12 October 2007 – Bellingham, Washington
Lord, my body has been a good friend…
Yes it has. Yes it is. And I am being a better friend with my body, if you’ll forgive the dualism for a bit. I started this journey with a sore and spasmed back, and yet the many long walks, the almost-daily yoga, and the many, many hamstring stretches, along with the good food we’ve been fed, the amazing conversations we’ve had, the comfortable spaces in which we’ve been housed, and the nurturing energy we’ve received (and I have to thank Glen for calling me on that, and helping me to better let that in…), all these things have combined to bring me back to a stronger place, a place of more power and less pain, more ease, more peace. Thank you all.
I awoke the morning after Seattle with a bit of Jackson Browne in my head, and an image of Forrest Gump in my mind as he ran back and forth across the country. He picked up people as he ran, fellow travelers, fellow seekers, until his company was quite large. Unlike Gump, Sally and I keep moving from place to place, from person to person, meeting these kind and aware souls only to leave them behind in a day or two. I wish they could all come along with us. Running on emptiness…
Glen drove us from Seattle to Bellingham and dropped us right into the hands of Angela and David. David, with the people at Sustainable Bellingham, was one of the primary organizers for the screening. Angela was the motive force behind a wonderful meal of mostly local foods. While she cooked, we napped for a bit, then took a walk down to the water, and the post office, around the fish hatchery and back. Looking at the hatchery, I noted how this was a technological solution designed to solve the problems brought about by a previous technological solution. Thus it is and has always been…
We ate with David and Angela and Lynnette, another organizer, then made our way to the Whatcom Community College theater for the screening. We set up and got the technical pieces aligned (and I snuck out for a bit to catch a gorgeous view of Mt. Baker glowing in the setting sun). And then people began to filter in. Perhaps filter isn’t the right word. Maybe “flow” describes it better. Or “rush”, maybe?
By the time we took the stage for introductions, there were about 300 people in the theater (it holds 328). That’s twice as large as our previous largest screening. And the energy in the room was fabulous. We intro’d the film and cut the lights and we were off.
At the end, people clapped. That happens often. What doesn’t often happen is people standing up, people calling out and whooping and cheering and raising their fists to the sky. All of that happened here. Clearly, there is something strange and wonderful in the water in Bellingham, Washington. It was pretty amazing to behold.
Sixty or more of us stayed for the dialogue. We’re used to smaller circles, Sally and I, and have not quite figured out how to create a safe and sacred space with so many, in a theater space where it is difficult to form an actual circle. But Sally pulled it off, passing around a microphone, then the talking stick. We started with a pair-share, giving people and opportunity to speak to the feelings that the movie stirred up. Then Sally asked about Bellingham: what about this place will work well as civilization unravels? What will get in the way and make it hard? It was great to hear people speak of their community, it’s strengths and weaknesses. There is much going on here, and much more still to wrestled with. And there is a great deal of energy to do that wrestling. Be well, Bellingham, and godspeed.
We went home with Cyndy, who took us into her home, a funky and nurturing space that felt like an oasis. We talked into the late evening, eating grapes from her back yard and ginger snaps from her cookie tree. (OK, I made that up, but somewhere in the universe there must be such a thing as a cookie tree… why not here?) We got a full night’s sleep, morning coffee, a hot shower and eggs and toast and some heart-rich and moving conversation.
I sit here now on Cyndy’s deck. Mt. Baker stands before me. I look across an open field and there she is, rising in the morning sun. I can feel the tug from here, as if the miles between us did not exist. Tears fill my eyes, and the words of a Hawaiian shaman fill my body, my good friend - words shared with us just an hour ago by Cindy - a prayer, a meditation, a promise, an intention, a way of life, a new paradigm…
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.
We leave soon for the ferry to Friday Harbor. Our thanks to David and Angela, to Lynnette (who’s name I hope I am spelling correctly), to Cyndy, and to the many other people and groups who organized the Bellingham turnout.
Touching the ground,
Tim
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