10 October 2007 – Portland, Oregon

I have to climb…

Matt and Della fed us and hugged us and sent us on our way, this time via the Greyhound bus from Spokane to Portland. Along the way we read and talked and slept, eating goat cheese and pita chips and some wonderful organic apples from a local Spokane grower. The seats were small and cramped, but the road was smooth and clear and the six-hour ride seemed only to take the entire afternoon.

In Portland we were met by our next host, Steve, and his kids Willy and Rachel. Like a pair of human batons, Steve picked us up and carried us forward to our next destination, which turned out to be a great little Italian place, and then to his home. On Willy’s recommendation, Sally and I split the tortellini gorgonzola, which turned out to be an excellent choice. On our recommendation, Willy and Rachel shared the parmesan bread, which Rachel loved. Back at their home, we met Snowers the cat and checked our email while the kids got ready for bed, then spoke with Steve before turning in.

The next day we got a good hit of coffee and wireless from a local cafe, took a great walk around Reed College, met with our friends Caren and Chris from the Titanic Lifeboat Academy then drove downtown with Steve for dinner and the screening.

As always, it was great to be in a UU church, with helpful and generous people and a beautiful space in which to meet. Seventy souls joined us for the screening, a great turnout on a cold, wet Wednesday night.

I have to climb. Cat Stevens sings to me still. Look up at the mountains… I have to climb… Do I? I guess I do. I’m here. And so are the mountains we face: the screening today, the tour for the next month, and my life in the years beyond, as I navigate my way up and through and between and betwixt the various peaks and valleys of oil and climate and politics and the environment. I’m here. And these things are coming. They’re here now. And so I will walk through them, or at least I will try.

What I don’t have to do is conquer these mountains. I don’t have to control them. I don’t have to dominate or manage or push or demand or run or direct or rule or govern or decree. I don’t have to act from the confines and expectations of the current paradigm. I do not have to walk that path. If there is a way through these mountains, it will be a different course from the one we’ve been on.

The Oregon Interfaith Power and Light group was at the screening, with a table of information and opportunities. The Portland Peak Oil folks had a table too, as did TrackersNW. Good people, doing good work. And that is to be noticed and remembered and honored and celebrated and appreciated every day and every where: looking up at those mountains, those mountains we have to climb, we do not have to be alone.

We spoke of many things in our sweet Portland circle, as we passed the talking stick from hand to hand, from heart to heart, sixteen of us lingering on after the movie to connect and feel, to gather around the bonfire of our own living bodies as the dark and cold of the world situation gathers outside. We spoke of our fear and our sadness, our anger, our hope, our joy and our love. We spoke of nurturing the choir and standing together. We spoke of the work before us. We spoke of what we truly want. We spoke from our hearts, glowing in that shared fire. Thus it has always been for human beings in circle. Thus may it always be.

Urban Scout was there, and it was so good to meet him, to catch a glimpse of the man behind the legend, to sit with him for a time, though the time was not nearly long enough. There were many other young people there, bringing their anger and their energy, their passion, their urgency, and their deep and abiding love for the life of this planet. It was an honor to be with them, and to speak of the work of the young, and the work of we older folk, we boomers, who must now, I think, carry the greater portion of the burden of this time. The young of this world need us to get our shit together, we boomers. It’s time.

It was time to leave and we walked out into the beautiful night, embracing our last moments together and promising to keep in touch.

The morning sees us on the train to Seattle, the second screening in a string of eight consecutive shows, the proximate mountain we now have to climb.

I’m looking forward to every step.

Tim