How Seers Do Durable

They carry heavy packs -
without much to sustain them

It's all uphill

shale
slides
water crossings
and murmering rumbles
make it slippery
to balance in a place where
fire charred what once was
and mine remediation violates
these mountains once again

The  work is crippling -
consider the three pronged
politics that push back against
every new, good thing

Exhaustion must set in
like a bloody cowl one wants
to shake loose.

Still, I witnessed
them stop and ponder a flock of butterflies
sipping moisture from the mud
in the middle of Main Street.
He stooped down
urging one winged beauty
gently onto his forefinger.
It lingered - savoring the salt -
the salt of sweat and tears?

In one moment, I caught
a glimpse of the enchanted
children they must have been.

I hope they keep seeing like this...
because only beauty will
save this place -
this place waiting
under heaven to be born
again, again

They keep sheep dogging the
remaindered flock to
move forward  - steadfast
in doing what they do

For such a time as this...
they came
they stay
they look ahead
for what will be a
durable, enduring
tomorrow

Hart Lake

Wild flowers crowd the trail with color bursts
berry bushes begin to bear juicy weight
water falls over granite high above
rocks crunch

we hang our hammock
underneath the tinkling leaves
of two aspens and swing in
the shade love provides
while deer graze
close enough
to see long lashes. Curious,
they look
deep into our eyes.

Burnt Spring

If hope was a color

it would be green.

It breaks through

charred wood,

burnt roots and

bleak landscapes of

black, architectural stands -

 limbless trees whose

peeling skin bears

witness to the silent,

weeping sap.

The morel patches are being groomed and enjoyed. Green patches appear in the scorched parts around the village. Railroad Valley is blossoming in patches - after the Wolverine Creek Fire. Deer are looking for places to birth fawns, bears feed, cougars are curious and hummingbirds flock to the feeders we put out to lure color to our porches.

Holden Village - May 2016

Labyrinth at Holden Village

I entered the labyrinth last. Ahead of me Lamb's Ear
kept her hands behind her back, Sangria
Red wiped a tear, Dark Truffle's hair
blew in her eyes, Cracked Pepper offered
his arm to Cypress Point when she needed
an arm to lean on.

I began to soften as I passed
Brick House. Clothesline Fresh seemed ethereal
Seascape looked full of peace.
Tea Light and Prickly Pear paused to stare
over the bluff and take in the roar of the river
together. Juniper Stone simply sat. Brass Patina walked
fast but lingered on the grass near the end.
Weathered Canvas wore down the path with his
intensity.  Pink Chocolate and Graham Cracker Crust
held back the skip inside. Sun Valley and Fresh bread
secretly delighted us all by stepping light.

I stopped to look at the silent group on the neighboring
knoll. They looked tangled together in an elegant, swirling knot.
I instantly fell in love with them. I saw each one full of beauty.
Sunshine haloed their heads. Surprise wiped
the lens of my inner eye. My heart flopped open.

Sheer Pout had never looked lovelier, Creme Fraíche
looked contemplative, Soft Sunlight glowed, Dogwood Petal
had peace wrapped close. Sugar and Cream let the tears fall.
Tranquility noticed the birds singing.

Could I now engage with Foggy Mirror? Or have tenderness for Midnight Bayou?
Or want to sit with Leather Chair? Or eat with Crushed Red Pepper?

What struck me hard in the chest is the vivid colors they wore - not the
proud colors of Triple Crown jockeys or Tour de France pelotons.
They wore bruised purples, wounded reds, scarred whites, hopeless grey, lonely
blues, passionate oranges, generous yellows, and safe browns.
Supernatural love flooded us all with soft pink light. Maybe
the labrynth gave them rose colored glasses for me, too.




I do not believe "community" works like implied. I've come to detest the word. All it means is being lonely with a lot of other lonely people - all the time: working, eating, worshipping, sessions, programming, planning, etc. 

Communing is different. It's creating space, listening, attending, becoming intimate, engaging, being present with, caring, being generous and loving the person in front of you. I can't bandy this word about carelessly. It takes time, effort, will, margin and wherewithal dripping from the overflow inside a person. I decide to do it.  And it is difficult to make it happen in community. Ironic? Yes! 

It is possible to live in community, look like you're in community, and talk the talk of community without communing. Ironic? Yes! 

I hope supernatural love takes over and fills me anew......whenever it is now. When I lack love, I'll find my way to the labyrinth to get untangled again. And see with new eyes. 


Holden Village - May 2016

Attending

Attending a meeting to end world hunger 

is required. Letters to congressmen 

are suggested. Donations encouraged.

As a group we walk silently to let 

the stories of suffering ones sink

in. Faces are solemn --

looking noble and progressive and socially

conscious. 

I'm angry. I never have liked things 

shoved down my throat. Nothing penetrates. 

Instead of writing a letter to my congressman,

I write this to remind myself to stand 

firm and committed to 

the better and harder thing: to treat the suffering

person across the table, across the room,

across the street - with love and offer them

nourishment both tangible and emotional. 

Right here, right now, there are hungry

and wounded ones who need attended to. 

Don't tell anyone I'm one of those. 

But it's not as easy as writing a check

or sending a letter. It isn't quick either.

It takes consistent chunks of energy 

and time. It can't be checked off a list

nor can one brush their hands together 

with a satisfied smack. The results aren't countable 

statistics, data to prove in print. The rewards

aren't forthcoming. Sometimes we don't know

the end of the story - because it isn't written

yet. But I persist in believing one person

loving one person at a time works. 

Why is the suffering

in some other place more appealing 

than the eyes hoping to catch ours 

two feet away? 

Meet Me At Wonder

He watches grass grow 

lime green and tender.

Did it just uncurl a tip

within a nano second

and stretch toward the sun 

or did he imagine it? 

She looks at the night sky

in wonder, not calling it worship

nor thinking anyone is out there

pleased to receive her awe. The 

Star Breather doesn’t care. 

Wonder is a good place to 

meet. 

Ephemeral

How does a life
end up in a plastic tub
filled with faded pages
and dog eared scribbles
unintelligible to anyone
but me?  These
questions no one
but me can answer
about why must this
be saved?

It's a puzzle --
these crooked pieces
of my heart
bordered by straight
edges of my life so
carefully

curated
archived
rescued

worthless
memorabilia.

Old Note-Scraps of Life

As I was sorting through an old box of miscellaneous scribbles and cut out magazine pages of articles and pictures I found this scrap of paper dated Jan 10, 1997 with this written down. 

Brita and Tess and I were setting at the table doing lessons when Brita started reaming her ear out with gusto and intense satisfaction. She pulled it out, looked at my curiously incredulous face and said, "Gotta wind up my ear - what, don't you ever have to wind up your ear?" 

Haahahahahahahahahha. Oh those weird homeschoolers. 

Belt Loop Love

I was sorting our closet to pack essentials for Holden VIllage, with a pile to give to Goodwill. 

For years and years Craig and I have both been puzzled by new jeans going missing from his closet. Then they'd show up mysteriously. The belt loops would soon come off. Craig quit wearing a belt and cursed cheap chinese sewing. This went on until Brita left home. Because…..

Little did we know she's always had a belt loop fettish. She finds scraping her thumb and finger alternatively along the inside raw edges of a belt loop satisfying, gratifying and comforting. As comforting as sucking her thumb used to be when she was little. Especially when it becomes all soft and frayed, weary of resisting her relentless handling. She carries pieces of belt loops she cuts off her own pants in her pockets until they've been worn out. She seriously lusts after a crisp, fresh off the shelf belt loop. She has been known to buy jeans at thrift stores and Walmart because she was out of options. 

We had no idea until she confessed and solved Craig's mysterious new pants dilemma. We howled in disbelief…… thankful it was a harmless obsession/fixation. 

So, I cut off small square pieces of jeans with loops attached - for a year's supply. I'm prompting Craig to write a hand written note to her to put in a gift bag of twelve cut belt loop squares to send her before we go. 

Dear Brita, 

 

I'm pretty sure during this year in Holden I'll wish a pair of my jeans would go missing, then be mysteriously returned with some belt loops loose. I'm not sure what the criteria is for a proper loop worthy of a good working over, but here is a supply…..until we see you again. I love you as much as you love your belt loops. I promise you have a lifetime supply. Keep me in your pocket. 

 

Dad 

Yes, if you see tear stains on this page, they are mine. These things give life purpose and texture and layers more precious than gold…… 

Eagerness Looks Like This

Dear Friends and Family, 

Craig and I have some big news to share. We applied, visited and were offered a long term position at a remote arts/faith/renewal/retreat ten miles up in the mountains above Lake Chelan in sunny eastern Washington. We go March 1. 

We've always loved being hospitable - it's as natural and fun as anything we do.  Holden is a good pairing for both of us in our natural gifts and talents. 

We’re not sure about our living quarters yet. We might have a bedroom in a chalet with others and share a bathroom and small kitchen. Craig and I will see each other often during the day - which will be such a treat. Craig won’t have a long commute - on good days. 

We still have the juice and margin and wherewithal to do good work, be fruitful, and engage with adventurous people from all over the world. Holden welcomes anyone...as in anyone. This appeals to us....the watering hole/bonfire/open table/breaking bread together/doing life together/making music and art and letting beauty save the world thing ...... 

The Pacific Crest Trail runs above the Village. Through hikers may make reservations and lodge and eat there. It’s a 1 1/2 hour ferry ride from Field’s Point Landing to Lucerne - where the Holden bus meets passengers bound for Holden - ten miles and 45 minutes up the mountain. Field’s Point is an hour ferry ride from Chelan. 

It's about another 25 minute ferry ride uplake to picturesque Stehekin, which is a remote village on the very north shore of Lake Chelan which can only be reached by hiking, boat, or float plane. Like Holden, there are no roads in or out.

Craig will be doing mainly heavy equipment and when he's available do handyman and light mechanic work. He hopes to segue into learning the ropes and helping out with the fascinating powerplant and water facilities. I'll be in guest services and possibly helping in the kitchen when the mine remediation gives the kitchen back.

Holden used to be an copper mine back in the late 1800 to the 1940ish. It is now experiencing some mine remediation to get the leftover contaminates from that period cleaned up - as Wolverine Creek Valley is a major watershed into the lake. 

The Wolverine Valley fire this past summer devastated the entire area surrounding Holden. It's a miracle the village is left standing without much damage. 

We'll have limited and SLOW e-mail access. Nothing streaming, no pictures as they take forever to upload and NO PHONE - Landline or cell. There is a satellite phone for emergencies only. The outside world may call and we will be paged or radioed to come call out via this strange phone. It cuts out and sometimes disconnects…….and is really only for emergencies. Slow mail is more than welcomed! 

The best thing about Holden is the pristine environment. Mountains surround it and a stream runs through. It's quiet. The stars are magnificent. The trails are like a spider web. The lake is like a jewel far below. The air is pure. The snow magical. Four seasons show up regularly and on time. We will be out of the constant drizzle of rain. I love how rain makes everything green, but we are ready for some sunshine. 

We’re trading shopping, traffic, noise, smog, crowds, and pavement for bears, deer, fauns, squirrels, fish, eagles, contempletive space, peace, stars, hoarfrost sculptures, and mountain ridge sillouettes. Don’t feel sorry for us!  

We are eager and enthused to start a new chapter. We think living in community will certainly have challenges, but it will also be a catalyst for some deep growth. We both yearn for a sense of belonging, a tribe of our own. We hope the time we spend at Holden will leave an imprint of fond memories and friendships that last forever.

What I love most is the very significant and rich library it has. This makes it not so remote for me. And Craig will have comraderie and people to have coffee with early in the morning. This makes it not remote for him. He gets to tinker and fix things, which he loves. We like to help, serve, nurture, nourish, and be midwife and douela to hearts and souls. These things are recipricol and mutually beneficial. What we give we recieve. 

And it’s a way of traveling without going anywhere. People from all over the world, from all walks of life will come to us. This intrigues. We want to give all who come a warm and hearty welcome like we received. 

I hope to keep a detailed journal of our days and experiences. Maybe I’ll have a book someday? 

Much love, 

Craig and Kathleen Overby  

WWW.holdenvillage.org