Labyrinth Visit #50 on July 3rd!

Two years, one month and sixteen days after my labyrinth journey began in Florida, it will end in Hawaii!

July 3rd. 2:30 pm at Eve Hogan's labyrinth on Maui.

I have walked a labyrinth in forty-nine states -- each outdoors, each envisioned and brought to life by a woman.  I have spent one hour, two, up to four hours, with each labyrinth creator. . hearing her story.

Lives and stories now woven into my own.

With one more labyrinth to walk and story to hear, the significance of this journey is only beginning to sink in. I have kept the ending at arm's length, not yet ready to reflect. However, as Drew and I step on the plane tomorrow, that process will begin. The end of the journey will become real.

And what an ending! Drew and I will spend five days on Maui with our dear friends, Marian and Jim Levine. Marian traveled with me, actually did all the driving, through the northeastern states; then joined me again in Tennessee, Mississippi and Kentucky. We had a vision even then -- Hawaii #50!

I will post pictures of the last labyrinth walk on Facebook and this blog. If you are close to a labyrinth, I invite you to walk along with me on the 3rd. Many of my "Labyrinth Friends," in the other forty-nine states, are planning to walk their labyrinths that day and post pictures to my Facebook page or send emails -- a Cyber Celebration!

One of them recently wrote to ask how I'm feeling about reaching the end of the path.  She offered words which have become my mantra. . .

               "An end is a beginning."  

I wonder where this "end" is leading me.

Bur first -- Hawaii.  Here we come!

Eve Hogan's labyrinth on Maui

      

  

The Big Push

(For more information about my 50-state labyrinth journey, please click on the "Labyrinth Journey" tab above.

My labyrinth journey is nearing an end. I will walk #50 in Hawaii on July 4th.  Drew will walk with me, as will Marian (who has traveled to 19 states with me) and her husband, Jim - friends for 30 years.
As exciting as the completion of this two-year trek is, it's not yet time for reflection. Not time to put away the suitcase, bid a less than fond farewell to the "lady" on Mapquest who drones "re-calculating" each time I take a wrong turn, or send letters of commendation to Southwest Airlines, Hampton Inns, and a quintet of rental car companies.

My personal goal has been to finish visiting a labyrinth in each state, except Hawaii, by July 1, 2014. With that date speeding faster and faster on the horizon, I looked west to the six remaining states in that area that I needed to visit. BIG states! Utah, Wyoming, Nevada, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico. States #42-47 in my journey.

Mid-April I began plotting my course. It was the largest jigsaw puzzle of a trip yet. Connecting the labyrinth creators' schedules with airplanes, rental cars, hotels, plus the one variable that even a 10-day forecast can't guarantee -- Weather. Mile-high and higher elevations could mean spring snows and all the travel joys that would bring. But, similar to my February trip when the Polar Vortex was spinning out of control, there reaches a point when you say, "Come Hell or High Water, I'm doing it." (At least, my grandfather used to say that.)

Long story shortened, here's the "text" version. (For the longer tale, you'll have to wait for the book. Yes, the book!)

Arrived Salt Lake City, Utah, just ahead of thunderstorms.
Drove to Elko, Nevada to visit Sarah Sweetwater's labyrinths.

Her personal labyrinth

Elko Peace Park Labyrinth, which Sarah designed

Back to Salt Lake
Visited Peggy Montrone and daughter, Christy's, "cabin" labyrinth -- up a mountain, in the snow.
Weather cleared; returned in the afternoon.

Peggy, expert mountain-driver in the snow!

Three hours later -
With the help of boots, I made it to the center and back.

                                                                             

Flew to Denver; drove to Cheyenne.
Visited Vanda Edington and Anne Wagner who helped envision the labyrinth at Cheyenne Botanic Gardens.
The next day, the labyrinth was under 10 inches of snow!

Vanda and Anne

This labyrinth sits atop the original grass one.

Barbara and Mary in front of the Chartres-style labyrinth

Drove back to Denver.
Visited Barbara Machann's labyrinths in nearby Sedalia.  Barbara's friend, Mary Turner, has "adopted" Barbara's larger, Chartres labyrinth and helps her tend it.

The next day. . .
You guessed it -- 9 inches of snow!

The Classical design next to it

Kent, Cherylee, Terrylee and Lorenzo

Flew to Albuquerque, New Mexico; drove to
Pinedale, Arizona.
Who knew there were "high wind warnings" on the Plains?                  
Visited Cherylee Brewer's labyrinth that she and her family created.

Rocks from the area line the path

                                                                 

Backtracked across the Plains, through Albuquerque to Cerrillos, New Mexico.
Visited Liz Paterson's "goddess" labyrinth.

The labyrinth lies in an old riverbed

Liz with her goddess sculpture

One week, six states, six labyrinths, nine inspiring women! It is their stories, of course, which shape the heart of my journey, as have the others before them. An ancient design connects each woman to herself, to the larger group, and to me. I am profoundly grateful to them all!

 Nebraska next week. Louisiana the week after that. Then Hawaii.

I carry each story with me as I walk.

Thanks to all you readers who continue to encourage me and show such an enthusiastic interest in my story!  

Beware of Flying Phones

Yesterday afternoon, 5:30.  Commuter exodus from NYC.
World Trade Center PATH (Port Authority Trans-Hudson) Terminal, where trains pick up and drop off commuters between Lower Manhattan and Jersey City. A quick 8 minutes (give or take a few) from Point A to B - under the Hudson River. I try not to think about that part.

I was going with the flow - down a steep escalator, through a turnstile, along a hallway, deeper down a set of stairs.  People ahead of me suddenly started walking faster.  The train was waiting, but not for long. I caught a glimpse of open doors and picked up the pace.

"Beware of the closing doors," the robotic voice sounded.
Two choices. Wait for the next train or Go For It!
What did I have to lose? An arm, foot, computer bag, perhaps, crushed in the slamming doors? Nothing that dramatic, but I could incur the "Look of Scorn" from sardine-packed commuters, were I to trip the door's automatic eye and cause even a momentary delay.

My decision to Go For It didn't take into account the fact that there was no place to GO!  Multiple bodies formed a solid wall at the very door at which I was rushing head-first.
Too late. Momentum has little patience for wishy-washiness. I pushed my way in, then was pushed in further by three people who stumbled in behind me.
My shoulder hit something soft, cushiony, rotund. A man's belly.  Before I had a chance to say "Pardon me," the train lurched forward.  I grabbed the nearest pole. He grabbed for his phone, as it left his hand and headed towards my head.  He missed.

Whack! Right against my temple. Then to the floor. A BlackBerry.  Not even an iPhone. I might have been more forgiving had the brand been more to my liking.

Who knew that a flying phone could carry such a wallop, sting with such a vengeance?

The man-with-the-belly apologized, three times.
"Are you OK?" he asked.
"I'm so sorry." Then later, "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine," I assured him. It was only a phone attack, after all. I would survive. Kind of him to ask, though.

As the train slowed to a stop at the Newport Station and I made my way to the door, we nodded to each other, acknowledging our mutual encounter.

He sped away, as I walked along the platform, climbed the steps, through the tunneled hallway, up the crowded escalator and OUT into the evening light.

Safely at home, I surveyed my injury in the mirror.

Not even a scratch to document my close call. . . with a phone.


 

Earth Day -- In My Own Backyard

I never have understood why people litter. Can't they wait until they get home and throw their empty container in the garbage or hold onto it until the nearest trash can? Do they even think twice before flinging that plastic water bottle, McDonald's hamburger wrapper, Big Gulp plastic cup, or Coke can out the car window or down to the sidewalk?

For someone who guards a well-chewed piece of gum until I can find a suitable place to dispose of it, I just can't relate to a litterer. Can you?

This time of year, litter is particularly obvious. The ground is bare. Litter has no place to hide. Earth hasn't started to cover the shameful trash with her greenery. I see it strewn in lawns and ditches every morning on my walk here in Arkansas and along streets and sidewalks near our apartment in Jersey City.  I chastise the unknown perpetrators, lament the environmental impact, bemoan the ugliness, yet do nothing. Someone else will pick it up. I don't have anything to put it in. It's too dirty. No more excuses. No longer!

Drew and I started picking up pieces of assorted litter last week as we walked on the road leading to our house. A couple of cups, a quart-sized bottle of Margarita mix, cans, a torn plastic bag large enough to stuff it all in.

The recycling truck will pick it up tomorrow, April 22 - Earth Day. A fitting end to this litter's saga.

But there is more.  Today I took pictures.

Tomorrow I will take trash bags and pick it up.  And I will try to do so without chastising, lamenting or bemoaning, but simply doing.

Then I'll come home, sit among the dogwood, azalea and lilac and thank the earth for her beauty. . and for my ability to be among her stewards.

   “The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.” 
                                                      --Wendell Berry

 
 



 

When Everything Goes Right

Do you ever look back over a period of time, or series of events, and delight in how everything went right?  People enjoyed one another's company, the weather cooperated, the event(s) went off without a hitch, and even an unexpected surprise sneaked in, just in case you weren't already happy enough. For slightly more than 48 hours last week, Drew and I experienced just that.

Our nephew, Lt. Colonel John Wesley Spaid VI, known to the family as "Wes" and to his squadron as "Ugly," (can't imagine why) assumed command of Marine Medium Tiltrotor Squadron 365 at Marine Air Station New River in Jacksonville, North Carolina on Friday.

We, along with extended family and friends were invited to attend.  We didn't think twice. I have known Wes for 40 of his 42 years, while Drew has known him from birth.  We were present at his wedding to Nicole, celebrated the birth of their three children, and have watched with interest and pride his distinguished twenty-year career in the Marine Corps. Of course, we would be among his supporters!



Neither of us had ever attended a military ceremony and had only a vague idea of what to expect, except that it would be impressive -- uniforms, flags, precision marching, spit-and polish -- came to mind. As we took our seats behind Wes, Nicole, a colonel, a row of lieutenant colonels and their wives, the sight on the tarmac was dramatic. Three huge Osprey aircraft were front and center, flanked by more in the background, while gleaming instruments and stirring melodies of a military band filled the air.

 


Then in a seamless transfer of leadership, Lt. Colonels Harshberger (right) and Spaid met, and placed their hands on the squadron flag. The outgoing commander relinquished the pole, while the incoming one held fast. As quickly, as peacefully, and as symbolically as that, lives changed.


       


Following the ceremony, a slew of Alexanders - mother DeLyla, cousins Jeff, Grace, Steve and Andy, along with Uncle Drew and Aunt Twylla - gathered around Wes and his family for a picture.
Our presence, another symbol. Support. Respect. Love.



Before an evening celebration, we scattered for a few hours of leisure time.  I went to a nearby park to soak in the warmth of North Carolina spring.  There were at least ten benches dotted around the green space. I could have picked any of them but decided on one, for no particular reason. I was getting ready to sit down and looked to my left, again, for no particular reason.  A white concrete path led to a large circular design, which looked more than vaguely familiar.  A labyrinth!
(For those of you who know about my labyrinth journey, you will understand my surprise and excitement.)

 

And on this day, when we had witnessed Wes embark on a new path, I entered the labyrinth with a smile and deep gratitude.    



  

No Car, No Problem. . . An Urban Solution!

So, what do you do if you need to go to Home Depot to buy a large pot for your overgrown Norfork Pine, plus a couple of bags of (heavy) potting soil -- and you don't have a car? No friends or relatives live nearby to give you a lift; no neighbors with a car, either.  Home Depot is only a half mile away so walking is easy enough, but what about on the way back?

You might feel stuck, unless you live in a public transportation mecca like New York City, or across the Hudson in Jersey City, like Drew and I. The subway is 8-minutes away, a ferry to Lower Manhattan a brisk 12-minute walk, and taxis are always an option.  But the subway and ferry are in the opposite direction from Home Depot, and a taxi?  No need. We're young-ish, fit-ish, and we have. . . a handcart!

When we lived in Moscow, the vast majority of people pulling a handcart were babushkas, older women, much older than I, who ambled slowly down sidewalks pulling their carts behind them.
"Never!" I thought. "I will never be seen pulling one of those carts."
A tote bag or sak purse were stylishly acceptable, but a handcart? Give me another twenty years.

Then we moved to NYC.

Whole Foods, the most upscale, preppy, organically and sustainably fashionable place to grocery shop in Lower Manhattan - where we first lived -  actually sells handcarts. Young parents and professional Wall Streeters buy and use them.  Can it be that babushkas have been years ahead of the game, trend setters in schlepping, all this time?

Finally recognizing the coolness of a handcart, I bought one. The loveliest color, of course. My shoulders, biceps and triceps, which had been begging, relentlessly, for one, thanked me profusely.

The Home Depot trip this weekend was the test. Could the handcart handle heavy, fragile and BIG, at the same time? Uneven sidewalks, jarring curbs, sneaky pot holes? We would see.

(Drew - Schlepper, Twylla- Photographer)

Step One -
Pack up and check out
Will it fit?

YES!

Step Two -
Over the first curb,
So far, so good!

                                                 

    

Step Three -
Maneuvering traffic. . .
Take a right before
the tunnel!

                                                 

Step Four -
SUCCESS!

 Not only did the handcart do a 100%, A+, totally terrific job, but it looked sharp at the same time!

 Not nearly as sharp, though, as the man pulling it. 

Even babushkas would be impressed.  

  

The Elephant In the Room Needs Our Help

My husband, Drew, and I spent an evening recently learning about elephants, specifically African elephants, killed for their tusks. It's not an event we would have routinely attended had it not been for an Arkansas connection, Chelsea Clinton. Although she and her parents now live in New York, we shared the same state when President Clinton was Governor Clinton.  We have seen Chelsea grow up in the media and respect the work she does and causes she supports, particularly as Vice Chair of the Clinton Foundation. Partnership to Save Africa's Elephants is a Clinton Global Initiative.

(photo credit Joshua Young)

The panel discussion, moderated by Chelsea, was held at the Deepak Chopra HomeBase at ABC Carpet and Home Store. This unique gathering space on the mezzanine of a busy retail store, is where I attended the exhibit of Thich Nhat Hanh's meditative calligraphy in December.  For the current event, the walls were lined with photographs of elephants taken by National Geographic Explorer in Residence, Beverly Joubert.  Elephants going about the daily business of their lives, unaware that their ivory tusks have marked them as targets by poachers.

 *Facts are staggering:
- The population of African elephants has dropped from 1.2 million in 1980 to 420,000 in 2012.
- Approximately one elephant is killed every 15 minutes for its tusks; at this rate, African elephants could  become extinct within the next decade.
- Savannah elephant tusks sell for up to $1000 per pound, with forest elephant ivory often fetching an even higher price.
- Within the last ten years, 1000 park rangers in 35 different countries have been killed in their efforts to stop poachers.
(*All facts reported and cited in Chelsea Clinton's blog, "How We Can End the Elephant Poaching Crisis.")

When I listen to such grand scale devastation, so far away and complex, I feel helpless -- as when I hear  of children killed in Syria, women raped in the Democratic Republic of the Congo,  rainforests destroyed in Africa, Asia, South America. . . and on  and on. I'm grateful that people with name recognition, power and resources heighten awareness and work toward change.

The African elephants' influential friends include the African Wildlife Foundation, World Wildlife Fund, Conservation International, Wildlife Conservation Society, International Fund for Animal Welfare, other NGOs, governments and concerned citizens.  All coordinated under the Clinton Global Initiative Commitment to Action.

Together they are dedicated to:

• STOP the killing
• STOP the trafficking
• STOP the demand

To halt the decline of African elephants by the end of 2016.

Yet, the elephants need more friends, "everyday" friends.  As one of the people in the room that night, who is now aware of the situation, I have a choice. I can walk away, or commit to doing something, anything to help.

My feeling of  helplessness only becomes a reality if I choose to believe the whiny voice that says, "You can't do anything. You're just one person."

So I developed my own two-prong action plan --
- I will not purchase (or accept) any ivory products and will encourage others to do the same.
- I will write a blog posting (this one) to share what I have learned.

Now that you are aware, please consider passing on what you know to at least one other person. 

Share Chelsea's blog. 

Share this blog.

If you're in NYC, attend a function and learn more:

March 24, 6:30 pm -- "Living with Elephants: Stories From the Wild with Beverly and Derek Joubert"

Through March 31 - The African Elephant - photography exhibit (free) by Beverly Joubert 

 Both events at ABC Home in Deepak HomeBase - 888 Broadway

Thank you!