Summer of ’17

The floors are covered in rain water, slowly evaporating in the heat of midday.
We are existing in a shared space with the weather.
We don’t have glass in our windows and large open roof areas. The rain falls completely unfettered to our rock tiled floor.
Our solar panels allow for air conditioning in our bedrooms; the teen retreats there as she waits for the month to end so she can get on with adulthood.
I have just this last month to continue the life I have so carefully cultivated.
I bought in to this reality, big time.
From water birth and 3 years of Breastfeeding, to graduating this one from homeschool (okay, distance-learning, God forbid).
We have many dogs and a non-stop stream of foster dogs, 6 or 7 cats, more Tarantulas than scorpions, water from town 2.5 hours daily–the heavenly perfection of quasi-anarchistic communism.

And so after the “big launch” in September (I’m budgeting a month for said launch) what am I going to do?

Holy mole.

As soon as we get around to college the next words are always a variation of “How ‘ya gonna deal with that?”
My flip response is “well, I am helping with this community center, so all the town’s children will be my students…” Blah blah blah .
Fuck if I know.
I’m doing an art camp tonight and showing a movie next door on the unpaved calle.

Even in ‘paradise’ it’s one foot in front of the other.image

Today is what we have.

I am cloistered– from the heat and reality in my guest room turned art-space.
The wax melts into the crackling resin on the hot plate. The Dead Kennedys play loud and discordant and I am settling in to a day of extremes.

I shy away from bragging. So I have stopped writing on this forum. I am still aware of my excessive good fortune, but Astrid is moving to the USA for college.

This life is fleeting. Today I grab for tangible examples of existence. The summer has started here, I haven’t been here for the summers in a couple of years. It’s epic. The jungle moves in and you are forced to feel yourself, the heat, the fucked up lack of water, the joy at seeing the trash truck, the scorpions, all as one. You can choose to feel the extremes. Dancing barefoot.