I revere Anna Wintour and Vogue magazine. ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ is my favorite vacay movie. But just to cut through the idealization, this time I’m going to take the piss and show how style translates from haute couture to proletariat.
Highlighter hues as seen on the celebs in Vogue.
I ripped this page out of May Vogue for inspiration, when I was in Paris checking out the style in the Fashion Capital.
When I got back to New York, I spotted these highlighter hues everywhere! Taking it to the street…
Delivering laundry & multitasking on the phone.
Strolling on the street with a soda. Girl in foreground is in highlighter pink.
Waiting for the subway at Penn Station, phone in hand. Woman on the bench is in highlighter yellow too.
Unloading a truck on Sixth Avenue.
So you see, you don’t have to be rich and famous to dress like the stars. Just color-match and you’re there!
Miners at the top of the Montana Mines mineshaft, which descends 600 feet into the earth. Their only source of light was the carbide lamps they wore on their belts. Photographer unknown.
Last November when my dear friends Sally and Bill Sommer, West Village residents, invited my mother, Donnette, and me to visit a ghost town, we jumped at the chance. Sally owns a share of the ghost town Ruby, in Arizona, and it so happened we were all free to travel there in early April. I was curious to see what the vibe was like in a town so close to the Mexican border. This was at the height of the media coverage of border caravans, families being separated, and vigilantes off-roading along the border. In January, there was one of the biggest drug busts ever of fentanyl in Nogales (254 pounds of the stuff, valued at $4.6 million), just a few miles south of Ruby as the crow flies. It seemed risky to go, but we decided to proceed anyway.
Longhorn Grill in Arivaca, Arizona. Photo by Karen Rempel.
My mother and I drove down to Ruby from Tucson in a shiny blue rental car. Just south of Arivaca, we encountered dozens of white Border Patrol trucks going the other way on the two-lane highway. It was pretty creepy, frankly, and we pulled over to make sure we had our passports handy, in fear of being chucked over the border if a guard took a disliking to us. However, we passed through a Customs and Immigration checkpoint uneventfully, and then passed more BP trucks.
Sculpture in the desert, by Pat Frederick, sculptor of animal essence in steel.. Photo by Karen Rempel.
Our friends (Sally and Bill from New York, and sculptor Pat Frederick and zoo animal nutritionist Howard Frederick from Tucson) weren’t meeting us at Ruby until the next day, so with a little trepidation, we continued onto the final stretch of rough, puddled dirt road in the low-slung rental car. After a few hair-raising plunges through puddles of unknown depths, we arrived at the gate to Ruby. Armed with the code for the lock on the gate, we opened it and crossed the cattle guard into the historic gold and silver mining town that grew up around the Montana Mine. Now, if you’ve ever seen a Western movie, you probably have a clear idea of what a ghost town looks like. This wasn’t it.
A donkey “bus” brought children to school. The Ruby schoolhouse taught grades one through eight. Maximum enrollment was about 150 children in 1936. Photographer unknown.
At first all we saw were trees, bushes, and a ring of hills surrounding the former town, with the proud landmark, Montana Peak, rising in the south. Here and there were a few crumbling walls of adobe, and a few ominous, decaying mine buildings on a hillside. Suddenly we heard engines buzzing overhead, and saw two military planes circling the ghost town twice before heading off into the distance. This was anachronistic, not to mention ominous. What was going on?
First impressions. Ruby mine building with houses nestled in the distance. Photo by Karen Rempel.
We checked in with the caretaker, Michael, who told us that the US military likes flying over this area for flight training because it resembles Afghanistan! Not quite as sleepy a ghost town as we had imagined, even though it seemed there was no town left.
Case’s Place – Lunches. One of the kids used to bring sandwiches to miners at lunchtime for a nickel per delivery. Photographer unknown.
The sun was about a fist from the horizon by this time, so we hastened to make camp where Michael had directed us, on a flat plain of mine tailings (fine white sand), located between two lakes. We erected our tents by the trees bordering one of the lakes, near a ramada (covered area with picnic tables) and fire pit. I’ve done a lot of camping, and this is the sweetest spot I’ve ever pitched a tent. The daytrippers at Ruby had to leave by sunset, and soon my mom and I and the caretaker were the only ones left in Ruby, or so we thought.
Mine employees made bricks on site, to be used in house and mine construction. Photo by Karen Rempel.
I had promised Donnette a champagne breakfast the next morning, but since we didn’t have the required corkscrew to open the wine we’d brought for dinner, we popped the champagne cork and poured golden libations into our travel coffee mugs. Ambrosia! We cobbled together dinner on a Coleman stove our hosts in Tucson had lent us, and made a fire with twigs and branches we collected under the trees. Guess which West Village newspaper I used to light the kindling? My mom had the fire crackling in no time. That night we listened to three-part coyote harmonies as we snuggled into our sleeping bags. The second act was a great-horned owl backed by the calls of an unidentified pair of night birds.
Slide outside Ruby Schoolhouse. Kids used to race up the stairs and whiz down the slide, while nearby kids hung on to bars on ropes to swing around a merry-go-round. Photo by Karen Rempel.
The next morning we had the promised champagne breakfast, with mimosas, scrambled eggs, and chocolate. It began to rain, but we’re tough Canadians, so we started to explore the remains of the town. The mine closed in 1940, and though at one time there had been up to 1,200 residents, and miners working in 3 shifts, that time was many decades in the past. However, the group of families that now collectively owns Ruby has done work to preserve and restore parts of the town, including the old schoolhouse, part of which is now a museum. After poking around in various decrepit buildings filled with incredibly large mounds of mouse and rat turds, as well as a few fascinating old furnishings, we finally came to the schoolhouse. The door was open and across a narrow hallway was a tiny room housing the creepiest piano I’ve ever seen, with more than its share of black teeth and exposed decaying innards.
Donnette is no stranger to ghost towns, hailing as she does from the Cariboo, home to Canada’s most famous gold rush. She headed straight to the piano. Being a leftie, she reached with her left hand and started playing. Dah-dah-dah-DUH. Beethoven’s Fifth roared forth! The only thing is, my mom has never learned to play the piano. Some haunting being was playing through her! She recalls “The way my back went was so creepy. A creepy, cold feeling. That was a ‘passed one’.” I felt the chill down my spine as well, and an enveloping cloud of cold air. I shrieked and we both raced out of the building. My mother had previously cleared spirits from a residence that had been built on an Indian (First Nations) burial ground. She said, “I just knew from past experience that that wasn’t good for you and you wouldn’t want it again. A little devil in me wanted to go back in, but I didn’t let it win. I could tell the cold was coming, and I was getting cold from it.” We raced back to our campsite, trying to shake off the chill feeling.
The haunted piano. Photo by Karen Rempel.
A little while later, the sun came out, our friends arrived from Tucson, and it seemed life returned to normal. However, although we were looking forward to margaritas and a good meal with our friends, the dramas of this sleepy town continued. We learned that the night before, while my mom and I were listening to nature’s serenade, Michael, the caretaker, found an illegal immigrant wandering up the rutted remnants of a road through the ghost town. The starving, extremely dehydrated man had exhausted himself on his journey on foot to the US, and now he wanted to surrender. This is what we’re reading about in the papers every day, and it actually happened while we were there in Ruby. We were sobered by this real, live example of a human’s suffering. It wasn’t just a story in the paper anymore.
We had a lot to talk about that evening over a wilderness-enhanced dinner of spicy chili and steamed corn tamales, washed down with Howard’s world-class margaritas. As the sun went down and the stars came out, we heard Ruby ghost stories of murder and mayhem around the fire, building new memories on the ashes of the old.
Sally and Bill Sommer, Pat and Howard Frederick, and Donnette Rempel outside the Ruby Schoolhouse. Photo by Karen Rempel.
May 11 was a day to dance on Broadway, making dreams come true for over 10,000 dancers in the 13th annual NYC Dance Parade and Festival. I first saw this parade in 2018, and it was very sad because it rained that day and all the dancers were wearing plastic ponchos over their glorious costumes. Luckily, the sun shone brilliantly this year, and the dancers’ costumes were fully visible in all their splendor.
The parade this year featured over 100 styles of dancing. It was founded to protest the NYC Cabaret Laws that prohibited dancing in night clubs. I’ve seen the sign that says “No Dancing” at the famous cabaret club Don’t Tell Mama. I’ve also been in Red Rooster in Harlem and was so surprised that there was only space for about 4 people to dance surreptitiously in the corner. Thanks to the work of this Dance Parade and a lot of political activism, the 91-year-old Cabaret Law was overturned in 2017. But jazz clubs in New York are still behind the times. People just don’t dance! In contrast to jazz clubs in Paris and London, where the dance floor is packed.
Luckily the Dance Parade is here to keep historical dances alive, like Armenian Folk dancing and Bolivian Caporales, and showcases new dance forms like Litefeet, Waacking, and Brazillian Zouk. Dancers prepared their final touches in the staging area on East 21 Street. The dancing began at Broadway and East 20th Street, just below Madison Square, and the fleet-footed dancers flounced down Broadway to Union Square, before skipping east at 8th Avenue and culminating at a party and festival at Tompkins Square Park.
It has been a dream of mine to dance in the parade. I’ve been studying dance at the Joffrey Ballet School, and attend classes 6 times a week at Barre3. I’ve also taken dance lessons in many different styles (ballroom, salsa, swing, flamenco, and more) for my whole life, since I took my first disco classes in 1979! So I was more than ready to strut my stuff. I tried to get a dance group together, but couldn’t drum up a few friends to sashay with me, so I joined the parade as an individual dancer and teamed up with the awesome House of Yes folks, dancing with their float.
House of Yes had one of the most amazing floats in the parade, with a pole dancer spiralling continuously and two aerial acrobats spinning on hoops suspended from the back of the truck. The costume theme was color and glitter, in honor of this year’s huge Pride Parade coming up in June, so I dressed as a butterfly. I felt like I was flying and fluttering above the pavement as we paraded down Broadway. There was a slight glitch when the float reached Union Square, as the float was too wide to clear the street light standard. After much backing up and inching forward, the crew had to remove one of the struts for the aerial hoops in order to get by the tight corner. Dancers gamely continued dancing around the float until we could resume the parade.
The House of Yes driver, dance leader, and dance queen, preparing the float on East 21st Street
It was a magical day to remember for the rest of my life. Another New York dream coming true. I’m definitely up for next year’s parade!
Alexandra Kargin, The Bomb, and Karen Rempel in spots
I’ve been attending FashionSpeak Friday events at the National Arts Club, ever since stumbling upon the Iris Apfel book launch (for Accidental Icon: Musings of a Geriatric Starlet) and award ceremony there, in May 2018. Suddenly a glamorous world of high fashion and style opened up before my eyes, and I knew I wanted to be part of it. I happened to be wearing fantastic Herchkovitch; Alexandre + Melissa clear vinyl platform shoes with flower cut-outs, and it appeared I fit right into the event, for people assumed I was part of it. (Actually, I’d been attending our graduation dinner for the United Nations Worldview Institute Executive Leadership Training, downstairs, that evening.) In any case, I was smitten with the National Arts Club, FashionSpeak Fridays, and fashion in general.
The Bomb’s shoes & socks. This man has style!
A few weeks ago I attended a leopard-themed event at NAC, in honor of International Women’s Month. The speaker was Jo Weldon, author of Fierce: The History of Leopard Print. She gave a very informative and fascinating talk, and the evening began with an amazing burlesque performance. What was most delightful about the evening for me was the prevalence of leopard prints, as New Yorkers love the chance to play dress-up. There were so many spots in that room that I thought I might have an epileptic fit.
Sole mates – zebras and leopards in harmony
FashionSpeak Fridays at the National Art Club are free to the public, so I like to go whenever possible. I just love the atmosphere at the Club, and the fashion events are truly inspirational. The Club, at 15 Gramercy Park South, is located in the historic Samuel Tilden Mansion. Samuel Tilden, the 25th Governor of New York, combined two mansions and gave them a complete redesign in 1863. Tilden hired Calvert Vaux, a famed architect and one of the designers of Central Park, to modernize the façade with sandstone, bay windows, and ornamentation in the Aesthetic Movement style. John LaFarge created stained glass panels for the interior of the mansion and glass master Donald MacDonald fashioned a unique stained glass dome for Tilden’s library that crowns the room where the bar is now located. This is truly one of my favorite places in New York to have a drink.
Bert Daniels, Karen Rempel, and part of Jo Weldon’s leopard print collection, with DJ in background – he mixed a lot of great jungle-themed tunes for the event!
In 1966, New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission declared 15 Gramercy Park South a New York City Landmark; and in 1976 the Federal government designated the building a National Historic Landmark. Of course the club has had many illustrious members, including three US presidents and many artists, writers, architects, and other creative geniuses.
Dusty, Alexandra, me, Anila, Nikki, and Bert at the Rose Bar, across Gramercy Park, after the event
The club is a great place to hang out, and I hope to be a member soon so I can lounge and dine in the gorgeous library and restaurant. The sparks of creativity in the atmosphere have landed in my heart, and ignited in my new role as Fashion Editor of the WestView News, the Voice of the West Village. As many of you know, I’ve been writing articles for the paper for a few years now. When I wrote a piece on the closing of the Cornelia Street Cafe (also discussed at length in this blog), the owner of the paper, George Capsis, said he’d like me to write, write, write for the paper. He invited me to HQ on Charles Street, and asked what I would like to write about. What came out of my mouth, with no forethought or foreknowledge, was the single word, “Fashion.” Wow! A revelation… My first fashion column came out in March, and the April edition is due out tomorrow, with the second column. You’ll see me sporting leopard there too!
Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. Photo credit: MSG Photos.
I’m going to make a new Christmas tradition, shared by many New Yorkers and tourists before me, to see the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall for their annual Christmas Spectacular.
Outside Radio City Music Hall
I saw them for the first time last year, on a dream date with a guy named Guy, and I was super excited to see the show again this year.
Christmas Balls
My friends Sally S. and Heather F. (of 9 W. 10th St, my former home) know people connected with the show, including the people who sew all the sequins on the costumes (in a tiny tailor’s shop in Chinatown) and one of the former dancers. These creme de la creme fraiche dancers do up to 4 shows a day! Sally told me the choreography has been the same since the 1930s. The repertoire is too big to do all the numbers in one year, so they switch them around, with the most popular numbers being performed every year. For example, the precision dance of the toy soldiers.
Waiting for the curtain to rise. During the show, the entire proscenium arch becomes a movie screen.
There is something so fascinating and mesmerizing about the chorus line, when they are all kicking their legs in unison. I don’t know why I love it so much. It is thrilling to see, and it never gets boring… Sally, who is a prominent member of the dance community of New York (founder of the International Tap Society, on the Bessie Committee, teacher, author, etc.), said this question has occupied the dance world for decades, if not centuries, with no clear answer!
Each year, children’s choirs perform a pre-show Christmas carol. How cute is that?
This year I attended with my friend from work, Sally M.
Sally M. outside Radio City Music Hall
We had a fantastic time, and I can’t wait to see the show again next year!
Push your mind to the point of unease! Ouch, sounds painful. But here’s why you might want to do this.
Scientists mostly agree that cognitive decline is a standard part of aging. Some abilities, including vocab (lucky for us writers!) are preserved and can even improve with age, but many others, such as processing speed, conceptual reasoning, and memory, are worsened. Due to the natural shrinkage of the brain (ugh) and resultant cognitive degradation over time, this unfortunate reality is something that affects all of us. Except when it doesn’t (ha).
Here’s where the superagers come in–with the mental abilities of 50 year olds into their 80s and 90s. So this is where we need to start!Two things that help us remain younger as we age you’ve probably heard already–exercise, and positive social interaction. The third thing is to constantly challenge our brains with new or difficult tasks. It can’t be something that’s hard but we’re good at (like the NYT crossword–not that I’m good at it, but you probably are!). We have to leave our comfort zone and power our mind to the point of unease. Examples include traveling alone to unfamiliar places, learning to play a woodwind, organizing a protest event, and making some kind of art (however weird)!
According to Cooper Wade Collier’s inspiring article “How to Grow Old Without Growing Old,” in the Mensa Bulletin, some of the “superager” people studied even had considerable signs of Alzheimer’s, but it didn’t make a dent in their level of functioning. There were various studies, and the positive impact of using our minds to forge new neural pathways overcame not only Alzheimer’s but smoking, drinking, genetic factors, and so on. But regular exercise and social interaction were common factors among all the superagers.
I guess the point is we have to keep pushing ourselves on every level or we decline–physically, emotionally, and mentally.
I thought we won this fight long ago and would never have to worry again. But now we need to fight again.
Rise Up for Roe Tour
On August 11, I attended the kick-off event for the Rise Up for Roe tour. The tour is going to hit 10 cities across the US in the next 11 days, with an awesome slate of inspirational women, to prevent the upcoming proposed confirmation of Judge Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court and get people to come to the August 26 Unite for Justice nation-wide event. Kavanaugh has indicated his intention to overturn Roe v. Wade and destroy the reproductive rights we won in 1973 during this landmark decision. His track record of anti-reproductive health care extremism seriously puts our constitutional right to abortion at risk.
Many women today have always lived in an America where abortion was a protected right. People may not be aware of the risks women faced before this time, with the horrors of back-alley abortions and a frightening mortality rate for women who had no other choice but to seek out this option. Others tried using bleach, gin, coat hangers, and other horrifying methods to terminate their unwanted pregnancies.
This is not a light matter–it is vitally important to protect our right to have control over what happens to our bodies.
New York City Kick-Off
Chelsea Clinton was the headlining speaker at the kick-off, with a panel of 4 fantastic women:
Lauren Duca – journalist and political columnist for Teen Vogue
Jess Morales Rocketto – Political Director at the National Domestic Workers Alliance
Jess McIntosh – national spokesperson who helps elect pro-choice women and worked on Hilary Clinton’s campaign
Symone Sanders – political commentator who was Bernie Sanders’ national press secretary
A Brooklyn doctor in the audience shared stories of two of her patients who sought abortion, both mothers who didn’t want to increase the size of their family. This brave doctor vowed to keep performing abortion whether it is legal or not. Another courageous woman shared her story of seeking an abortion at the age of 24 because it was not the right time in her life for her to start a family. Bravo!
I want to state here very firmly and clearly that women have a right to an abortion at any time, for any reason. No one has the right to judge a woman who makes this choice, or to prevent her from having an abortion. Period.
Come Protest on August 26
We need to show that we have the numbers to Rise Up for Roe.
There will be a national protest event on Sunday, August 26th to speak out for reproductive rights and prevent Kavanaugh’s confirmation. The Unite for Justice New York City event, organized by the National Organization of Women (NOW) will take place from 12 noon to 2 PM at Foley Square, Lafayette and Worth St. City Hall Park, Broadway and Chambers St.
Plan to come yourself and bring your friends and family.
Take A Single Step – Something You Can Do Now
Other things you can do to protect our reproductive rights:
Dear Senator campaign (by Planned Parenthood) – write to your senator using this easy web form.
The National Women’s Law Center has instituted a tweet campaign that you can take part in.
Talk to your friends and share abortion stories.
Helpful stats
Voters support abortion rights. Seven in ten are opposed to the Supreme Court restricting women’s constitutional rights, including abortion. This includes 87% of Democrats, 86% of Independents, and 54% of Republicans.
65% of women who have an abortion are mothers.
25% of all women have an abortion by age 45.
Only 17 states have abortion laws. Many working women cannot afford to take time off to travel to another state to seek an abortion.
This affects all of us. Take a single step today to protect our reproductive rights.
New York’s Senator Schumer Opposes Kavanaugh’s Confirmation
There is hope, and we still need to make sure our message is loud and clear to all politicians across America. I wrote to the New York Senator, Charles E. Schumer, and received this awesome, articulate letter, which clearly states his opposition to appointing Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court, and why:
Dear Ms. Rempel:
Thank you for contacting me regarding the retirement of Justice Anthony Kennedy from the Supreme Court of the United States and your opposition to President Trump’s nomination of Judge Brett Kavanaugh to fill the vacancy. I agree that Justice Kennedy’s departure from the Supreme Court has created one of the most important vacancies in our lifetimes.
Our founding fathers created three separate but equal branches of government to prevent any one branch from gaining too much unilateral power. The judicial branch has the critical responsibility of interpreting laws; as the highest court in the land, the Supreme Court makes the ultimate determination of constitutionality. Decisions made in the Supreme Court chambers have far reaching and long-lasting consequences for society. Therefore, the American public must be confident that Brett Kavanaugh will be an independent jurist.
President Trump’s nomination of Judge Brett Kavanaugh to fill the Supreme Court vacancy puts reproductive rights and health care protections for millions of Americans on the judicial chopping block. His own writings make clear that he would rule against reproductive rights and freedoms, and that he would welcome challenges to the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act.
Furthermore, President Trump’s numerous attacks on the judicial branch have raised serious concerns for the integrity of the judiciary. These attacks indicate a clear disregard for the Constitution and an aversion to any judge who is not willing to acquiesce to the President’s policy agenda. Judge Kavanaugh has not yet demonstrated the ability to be an independent juror, especially when it comes to limits on Presidential power.
In considering a candidate for a lifetime appointment to the Supreme Court, I have three main criteria: legal excellence, moderation and diversity. Judge Kavanaugh was picked from a list of 25 people who were vetted and approved by the Federalist Society and Heritage Foundation — special interest groups devoted to overturning Roe v. Wade, the court case protecting a woman’s right to choose. These groups have also made it their main mission to strike down the Affordable Care Act. Judge Kavanaugh was nominated because he passed these litmus tests, not because he will be an impartial judge on behalf of all Americans. So, I will oppose his nomination and continue to fight for a bipartisan rejection of this nominee and urge the President to put forth a moderate selection that both parties could support.
Again, thank you for contacting me. Please keep in touch with your thoughts and opinions.
My NYC block – 6th Avenue and W. 12th Street – moon, Jefferson Market tower, One World tower
July 2018 marks the 10-year anniversary of this blog. I well remember the conversations in 2008 with my friend John Harper, who suggested I start a blog to become the go-to person for ecopsychology. I had just finished my master’s in this subject, and he was encouraging me to share insights about the interdependence and connection between humans and nature. We evolved in nature–part of, not separate from–and when we lose this connection, we get crazy. With over 50% of the world’s populations living in cities now, we are losing our connection to the natural rhythms and cycles of life. I felt passionate about helping people reconnect to wild nature and our inner nature.
I was living at Monkey Valley at the time, and started the blog with a few stories of things that happened on the land, like the entry “An August day at Monkey Valley,” as well as the entry below that, “Wild Women Run”–a landmark moment in my life when I stepped outside of my boundaries to expand into my bigger potential.
Me and my family at Monkey Valley, August 2013 – Kat, me, Kim, Mom, Eli, Alex (missing: Kirsten and Kurt–love you guys! I’m pretty sure Geoff is taking the pic–love you too!)
During the past 10 years a lot has changed in my life (and a lot is still the same). The most obvious change is that I live in the wilds of the West Village of New York now, not the BC wilderness. During the past 10 years this blog has ranged over many subjects as my interests and experiences have unfolded. I found it wasn’t in my nature to keep the focus on one topic (ecopsychology) and be the go-to person for that subject.
Topics have ranged to cougars, pedicures, yoga, running, spirituality, photography, New York City, David Bowie, and much more. One pretty constant thread has been running, which has been my passion and sanity go-to for over 20 years. When I ran the NY Marathon in 2016, in honor of David Bowie, I pushed myself to finish it and vowed I was willing to pay the price. That price is that I’m currently on hiatus from running, while I heal my neck and knee injuries. This has led to a healing journey with other great gifts and no regrets. But I’m a little sad to say that the wild woman doesn’t run much these days. Instead, though, I attend the most kick-ass Barre 3 classes on the planet!
Posing with Giacometti statue at the Guggenheim museum, August 2018
Never stop exercising! I say this to anyone who might be reading this blog today–keep your brain and heart healthy by exercising 6 days a week, for at least an hour a day. Just do it! This is the single most important thing you can do to love yourself and live a happy life.
So, lecture over, I invite you to enjoy these two retro articles from the first year of this blog.
I started the day with a walk up to the top gate at the north corner of Monkey Valley. It takes about 15 minutes to walk up there from the house. The driveway goes past the spot where a faster pitched her tarp a few weeks ago, and just as I meandered by this stretch of dirt road, cup of tea and cell phone in hand, I startled a deer who quickened her pace up the hillside. I wondered if it was the same deer the faster saw, and felt her spirit on the land. As I followed the road up the hillside I heard red-tailed hawk calling out his raspy high-pitched song, and saw him high on a dead tree’s branch. I called back, and we spoke back and forth a few times until he grew tired of the game and flew away to a further tree.
The digital valley
I was walking up to the top gate to get a really strong cell-phone reception for the 7:45 am meeting I call into every morning. Since Telus switched from analog to digital cell signals, the signal doesn’t bounce as far and I don’t get consistent reception down in the valley where the house is. It makes for a more peaceful time here, not having a phone ringing throughout the day. But it also makes me feel like nobody wants me! Anyway, these work meetings give me a great reason to get out early in the morning to see what creatures are wandering around.
Lizard woman
After the phone call I had breakfast on the porch overlooking the creek, with wild raspberries from the bushes growing around the house. Lunch on the porch too, watching birds in the willow bushes, and wondering who was scurrying around under the porch. Chipmunk, it turns out. Afternoon coffee on the top balcony outside the master bedroom, for a view of the reddening woods. The temperature was 41° C this afternoon (106° F)! Beautiful hot summer heat. I took a break to lay in the sun for about half an hour, and felt held, uplifted, and nourished by the land and sun. There’s a good reason my brother-in-law, Geoff, gave me the nickname Lizard Woman!
Wild women run
On a vision fast last year I claimed my big, wild woman self.
But desert ritual is just the beginning of integrating a new identity that goes counter to the training to be my parents’ obedient, pretty girl, smiling for the camera. And counter to our society’s messages about what women are supposed to be: compassionate, loving, quiet, small. There isn’t much room for wild women. But luckily, we have the strength and power to make room. To stand up, speak out. Anyway, I am still learning to let my wild woman run free.
I was at a half marathon on Sunday, and she ran with me. She shouted out “Woohoo, 10K!” at the half-way mark. And I heard a woman behind me tell her female friend “She’s got way too much energy.”
I know suppressive bullshit when I hear it, and this comment made me mad. Mad enough to beat my previous time by 8 minutes. Mad enough to run harder than I’ve ever run. Which is one way to use that energy.
But is this what a wild woman would do?
My wild woman shouted Replacements song lyrics when they popped into her head. At first, when these lyrics arose, she kept it to herself. But after the 10K mark, she’d had enough of suppressing her fun life energy. She shouted out “Take me down, to the hospital!” at the medics in the ambulance at the side of the road. And “Red light, red light, run it. Ain’t nobody watching, run it!”
And each time she broke the rules, stood out from the crowd, let herself express what was moving through her, a new surge of energy propelled her on. Real strength. Real expansion, right through the top of her head. Right into the quiet simplicity of nothingness.
My exploration into what it means to be a wild woman continues. For the record, she did it in 2:00:28!
This was a super-cool New York happening! In conjunction with the David Bowie Is exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, the MTA and Spotify collaborated to put up this tribute to Bowie at the Broadway-Lafayette Subway (the station closest to Bowie’s home on Lafayette Street). I met other people wandering around looking at the pictures who were also profoundly impacted by Bowie, and we strangers shared stories with each other.
I have often wondered what was so compelling about Bowie that made so many people feel a personal connection to him. I didn’t find out how many until after he died and I got the Ziggy haircut, which has prompted dozens of people to share their love of Bowie with me.
Bowie Station 1
I think for me personally, one of things is the androgyny that Lynn Goldsmith mentioned in the quote in the above slideshow. I have always felt that my truest self is androgynous, and that the particular gender I carry in this lifetime is not my deepest self. I believe I’ve been both genders, over hundreds of lifetimes, and this one happens to be female, but can feel what it’s like to be male as well.
For teenagers and folks in their twenties who are trying to figure out what gender and sexuality feels right, Bowie offered the freedom to do that. He was a role model who said it’s all acceptable, and wonderful. I recall the lyric from Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide, where he says “Gimme your hands, ’cause you’re wonderful…” That to me is the epitome of Bowie’s kindness, love, and acceptance.
Bowie Station 2
Then there’s the simple fun of dressing up and putting on a character. Bowie gave us so many fantastic looks and characters to emulate. I don’t know the statistics, but if you Google Ziggy images, you will see dozens of people dressed in various guises of Ziggy. I’ve certainly loved dressing in several Ziggy costumes with full make-up. The year Bowie died, there were several Bowies in the Halloween parade in the West Village. I remember the guy in the Bowie Labyrinth costume. Fantastic! There is a Bowie Ball where people get into Bowie costume–not just in New York but in Vancouver and I’m sure many other cities as well. And I went to a Bowie roller disco in Brooklyn at which dozens of people roller skated dressed as Bowie!
Bowie Station 4
In the musings he wrote in the last image above, he recounted his trip to the Village in the 70s, where he followed the footsteps of his “enthusiams.” I did the exact same thing on my first trip, staying at a hotel where Dylan had stayed, going to the Whitehorse Tavern, and Carrie’s SATC stoop. He followed the same urges to New York, to touch the people who inspired him, and found a life for himself here.
Bowie Station 5
After he died, the first thing I connected to was his creative brilliance. I watched the videos, like so many did, and listened to his music. I was in training for the New York marathon, and listened to his music on the endless long runs through the North Shore mountains in Vancouver. I was so blown away by the body of work he had created during his lifetime. 25 studio albums! Innovative rock videos long before MTV. And so much more.
I listened to his final album, Black Star, and was curious about and moved by what he chose to express on his way off the planet. According to Donny McCaslin, who played sax on the album, Bowie was also very interested in collaboration and hearing what his fellow musicians had to bring to the co-creation. So he had his personal genius, but also a gift of collaborating with others to create something bigger than any one person.
Bowie Station 3
So why do I love Bowie—the phenomenon, if not the person, though I did see him up close and personal a few times! I was right in front of the stage at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver, and felt Bowie’s special charisma pour over me. There is something so lovable about him, and I think he makes people feel they are like him, so some of his stardust must be in each of us.
On January 29, I spent the afternoon at the Museum of the City of New York. I began the trip with lunch in the museum’s cafe overlooking Central Park (which is very brown and uninspiring at the moment)–but enjoyed a tasty white bean and curried cauliflower salad–and learned that they have a weekly dance program for children with disabilities. The girl in the wheelchair loves this class–it is her favorite part of the week. So that’s the first flavor of New York.
I headed up to the top floor first, and ended up spending over an hour on the mod clothes exhibit, which shows the dramatic fashion changes during the decade of the 60s. They have clothes worn by Jackie Kennedy, Lauren Bacall, Audrey Hepburn, Twiggy, and more… With a great 60s soundtrack playing. This is the decade I was born in, so it is interesting to feel the influences of change that were in the air, transforming consciousness in New York and around the globe. Plus fun to see the amazing clothes!
The top floor also has an exhibit of photos of Martin Luther King Jr.’s activism in New York (more changes filling the decade and still percolating throughout the globe today), an extensive display on the women’s suffragette movement, right up to Hillary’s campaign, and a display of silver “then and now.” The silver display shows classic pieces and their modern equivalents created by today’s artisans. For example, an old chased serving platter shows the early subway lines in New York. The modern equivalent shows all the surveillance cameras located throughout the city. Did you see Person of Interest?
On my way out I took the stairs, and took this photo series:
