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Looking down on the bay, I always wonder at how blue it is.

The Tenderloin doesn’t change – grit, grime, and those left behind.

Joe says, “You got another mansion, Rachel” right when I’m feeling things are tight.

People weave in and out of your life, brushing up against you and jostling you around, coming back in to hold a mirror that shows where you’ve been and how far you’ve come and all the while you can sit back and say, “Things are different now” or you can change the lens and say, “Nothing’s changed.”

So when I lived on Moss Street I was known around town as the white chick who should be taken advantage of – everyone, including a few friends, thought that my money grew on trees and they should avail themselves to it at every opportunity. And seeing how I grew up with a father who liked nothing more than to spend his money and treat everyone in the room or block, what the hell did I care – let them all have it.

But something’s changed radically over here on Cleveland Avenue – the first was my hiring a carpenter to do a few things and him charging me less than his usual rate. Why? He was being nice. Or how about when I went to Lowe’s to get some pegboard and a guy walked me through the store and picked out my pegboard and put it in a cart and handed it to me (read: he didn’t work there). Blush – okay. Then there was the guy I hired to wire my stereo and computer etc. who also works at a cabinet shop and saw that I needed a few things and decided on his own to do it for me. Say what? People helping me for no good reason – no one wanting to rob me blind or pad their invoice? Yep – it’s all different around here.

A friend and ex neighbor stopped by and brought me all sorts of goodies – that included Bonerama’s new CD with Dr. John accompanying on Indian Red. All thoughtful gifts that she went out of her way to bring me.

So today for Father’s Day, I invited Tin’s godparents over to celebrate God/Father’s day and we made waffles – truly delicious waffles with green onion sausage and scrambled eggs and watermelon and big plump juicy ruby red strawberries. And I think I’m still full from brunch.

When they arrived they came in with bottles of wine and two prints of Tin taken by a photographer/writer friend of theirs in town. I’m telling you the lagniappe just keeps a coming and me, I’m lusting for it. Then another friend stopped by with a bottle of conditioner for Tin and a novena for me blessing the Spirit House.

Bring it on, I roar to the universe. A gal could get used to lagniappe real fast like.

Last night, I was supposed to go to a school meeting and also to an anniversary celebration for a friend’s business (seven years) and to see a friend play music down the street, and walk two blocks to watch two local songwriters sing their music and instead I stayed home, alone.

To the overstimulated, I say withdraw and rest.

Since Tin has been watching The Adventures of Tin Tin at Tatjana’s and since I let him watch Cars the other day here, he has been overstimulated by the violent and rapid images of these videos and it has affected his playing and his imagination. So we both agreed to stop allowing this into his life – we are the gatekeepers and therefore can control what he sees. We both agreed Professor Balthazar has much more to offer a child than either of these videos.

A friend sent me a link to a YouTube video about a man who has spent his life observing through a camera life’s subtleties and he’s composed a video about it – it’s his gratitude journal – about how every day is a gift to us and if we noticed it we will have received that gift. He said:

When people see my images, a lot of times they’ll say, “Oh my God.” Have you ever wondered what that meant? The “oh” means it caught your attention, makes you present, makes you mindful. The “my” means it connects with something deep inside your soul. It creates a gateway for your inner voice to rise up and be heard. And “God”? God is that personal journey we all want to be on, to be inspired, to feel like we’re connected to a universe that celebrates life.

So today, when there is a lot of ways that you might stimulate yourself and overstimulate yourself, try instead to do nothing but notice and be grateful for the gift of this day.

Love, R

When I went to see the Dalai Lama I bought some prayer beads that I intended to use as a rosary of sorts to count off the things I am grateful for, but instead I took my beads to my friend who has just had most of her innards removed because of cancer.

My friend said she had started a gratitude journal already and that made me feel good about her path ahead. I was thinking about all the things I’m grateful for as I came home and one of them would be Cleveland Avenue. It’s not the bayou, it’s not the LaLa, but on it dwells my Spirit House through and through – let me explain …

I was unsure about what I wanted when I left the LaLa – build a new house, buy a house, mortgage, construction, rent – what have you – I was adrift, but some steady moving sidewalk brought me into this house and sent chills up my spine when I was inside. Every house has a Spirit and this one said to me, “Take your shoes off. You’re home!”

After I moved in, I was in the kitchen stacking dishes in the cabinet and making breakfast for Tin, and I had this glorious sense of peace as I watched him eat. Cooking for my loved ones is always at the top of my priorities – QED: last night, I had friends over to help me hang my artwork and I made gin & tonics, shrimp curry and jasmine rice with fresh broccoli. Yum. We hung one painting.

I like the idea that this house is not as precious as the LaLa was – the LaLa was a closed deal, it was pre-designed, pre-ordained, and I always felt like a custodian rather than a dweller. This house feels like I could do whatever the fuck I want and who the hell cares but me – it’s my house – it’s my whatever I want it to be. Hence the chalkboard walls in Tin’s room and in the kitchen with messages to remind myself of this fact.

When the LaLa was up for sale, a guy I know walked through the open house with his new girlfriend – later, my neighbor told me his girlfriend said the house had bad energy. I don’t believe it for a second – I believe my neighbor had issues and if the girl indeed said that then she doesn’t know energy from shmenergy. I embodied the LaLa and all the problems I had within that container – I was in a seven year change that brought about so much collateral damage, I’m surprised anyone is still speaking to me.

This house has a different energy. It says come in, relax, be. Every moment Tin and I have spent together in it has created a soulful sense of place for me, for us, here.

So this brings me back to the Spirit in the House. I had read up on feng shui – and moved some things around in this house to align with those principles. The main one is to locate your center of being the furthest away from the door with a commanding position looking towards it.

Another principle I read was your bed should have a solid headboard especially if you want to enjoy a healthy sex life. So I happened upon a walnut bookcase headboard, which was perfect for me. And two days ago, when I was trying to plug in my clock and moving the king size bed out of the way while crawling under the headboard, I saw something taped up in the headboard on the other side of the bed from where I sleep. It was a miniature Saint/Spirit/Statue.

As the Spirit revealed itself to me, it made me smile so big I thought my face would crack.

I taped the Spirit back in its corner and felt once again that joy/gratitude/love is something you pass along and the more you push out, the more comes back at you, like this endless tide.

And understanding this, and for everything, I am grateful.

I ran out of steam about 2PM this afternoon – my internet was still not connected and there was an over abundance of boxes with stuff in it stacked all over the living room. And there I was – toast. Unable to even think straight and unable to move an inch. The muscles in back of one knee had congealed from the heavy lifting of Sunday’s 10 loads in the F150 move. Oh my god – I just need to rest.

Tin’s room is done. I finally got my clothes hung in my closet this evening. The internet is up and the phone is working but little else. The comedy of errors continues but does not bother me – my movers – one sharp and one not – the one not put the return of my washing machine down the wrong hole causing it to flood my entire carpeted walk in closet. But that wasn’t enough – he also hooked up the hot water to the cold water and so all my delicates were boiled alive.

The refrigerator delivery guys who refused to take the doors off even as my neighbor kept saying from his porch – “Ya gotta take the doors off” – now have to reload and do it again as the water line proved to be fail proof but the refrigerator seems to be the problem – so that big ass fridge now nicely stocked with food finally – has to be switched out.

I found a credenza for my TV and stuff on sale – 40% off – and got it and learned today that it basically really can’t hold the stuff and so it all got so mixed up I still don’t know what the final answer was – but I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

And those bookshelves – well I agonized over what to get and finally just walked into Canal Street Liquidators and plunked down $200 for three large bookshelves and put those in last night until midnight. Done. Stick a fork in it, in me, it’s done.

I then went to go clean the apartment even though there was not an ounce of energy left in me. And on the way back home I stopped in to see my friend who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer – they took our her kidney, her ovaries, her uterus, and her appendix. She wanted to spoon last night with her husband and couldn’t because it was so painful. She starts chemo soon.

Honestly, this is a woman I admire – a tough bird we like to call them – but they’re the kind of woman who give strong love, who make things beautiful, who glue a family together and whose heart beat is mirrored by each member. Why does she get cancer? There are so many crotchety, unhappy, unhealthy, unfit to mother, unfit to love women in the world why would this bright light be dealing with this?

I came home and looked around at the stuff everywhere that I have moved here and there and packed and unpacked and cleaned and used and cried over. I walked around like a cripple – my knee about to give out – and I thought of how life is – I thought about this with no sense of irony as I placed all my clothes in the walk in closet where the carpet is now dry. I thought now that I finally have all my clothes hung in the same place, all nicely on the rack, a hurricane is going to wipe this whole house away or I’m going to explode or something about crossing the i and dotting the t (even though I’m still a few thousand boxes shy from really being able to say this) made me think that something is about to change in my life because I’ve been pushing so hard to get to here and the universe has been showing me for a while that my plans are meaningless and even less so when they seem certain.

In this hyper reality where flux is what you set your clock to, it’s good to know that your delusions have fallen away and now all you hold is the certain truth that change is gonna come.

I knew these days would be challenging and every turn has reinforced it. Jet Blue canceling my flight to my gal’s trip, Officer Badge #6 giving me a ticket as I drove away from my retreat where I had been in noble silence for 48 hours, and along the way once again dealing with those people who will do things around your house.

My take away from the retreat was that I had fallen so in love with the LaLa (the dream of it) that I clung to it fiercely afraid to lose it and then what was supposed to give me joy gave me pain. There was no way to bow out gracefully, I had to leave.

Shit happens every day – every moment – but if you train your being to notice the magic, you eventually begin to expect magic and you see magic and magic happens. The mind is not all of who you are and you have some control over its meandering and habitual patterns.

I don’t like moving.

I love my new house.

As if these few weeks didn’t have enough to keep me busier than a body should be, a big surprise report was thrown in my lap that has caused me to speak in monosyllabic sentences and lose all track of time and thoughts.

I am looking forward to rest, which is coming very soon. Sunday I move out of the apartment on Grand Route St. John – saying goodbye to my weigh station where I was able to check a lot of baggage and transcend the curve balls – I was flying like a Jedi knight without even realizing it – and now in retrospect I see with my entire being that I am the master of my universe.

Ojai breath. The ocean breath. Did I mention that hurricane season started anew on June 1st?

I’m moving through a few weeks that are going to be hairy. My annual trip to Nantucket had arrows shooting at it from every which way – from any angle of resources it was the worse time to go, then JetBlue cancelled my flight; I had to spend the night in Boston, and buy an additional one-way flight to Nantucket, and my 3.5 day girl trip turned into a 2 day trip, and still I have this to say about that – I NEEDED TO GO. I truly believe I cannot go more than a year without seeing these women – they always renew my faith in friendship.

I went on my trip with a heavy heart though, a friend went in for surgery on a mysterious lump only to learn it is Stage III ovarian cancer and kidney cancer. The months ahead will be challenging as she undergoes chemotherapy. She is a beautiful woman through and through, a good wife, a good mother, and dutiful and loyal and I just shake my head over this diagnosis. She is or was the very picture of health and wellness. Why? has no answer.

This week, I’m covering my first conference with Transracial Parenting and day one almost kicked my ass. But that’s another story for another post.

I have a major report in the field, I have a silent meditation retreat coming up, I close on my new house and will be moving over the course of the next two weeks – all of these things are distracting and discombobulating and yet, they are life and living and messy and wonderful, and it is all going to be okay. If not fabulous.

Perspective is what we all need a lot of in our life. I moved out of a house that I built and it had everything just so – bookshelves a plenty, cupboards a plenty, entertainment and art boxes all built in and all there to be filled with all my stuff. Then eight years later I was crying salty tears as I packed all that stuff into boxes to prepare myself for the next chapter of my life. And later I was cursing that stuff because there was too much of it that needed to be moved, store, boxed and crammed into some spot.

Lately, I have fallen in love with a vintage redwood cupboard and shelving that came out of the estate of a woman, now gone, who had preserved said furniture in such a state as to make it glitter and dance before my very eyes. Read: I wanted it. Interpret: I felt I needed it.

The truth is it would be extending myself to furnish this house right now and there is plenty of time for that. Plenty of time for projects. Plenty of time to sit with things the way they are. And as my friend text: There is always plenty of gorgeous vintage furniture available. So I reeled in my expectations and reoriented my thoughts to gratitude of what I do have.

Delaying gratification is not something I’ve grown accustomed to nor had to, but it is a worthwhile lesson to learn so that I might be able to teach my child its value.

This morning, I was flying out to Nantucket for my gal’s trip and severe weather rearranged those plans. This might have been cause for me to think why me, as it now cost me a hotel room and another flight I couldn’t afford, but a few days ago, I learned a dear friend is going in this very morning to have her kidney removed and all of her female organs because she has suspicious tumors and right now they don’t know if it is cancer or not. So while I might bemoan my travel plans gone awry, I am acutely aware my friend has no choice this morning but to have surgery and her family has no choice this morning but to worry about her outcome.

As New York city floods, and hurricane season begins a week from now, again I have to bring awareness to a greater uncertainty that we all must live with, to greater needs than my own, and to be grateful for this day no matter what happens.

The art of saying goodbye takes one last look, remembering where you were when you arrived and where you are upon leaving, it’s sometimes sad and sometimes not, sometimes happy and sometimes not, and oft times takes courage.

Clothes drying on the line in the backyard

The money tree Tommy gave me when I was building the LaLa with a weathered Kuna still attached

The Virgin Mary statue Katell bought me at a shop on Magazine Street for good luck when we moved in.

Moss grows fat on a rolling stone (that would be me)

The stuffed elephant and rabbit Tin gave me the first night he saw me sleeping on the day bed – “Here’s you’ll need these,” he said.

Boston gargoyles that have protected me from my hater neighbor (twice over)

The end of the Grand Route St. John weighing station chapter is about to come to a close. The rest is unwritten.

The world has gone bat shit crazy – Oklahoma wtf? and this heat suddenly in New Orleans – I fell asleep at the playground as Tin was on the jungle gym. Really? We live in uncertain times, so we need to learn how to bob and weave through this insane ride.

Namaste.