Not many rivers flow north ... a stream of consciousness ramble

Dad's Leftover Turkey Pot Pie Recipe

The mix of people and faces are changing in Anacortes. Pete and I sat at a table next to the window. We would've been there hours before but instead I endured ninety minutes in a dentist's chair to learn I could pay $2K or $3K to repair two old teeth, one of those repairs 'questionably reliable' said the young and earnest holistic dentist. (The irony? it's my Wisdom Tooth with the iffy $500 repair, or a $1,600 crown option). The young waitress came to ask if we were ready to order lunch. Oh yes, I was hungry.

"I'll have the turkey pot pie." I was ready for comfort food, flaky pie crust and warm, easy to eat savory filling.

"We ran out of pot pie. Sold the last one about an hour ago." She honestly looked disappointed for me. But not as disappointed as me.

"Where were you an hour ago?" Pete chimed.

"In the dentist's chair!" I whined.

"Damned dentist." This came from the waitress! Alright, this setback had a good part. Not only did this young woman look like a young version of me, she had an attitude and spunk to equal me at twenty-something.

I wasn't sure what I wanted that would comfort me exactly like the warm meaty pie, I started turning the heavy plasticized pages of the menu. "I'll give you a couple minutes, take your time." I may have nodded or smiled it's hard to remember that part on an empty stomach.

Lunch was eventually a bowl of split pea soup thick, well-seasoned with chunks of veg and real ham to make it a salty and savory alternative to a pot pie. We ate, and talked, recalling decisions we made in a town that had once been a place of crossroads; we made decisions here a dozen years ago and if we had chosen differently?

"Not many rivers flow north," Pete said minutes before we set up the laptop for a movie. I looked across at him and looked at what I recognized as one of those moments.

"That, is a great line!" I was sitting at this laptop surprised and happy to be getting a signal from Pushkara's WiFi. I pulled up the Blogger "New Post" Screen, and typed in Not many rivers flow north into the title space. It was a space holder moment. There would be more to come, I just didn't know what exactly. The opening paragraph and conversation to this post were quick to come. The more could wait, I'd made space for it.

~~~~ 🌘~~~~~

We were back in the woods, warm and toasty in the golden wagon while rain turned the woods damp and cold. The movie we were about to watch was Desert Dancer. Reviewers pan the film, based on the true story of young man who just wants to dance.

"The uneven drama “Desert Dancer” is based on the captivating true story of Iranian artist Afshin Ghaffarian. As a college student in Tehran in the early 2000s, Ghaffarian (played in the film by British actor Reece Ritchie) starts an underground dance company, roping in a few game, activist friends (depicted by Tom Cullen, Marama Corlett, Bamshad Abedi-Amin), as well as a talented newcomer, Elaheh (Freida Pinto), who has ballet chops but, Ghaffarian discovers, a heroin addiction as well."

I told Pete about the reviewers' opinions of the film that deeply touched us. We who live lives vulnerable and invisible to so many, especially they who would judge our decisions as dark, uncomfortable, dangerous, deathly. The depiction -- the choices the young artists and activists made -- were dramatic, both in the film and in their real lives. Reviews made by people who have never lived those crossroads or at those edges demonstrate their jadedness. We cannot 'fix' that characteristic. We are living in the shadow, in the murky uncomfortable place. Here's what my astrologer says about that.  This video is very timely and important advice for me, and Pete, as old friends surface with their discomfort about our apparent decaying health; something we have described as 'appropriating my suffering.'

"With Pluto in Capricorn transiting your 12th house (as it has in my case), it’s likely your reputation fall off a cliff into some kind of inky, murky swamp.

But what happens while no one is looking?"

~~~~~🌙~~~~~

The day we were living started lovingly; we need to connect physically to fuel ourselves for the sort of life that does seem to be a river flowing north. I knew the road trip north to the Anacortes dentist would be difficult, and expensive. Juggling the reality of contemporary health-care options with a wagon-dweller's budget requires an attitude and spunk of my twenties, matured. So there she was the long black hair, and dark eyebrows on the smooth brown skin faced waitress; a young me asking for 'my order.' It was synchronicity; time traveling and an example of Kairomancer. A bit of flow to help me make a choice we could live with, and pay for.

I'm reading Robert Moss's 'Sidewalk Oracles ... learning to play with the rules for becoming facile at kairomancy.

"To become a kairomancer, you need to learn to trust your feelings as you walk the roads of this world, to develop your personal science of shivers, to recognize in your gut and your skin and in free-floating impressions that you know far more than you hold on the surface of consciousness. You need to take care of your poetic health, reading what rhymes in a day or a season. You want to expect the unexpected, to make friends with surprises, and never miss that special moment. The kairomancer understands that the time is always Now, except when the time is GO"

Yes!

take care of your poetic health

reading what rhymes in a day
(I recognize my 25 year old self waiting on me in Anacortes. Thank you!)

expect the unexpected

make friends with surprises

never miss that special moment
("Not many rivers flow north" comes from Pete like slippery stones from his mouth)*

Kairomancer. 

~~~~~🌑~~~~~

While Pluto moved through the 12th House in the sign of Capricorn beginning in late November, 2008 my life, with Pete, living in the golden painted wagon we called Vardo for Two had begun. My 'reputation' had begun that down-ward descent off the cliff, into the murk. No one really knew what our life was like, except for our son who visited us wherever we were. I have written a decade of blogs to describe this life ... but still, that's one dimension of a multi-verse of a million moments.

Who I was, and who people thought I was will NEVER BE THE SAME. It remains true today, as Pluto is now just beyond my ASC, and newly into my 1st House (Who I am now) but retrograde. Very few friends from our pasts rhyme in our life today. A few new friends, and family activate the genes of compassion and generosity in spite of, or perhaps because of, our staying power swimming against the current. Leaning is allowable with these few, and we melt into the respite as we disappear.

Not many rivers flow north

but there are some.

Not all rivers flow south

but there are more

than not.

Not many rivers flow north

and oh so many

would have us

flow as they,

but will they

allow me

room to

seep into

the mud

while

watching?

Not many rivers flow north

but there are some.

© Not many rivers flow north, Yvonne Mokihana Calizar, 2019

~~~~~ 🌗~~~~~

* This imagery of eating stones parallels the lyrics of 'Kaulana Na Pua'

ʻAʻole mākou aʻe minamina
I ka puʻukālā a ke aupuni
Ua lawa mākou i ka pōhaku
I ka ʻai kamahaʻo o ka ʻāina
We do not value
The government's hills of money
We are satisfied with the rocks
The wondrous food of the land

Writing this flow of words does not solve the issue of dental care we can not afford. Dental costs in North America are outrageously expensive, because to begin a young American trained dentist has already invested more than $200K to be 'taught' what to do once I'm in the chair. If we could get to Mexico, we might be able to afford repairs to old teeth and cavities. What writing does do is find ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  that rhyme in life seated next to a window in Anacortes where a twenty-something version of myself shows up to take my order 🌘, opening another possible reality that makes the expense of being vulnerable and invisible transform into superpowers. When I write I am freed. Through the words I create myth for my tale bone; I write the stories true for me. Think about it!


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E Ola Mau Mauli
(power to the people)!

Mokihana