Rebecca's Hats!

Rebecca makes hats.  She makes colourful, whimsical, wild and wonky and fun… hats. She also makes leggings and scarves and dresses and other stupendous, textiley, wearable, wonderful things... that make my eyes sing and my heart dance. 

I don’t know Rebecca well.  But, I do know she’s one kick-ass woman. You gotta be... to make hats!  She's also a foster parent… of the magical kind.  Patient.  Tolerant.  Kind.  Loving.  And, most of all... funny!  You gotta be that too, to raise kids that fall between the cracks of other people’s lives.

I know for sure that she's kick-ass because her studio's messy and fun and full of colour and life and...stuff!  

I know because she keeps an old rusty wok full of wiggly things and decaying leaves and... more stuff... on hand in the very epi- centre of her studio… for dying.  Dying of cloth, that is!  Just in case!  Because you never know when you want something to look tea stained, old or rusty.  She creates beauty out of rust. 

I know because she knows… how to play… with... stuff!  Easier said than done when most of us take ourselves far too seriously. I admire people who know how to play. There's surrender in play.  

I know because she has the definition of a yurt posted prominently in her studio.   A much needed reminder when the grim matters of life take precedence. 

I know because she bought an old RV that she wants to turn into a teacup.  

I know because the day after she had a radical mastectomy, the same day she was discharged from hospital, she left her husband and decided to move to a smaller house. 

I know because she didn’t get her boobs rudely reconstructed after having them removed.  

I know because she’s looked death head on in the belly button.  She’s experienced loss and grief of the horrific kind.  And to that she says $#@&*!!!

I know because she lives her life outside the lines of obvious convention and conformity. 

I know because her life is her canvas.

I know because she makes me laugh.  Something i don't do enough of.  Thank-you.

I know because she makes hats!  

... In The Wings of Salvation, Part 2

A Story of Salvation Mountain…. Cont’d from my last post on October 16

It’s helpful to be reminded that from despair and loss and the void of grief…. comes ecstasy.  

Just a short 15 minute drive to the south/east of the Salton Sea, on the hem of Niland, CA and the… oh-so-attractively-named…  Slab City…. lies… in a splendid spray of colour and play and make believe…. Salvation Mountain. 

Leonard Knight was a man who lived outside the lines.  And… I like that!  Though not much is written about him, (you can check out his official website:  www.salvationmountain.us/),

I’m going to guess that he was a brave man.  A quiet eccentric. A man of few words.  But, a man with a lot to say.  He was creative, tenacious and passionately religious.  

In 1984, at the age of 50, when some people begin counting their losses, Leonard began a celebration of sorts… a party… in the building of Salvation Mountain, his all-consuming tribute to God. 

Long after the shores of the tepid Salton Sea started receding, the fish dying and resort towns such as Bombay Beach and Salton City were taking their last breaths, Leonard chose his site, just a few miles from a dying shoreline, to declare his love for Christ and the Sinners Prayer.  Using building techniques familiar to desert regions, he declared his determination to create a tribute to a power beyond that would endure the vagaries of time by building his very own mountain from adobe, straw and thousands of gallons of lead free paint. 

Leonard’s salvation covers an entire hill and rises with pride and conviction off the Sonoran Desert floor.  The structure, hinting references to Antonio Gaudi, encompasses numerous murals painted with Christian sayings and verses from the Bible.  This massive undertaking would consume Leonard for the rest of his life.  In 2011 he moved to a long term care facility with dementia.  He died in 2014. 

 It was Leonard’s hope that his message of love be seen by people from all over the world.  But, it’s not easy to find since there’s no signage to direct people to the site.  And, despite being proclaimed "a profoundly unique, strange and visionary national treasure" by the US government in 2002… in addition to being declared a “folk art site worthy of preservation and protection” by the Folk Art Society of America… the site does not receive any government funding.  It’s a group of equally tenacious volunteers who have taken on the task of maintaining Leonard’s legacy to this day.   And… more tenacious people find their way to the party.  Get yourself to Bombay Beach or Niland, and Slab City, CA and the locals will direct you.  http://www.salvationmountain.us/history2.html 

I don’t know what Leonard might have been escaping from in his life.  His brief biographies (www.salvationmountain.us/bio.html)  don’t mention his losses or grief or the aberrations of his life that might have brought him to the desert to live in his truck without water or electricity for 30 years.  But, he went to Slab City for a week, to build a monument, and he stayed.  I’m going to take liberties and say that he must have been escaping something,… either internal or external.  The reasons don’t really matter. What matters is his tenacious legacy of hope and commitment and determination that began when a short distance away, a sea receded and opportunity was lost. 

I hope my point is obvious.  From loss comes latitude.  From despair comes opportunity. From grief comes renewal.  From sadness comes blessings.  From depression comes ecstasy.  But, in order to achieve these positives one must have the courage to see.  And… not everybody does see.  The people who remain on the edges of the Salton Sea may not be able to see… for any number of reasons.  But, Leonard Knight… he, saw God.  He saw the party.  He saw salvation.  Within himself.  And, I think that’s kick-ass.  His tribute to God, regardless of one’s religious or spiritual affiliation, offers momentary delight, joy, hopefulness, exhilaration… and, yes…. ecstasy. Leonard saw what the salty patrons (pun intended!) of the Ski Inn cannot.   I hope to see my life like Leonard Knight saw his.

   

Hope Lies Waiting... In the Wings of Salvation

A Story of the Salton Sea, CA.  

My intent with this blog is to share stories about loss and grief and how women over 50 rise through and above and out and beyond… all of it.  I feel blessed to be connected to so many resilient, tenacious women who are living bold, dynamic…. sometimes messy… lives.  A brave life is always fraught with starts and finishes.  A brave life is always messy. 

In today’s post I ponder geography as a metaphor for messy... trumped by human spirit.  I’m taking a brief diversion from the human side to reflect on the loss of an entire formation by mistake, as a metaphor for the losses we all experience in life.  A geography that is both male and female.  And while loss turns to hope in perpetual waiting in one spot on the map, not too far away, grief finds… salvation.  

   

By the time we reach 50, the majority of us have experienced life changing disappointments at best, and heart pounding, gut wrenching losses that can leave us feeling bereft, vulnerable and depressed.  Loss is life.  No one gets off easy.  Loss comes in all sizes and forms.  There is no measuring loss… or grief. No one’s loss is bigger or better than another.  No one’s process of grieving is right or wrong.  It just is.  This, in itself isn’t remarkable. What is remarkable, is the resilience and tenacity of people… men and women…. who choose to move on with creativity, curiosity, courage….  and audacity. 

Last week, I visited the Salton Sea, located in southern California with a friend, I've had the privilege of knowing for 40 years and who I admire for her courage, curiosity and class …. among other things.  It occurred to me, as we tentatively wandered the stinky, abandoned, wasted shoreline along Bombay Beach that this vast, receding inland lake can be viewed as a metaphor for the circuitous path of loss and grief that all of us are destined to experience as we age. http://saltonseamuseum.org/salton_sea_history.html

Dead fish line the shores of the Salton Sea 

The Salton Sea hasn’t risen.  And, it likely won’t, as California state politicians necessitate managing the livelihood of California farmers battling 5 years plus of severe drought, a priority.  But, the history of the Salton Sea is a fascinating story about eccentric opportunities created out of human error resulting in loss of livelihoods and communities and ending in grieving of grand geographic proportions. 

A tiny bit of history… taken, with caution, from Wikipedia.  Fifteen miles wide and 35 miles long, the Salton Sea was accidentally created as a result of an engineering error in 1905, when efforts were made to increase water flow into an area for farming when irrigation canals were dug from the Colorado River into the Coachella valley.  The "sea" then was fed by three rivers, as well as agricultural runoff, drainage systems, and creeks. With an estimated surface area of 350 square miles (910 km²), the Salton Sea became the largest lake in California and had some success as a resort area in the 1950’s – 1970’s. 

And dead pianos!

However, due to the waters receding, resulting in increasing salinity and pollution of the lake over years from agricultural runoff and other sources, many of the settlements have shrunk in size, or have been abandoned.  Many of the species of fish that lived in the "sea" have been killed off by a combination of pollutants, salt levels, and algai blooms. Dead fish have been known to wash up in mass quantities on the beach. The smell of the lake combined with the stench of the decaying fish, also contributed to the decline of the tourist industry around the Salton Sea.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salton_Sea#Subsequent evolution.  The increasing stench which is expected to get worse and spread over time could threaten property values in relatively affluent cities as far away as Palm Springs, Indian Wells, Rancho Mirage and La Quinta. 

Like other geographies ghosted due to various human atrocities, the stages of grief are evident… all around the edges… in the abandoned towns and in the people who doggedly stay put.  This isn’t a new story.  Cities, towns, neighbourhoods, communities, come and go.  But, as I reflect on the possible outcomes of my own personal and recent losses… yes, these days all roads do lead back to me!!!!… the Salton Sea represents a barely living, breathing vision of loss and grief in the stark pictures of abandoned homes and in the 9:30a.m. beer and whiskey drinking patrons of the Ski Inn bar in Bombay Beach who are still waiting for rescue. For these people, hope lies in their resilience for waiting.  But, mere waiting is never enough.  And, in this case, it is likely that adversarial engagement with politicians won’t be enough either.  The solution will have to come from accepting the losses of the past and moving on.  Literally.  And so it is for me.  Waiting for hopeful intervention will not be my story.  There is no rescue… except from within. 

Part 2 of this story…. In the Wings of Salvation…. In my next post.