Water

I'm sitting at a cafe with twenty minutes before having to pick up Orion from Kindy. So here I am poking the ridiculously small imaginary buttons on my phone. I have been feeling the need to say more about swimming. It's not just swimming. It's being suspended in large bodies of water that has always been so life giving to me. For most of the time in life, I feel as if I don't belong. Dont get me wrong, I am overall a happy positive person, but being honest, I often think that I wasn't made to be walking around on hard things, sitting on flat things, having to dodge, navigate, and interact with so many people on their own path, wishing I wasn't in their way. The noise, the expectations, the responsibility...the gravity: it was never meant for me. But when I step into the water, it is as if I am freed. It holds me, caresses me, converses with me and even argues with me. It loves me. The more I am in it, the more my muscles stretch out and all the tension and friction stored up in my body, moves out to my fingers and toes, and just dissipates and spreads evenly over the surface of the water, into an even nothingness. Water is so good. I have learned and grown to understand its nature. It personifies the full spectrum of emotion from day to day. And like any  proper human, I have learned to respect it's mood. Sometimes I stay out of its way. Most of the time it calls me, day and night. There have only been about two years of my life where I have not lived by the sea. Whenever my husband and I discuss moving to the country, I tell him if the place doesn't have an ocean, it doesn't exist for me. There is so much more I could write. But I have to go pick up my little boy. I believe that everyone should spend a bit more time in the water. Reverse the effects of gravity, and go back to the womb in the perfect expanse of water. Be free.

I Love You Miles

I feel like all I blog about anymore is our loss of pets. Thats pretty sad. I am even more sad to say that we lost or our good dog Miles. And when I say good, I really mean it. I feel that for a dog, the word "good" is the greatest compliment a master could give to his or her dog.

He was not always a good dog. In fact, as a puppy I found him to be incredibly obnoxious. He barked about everything. If he was tired, wanted us to cover him up with his blanket, wanted his jacket, needed do go to the bathroom, if we tied him up and went into a store, left him in the car, or he wasn't allowed to sit on the couch. He was so annoying. He used to jump on everyone, especially pregnant people. He stuck his nose up women's skirts, pooped in shoes, and pulled on the lead. He chewed up books, wicker baskets, his bed, and even the wall. And he used to stare at me all the time, no matter what I was doing. Sometimes he huffed at me, with his little lip folds flapping in and out while he whimpered in the most irritating way. Half the time I didn't know what he wanted. One time I counted his barks. In one minute he barked over 100 times. It was very stressful taking him to the dog beach because he was just so fast. In five seconds he could run to the other end of the beach. It would take me at least two minutes of running to catch up to him.

I once called my mom and complained about how crazy he was, and how he was driving me crazy. She said to me, that we didn't have to keep him if worse comes to worst. Her saying that really went right to my heart. I knew that we would never give Miles up. We made a commitment to him. He was a good natured dog and never showed signs of aggression. So as far as I was concerned, we had to make it work.

Her words really convicted me though. I started thinking about what I could do to have a better attitude toward him. One night I dreamed that Miles was actually a little boy. He was God's little boy and God had given him to me to look after. This was a very convicting dream. I know that dogs are not people. So don't worry, I am not that crazy. But I do really value the concept of stewardship. I believe that everything that is given to us is not actually ours, it is our Creator's. These things, everything, has been entrusted to us, and we are called to look after them. I believe we will be held accountable for how we look after this earth and all of it's living creatures. So I feel like God was asking me to change my attitude toward Miles, and love him despite his craziness.

So I loved him dearly, with all of my doggy loving heart. And as he grew older, he became the most amazing dog. He was always gentle and loving toward our children. He became my companion on my walks in the evening and had no problem sticking close by off lead, even when there were rabbits about. He was never aggressive and loved everyone he met.

He was also very intuitive. One afternoon when I was pregnant with Pearl, Miles and I started out on our walk. We got to the footpath and Miles refused to go any further. He just froze. I yanked on his leash, yelled at him, and even tried pushing him up the hill. But he just refused. So I gave up. A few minutes after we got back home, I had a severe asthma attack. I made it to the doctor in time and spent the afternoon on oxygen and went to the hospital that evening to have Pearl checked out. I have never had and asthma attack before. I like to think that Miles saved our lives.

Its really hard to say how much I loved him. I think back on all of those walks up in the hills and seeing him there next to me, looking up and prancing with glee as I tell him what a good dog he is. On the day that he died, I woke that morning from a dream I had of him. Light was pouring through and open door where he was standing, waiting for us. When he saw us coming, his skinny, whip like tail started going around in circles with joy. Then he did a big happy stretch filled with contentment. I feel like this dream was a gift from God. This was my last memory of Miles and I am so grateful that it was filled with so much peace and love.

Goodbye for now my good and lovely Miles.

Happy Hunting Lovely Madge

Yesterday we said goodbye to our lovely Madge. She went to her new owner and we know she will be well loved. This whole experience was very challenging and I hope to never have to rehome another dog in my life. There are a lot of reasons why we decided to rehome Madge. But when it comes down to it, we were not able to give her the attention, training, exercise, and stability that she needed for her to feel confident in herself. So we really believe it was the best decision for her. After contacting all the shelters that I knew of on the north island, running ads on several different websites, contacting random people, and coming up with the crazy plan to ship her to the U.S. where my sister and step mom offered to foster her until they found a home for her, I finally found the perfect person to take her. Through this experience I learned that dogs are bred for a purpose. There are dogs bred to be companions, to be comic relief, to run, and to work. Some dogs need jobs. If you don't give them one, then they will find one for themselves. They can become over protective, aggressive, neurotic, barky, gluttonous,and so on. Shortly after adopting Madge we learned that she is the kind of dog that people use in New Zealand for pig hunting. Mix whippet, retriever, and some kind of bull breed, and you have got yourself a good pig dog. After really thinking things through, we decided that a hunting dog would be the best life for her. There were so many qualities about her that in the context of being a house pet, were seen negatively. She loved to hunt. She caught rabbits and birds. She was very fast, and she was loyal to her family to a fault. I thought long and hard and realized that instead of punishing her for being who she was, why not allow someone to nurture and develop those qualities into something great. I am not a hunter. I don't like hunting and pigs are one of my favorite animals. But I love my dog, and I know she would live a much more fulfilled and happy life if she could do what she was made to do. So I began posting on some pig hunting pages. As it turned out, people really liked the look of her and several people were interested. I have never known a pig hunter, so this experience was a bit daunting. I even had someone private message me to tell me not to give my dog to someone who wanted her because he shoots his dogs for no good reason. So I would say I was a little bit in over my head. But I really believe God was in all of this because Hone is the one who stood out and caught me at just the perfect time. On the phone he seemed like an even tempered, calm person who sincerely loved dogs. He was disabled so he did not work, which meant he had lots time for his dogs. And that is exactly what I believe Madge needs that we have not been able to give her. So, yesterday Pearl, Orion, and I drove Madge up to Whangarei where we met Hone. I was so anxious about this experience because sometimes Madge can be weirded out about strange things. I worried that she might be afraid of his wheelchair. But actually it was a good thing. She didn't feel threatened by him because he was sitting down. So she walked right up to him, put her head down right on his lap and he began to pet her exactly how she liked to be pet. I was amazed. Madge loves us and usually only cares about her family. But she liked him immediately. He couldn't get over how beautiful she was. He kept thanking me and telling me that he would keep her forever. He was fixated on her and loved everything about her. I just couldn't believe it. Madge fell in love with him. Eventually she rolled over on to her back so he would pet her belly. I think that after having a baby and realizing that we could not give her what she needed, we lost our confidence with her. But Hone was very confident, and I believe Madge found security in that. It was amazing. I took a picture of the two of them together and look at it often. I know Madge is going to be totally and completely loved for who she is by this man, and he is going to give her everything she needs. In that, I feel a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I can say that I did right by Madge.

oops

Ooops. I never posted photos of the mural. This was two years ago!The mural is in two sections seperated by a gate. So Morgan stiched the image together.

A little news

I think sometimes making facebook announcements about big life events is kind of weird. It just feels so impersonal and unoriginal. Sometimes people may want to spy on you and see what you are up to. But they have no real relationship with you. So you're just out there blasting personal information about yourself that a lot of people don't really care about. But a blog can be good because the people who do care and know you can take a look for themselves if they are interested and find out what is going on in your life. So here is what is going on. We are having a baby boy who is due in about 5 weeks. His name is Orion. He is getting so big and our lovely midwife says he is, "locked and loaded." So come on Orion! The next biggest thing going on in our lives is that we are moving to a different part of New Zealand. We have lived in Wellington for six years and I am completely convinced that it is the most beautiful city in the world. I haven't seen too many of the world's cities, but from what I have seen, it is the loveliest. However, Morgan got a job at a little studio just about an hour north of Auckland in a little town called Snells Beach. And that is exactly what it is, a little town out in the country and on the coast. So far people have warned us that there isn't much to do up there. To me that sounds lovely. Let me tell you what there is to do. There are warm beaches with water that you can surf, snorkel and swim in. There is lots and lots of nature, mild winters, a donkey reserve, and...and... that is about all. Hee hee. We went up there to check it out and I really loved the feel of the place. With islands off the coast and warm, clean beaches, it just felt so peaceful. I am really looking forward to being close to a more hospitable ocean. I do love Wellington. But it can be a very harsh place due to its cold winters, and Antarctic Southerly storms that tear through and knock the wind out of you. So that is our life. We are planning on moving up there around mid April. Goodbye for now.

A Mural is coming.

Morgan's parents, Carol and Stephen are here visiting. Today they helped me clean the wall where my first public mural will be. It is a wall about 14 metres square located along the walkway to the Houghton Valley Community Hall and Playcentre. I have always loved that wall. My grandma had a dream that I painted a mural and told me about it not too long ago. It was as if I was meant to paint this wall. After asking the Progressive Association, Playcentre, and the Council if I could paint the wall, as well as having the paint donated, I was able to begin. Today was the big day. The wall is pretty rough and when we started scrubbing, it was amazing to see how much mould and dirt was caked onto the surface. Now it is light and bright, ready to be primed. I am thinking next Sunday I will see if any other people in the community would like to help with the priming.

Learning from Tobi

This should be my last post about Tobi. I was going to write her whole life story and all the memorable things that she has done. But it's too much writing. And I think I am making peace with losing her. I don't want to keep feeling sad by dragging it on. So I will write a little more about what she symbolized to me, and also a little about her death. As I had mentioned before, divorce has been a very hurtful thing in my life. I can't count all the divorces that have happened in my family on both hands. At the same time, I have always had a strong love and value for family. So when my family fell apart, I became reckless. I was not a partier, but rather a bit of a dare devil, at least for a girl. I think my parents thought I might have gone a little crazy. I know they worried about me, as well as everyone else. I would meet any challenge that arose. I jumped off 50 ft cliffs, surfed 12 foot waves on a longboard (it's only impressive because I wasn't a very good surfer), traveled through Nicaragua by myself and gave away all my money while doing so, traveled to Israel (again with no money), and quit college, vowing to never go back. I guess you could say I was testing God, yelling at him mostly. But I think he liked it actually, because no matter what I was doing I knew I was somehow safe. So when Tobi came along, it was like a big hand came down right in front of me and a loud thundering voice yelled, "stop!" So I did. Through caring for her, I learned how to reconcile and balance sensitivity with bravery. I was a tall, strong, water polo player that could bodyslam any of my brothers at the drop of a hat. But at the same time I was kind, gentle, and sensitive. Growing up I learned to believe that sensitivity was weakness, or contradictory to my more powerful characteristics. But Tobi was both and it was so beautiful. As I got to know her, in many ways I got to know myself. I learned to embrace all of me, rather than what others thought I should be. She also made me responsible. I had to learn how to take care of a very dependent little creature, which meant that I had to learn to take care of myself. So I went back to college and finished my degree. I learned interdependence, instead of independence as a way of life. This softened me up to the idea of marriage. It was so healing to be needed the way that Tobi needed me. I could go on and on about Tobi. But most of all, Tobi represented a promise. That day when I was crying with my good friend Yami, I believe that God heard me. I believe that God gave me Tobi as a promise that one day I would have a little family of my own. As Tobi grew older, she slowed down a great deal. We thought getting a second dog would be good for her. I believe it was, but because Miles was the most hyperactive, obnoxious, and out of control puppy that I have ever met, I think this also made Tobi grow old faster. Then when we moved to a house that had 67 steps leading up to it, and I had a baby, Tobi didn't get out nearly as much. Sometimes I have a lot of regret about how Tobi lived her last couple of years. But at the same time I think that if we did get her out more, she might have over exerted herself and died even sooner. So it was what it was. On Friday, Pearl and I took both dogs down to the park for a bit of a play. Tobi was so happy to be out. She jumped on her little balance board and people laughed and took pictures of her. Then we all began walking down a little hill. When I looked back, Tobi was lying down, breathing slowly and peacefully. I called her but she didn't respond. So I walked over to her. A neighbor came over and we knelt down and pet her. I knew that if her breathing didn't pick up, she wasn't going to make it. About a minute later, she stopped breathing...and she was gone. So it was very tragic, but at the same time beautiful. I felt like God was saying that he had fulfilled his promise to me and now I needed to move forward and embrace it. I have my beautiful little family. Now God wanted his dog back. I put Pearl in the backpack and carried Tobi up the hill. That evening we buried her above the house on a little hill looking out on the ocean. We planted a little succulent garden over her grave. I wanted it to look a little out of place, because thats how Tobi seemed most of the time. We have lived in New Zealand for four years and I have resisted calling it home because it is so far away. But I have known that this home for a long time. And now I really know, because Tobi will never leave this place. So it was good, but sad. I don't think I would have wanted her to go any other way. I just wasn't ready.

Ten Things About Tobi

I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to go with the next little post about Tobi. She was a quirky character, overflowing with personality. I think it's important to understand that she wasn't just any dog. When I write about Tobi, her name could never be replaced by another. Here are ten things about Tobi's personality that made her so special. 1. She has been to four countries and was bilingual. 2. A kitten once decided she was her mother. Even though Tobi never had puppies, she managed to make milk for the little thing. 3. She liked to skateboard. 4. Whenever I took Tobi to a creek, she would put her head under water and bob for rocks. She would then proceed to make a pile out of them.

Tobi at the Creek from Morgan Loomis on Vimeo.

5.If you talked to Tobi like she was a dog, she would sit down and ignore you. But if you talked to her like a person, with respect and in complete sentences, she would do anything for you. 6. She has had multiple operations on her knee, tail, soft pallet, eyeballs, and foot. This is why I do not recommend getting a bulldog (unless you don't have anything else to spend your money on). Morgan has documented all of her operations and health issues at poortobi.blogspot.com 7. Tobi loved the water. But it took her years to learn to swim. The first time she saw a pool, she leaped into it and sunk right to the bottom. I had to rescue her. So we got her a life jacket.

8. She was very gentle and loved all creatures, big and small.

9. Her favorite thing to do was to stand on this springy surf/balance board at the park. In fact that is what she was doing right before she passed away.

10. She once met a bull. At that moment her life had changed forever because she had discovered her purpose. After hundreds of years of breeding bulldogs so that their only purpose is to be amusing, Tobi still knew what to do. She charged the bull and we had to wrestle her to the ground before she was injured or worse.

Sweet Tobi: A Multi Cultural Beauty

My sweet little Tobi passed away yesterday. I don't believe most people understand just how important she was to me, or how unique she was. In fact, people who knew her well agreed that she was much less of a dog and much more of a mythical beast. To express why this loss is so hard and why she was so amazing, I have decided to write her story. My dad and stepmother had just gone through a terrible custody battle, which was very traumatic for everyone. Divorce is something that has scarred our lives deeply. It wasn't this moment that made me feel that I needed to make a change, it was the layers upon layers of divorce that came from every corner of my family's make up. So I went away to Costa Rica for a year. I volunteered with the missionary organization JUCUM (youth with a mission). Meaning to stay for three months, I ended up staying for a year. Being in a place completely foreign to what I was used to allowed me to think through my life, upbringing, beliefs, and identity. It was my walkabout. Even though it was a good time, it was also the most lonely time of my life. Because I spoke very little Spanish, and was not accustomed to the culture, I often felt isolated. A friend whom I had met a few months before coming to Costa Rica decided to come for a visit. But he would be what we should really call a suiter. I didn't like him in that way, and made it very clear. But it was awkward and weird just the same. One day we were downtown and we walked by a petshop. In the window, there were little puppies tumbling around and looking adorable. As we got on the bus I told him I wished I could have a dog. He smiled, got up from his seat and said, "I'll meet you back at the base. Theres something I have to do." That night he returned with a little two month old bulldog puppy sleeping in his shirt like a baby in a hammock. He handed her to me and said, "Here's your dog." I thought for sure the base director wouldn't let me keep her. But he was an animal lover. He just smiled and said nothing. I kept the puppy ... but not the boy. So she was my baby and my little terror from that day forward. In the morning we would go for walks before everyone else was up. Through the brightly colored houses with bars on the windows, and up the windy and rocky roads we would walk, until we got to a little grassy spot. There I would lay down, look up at the clouds and pray. Tobi would rest her little puppy jowls on my cheek and I would tickle her ear with a blade of grass. For nine months we did this, and over time she became my little protector as well as companion. Being a tall, blonde, young woman in Costa Rica made me a magnet for male attention. As Tobi grew older, she looked outward toward the path while I lay in the grass, to see if anyone was coming. You may know Bulldogs are known to noisy breathers, and Tobi was no exception. As I lay there, she would hold her breath for about three seconds and listen for people approaching. Then.....gasp for another breath and hold it again. When men did approach, she sounded the alarm. Even though she was sweet natured, she could also be frightening to a stranger. Not only did she protect me, she also discouraged unwanted social interaction. It was wonderful. When it was time to go back to the U.S. I wasn't sure what to do with Tobi. A nice family had recently come to the base and they seemed to really get along with her. I asked them if they would take her when I went back. I didn't want to leave her and just the thought killed me. It wasn't until my dad said, "well you can't leave your little dog behind" that I even considered a dog traveling by plane. It was such a relief to think that she could chome with me. Before I left Costa Rica, I had a real meltdown. As I cleared out my room and packed my bag, I cried and cried. My good friend Cinthia's mother heard me. She came in and comforted me. I love Cinthia's family. They were always so good to me and accepted me as their own. They were kind to each other, loving and open. They also loved Tobi and cared for her when I went on trips to panama or nicaragua to renew my visa. I told Yami, (Cinthia's mom) that all I wanted was a family of my own, a loving little family like her's. She prayed for me and I hugged Tobi and cried. On the day of my flight, the ticket agent told me that it was too hot for my short nosed dog to fly and I had to wait until Autumn to get her on a plane. My heart hurt so bad to leave her. But there was nothing I could do. The base director's had dogs and they agreed to take her for a while. I flew into LAX and stayed with my aunt for two weeks, just waiting for the my little dog. Every day I called two different airlines and a pet courier, trying to get her to me. Finally the day came. She was to arrive at the cargo area at 10:00pm. When I got there, no one knew anything about a dog. They suggested I waited until midnight when another truck would be unloaded. So I sat in the car for two hours, praying that Tobi would be in the truck. I desperately needed my little dog. But she was not on the truck. I ran around peeking in every warehouse, asking the people working there if they saw a little bulldog. Finally I came to a building where I heard a group excited voices and my lovely little Tobi, hysterically barking like an alien getting his toes stepped on (thats just how bulldogs sound). I took her out of the crate and we ran, skipped and rolled around on the black top kissing and hugging eachother. Never mind that she was covered in her own shit because she had been sitting in her kennel so long. I was just so happy to see her. And she was so happy to see me. As I cleared Tobi through customs, a large, stern, and lovely black man in a military uniform stamped her little doggy passport and said, "welcome home ma'am." It was such a strange thing to say. But I realized it was true, wherever Tobi was, I was home.

Goodbye Joe

Last weekend I said goodbye to my father inlaw Joe Loomis. To be honest I could never write something that would adequately describe what he means to me. But I will try. When I was in high school, Morgan and I started dating. For my 18th Birthday we had a party at the Opera House. Being young, we didn't think about practical things like what we were going to eat, or where we were going to sleep. No one brought food that night. We just wanted to play. Joe looked at me and Morgan and asked, "What are you going to eat?" I said, " I don't know. We'll be alright." An hour later Joe had returned from town with tri-tip steaks and garlic bread for us. He didn't have to do it. We really would have been fine. But he wanted to. When Morgan and I were having a hard time in high school, Morgan decided to go for a walk in the middle of the night. He walked for hours until he finally walked so far that he didn't think he could walk back. So he called his dad to come get him. Joe asked him what was wrong. After Morgan explained a little, all Joe said was, " I thought it was either drugs or a woman." That was all he said. When we told him we were getting married ten years later, he giggled with delight and said, "I thought that was what you were going to say. Wonderful! I loved being married" I remember the first time he told me he loved me. He was standing in the doorway of the house he was building. He was laughing with delight when he said it, I just couldn't believe how happy we made him. He was a great listener and curious about everything. I love historical narratives and he loved history. We went on and on about Columbus, Cortez, and little Lady Barker from the NZ Sheep station. Every time he saw me he brought up a book that he thought I would like. It was a collection of journal entries from women who crossed the United State by wagon train. He never knew what happened to his copy of the book. It most likely got burned up in one the many house fires he lived through. A few days before the memorial I found the book he recommended on my grandma's bookshelf. I guess I am destined to read it. Morgan's mom and dad had an interesting relationship that I never really understood. When my parents divorced, they avoided each other. Even now, they don't talk and only see each other when it is absolutely necessary. Morgan's parents though, were very different. Wherever their kids were, they both were, even after being divorced. They made conversation and never minded each other's presence. They did this for their children. I thought when people got a divorce, that was it. You take these friends, I take these. We don't talk to each other. The kids make all the visitation arrangements, and I no longer care about you... at all. Most people think this way about divorce. Its normal. But Carol and Joe were never normal. When you talk to anyone about their marriage, everyone agrees that they loved each other very much. And even when it was over, their respect and a tinge of love lingered. I believe how they handled their divorce left their children whole. The combination of Carol's abundance of unconditional love, and Joe's unconditional acceptance and respect for individuals made some amazing children. Joe was a man of principle. He believed that things were the way they were and people were the way they were. It wasn't our job to change anyone or anything. It was our job to wonder. He found amusement and pleasure in the simplest things. When he was showing us around his amazing home that he built himself, I made the polite conversational comment that all he needed was a few pictures to hang on the walls. For some reason he thought that was hilarious. The next time we came to visit he had maps, family photos, and art hanging everywhere, all because of me he would say. He never did things to achieve higher financial or social status. He never did things for the sake of completing tasks. He did things for his pleasure and enjoyment. When I think about this I think that his mind was closer to godliness than any of us, as pleasure is the purest motivation to create. Because of Joe, my love for people has become simplified. While some see his refusal to dwell on problems as a fault, I see it as optimism and idealism. For this I can respect him and be eternally grateful for what I have learned from him.

Reflection

I have been following the Travon Martin and Mark Zimmerman situation for a while now and thought I would reflect on how I feel and what I think about all of it. I think firstly, it is tragic on so many levels. Any loss of life, especially someone who is so young, is painful and horrific to see. Secondly, I think it is wrong that people are judging Travon Martin by how he dressed and what he may or may not have done in his short life. He is dead. It is not right for anyone to criminalize him to justify his death. What we need to do is show respect to his family. As a nation we need to love them and mourn with them for their tragic loss. As big as the United States is, we are supposed to be a family. As a spectator of this tragedy, I don't believe there is enough evidence to say if Zimmerman "murdered" Martin, or "killed" him in self defence. I know very small pieces about the confrontation and it is not right for me to pass a judgement like this. It isn't right for people to feel like they have to pass such a judgement. This brings me to the real issue. The culture of the U.S. is "Right or Wrong, Yes or No, Hot or Cold....Black or White." Whatever happened to "I don't know, I need more information, I choose not to judge, I can see both sides of the situation and they both have merritt...every situation is different?" People are so obsessed with being right that they don't take a moment to try and understand how another person is feeling. There is no reconciliation in the culture of the United States. This is why race will always be an issue, even if it was or was not a motivating factor in the death of Travon Martin. The United States is one of the most legalistic places I have ever lived. This is why this situation is so sickening. The deeper problem is the law that allowed one man to carry a gun, shoot and kill another without any legal accountability. While yes he went on trial in the end. It was however, only because of the outcry of the public. If it were up to the law, there wouldn't have been a trial. And in the end, because of the law, the entire trial and judgement only caused more pain and resentment for our country. What the public wanted in this situation was a country that made judgements based on morality, rather than law. But laws these days are so hard to change in the United States that there is little room for conscience any more. In New Zealand, the government can pass a law in three days if they want to. In the United States it takes years because of all the earmarks, 1000 page bills, lobbying, and corruption. Even though people desperately want change, It takes lifetimes for it to happen. In Travon's case, a very short lifetime. Race is in the very soil of our country. It is cut into every person's subconscious like a dry river bed winding through a desert. It is not Travon Martin's death alone that causes people to cry out and rebel. It is the history of our nation. People talk about slavery as if it were a thing. It is not a thing. It is millions of people being uprooted, chained, beaten, raped, whipped, and murdered for over 100 years. After slavery was "abolished" black people were in even more danger, this time of losing their lives. Because they were no longer considered "property" it didn't matter if they lived or died. Thousands of black people were lynched, burned alive, and shot without proper trial for at least another 70 years (withoutsanctuary.org). Then, for another 40 years, black people were legally prevented from voting, attending the same schools as white people, and eating or drinking or using the same bathroom facilities as white people. This was all permitted under the legality or the fabric of our society until 1964 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civil_Rights_Act_of_1964). So for nearly 200 years our country, our constitution, "we the people" allowed for this terror to take place. I refer to this history because I can understand why people choose to riot and use violent protest, especially in a society where the most influential nonviolent civil rights leader was assassinated. Today, when a young black man is shot, people cry racism not because they know all the facts. They cry racism because of our country's track record. This history is crazy making. Honestly, what would 200 years of violence do to a group of people? In the end, I do not believe that violent protest solves anything. But I can at least understand it. When I first started learning and exploring issues of race, I would become defensive. I would say, "I did not do this to them." While this is technically true, it does not give me the excuse to deny that racism exists and that it is still a problem. By denying it and taking no responsibility for this problem, I am the problem. I am not writing this because I have the answers. The only thing I feel certain about is that we need to stop being defensive and listen to each other even if it makes us uncomfortable. We need to let someone who is angry vent on us for a while. We need to be strong enough to not be afraid of anger, be compassionate and brave enough to be empathetic. We must be big enough to forgive even when we are not forgiven. In the very end, Love. Love doesn't mean criticizing or judging. It doesn't mean being confrontational and closed minded. If you don't know what love means, go look it up, 1 Corinthians 13.

Here are some things I have learned through other people's breakups and divorces 1. Don't have unrealistic expectations for the person you marry, let them surprise you. It is not their job to fulfill you, give you babies, or make you happy. 2. Show your kids how much you love them by putting your spouse first. 3.Don't marry someone just so you can sleep with them. 4.Don't expect your spouse to be able to read your mind. 5. Share how you feel several times a day, even when you don't want to. Encourage them to do the same. 6. Don't try to live up to the cultural expectations of marriage. 7. Always be willing to try. 8. Believe that people can and will change.

I would say about eight years ago I had a dream. I was sitting on a beach in my swim suit, looking out into the ocean. Everything was all grey and purple, the way it gets in Maui. There were either a few islands, or I was nestled into a large bay that wrapped around and made the illusion of islands across the channel. Classical music was playing in the background, yet it wasn't actually background music. It was like the wind, perfectly natural and soothing. As I sat there, a warm northerly breeze kissed my face and pushed back my hair. I was all golden and happy. Out in the Channel, Humpback whales who's bodies' were painted with Maori designs were leaping and dancing to the music. As a cymbal crashed they lunged out of the water and slapped their backs down in unison. There were big and small whales, dancing and breeching to the music. It was totally lovely. And there I was, warm and peaceful, looking out at this amazing sight. My hands and fingers were slowly digging themselves into the sand like roots spreading at the bottom of a tree. The whales were on a journey and traveled quickly while putting on this epic show. I knew when I woke up that they were from New Zealand and one day I would go there. But I didn't realize until later, that New Zealand would become my home and this is where my roots would spread.

Teaching fun things

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More Randomness

I don't really write on here very often anymore. I'm just not that much of a technology person. I think I would rather have a really nice pen, and a cute little notebook that reminds me of something I love. Then I write. I did get a notebook like that. There is a stencil of a little girl sitting at the end of a pier. Since I am training to be a teacher, I have been doing a lot of brainstorms with the class. So I filled up my little notebook with cute little brainstorms about my childhood. It was so much fun. I wrote about my pink Jellies (the shoes), riding my bike all over Santa Cruz, Slurpees, pretending to be smurfs, all that kind of stuff. I even wrote about the soft, powdery dirt at my aunts house in Bakersfield. I remember waking up in the morning and walking outside and it being so dry, (even in the morning) that as my barefoot hit the dirt, it puffed and scattered into the air. I used to think that this must have been what the dirt was like on the moon when Armstrong first put his foot down. It was really fun to just list and organize things about my childhood. It made me feel all warm and nostalgic.
I'm liking everything that is going on in my life now. Its pretty amazing actually. The other day, a friend who I knew in Berkley who also lives here now, and I went out to get boba. Do you know what that is. Its this really sweet creamy milk tea with gummy tapioca balls at the bottom. They look like fish eggs, but taste like gummy bears that have been sitting in liquid for a while. We love it. I know it doesn't sound that appealing. But it is, and its amusing. Anyway, were talking about how here in New Zealand we have more friends then we have had since High school. Its pretty crazy to think about it actually. But it's true. I feel surrounded by amazing people that almost always say yes. Its lovely. But at the same time its almost a little scary. I have roots in a place that is thousands of miles from my family. Eek! Its great, but also a dilemma.
Keeping this blog random, I thought I would tell you that we got rid out our chickens. They are very wild you see. When I got them, I envisioned that they would run over to me every morning and let me pick them up, like the chickens I had when I was little. But they never did that. In fact they screamed like I was killing them when I was holding them. They hated me with a passion. I never liked that about that. The final straw was when the neighbors came over (twice) to tell me that they were going over into their yard and pooping everywhere. Even though we fed them, gave them a little house, clipped their wings, and put up a fence, the still wouldn't hang out in our yard. So they are gone now. Goodbye Janets. Thank you Morgan for letting us get them. I think one day I will get chickens again. But I will look into their breed more and make sure they have a big, safe coop.
Well, everything is going well. Morgan is loving his job. He is still working on Tintin. It sounds like he is doing some interesting collaborative work on some of the characters. And whenever I get to see a little bit of what they are working on, it looks better and better all of the time. Since I am at school every day, which is much farther away, he has been riding the scooter. I feel bad for him driving it in the cold. Luckily it isn't too far. And then he has been coming home at lunch time to look after the dogs. My classes have just finished. Now I have two weeks to study for finals. I am excited that we will have lunches together again.
That's all really, oh and I have another Roller derby game coming up in a few weeks. Should be good.
Love,
Jessica

Roller Derby

So I am playing Roller Derby now. I did a freshemat course in the Bay Area when we lived in Berkeley and was going to play there. But we moved to New Zealand. Almost two years later I did another freshmeat course here and am finally on a team and playing. It has been a lot of fun. The people are great. There is such a mix of lifestyles and personalities. Sometimes I get frustrated because I am too competitive and I like to compare it to the BAD girls. But I realize I just can't and I need to have fun. So since I realized that, it has been great. We had our first bout last weekend and I got a few really good blocks. Here are some pics.

Castle Point!

My mom is here! So we drove out to Castle Point and hung out at the beach. The first beach we went to was right on the road and didn't look good for dogs or surfing. But our friends told us that on the other side of the point it was pretty nice. So we drove over there. You have to drive on the beach and it is amazing. its this perfect little bay surrounded by sheltering rocks. And in the far corner there is an amazing surf spot. Morgan got a new lens for his camera. So he tried it out on me while I was surfing. Iv'e never really had surf pictures. So thats neat. It has been so awesome to have my mom here. She makes me feel all comfortable and relaxed. She gets why we love New Zealand so much.
Bye!

Hedge Hog in the Garden

Look what we found in the garden. He is just a baby. We played with him for a while and then let him go. I was afraid he would be too pokey to hold. but if you pick him up from underneath, and don't squeeze, its ok. He was just a little ball at first, all tucked into his spines like a sleeping bag. But then he got comfortable and wandered around. Really cute.

South Island

My favorite part of the trip was this little pig. I really fell in love with him. His name is Herman and is 14 weeks old. He is a Kunekune pig, related to the potbelly and a descendant of the pigs the Polynesians brought with them when traveling. Maybe its because he is the same size as my bulldog and snorts and grunts just like her. Or maybe it's because he comes running when he sees you, and rolls on to his back when you scratch his belly. I don't know. But I do know that I really want a pig now. He lives at Kelcey's Bush in Waimate. It's run by an older couple who bought the property about 15 years ago. They planted trees, put in some baches (like a little studio, or ohana) and set up a petting zoo. Waimate is the only place in New Zealand where there are wild wallabies. They were introduced a long time ago and are now considered a pest. The Ironic thing was that the man who owns the holiday park and raises baby wallabies, once killed them for a living. As he bottle fed a little one who's mother was shot by a hunter, he told us this. I thought to myself, darn! I wish I brought my tape recorder. He sounded like such an interesting character. Later he came over to chat for a while. And as it turns out, I was right. He has lead quite an interesting life. For the past several years he has been going to Thailand to train as a Mahout. This is someone who trains elephants! Wow. Anyway, this place felt good and was definitely the highlight of my trip, aside from petting eels....

The first place we stayed was Hokitika, a small beach town on the west coast. We traveled with our dogs, so everything we did depended on if they could come, if they were tired enough to stay in the car, and if it wasn't too hot for them to stay in the car. While there, we did a little night walk and saw a grotto with glow worms. There were so many of them that it looked like the stars in the sky. I saw a sign for a place where you could feed fresh water eels. We went in the morning and it was so awesome. They are huge, like 3 meters long. There were about 30 of them in a tank and they were all between 80 and 100 years old. As it turned out they can't see very well, but they knew when it was time to eat. Morgan and I got to kneel down and feed them little strips of meat. It was funny how they wiggled around like a baby bird, trying to find the food dangling above them. I asked if I could pet one. They said sure. So I got my hand wet and went for one of their bellies. Just then and employee grabbed my hand and pulled it out of the water. One of the eels was sneaking up to bite me. I tried it again, this time in a better position to see all of the eels. They are of course slimy and squishy, like a Sea Cucumber. Very Cool.

We had Christmas in Queenstown with a few friends who were also there for the Holiday. Ee rode a gondola to the top of a mountain to look out on the city. It was really beautiful with amazingly rugged and steep mountains, and a lake down in the middle of the valley. Over all though, unless you were bungi jumping, sky diving, or river rafting, there wasn't too much going on. It was a very transient place filled with young people from all over the world. In fact, I think we only talked to one Kiwi the whole time we were there. Anyway, we wanted to do something really special for Christmas. So we rode the Luge. They are like these little go-carts that just roll down the mountain. It was really fun. We raced each other and caused a little trouble. After a few days there, we and our friends said goodbye and went our separate ways.

The West Coast of the South Island is the most unique. The lush Native Forrest is everywhere, and swollen rivers and waterfalls are constantly changing the landscape. We saw the Fox Glacier and the Fanz Joseph Glacier. Unfortunately we couldn't walk on them. The trails were closed due to flooding the day before. But they were magnificent. They looked like clouds got stuck on the mountains and just froze there.

We also stayed in Kaikoura, which is like San Luis Obispo California in the 1950's. I really fell in love with that place. I think it was because it reminded me of home, but more peaceful and fewer people.

Christchurch was a neat place. Morgan looked up dog parks in the area and found and awesome one. It was all fenced off with two agility courses and a river running down the middle. Miles chased other dogs while Tobi swam in the river. Earlier that day we took them to a lake where we all swam around too. Since it rained the next day, and the dogs were good and tired, we went to the Canterbury museum and botanical gardens. It was a great museum. The exhibits were really interesting and easy to follow. And everything was set up Chronologically, from the first Polynesians who settled in New Zealand to modern day.

It was such and amazing trip. The best part of it was to be able to be with Morgan all the time. I love being with him. We really needed this little vacation, away from work, computers, and responsibility, so that we could really enjoy all the blessings that God has given us.

Post Card Home

The other day a friend came over to do arty stuff. I served her a cup of tea, showed her our chickens and brought in some eggs, and when Morgan came home, gave her some home made ice cream. She looked at us and said, "You two are so domestic." A few years ago that comment might have been offensive. But today it feels good. My dad has said it a few times. He will call when I am making curtains, painting, or planting something. The thing is, its the house. Its just so lovely that all I want to do is be in or around it. Its perfect for making messes. The old hardwood floors with little worm holes carved into them will never look bad. The back yard is big and wild. I just looked out, and there is our perfect white duck cleaning himself by the pond, and our cat stalking something in the grass. The dogs are asleep in the bay window and all I can hear is the tick of the kitchen clock. Its like a hand painted post card from 1910, but with all the modern amenities. My studio is filled with Canvas and fabrics. The ocean air makes me think back to when I was little and living in Pismo. This is the first place I have ever lived where I have been able to keep plants, (other than succulents) alive. Sometimes I want to walk across the street just to dig my fingers into the sand and feel what it is like to be home.