this several times. My first night's sleep in Monterey brought a dream in which I saw a dolphin face smiling at me and at the same time it felt like I was the smiling dolphin.

In LA, I stayed the night with my cousin in West Hollywood. Carol has lived in the same apartment for nearly 30 years! In the morning, I left in the dark, as Carol leaves for work at 5 am. Driving through the Hollywood Hills I saw the still full moon in front of me, hiding behind the clouds, and turning with me as we drove. There was a light misty rain. In the dark clear spaces between the clouds, stars were shining in the sky. As the road curved around the hills, lights from houses built into the hills sparkled brightly.

Going on a trip -- be back soon!

Going on a trip -- be back soon!, originally uploaded by tortuga del bosque.

Yuki, Jesse, and I are packing up. Well...actually...I am the only one doing the packing; they are laying around watching me, and that is just fine.

We will spend a night or two in Northern Arizona, then on towards Monterey and another go at finishing my portfolio. We are looking forward to seeing the ocean again.

Tonight, Yuki and I walked in the Nature Park to the accompaniment of coyote song and a sunset sky ranging from orange-y yellow to deep cobalt blue. A lone bat did flip-flops over my head. The outline of the Tucson mountains to the west and the Catalinas to the north was crisp and clear. We saw Sophie, the little Jack Russell terrier, with her human companion. They were heading home. "It's nippy", she said. It was cool(er) at about 70-something degrees farenheit, but because I spent the past two years in Monterey, it didn't 'nip' me.

I'll be back soon--in cyber space, that is. A new journey is beginning for me. We leave on the first day of Yom Kippur, Day of At-One-ment.

Ramadan begins at sunrise Wednesday

Here are two poems to honor the new moon,
Ramadan, Rosh Hashanah, peace in ourselves,
peace between people, peace among nations,
and peace in the world.
I found these poems on Panhala.

* * * * * * * * *

What actions are most excellent?

To gladden the heart of a human being.
To feed the hungry.
To help the afflicted.
To lighten the sorrow of the sorrowful.
To remove the wrongs of the injured.
That person is the most beloved of God
who does the most good to God's creatures.

~ Muhammad ~

* * * * * * * *

Wildpeace

Not the peace of a cease-fire
not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb,
but rather
as in the heart when the excitement is over
and you can talk only about a great weariness.
I know that I know how to kill, that makes me an adult.
And my son plays with a toy gun that knows
how to open and close its eyes and say Mama.
A peace
without the big noise of beating swords into ploughshares,
without words, without
the thud of the heavy rubber stamp: let it be
light, floating, like lazy white foam.
A little rest for the wounds - who speaks of healing?
(And the howl of the orphans is passed from one generation
to the next, as in a relay race:
the baton never falls.)

Let it come
like wildflowers,
suddenly, because the field
must have it: wildpeace.

~ Yehuda Amichai ~

(The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai, translated by Chana Bloch and Stephen Mitchell)

Rosh Hashanah ~ begins at sundown tonight

In honor of the New Year,
here's one of my favorite quotes,
from Rabbi Joshua Abraham Heschel (1907-1972):

Just
to be
is a
blessing

Just
to live
is
holy.

Dream sharing

Lastnight's dream~
I woke up with these words:

Calculate underlying hidden sacredness

In the half dark, I wrote this down on a piece of scratch paper in red ink and went back to sleep.

Woke up again breathing quickly with my chest/heart feeling the strong beating energy of adrenaline pumping. I felt Jesse by my side and looked at her with relief.

In my dream, I was in a dry river bed or canyon, like the Rillito that is behind Darci's condo, just steps from the backyard. I was with Yuki in the canyon. Suddenly a huge olive-green flow of water came into the river bed towards us. We had to do something. I thought, "we must run." I saw a truck of people being evacuated. I banged on the truck, shouted that we needed help. I looked at the people and the driver but they didn't budge. No one would look at me. They ignored us and drove on.

Magically, we found ourselves on some other truck being driven out of the danger of being swallowed up by the river. But where was Jesse? I realized that she was not with us and I became very sad. Soon we arrived at the ocean front where the evacuation truck left us.
I went with Yuki to the beach, thinking it would feel relieving to walk along the shore to grieve Jesse. Instead, I saw Darci at the water's edge, holding an extremely wet Jesse. Jesse had miraculously, somehow, been rescued and was there waiting for Yuki & I.

I took Jesse and held her sopping wet body and was so happy. Jesse looked like pictures of oil-soaked birds I've seen after an oil tanker spill in Alaska. That's when I woke up and saw that Jesse was by my side, up near my shoulders; Yuki was on the cool tile near the head of the futon couch I sleep on. I felt so thankful that Jesse and Yuki were alive. I am so thankful that I am alive--that we are alive.

I went to my desk to read the dream words I'd written down and had already forgotten:

Calculate underlying hidden sacredness



Jesse on my shoulders while I play chess; c. 1997.
Jesse is less than one year old then.




Yuki on the porch in Athens, Georgia; c. 1997. Yuki is about 4 then.