Eagles and Ravens

Lessons learned from bugs and bunnies (dead or alive)

2010-03-05T21:01:00.000-08:00

In the last week the following things have happened in my outdoor domain - birds found and ate my tomatoes (now have to build a mesh enclosure over both seeds and established plants); earwigs attempted an assault on my basil (thwarted by dark beer, must get more tuna cans and dark beer); ditto for the unidentified pests who have a penchant for radish tops (note to self: figure out what those suckers are); pepper seeds failed to germinate (code word: "replant"); torrential rains caused all of the pea seeds to fill a few holes and sprout together there (now must untangle and replant); and a new cubic yard of dirt was delivered, but the fully loaded truck got stuck in the mud (many concrete blocks, spare chain, and two by fours later.... we called for help!). Oh, and the cats have decided to bring their many gifts directly to the back door, in hopes of wooing the nearest serial killer (this week's tally - five small rabits, a few lizards; several field mice, and one mouse that was large I remain convinced it was conceived by a power plant).

On the indoor front, there are now chickens in the bathtub.

I am going somewhere with this... I think. In all honesty, I am not completely sure. Today, though, as I was making a list of things to buy during yet another trip to the feed and hardware stores, I realized that a) I will not get all of this done; b) I can't force more daylight, plants to grow, cats to stop killing things, or garden predators to move on; and c) that is okay. The above three points are one definition of "patience."

Modern women are not forced to cultivate skills like patience. We are told to go after what we want aggressively, decisively, and in designer footwear. We may not know how to cook or bake, but we wield a Blackberry like no one's business. We may never be taught to care for plant, animals, or other people, but we'll sign on the dotted line to buy houses, cars, and vacation flats without a man's money to back us up. We are weaned on terms like "work-life balance," that talk a lot about work, give a brief mention of balance, and fail to mention our immortal souls.

I am not immune to the pull of progress. It would be easy to immerse myself in work, dedicate every waking hour to someone else's whims, and dream of the things I will do "when I have time." But now, on the cusp of a summer I will spend by myself, I am thinking a great deal about the skills we learn from others, the points that only nature can make, and the things that the internet will never share.

I learn when I am alone, the types of lessons that you learn when there is no one to rely on but yourself. Lessons like how to trim an entire lawn with a weed whacker because you don't know how to fix the lawn mower and don't want to pay someone to do it; how to grill without a propane explosion; how to take a washing machine apart and how many towels it takes to clean up the water afterward; and how to cook, exercise, rest, and exist in a manner that makes you happy. Lessons like how to grow food, feed my animals, and tackle garden challenges one at a time.

I am beginning to loathe the electronic leash that is my Blackberry. It's a good feeling.

Putting down roots in the rain

2010-02-27T13:56:00.000-08:00

I can think of better things to do when it's raining than garden. But sometimes, a woman has to roll up her sleeves, jump into the mud, and make things grow.

I am thinking a great deal about gardens lately, as two weeks of building beds, hauling topsoil, and expanding further and further down the hill I live and plant on comes to a close (thoughts like how on earth am I going to maintain 300+ square feet of vegetables, fruit, and herbs by myself; where am I going to store this stuff when I start harvesting and processing in about a month; why won't the dogs stop trying to nap in the potato beds; and who really needs 4 rows of bok choy?). Several thoughts in particular continue to strike me:

First, making things grow, literally and metaphorically, is a tremendous undertaking that demands physical and emotional energy, not to mention the courage to examine the spiritual. This year I will grow herbs ("regular" and cinnamon basil, rosemary, marjoram, thyme, catnip, peppermint, stevia, three types of oregano, dill, cilantro, and a few others that escape me now); summer squash; winter squash; giant pumpkins; white pumpkins (why not?); yellow taxi, roma, steak, cherry, and "golden sunrise" tomatoes; jalapeno, serrano, and habanero peppers; green and stoplight bell peppers; lettuce, hot mustard, mild mustard, ruffled endive, arugula, and "fancy" mixed salad greens; kholrabi; bok choy; green and yellow onions; snap and sweet peas; radishes; fingerling, baby golden, and red potatoes; strawberries; key and mexican sweet limes; tangerines; grapefruit; lemons; and hopefully, almonds. All of these plants must be cared for daily, harvested, then processed - either used immediately, canned, dehydrated, frozen, smoked, or some combination of the above. This can be back-breaking, hand-hardening work. This is work that provides for me, my animals, and my family. This is work that provokes wonder and faith - to watch seeds grow, blossom, fruit; to rummage in the dirt while your animals frolic in the green that you nurture; to sleep sound in the knowledge that no matter what happens to WalMart, you are provided for... this is to know God.

I am continually amazed by the number of people who express surprise when I regularly choose my garden, my land, my animals, over the more traditional pursuits of those living in southern California. These are the same people who click their tongues against their teeth and make disapproving noises at the blisters on my hands. While sores from breaking the ground are not the most feminine thing, I can think of nothing more glittering and attractive than a woman who uses her body, her skills, her talents, and the resources around her for the good of herself and those she loves. These are the signs of a country raising, that's true, but sure as I sit here, when fancy houses start sliding down hills, WalMart closes in the face of war with Asia, and prices rise until people pray the state will fall into the ocean, the country will need women who don't shy away from blisters, never stop in the face of a few burns, and aren't afraid to get their hands dirty.

A few garden views; the primary beds are here, on two levels, but there are several others scattered around. Multiple smaller beds make upkeep easier and the workload more manageable.

What's the point of birthdays? Gratitude!

2010-01-24T14:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I celebrated my first quarter century in this life. It was fun, full, and completely unexpected.

Like many, I often find myself bogged down in too much work and not enough play. Running from job to job, debating major life decisions, worrying over the minor, it is a continual challenge to honor my relationships with the time and resources they need to flourish. These relationships are, as my grandfather says, all that matter in the end. I was reminded yesterday that love - whether it is between family, friends, people and animals, those together on a healing journey, or some other form of interaction - is a two-way street, and I am blessed beyond measure to be surrounded by men, women, children, and animals who believe the same.

To those who sent so many text messages and emails that my Blackberry battery gagged and said "enough" (then theatrically died in the middle of the night, begging for its charger); those whom I have met and those who I have not, but who called all the same and made me laugh; to the parents who shower me with gifts both tangible and otherwise; the friend who offered a rainbow of stones to wear around my neck and a bottle of wine with a Rottweiler on the label -

Thank you. I am grateful for your offering and your reminder. I love you, too.

With a grin and gratitude for a very happy birthday,
Jan

A Year of Inspiration Coming Soon...

2010-01-01T16:11:00.000-08:00

For my first juggling act of 2010, in January I will move, travel 10 days for work, teach a large class, appear at another speaking engagement, present a booth at a festival, finish a powerlifting training cycle, help several friends ready for deployment, and celebrate my 25th birthday.

When merely looking at your appointment book can send you into peals of laughter (aside: I highly recommend Brush Dance if you are looking for a day planner, they produce inspiring, affordable products that are formatted for maximum use), it is probably smart to refrain from adding additional tasks to the workload. What, then, to do about the obligatory "New Year's Resolution?"

I say "obligatory" because every good American, regardless of what we might say, feels some level of obligation to formulate a resolution, if for no other reason than to have something to talk about at New Year's Eve parties and avoid an appearance of the consummate lazy Western slob. I am not immune, despite the realization that I am constantly formulating, revising, and achieving goals; despite the fact that I know winter is not the time we are physiologically wired to pursue ambitious new objectives; despite the knowledge that my proverbial plate is joyfully sliding all over the table as it is, and cannot tolerate one more task piled precariously on top before the whole thing goes crashing to the floor. It's all fun and games to make resolutions until you lose your ability to hang onto any of them.....

As I reflected last night, bathed in the frantic, caressing glow of a blue moon and too much champagne, I realized that rather than thinking in terms of "tasks and goals," I can capitalize upon the New Year by thinking in terms of "attitudes and perspectives." Adjusting, shifting, and refining my perspective at the beginning of 2010 will even enhance my ability to accomplish concrete objectives. For instance, I intend to finish my first book by fall, an exploration of cyclical living and discussion of how and why such a lifestyle is vital to our ability to thrive. With the workload outlined above, I often find myself stressed and anxious about how and when I will actually find time to write. A nervous approach does nothing to help me tap into the fearlessness necessary to explore the topic, to share words and ideas and thoughts in full. A harried energy distracts me from pursuing the experiences and people necessary to my continued development as a creator and an artist.

Going further, to a more honest place, I will share that there are times I feel split into two as a result of stress and the demand that I perform and live in accordance with the strictures of modern society. In constrained environments I can become defensive, overly aggressive, short. I want to always be open, fierce but gentle, loving and light, courageous enough to follow my true path despite the doubts and scorn of others.

How to cling to that courage? I am not entirely sure, but as an artist I believe that an image always helps. I have shared before that posting pictures of an ideal can help me achieve it. Then I encouraged all to "Visualize the creative self while you are filling your space with inspirational objects, sights, and sounds. On the bulletin board above the desk where I write, wedged in between soaring landscapes, I keep a picture of myself on the Copper River with no makeup, camping hair, a sunburn, and an absolutely happy smile. A similar picture of myself is propped behind the easel where I paint. That is the me I want to be – that is the portrait of a happy, creative woman. That ideal, my ideal, reminds me to harness the energy of that woman whenever I pick up a pen or a paintbrush. Putting up pictures of yourself is neither modest nor socially acceptable, but it can be inspiring, and that is what matters." I remain convinced, and first resolve to have enough adventures to be able to say, a year from now, "there is the picture of what I became in 2010."

Also, in no particular order, in 2010 I resolve to:

- trust - the strength of my foundation, myself, and Spirit

- cultivate faith - in myself, my God, my visions, and my path

- walk - free of fear, without hesitation, and with a laugh

- remain - inspired, creative, happy

I'll keep you posted as I work to sustain these resolutions. In the meantime, Happy New Year!

A Moose is a Moose, of Course, of Course

2009-12-29T22:20:00.000-08:00

Nothing says "Alaska" like moose. Whether you visit once or stay for years, you will have a moose story by the time you leave (if you leave!), or at the very least, a t-shirt, key chain, coffee mug, or hat with one of these fantastic creatures emblazoned proudly across it.

This morning I woke to a moose pawing gracefully at the bag of trash by our curb. A few hours later, a cow visited the salt lick on the edge of the yard. The next afternoon, the same location was visited by another cow and her twin calves, while a second new female bedded down in the trees. I never tire of watching them, and remain fascinated by how similar their movements are to the horses that dot the fields at my parent's ranch.

(photo copyright Jan Bowers, Anchorage 2009)

While you can learn just about everything you ever want to know about their feeding, mating, sleeping, and other behaviors here (did you know that a fully grown bull moose can weigh up to 1,600 pounds?) or here (did you know that moose are the largest members of the deer family?), it is hard to describe the impact moose have on Alaska until you experience it first-hand. From front yard photo opportunities to big game hunts, car accidents, and assaults on local gardens, these horse-like creatures affect the way Alaskans plant their vegetables and flowers, drive, eat, and live.

To me, moose symbolize growth. I doubt I will ever lose the sense of excitement I felt the first time I met one - she emerged from the brush and came tantalizingly close to the passenger door of our car when stopped at an intersection on our way down to Whittier. Now I observe roadsides, forests, and other open spaces with a greater sense of calm, allowing my eyes to grow old and center on the gentle giants who do not change as quickly as we do. I have learned how to moose-proof a garden, tell a young bull from a baby cow, and identify the signs that it is time to move away (every year people are injured or killed by moose, most commonly in car accidents, or by cows protecting their calves. When their ears turn back and flatten against their heads, it is time to go! A lowered head, prancing, and curled lip follow if the animal remains threatened. I strongly suggest that prior to any potential encounters, thoroughly research the creatures and their behaviors, and afford them the respect of a large swath of space. Moose can travel up to 35 mph, but will seldom run far after a fleeing target. If a moose does charge you, run. If you are trampled, curl into a ball and protect your head and torso while doing your best to avoid the hooves.)

This year, however, I was humbled by the chance to lay my hands on a moose when we took a bull on a fall hunt (see older entries to learn more about that adventure). As he breathed his last, I allowed my chest to fall with him, and found words shimmer to our shared surface. These words changed my life, making clear to me a connection that needs to be explored. For now, though, I simply share them with you, that you may join our circle:

You are here.

Thank you for your gift.

Thank you for providing.

I will remember all that you saw.

You will nourish me.

I will grow strong.

Strong enough to roam these mountains

as you did.

I feel you.

Until we meet again,

thank you for your gift.

(all photos copyright Jan Shultis 2009)

Alaska is for writers

2009-12-15T20:54:00.000-08:00

A seemingly obvious statement due to the whole "nature," "adventure," "bears bigger than horses," "moose on the porch," "last frontier" thing, but humor me.

I say Alaska is for writers (or painters, musicians, and craftsman) because I believe that creative persons need two things to actually create - 1) grand experiences, and 2) time and space to let these experience simmer, brew, toss and turn over themselves, and emerge as a hopefully fragrant stew. It helps if the latter is a period free of distractions, so nothing remains but to catapult from the status of "person with a great idea" (i.e., everyone with a brain) to "one who logs off the internet, steps away from the cell phone, and creates."

Alaska provides both of these opportunities in a cycle as regular and simple as our sun. Summers are for work, play, and ranging far over mountains and rivers. Winters are for huddling close, embracing the darkness and building your own light, free of fear and full of faith that the sun will rise again. Summer is for doing. Winter is for surviving. For a writer, that means writing; for a painter, picking up a brush; for a musician, placing fingers to strings, keys, and stops; for a craftsman.... I'll have to google it, but I'm confident it's an equally stimulating season.

I wonder what I will see this winter, this holiday season. It can be hard to write in southern California, hemmed in on every side by people and cars and sun. The snow waits for me, so deep and crisp that I will have no refuge save my own thoughts. I look toward it eagerly.

More words of wisdom - writers should always carry a notepad, pen, and paper with them, so if the snow pours forth in an avalanche and you are trapped for days, you have something to do. Musicians, grab your composition book. Painters, pack a sketch pad. Craftsman.... I'll have to google it.

Get out there and grow!

2009-12-06T19:04:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a lot lately about my relationship with the environment, the lands around me, my family, other women..... and food.

I am blessed to have women on both sides of my family, in both Alaska and the vast empty lands of Texas, who believe in the importance of growing and making their own food. They garden and cook for many reasons - a sense of satisfaction, the chance to make things exactly the way you like them (pesticide and chemical free), and to save money (one of my favorite cookbooks, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, shares that making a loaf of bread costs approximately 40 cents. I figure that my loaves are closer to 50 cents because I enjoy experimenting with different seeds, nuts, and other toppings and ingredients, but regardless, it's a far cry from the $3.00 that is the starting price at my local grocery store, and closer to $5.00 for the whole wheat and sprouted grain varieties we truly enjoy).

For the women on both sides of my family, winter means time to pull out the seed charts and order directly from the grower (Peters Seed Company has great vegetable and herb seeds at fair prices. I particularly enjoy their cold-tolerant hybrids. This year I am asking women from Fairbanks to Anchorage to test the Alaskan Fancy, a new tomato seed; I'll let you know how it goes! Even in warmer climes, I enjoy northern varieties because they provide early yields). Most of my garden remains in pots as I bounce from place to place across the country on military duty, so I take the time to stock up on space-saving items while they are on winter discount (this year's addition - potato and salad bins from Gardener's Supply Company, one of my favorite suppliers). Early spring is perfect for starting seeds indoors; late spring is the season to get your hands dirty and move those slender shoots into the ground. Summer is for watching, harvesting, and preserving. My Italian mother cans up to 40 large jars of completely garden grown, homemade spaghetti squash in a plentiful year, boils down pears for jellies, pulls lemons from trees for lemonade, and breaks out the sealer to preserve everything from whole pies with her own fruits (just pull out and bake) to squash dishes. My Alaskan mother-in-law produces potatoes the size of both hands, freezes enough spinach and carrots to feed at least three families that I know of throughout the winter, and hosts summer parties that feature margaritas made with her wild strawberries. Fall is for late crops if desired, frantically harvesting before the frost, and giving away anything you can't fit in your own freezers. Winter is for fostering gratitude for a bountiful harvest, and beginning the planning cycle again.

This cycle, based upon seasons, different every quarter, yet the same year after year, is deeply satisfying to me. I believe that while men and women are equal in capabilities, talents, and abilities, we remain fundamentally different. I believe it is right for women to connect to the earth, and to her loved ones around her, by cultivating one to share with the other. Perhaps this connection is part of what makes Alaska so appealing to me.... the growing season there is short, but bountiful beyond compare, and the harsh winters make delineation between points in the cycle finite and clear. Haven't experienced the satisfaction of growing your own food? Then whether you choose a single herb or an acre of vegetables, it's time to get out there and grow!

Moose Adventures, Part 5: In Closing.... Mules

2009-11-26T18:59:00.000-08:00

All amazing things must come to an end, and so, too, must this particular series of offerings. While I continue to ponder lessons learned, and intend to pass on many tidbits and tiny facts from my first big game hunt as I continue to explore, it is time to move our discussion onward.

In closing, thank you for listening, and I hope you have enjoyed what you heard. I will leave you with images of perhaps the least anticipated sight of our trip, and one last tale:

These signs were nailed to trees on the far side of the Tanana, around a small home about a mile down the trail (see "Part 1" for a more detailed description of where we were and how we got there). They belonged to a pair of brothers who run a business taking visitors on guided hunts. The brothers own one cabin by the Tanana, and another approximately 40 miles upriver. They take hunting parties up by ATV, with the gear on pack mules, and fly the meat out in a Super Cub owned by the family. When not in use, the mules roam the lands near the lower cabin; the signs are a warning to hunters that mules are in the area and not to get too trigger happy.

Until the next one..... here's to hoping you make it to Alaska soon!

Moose Adventures, Part 4: "Save the rifles, then the cameras, then yourselves"

2009-11-12T11:54:00.000-08:00

Some people enjoy adventures; some people do not. I unabashedly do, and one of the primary reasons is because adventures force me to learn new skills, new ways of coping in foreign situations, and test my personal capabilities at the same time. While sometimes scary, I find the challenge of "not getting hurt" and "staying alive" to be fundamentally much more satisfying than my typical day, which tends to evoke stress of the "how many emails can you send out in an hour, while completing paperwork, not drinking too much coffee, and not hitting anyone in frustration" variety.

What I enjoy about Alaskan adventures in particular is that, for me, the primary skill learned can often be boiled down to a singular memory that in turn becomes symbolic of the entire trip. During the moose trip, the word "adventure" became synonymous with "ATV."

We've talked a bit about the terrain in past entries, but if you would like a better idea of the degree of difficulty and the stress we put on the four wheelers, watch the videos posted on Facebook (add me as "Jan Shultis Bowers") or on YouTube. The four-wheelers were the only way to get people and gear where we needed it to be. My driving experience prior to this trip consisted of slow jaunts around the flat hunting grounds of my family's ranch in the "hill country" of Texas to gather fire wood; this was another, uncomfortable planet.

Jason and I began the trip riding together so that I could leap off the back and take pictures at every opportunity. I was thrilled with this arrangement, which offered a chance to hang out with my husband, limited my ability to harm others or an expensive machine, and allowed me take photos. Jason, who is a highly capable driver and enjoys a challenging course, was also content. Not so thrilling were the bruises on my palms, back, and legs from clinging to the machine, but those four-wheelers took us where we wanted to go without fail, and I remain grateful for their capabilities.

As the days wore on, the hours of daily driving over rocks, up hills, and through rivers began to show, and machines broke down. From shift pins to flat tires, if something wasn't broken, it was probably frozen (read "Part 3" for more about the weather). Two machines dumped in the river, including us when a steep embankment tipped us backward and into cold waters. Laden with camera gear in a backpack on my back, I floated like a turtle downriver until Jason grabbed my jacket and hauled me out. I stripped down to a sodden t-shirt, hat and gloves lost, to dry off our rifles and camera gear as best as we could. As my father-in-law says, "save the rifles, then the camera gear, then yourselves." While at first a funny statement, this is sound advice!

Several other riders found themselves clinging to their machines and drifting downriver on various occasions when water that looked passable got a tad bit deep. Luckily, no one was hurt, and each day we laughed, cracked open repair kits, and did the best we could. On the last day, down to a few machines and a lot of riders who wanted one last crack at a moose, we doubled up and took four machines up the river with the twin purposes of hunting and cleaning the moose Jason took the night prior. This meant that we would tow a Pak Rat up, and haul out an additional 500+ pounds of meat. Due to the load on each machine, the most experienced drivers were assigned, and the rest of us charged with clinging to the back.

At least, that was the plan. As evening began to fall, a member of our party suffered a stroke (cut to the bottom line: he was fine, received medical care the next day, and is now fully recovered). This gentleman was one of our drivers. Jason, one of our most capable, immediately left to transport the injured man all the way back to camp for an attempt at a medivac out (ultimately denied due to the snow that rolled in and made a flight in next to impossible).

Three challenges now lay before us:

1) A worried Jason had to safely transport an injured man on the back of his ATV without causing further harm.

2) Four people and two machines were left at the kill site. This meant that Jason's father had to haul out the meat and a passenger, and

3) left me turning to the fourth person and asking "well, okay..... you better hop on the back and hang on tight, and how do I turn this thing on?"

In my opinion, the true display of courage was the woman who hopped on the behind me without batting an eye!

It took us three hours, but the group returned to base camp intact. Jason returned to us after dropping off the injured man with those who remained at camp, enabling the overburdened ATV with the meat to be relieved at least of the weight of one body. Onward we trekked, crossing one obstacle at a time, while I thanked the heavens above that I had strong arms and a strong back from powerlifting; patient teachers who only told me later that they panicked when I stopped making forward progress across the deepest river we crossed; and the type of Irish stubbornness that causes women to hike up their sleeves and figure that while we may or may not be able to do it, we stand as good a chance as anyone else, so might as well get to it already.

Or at least as soon as one figures out how to turn that darned thing on.....

Moose Adventures, Part 3: Snow, Ice, and Wolves, Oh My!

2009-11-08T11:49:00.000-08:00

"It'll be about 40 degrees," they said.

"Looks like it's going to be a sunny week!" they said.

"Perfect time of the year to get out and enjoy the fall colors," they said.

"They," of course, are weathermen (and weatherwomen, as it were). "They," of course, need a good slap to the face.

Less than twelve hours after we arrived at base camp, it started snowing. While I was perfectly happy to feel snow on my face after months in the one-season wonder that is southern California, and I was toasty warm in my insulated Cabela's gear, snow does present certain difficulties when hunting in the middle of nowhere. Challenges range from inconvenient (like ATV's that take minutes to heat, "can I pee now without freezing" trips into the woods, and cold tea), to troublesome (parts that snap in the freeze, clothes that get wet and won't dry, anyone who believes in both weathermen and the tooth fairy and lacks warm clothing), to life-threatening (our request for a medivac out after a man in our party had a stroke was denied because the snow socked in so low the planes could not safely navigate the mountains to get to us. He is fine, but that is another conversation.)

What was more surprising than the weather was how absolutely happy it made me. I glued my camera to my hand and dashed from one point to another, attempting to capture everything. What we could see of the mountains looked so different in the gloom; the camp fire was even brighter; the campsite was even cozier than normal, a beacon of warmth and respite from rivers and wind.

I was not the only one flitting about camp. I greeted one morning after a hard freeze (but no snow that night) by taking my usual walk-about-camp to see if there was anything around worth taking a picture of before we took off up the river bed for moose. As I rounded back toward the tents, I came across the most remarkable sight - fresh wolf prints less than 100 feet from my tent! It was clear where the animal had approached, sat down to watch, moved a bit closer, sat again, then departed. There were a single set of prints, about 3/4 the size of my hand, and we estimated the animal weighed about 120-150 pounds.

Does life offer anything more humbling than mountains in the morning, snow, and the knowledge that something is always watching?

A brief departure to share great joy

2009-11-06T18:57:00.000-08:00

A brief departure from the moose adventures, but you can't rush a tale worth telling (as the moose stories are), and I am bursting to share my thoughts.

I woke up today with a feeling I rarely feel outside of Alaska - a feeling of absolute, unadulterated curiosity about what the day holds. It is not quite excitement, but it makes me feel alert, happy, and calm nonetheless. I have felt this way in the mountains, when I start the day in meditation in the garden, and briefly after I was first exposed to shamanic healing and practiced cleansing dragon breaths.

What I have learned, reinforced today, is that when you cultivate this energy, acknowledging, engaging, and feeding it, the most marvelously random things happen. Today the feeling hit on the drive to work. I laughed, pondered how good the coffee was, and thought this could be a great start to the weekend. Today, I received a business offer that made me grin from ear to ear (more later as details develop). I spent time with a friend, transferring energy and talking about life, death, and everything in between, above, and around. I came home and received a completely unexpected monetary gift in the mail.

What made today different than other days? When I felt joy to be alive, manifest as curiosity about the day, I actively committed myself to maintaining that feeling throughout the day. When I got tired, I took a break and got up from my desk, actually stopping to talk to the people I saw instead of rushing by with clipboards and folders in my arms. I ate lunch with my computer off, enjoying each bite, instead of typing with one hand and shoveling food in with the hour (can't be late for that meeting or miss that deadline!). I did not become stressed or overwhelmed, only to leave the office completely frazzled at the end of the day. I felt an energy, worked to preserve, explore, and trust it, and good things came my way. It has happened before, I pray it will happen again, and yet I remain completely humbled and awed when such things occur.

How to preserve this energy? I don't rightly know, but I believe that sharing it is probably a good start.

Here's to hoping tomorrow feels that way for all of us.

Moose Adventures, Part 2: Camping Out

2009-10-25T16:04:00.000-07:00

Before I jump directly to tales of adventure on the high plains (mountains? river beds?), I want to pause and provide a few visuals. Once we navigated the route to the location described below in Part 1 of "moose adventures," we settled into the campsite that would serve as our base for the duration of the trip. With a party of 10, it was a much more established camp than a typical moose hunt.

Below is my first view of the campsite, taken when approaching from the south, clinging to the ATV, and wondering what on earth I had agreed to do. The decision to camp in the open was a deliberate one. While the grove of trees would provide some break from winds (and a private place for ladies to use the wooded "facilities"), the 360 degree space made us a bit less attractive to predators, and increased the odds of us seeing or hearing a bear before it reached us. Although we did not take a moose until the last day, had we been forced to store meat from an animal taken early at the site, the open location would have been doubly welcome.

We headed north every day to hunt, up the river bed. Here is the view looking back toward our campsite (if the sight of that small blue tarp dwarfed by a single grove of trees is not enough to make you feel humble, well, then, I don't know what will... perhaps you should move to Southern California, bleach your hair, and start carrying around a small dog with its own set of oversized sunglasses):

The camp itself was fully stocked to accomodate a large party who had no idea how long they would be out. Large piles of driftwood were dragged by teams next to the fire (a welcome stockpile once the snow started); lengths of rope were used to erect a frame, over which a tarp was stretched; tents rose up in friendly domes; and the ATV's were parked close by for easy loading (later, I will talk a bit about what on earth to pack for a moose hunt).

Thinking that you would never in a million years venture out to such a desolate location? Below is the view from the campsite on a clear day. How far would you venture to lay eyes on mountains like these?

Moose Adventures, Part 1: Where in the World

2009-10-07T21:41:00.000-07:00

It's time... to talk about our recent trip to Alaska until I am blue in the face, and not from the winter cold!

Two weeks ago we headed north for a fall hunt in the Delta area of Alaska. For five days we tried to keep gear and people out of serious harm's way, while finding moose, of course. I had the adventure of a lifetime (or at least, the most grand of adventures until the next one) in the general area highlighted here by a yellow square, just south of Fairbanks:

To reach the hunting area, we flew into Anchorage and drove 8 hours up the Richardson Highway, through Delta Junction. We parked the car at an abandoned gold dredging site near mile marker 308, loaded up the gear (over 100 pounds for Jason, about 70 pounds for me), and hiked 1 1/2 miles through soft forest to the Tanana River.

Why hike gear in, you ask? We asked ourselves the same thing as we slogged on, trying not to get lost in the criss-crossing ATV trails that transversed the terrain. Ultimately, however, the load was one of necessity - we were joining a group that had already established a camp, and it was deemed easier for us to hike in than shuttle 4-wheelers across the river. That decision was made before the boat used more gasoline than anticipated, the cook stove exploded, and the group discovered that the moose had not come down from the hills for the snow, so we would have to go in further them, requiring... you guessed it, more gas! We loaded 20 extra gallons on top of foodstuffs (because the hunt was extended due to lack of animals), extra boots and gloves (because the weather forecast, which predicted temperatures above 35 degrees, did not warn us about nights of snow and hard freezing to come) and camera gear (because we are powerlifters, which means we can carry a lot of stuff, like pack mules, so why let that training go to waste?).

Combining our gear with the items I lasted only several hundred yards walking like this before

requested by those already at base camp Jason helped me lash the duffel bag across my shoulders

before setting out on the trail for a more manageable load.... it was hard to keep my footing!

We arrived at the Tanana River to meet the boat with gear intact...by the time we headed back out, that would be far from the state of affairs!

We were met by a boat at the Tanana River and ferried across to waiting 4-wheelers. We then set out for a 10-mile ride, about one hour, through more forest and onto the river bed of the Little Delta, where we would camp and hunt.

Camp was established in an open area on the river bed, safe from predators (or so we thought, more on that later) and relatively protected from winds. From camp, it would be a rough 18-mile ATV ride up the river bed daily (2-4 hours, depending on how many river crossings had to be completed) to reach good hunting ground. Thus began my first big game hunt...

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Benjamin Franklin

Next, Part 2: Wet and Wild ATV Adventures

New painting in progress....

2009-10-04T09:32:00.000-07:00

After a 6-month hiatus from painting (during which I moved from Tennessee to California; was finally able to reunite with my husband, from whom I spent 15 months apart when we were stationed on opposite coasts; settled into my new Navy job; and began work to establish Creative Warrior Healing in San Diego), paint brushes are back in hand!

Here are a few progress photos:

These were inspired by the views from several campsites along the Copper River. It is a compilation of these views and the way the river looks as I hike along, equal parts imaginary and real.

Posting these is a significant evolution for me.... I am more typically the "type" of artist who bars anyone but my husband from viewing works in progress; my husband can see them on the grounds that he offers no commentary, either positive or negative, and keeps his face absolutely smooth (to his credit, he readily agreed to these terms when we were dating, and has kept to them ever since with no remarks on how obscenely limiting they are!). After this year's round of visits to Alaska, however, I began to realize that sharing what I see, and how I see it, is infinitely more important than sheltering my work.... especially when life gets so busy it sometimes dictates months-long breaks.

I also trust myself more these days. I barred others from viewing my work not due to insecurity or fear of criticism, but because it is vitally important to maintain my own point of view, with no hint of any others', throughout the production process. Now, I know that I am strong, committed, and creative enough to continue to look through my own filter, no matter what a viewer's reaction. Why not share the process?

So, I have no idea how long this particular piece will take, but I will continue to post photos here as I chip away at it, one color at a time.

Back from my first big game hunt

2009-09-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

Growing up as the eldest child in a Marine Corps family meant that I was taught early the importance of conscientious hunting and providing naturally for oneself and one's family. I have always enjoyed these days spent outside.

Texas deer, however, are a bit different than moose in Delta, Alaska! Those in the party with 20-40+ years experience called "the most difficult they have ever been on." It was an adventure and I loved it! Many blogs and photos coming soon..... featuring moose, wolves, falls into icy rivers, injuries, 4-hour ATV rides and wild river crossings, a medical emergency in the middle of nowhere, and more, the updates will continue for a while.

To get to the spot where this photo was taken, we hiked in 1.5 miles, crossed the Tanana by boat, completed a 10-mile ATV trek through soft forest, reached base camp, rode in another 18 very rocky miles up the river (crossing the water over a dozen times), and hiked in another 2 miles. It was a crazy, wonderful trip!

Can a space in your house be inspirational?

2009-09-16T15:08:00.000-07:00

Last week I drew up an article for The Infinite Field Magazine about how to create a living space that welcomes in Nature and the Divine. As you know, my purpose is to continually explore the natural world, examining how our relationships with nature impact our physical, emotional, and spiritual selves. The article focused a bit more on the logistical aspects of how to implement what you learn into your life far away from the site of learning.

This vein of thinking is all very new to me, and I find myself still thinking about the "how to's." Personally, my relationship with the natural world is the source of the vast majority of my creative inspiration. Is there a way to craft an inspirational space?

I believe that positive energy can be created to fill a space. I believe that rooms and people can be filled with color. I believe that color and light are inspirational in and of themselves. So, yes, I suppose spaces can become what we need them to be.

“Creativity” means the way that you think and live your life. You do not have to be the next Picasso to enjoy the colors and sounds of life around you; Mozart is not the only one whom a beautiful piece of music has ever moved to tears. Yes, scrapbooking is creative. If it entails making something evocative, or even beautiful, from your own energies, where nothing existed before, then it is creative.

Creative thought and creative living is worth pursuing; I believe that cultivating a means of expressing creativity is vital to physical health. The quality of a creative life is much higher than a boring one. Creative people are open to exploration and new chances; they communicate with the souls around them and are capable of turning the proverbial lemon into lemonade. If nothing else, they have infinitely better sex lives.

Without further rambling, here are five ways to build an inspirational space:

1) Turn off the television! No one has ever created something great while staring at the black box.

2) While you are at it, turn off the email, instant messaging, your cell phone, and anything else that remotely smacks of technology. The creative process, an encompassing one, simply does not optimally engage when technology competes for the mind’s eye and energy.

3) Turn the radio up. Try classical, jazz, or anything else without lyrics or a singer – other people’s words can make it hard to hear your own. Since your own words are nothing but the faintest of whispers when you first begin to uncover your creative process, you cannot allow anything to interfere.

4) Surround yourself with colors, images, quotations, or anything that makes you feel that creative pull in your mind, your heart, and your gut. Pictures of Alaska, momentoes, and sketches do it for me.

5) Visualize the creative self while you are filling your space with inspirational objects, sights, and sounds. On the bulletin board above the desk where I write, wedged in between soaring landscapes, I keep a picture of myself on the Copper River with no makeup, camping hair, a sunburn, and an absolutely happy smile. A similar picture of myself is propped behind the easel where I paint. That is the me I want to be – that is the portrait of a happy, creative woman. That ideal, my ideal, reminds me to harness the energy of that woman whenever I pick up a pen or a paintbrush. Putting up pictures of yourself is neither modest nor socially acceptable, but it can be inspiring, and that is what matters.

How will you know if your space is inspirational? You will know when you write, paint, daydream, or doodle. You will know when the energy in this space is so positive that animals spend their time there, too, just to take it all in. Not there yet? Then light a candle, add more lamps, open a window, change out objects, or slap a brighter coat of paint on the walls.... but don't give up. A creative life is one worth exploring; a space to base such explorations is worth building.

Max, one of my usually-wild cats, who must be removed from his favorite napping spot on my desk before I can get any work done. It was only after I made a commitment to making that room an inspirational one that he began sleeping there. The bulletin board in the background is my "Alaska board."

Where Military Service and Alaska meet...

2009-09-12T07:24:00.000-07:00

I often struggle to reconcile my duties as a military officer with the more free-spirited side of me that feels deeply called to run off to Alaska with paintbrush in one hand, camera in the other, and a pen shoved behind my ear. I'm sure that back in Alaska I would be writing the best novel the world has ever seen, developing an economically feasible structure to implement world peace, and growing perfect tomatoes in the one-month window available (organic, of course).

The reality of my current situation is that while the Navy does take me away from my writing and other creative pursuits for chunks of time, and can cause such stress that I feel anything but creative, military service has also shown me a structured and disciplined way to approach my projects, and has introduced me to the places and people that I write about.... without the Navy experience, I don't think I would have a lot to say!

As my quest for balance continues, I thought the article below, first published in Military Times, is an interesting look at what can happen when my worlds meet:

Joint team to relocate entire Alaskan town

Staff report
Posted : Sunday Sep 6, 2009 8:20:52 EDT

The town of Newtok, Alaska — population 350 — is sinking. Rising Arctic temperatures mean the nearby Ninglick River is growing, the permafrost on which the town stands is melting, and the tiny village doesn’t have much time left.

The solution? Move the town.

Airmen, sailors, Marines and National Guardsmen will spend the next five years on a project doing just that, according to a Navy announcement, using summer windows of clear weather to relocate Newtok to higher, drier ground about nine miles away.

The joint team, made up mostly of reservists, used its first trip in late August to establish a base camp from which to operate and accept more supplies.

“Our attempt this year was just to get a foothold,” said Marine Master Sgt. Graham Hilson of Huntington Beach, Calif., mission commander and operations chief for Alpha Company, 6th Engineer Support Battalion, 4th Marine Logistics Group. The team also laid down a layer of Dura-Base, mats that Marines use for expeditionary runways, as a temporary road and base for the camp site.

In 2010, another team will return to build a road leading from a barge landing to the new village site, so supplies and people can arrive by utility landing craft and help with the move to the new town. The military team also plans to build an airfield and an evacuation shelter during future visits to Newtok.

It won’t be easy, however, and part of the goal for the Pentagon is to give reservists a chance to practice their skills in the difficult Alaskan environment.

The Newtok town move is one of several projects the Pentagon is coordinating as part of its Innovative Readiness Training program, which lends service members to help with local building and engineering jobs.

Tapping into inspiration... Part One!

2009-09-06T12:48:00.000-07:00

A mentor told me a few months ago that if I want to write, I have to “be always writing.” She encouraged me to mine everything I can for inspiration, and to not be afraid to share what I am thinking and feeling with others.

Inspiration can be hard to find, though, especially for a woman caught in a never-ending web of computers, cell phones, and electronic gadgets and trapped far away from her muse. I am still working toward embracing those technologies that help me share my vision with others, and rejecting those that feel like they take over my life; in the meantime, the more pressing question is how to bring Alaska and her inspiration to me when I live so far away?

A few week ago I spent the day at the San Diego Zoo, one of my favorite places in the bustling city the Navy has named as my home for the next few years. I enjoy the Zoo for the obvious reasons, but also because it is one of the few places in this industrialized cityscape that I can remember with little effort what it feels like to stand on mountains in Alaska. Some days, especially when I am tired and run down, it can be hard to remember what it feels like to stand in crisp air by myself. The combined neurotic energies of millions of people can be suffocating.

The land of the midnight sun makes me want to write more than I want to eat, paint things I did not know my hands could see, and pray without ceasing to draw breath. I could not quiet my soul on those mountains if I tried.

The Zoo’s mass of colors brings those feelings back to some degree. I like to take a notebook to the polar bear exhibit and think about Alaska. While the crowds can be overwhelming and the stroller brigades tire me out, I enjoy listening to the people around me learn. They’re not in front of a television, they stepped away from the computer for a day, they make the effort to get outside… maybe one day their hands will pour forth words like mine want to.

Highlights of the day included checking out the new “Elephant Odyssey” exhibit, which opened that day and is absolutely breathtaking; watching two baby monkeys wrestle with each other in a manner that reminded me of my cats, Max and Kaiser (I laughed until I could have cried, truly); and watching three juvenile tigers frolic and play fight in their space. We also saw a hippo walk underwater for a very long time, and a turtle from Asia with a freakishly long neck. While Jason was teaching me how to photograph moving water, a peacock wandered within one foot of us!

We’ll be back soon (after all, I have a lot to write), but until then, here are a few photos to share:

Always Field-Test your Tent

2009-08-31T16:45:00.000-07:00

Most of the best-selling books about Alaska are tales of woe about bears, extreme weather, and tragic mishaps during foolhardy adventures.

I would be the last person to argue that all of the activities undertaken in the Alaskan wilderness are safe or conservative - there have been many, many times I felt that I was in danger (frozen feet in Juneau; run-ins with musk ox in Nome; pretty much every summer on the Copper River.... and so on). I do believe, however, that like we say in the military, "prior planning prevents piss-poor performance." In an extreme environment, planning can quite literally save your life.

A fundamental of good planning is to field-test your equipment, especially if it's new. We purchased a new tent and cold-weather gear from Cabela's in advance of an upcoming moose hunt. (Cold weather gear, especially your tent, is not the place to save money - go with a manufacturer you trust and make the investment. I love to shop the Cabela's "Bargain Cave" to keep expenses down.) The day after it arrived, we set it up in the blazing California sun to inspect it for rips or tears, test the poles, and get a feel for how long it took us to set it up in case we ever need to do so quickly.

We were curious about set-up time, but it is not vital for our next adventure, which will include a relatively large group in a relatively accessible location. If you ever do set out truly on your own, I strongly recommend practicing set-up and tear-down to become as efficient as possible. I also recommend that you practice packing your gear to get a feel for how much it weighs and how the weight will sit on your boat, 4-wheeler, or back. This is a step that is often neglected and can have serious consequences once you are in the field.

(Ours is a very basic design - how long do you think it takes to set this beastly tent up? Don't want to be caught in a storm trying to do that.)

Want to ensure success? Don't forget to recruit the best tent-testers available!

Visions of the Copper..... it's cooler there!

2009-08-28T06:23:00.000-07:00

I am currently stationed in San Diego, where we are in the middle of a heat wave. Wouldn't be a big deal for this used-to-live-on-the-Texas-coast gal, except that none of the buildings here have air conditioning or fans! That's what you get for taking 70-degree sunny skies for granted.... at any rate, days like this, where I am sweating at my computer with a perpetually red face, make me long for the Alaskan summers I love.

Here are a few photos of the Copper River I am missing:

The boat launch - from here it's about a 10-minute run down the river to the mud flats to camp. Note how fast the water runs - you have to conserve gas and carefully plan how to allocate the weight in the boat on the way back.

To dip net from a boat, you have to tie the boat up to a cliff wall. Ideal spots are enclaves that are somewhat sheltered from the current - the fish will pool there, swimming up the path of least resistance. This is the view upriver from our tie-up point.

The view down toward the water from my "perch." You reach this point by hiking up the trail about a quarter mile above the mud flats where we usually camp. If you look to the right, instead of down, you are eye-level with eagles' nests. They like the area because fish are easier to pluck from the shallow water, and people cleaning fish offer up easy meals from scraps. This is my favorite place in the world to write and ponder.

Depending on Nature to wipe out my "enemies"

2009-08-25T15:09:00.000-07:00

At least, I do in my fantasies!

Whenever I am stressed out, particulary on days like today, when both of my professional lives and my personal life are all knocking me around with their crazy demands, I like to imagine the people I am being most stressed by disappearing under a torrent of water from the spring melt ...... or being consumed by a bear........ or overtaken by a glacier summoned to sudden speed.

They will rise sputtering and laughing from my day dreams, of course (after all, these are not violent imaginings of any real consequence). But in the meantime, the visuals make me laugh, which reduces my stress levels, making me better able to juggle my day and remember that I have a lot to be grateful for.

I do not think that my fantasies about allowing Nature to deal with my problems (and problem people) are unusual - most people just call it "karma." Thanks to my time in Alaska, my idea of karma is just a touch easier to visualize!

Why "eagles and ravens?"

2009-08-23T11:01:00.000-07:00

It's only been up one day, but I have already received several questions about the moniker for my blog, "eagles and ravens." Most know that both birds hold prominent positions in Alaskan folklore and traditional works of Alaskana, but the first inquiry lobbed my way definitely made me think - what do eagles and ravens mean to me?

Why "eagles?"

Most years find me, with husband and extended family and friends, at the Copper River, a 300-mile glacier-fed torrent that drains into the Chugach and Wrangell mountains in Southcentral Alaska. It is undoubtedly the most stunning place on earth. Many who travel all over the state and world agree. It is also a treacherous place, and the ever-present sense of impending tragedy probably contributes in no small measure to its grandeur.

If you've ever had really expensive salmon, it probably shouted proudly on its wrapper or box that it was "fresh from the Copper River!" The runs here are incredible, and not fished by as many people as rivers that are easier to reach, such as the Kenai, and therefore thronged with tourists.

We camp on the same mud flats on the Copper every year, next to a fresh water feeder stream. Dozens of eagle nests dot the trees around the flats, where salmon are easier to pluck from the water than other places on the river. If you climb about the flats and the camp, there is a spruce and a large flat rock that place you level with the eagles. I climb up there to watch and escape all kinds of things. I write poetry there; I stretch; I breathe. The place to me in inexolerably linked with the eagles and creativity. Some years there are more eagles; some years there are more paintings, more dreams, more words. But the three are linked, eagles and mountains and my creative mind.

A few years ago I was given a print of a painting by an artist named "Joann George" called "Eagle Dreamer." The image has become part of my thought patterns in ways I still want to explore. You can learn more about JoAnn George and see some of her work through these links:
http://www.takugraphics.com/apgeorge.html
angoonartists.org/gallery_site/joann_george

Here is the picture of "Eagle Dreamer" from Angoonartists.org:

Why "ravens?"

In all honesty, I do not know. By that, I mean that I do now know how ravens fit into my personal journey.... they have always seemed to me, however, to be a proper balance to Eagle. Perhaps more research and more adventures will yield an answer.

Ravens are a thriving, visible species throughout Alaska. They do not shy away from man. In folklore Raven is often a messager; it can be difficult to distinguish whether the bird is good or evil in any particular story. Raven is often revered as a type of prophet with supernatural abilities. Though prophecies can be either tragic or uplifting, ultimately balance is restored or maintained, and Raven's true character remains obscured.

I am beginning to research Alaska's folklore and myths more thoroughly in preparation for several longer writing projects. Every time I read about Raven, I find my thoughts turning to healers, medicine men, and wise women.... would Raven's doomsday predictions worry them, or would they take them in stride and accept Raven as a balancing force in the universe, with whom we are blessed to interact as "lowly" humans?

I like Raven. Maybe soon I will learn why.......

Welcome to my home...

2009-08-22T15:11:00.000-07:00

It is a big one, and harbors mountains in place of tables, rivers in place of a sofa. Welcome to Alaska!

I came to the state for the first time in 2005, and since then the "Alaskan experience" has changed nearly everything about my life, whether I am in Alaska or somewhere else (I am an active-duty naval officer who is often out of the state, unfortunately). I think differently, live differenctly, and have cultivated a new set of priorities. The way I approach the challenge of healing, talk to God, and write have all undergone a revolution that can only be credited to mountains that take your breath away.

We'll have plenty of time to talk about that... more so than you may want! Most mornings, in fact, I will start my day by "talking" about Alaska here. The idea for this blog came in a roundabout way from an editor to whom I regularly submit articles. My pieces typically center around nutrition, fitness, and holistic health "how to's." She knew I was off to Alaska for the summer fishing and jokingly asked if there were Alaskan recipes for health. I laughed, too, but told her a bit about the cyclical living patterns, sustainable homesteads, and deeply rooted spirituality that make me feel alive whenever I am home. She told me I had identified my niche, and challenged me to explore it.

So, here I am, exploring Alaska one day at a time and inviting you along for the ride. I hope you have as much fun as I will!