Musical Blissmus

I took my white dress off the clothesline this afternoon, it was breezy and everything smelled just right. After shade grown coffee, there is shade grown laundry. Both are equally blissful.

Music is seeping in to every crack in my life. Last night I experienced Xavier Rudd in concert. The music was incredible, arresting, grooving, and absolutely bliss filled. The night before I was singing at Café Ibis with Justin in front of all of our friends. I think I could really get used to singing loud. It’s like taking out the trash of the soul. Everything feels fresh and right because you just said what needed to be said. The therapy is ever-present like sitting on a log, feeling the river sweep your feet. Rivers are so holy, and so are friendships. Truly holy shit.

Photo by Brandon Scott

I’m starting to forget what it’s like to have a boyfriend companion and I’m starting to think I might end up marrying music instead… Join the lonely hearts club, and sing songs between the clumsy drunk love. My heart isn't lonely just yet though. It’s very much tied up in the lives of amazing women and friends I know.

The 2008 Kerrville Folk Festival was a hugely sacred. The Texas ranch was a small city of tents, trailers, and buses. I felt a collective feeling of morning and freshness. More people addicted to music! :) The best music seemed to take place from midnight till dawn after the main stage shut down, around the many characterized camp circles, and in the middle of the dusty roads. The festival lasts for 18 days, but the Kerr-staff lives there extendedly. “Welcome Home.” Everyone I met was so kind. I really miss eating dinner with everyone around the picnic tables, with Johann singing songs to people in line, and the THANK YOU in unison to the kitchen crew. This whole giant blessing of an experience was brought to me by a friendly suggestion from a stranger (Johann Wagner) on a train! How freakin cool is that. Here’s a link to some pictures and video! I was kompletely kerrverted by the experience and I may have to attend every year until my dying day. Here is the trailer to an upcoming Kerrville documentary.

3 Penny Acre, Wendy Sue, & Michael Rubin



This is the Blue Hit

It’s onward down the musical river for me!

Beyond woman

I've been thinking about what it's like to be a woman...


Woman on a farm.
I work with boys raised on a farm, capable of the trickiest tractor maneuvers at high speed, with arms that shovel like their life depends on it, and tongues that speak like the picturesque farmer in every great American fantasy. I overheard that it’s a good year for hay farming since more corn is being used for ethanol, ranchers rely on alfalfa hay that is now selling for approximately 3 times the price it did ten years ago. I have learned that my word as a woman on a farm is worth far less than a man’s word no matter where he is. I have noticed a response of pleasant surprise from the men when I work along side them and manage to equal their hustle. If there are two men and me, the two men will talk and hustle like the day is ending. I almost have to step back to try to follow their seemingly choreographed production dance. I suppose they don’t feel like shouting out orders and they don’t feel like I’m experienced enough to lead the crew either. It’s a delicate dance and I am just trying to learn whatever I can from these boys (men).

Women just aren’t commonly taught how to use tools from birth, or how to back up a trailer, or fix a leak. Am I the only woman who feels like she is trying to catch up? I want to know how to drive machinery and build a house and fix it when it falls apart. I want to know something about something, you know?

Pretty woman on the street.
I must look like an angel the way you’re looking at me. I have learned that a smile from a pretty woman such as myself can call a man to action like a wind up toy, suddenly sweet talking so fast I have to shake my head and remind myself this isn’t a simple friendly conversation anymore. At the casino next to the Las Vegas Greyhound terminal - all I did was smile, engage in a little conversation, and drink some coffee … next thing you know my new friend is calling me baby. Very few men can get away with calling my Baby. I flew off my rocker. “Don’t call me baby, I’m not your baby.” I said as I furiously made my way out of the shitty casino. There is a man out there, however, that can call me baby over and over, and it only makes me want to curl up in his arms in sweet surrender. I met him on the train, and his Texan sweetness could charm my socks off permanently. I like how he called me "little lady", and I admire the man who is not afraid to sing for strangers.

Woman in the kitchen.
Running warm water on working hands at the kitchen sink (with music in the background) can be a perfect moment for coming to peace at the end of a long day. Thoughts fall in to place… thankfulness and worry, prayers and frantic to-do list recollection… wash across the mind as woman turns the plate to help the water rinse the other side. I’m not offended by the notion that it’s a woman’s position to work in the kitchen.

Woman in your favorite song.
Where is that woman when you’ve got the blues? She’s dancing through your head breaking your heart and baffling your senses. She “shakes you all night long”, “takes you down to the place near the river” and is the closest thing to “angel” that your eyes have ever seen. But whose heart is got lassoed? Whose heart got broken? Who is that woman in the song? If the song is sung by a woman, I know whose heart got lassoed and whose heart got broken. I am the woman in the song.

Woman vs. Man and his noble pursuits (We all know the woman of temptation).



And the beat goes on... what will you do with yourself, woman?

P.S. I'm home from my grand adventure. I crossed the country twice. If you want any more details you're going to have to woo me over a relaxed cup of coffee or something similar.

Yours truly,

Britney Leigh Hunter

New Orleans to Birmingham

My last night in New Orleans I spent a hot, energetic night watching a brass band in concert, and I wish I could remember their name. New Orleans has the most distinctive character of any city I have visited. From the foggy avenues full of tourists and street musicians to the swamps and stilted shacks. The homes and churches were profoundly beautiful. (I am taking photos with film so, the pictures will have to wait a little longer.) The trees lining the streets were mature and covered in a light dusting of fern. The people walk with intensity (suspicious with purpose) and the food is spectacular. We stayed with a colorful group of people that I will never forget... I am still looking for the right words to describe our stay in their home.


We emerged from the train station Thursday in Birmingham and stopped into the bus station to get a map. An employee at the bus depot as well as multiple passersby couldn't help but ask where we were going (Why are we here?) with our huge outdoor backpacks in this city. We were the only white people there and the sight of us seemed to confuse and entertain people for the most part. We were quite the spectacle. I would never have guessed we would end up in the woods of Alabama in a neighborhood full of million dollar houses and thick forest. Wow. Mandy and I have both been dreaming a lot since we got here. Last night Mandy made the household a delicious meal and we took a drive in an old truck through the dark winding streets. I am reading The Secret Life of Bees an Mandy is working on an impressive doily.


This tune has been a great theme song for my stay here... Sean Hayes- Alabama Chicken

The South

The rural matrix of Texas has evolved into the swampy house-on-stilts matrix of Louisiana. The overcast clouds make everything blanketed in shadow and the grass seems wet with the air. The brightest light comes from the reflecting puddles in between the rows of farm crops. As the houses are on stilts, so is the canopy of sparse leaves sitting on top of trunks rooted in a soggy earth. The vines seem to be winning the battle in the tangles of vegetation. We pass dogs howling, dogs sitting, and people going about their daily lives. From the train, the countryside seems still and outside of time.

Last night I went out on the town and heard a band called Panorama. The event was full of life an character from the fair skinned saxophonist to the glittery hats with devil horns. It really is like a different country down here, an astounding one. Tonight we will have the pleasure of witnessing the Krewe De Vieux festival, which is sort of a local Mardi Gras festival.

Cheers.

San Francisco reflections

While this blog thing seemed like a perfect idea, I have been more interested in writing in my paper journal so far. We made it to Tucson and are currently relaxing with the large cacti out in the desert.


The train ride here proved to be as romantic as all the songs say. Meeting people along "the way" seems to be one the best ways to enjoy other humans. Here are a few of our images of San Francisco. Mandolin summarizes the trip much more thoroughly in her blog.

Passing through Chinatown

Getting excited with the sea birds

Golden Gate Park

Getting organized for our volunteer assignment "postering" for a volunteer center event.

poem from the Beat Museum we stumbled into

Sound and Safe

The adventure begins!

We made it to San Francisco sound and safe. The bus ride was long and full of restless sleep. The canyon after Reno was beautiful. Where there had been fires in previous years, the bare tree trunks seemed to float like buoys in a sea of white. There was so much snow in some areas that the trees seemed to sag and disappear beneath the white. About one hour later there was no snow on the ground, and there was cypress trees and green grass! It is amazing coming from the quiet blizzard lifestyle of Logan. Our host is friendly and generous and tomorrow we will begin to explore the city.

From here on out we may forget what day of the week it is. We may forget the time, because the only time that matters to us is the time of the bus schedule. It's simply wonderful.

2008 sounds great.

"I really feel like hot wings and beer. I'm leaving soon to go to the grocery store. You want?" -Mandy. Have I told you we eat like gods around here?

I went to Idaho to ring in the New Year with some premium Pocatello people. The coffee cup in my heart gets filled up fairly often in Idaho, and I have gained a certain Idaho pride over the last few years (I am not the only one).

The night was overflowing with good conversation and living room dance party exultation. My musical taste buds are refreshed from the shuffling iPods of the participants. My spirit is calmed by Sara’s home in the hills, the treasures on her walls, and the opportunity to dream. My New Years resolutions are worry to less, and to dream more.

I dreamt we were traveling through what I call The Rural Matrix which consists primarily of dry grass and shadows. Everything in the Rural Matrix is alive and glowing or dead and decomposing. I dream that we all sail around on invisible ships (mine is like a shrimping boat with a hammock, yours might be a canoe without a paddle).(Pirates forever)
"Because I dream, I am not.” –Leolo, from an interesting movie I watched recently.

For some reason Idaho pride reminds me of this guy in my class last semester who regularly wore large, red framed sunglasses he called "hater blockers." Since that instance I have deemed several articles of my clothing sufficiently hater blocking, and I wear them in avid defense.

Like This

ONE WEEK until the beginning of a grand adventure. This is Captain Hunter, signing off.

Merry Christmas Joni. Merry Christmas all.

Snow and Evolution

The first good snow! It's truly lovely.

Our little island house

Mandy getting ready for work at the club

I hate when she leaves me. Sara is already home for a long holiday.

It's hard to find the words to describe the last two weeks. Here is a few: Stress, exhaustion, exacerbation, frustration, thankfulness... crazed and dazed. I graduated last Saturday and it was pretty damn cool. My family was so supportive and wonderful. The bagpipes during the ceremony really got my emotions stirring. Tomorrow I take the GRE exam. I can't believe I will soon be living out of a backpack. Goodnight university, good morning wanderlust.

Movie star me... graduation day is a good day to look nice.

The brightness is overwhelming. Our family is so saintly. I love you all!

Mother Logan

If this is going to turn into my travel blog, I think it would be fitting to paint a little picture of the place where it is beginning. Logan, Utah has given birth to me in a metaphorical sense. Something greater is launching… and maybe that’s what older people mean when they say “college opens so many doors.” My life has swallowed me, and now I am swimming in a fluid explosion. Possibilities are more infinite than endless. Maybe that’s what I will tell my children college is like. I am always chasing the next priority. In retrospect, I often mistake my odd ambition and anxious pursuits to be a symptom of discontent. I couldn’t be farther from discontent. Maybe it’s like playing chess… though the act of sitting quietly down to a game is melodious; plotting the next move can consume everything.

School has kept me busy and disoriented. Sometimes it feels like mind slavery, and that is why the few and far between Fuck It Days act as a saving grace. I wrote a 6 page research paper and lost it after having my flash drive stolen out of a computer lab. I rewrote the paper and saved it to a temporary folder on my computer only to loose it a second time. My third time through that research paper on hairy nightshade I thought I might just drive to Canada and loose myself for good.

Fuck It Days.
Everyone needs a fuck it day now and then. It’s a day where everything gets put on hold, and whatever sounds good is exactly what you do. Fuck It Days often involve afternoon drinking, sleeping, and/or reading for pleasure. Thursday Jake and I had a fuck it day together. We drove to Idaho and I bought a lottery ticket and a case of high point beer. I won back the money spent and we went a little further on to the hot springs. Maple Grove is one of the most beautiful places I have relaxed. The tubs are nestled in a little valley along the Bear River. The business is run by a small family and their philosophy is, “don’t tell anyone you wouldn’t want to soak with.” And I follow it.

We were alone for a while until a couple joined us. The man apparently lives a few miles down the road and the first thing his new girlfriend said was. “That’ws a close call, wasn’t it?” Apparently the man had been kicked by his horse earlier that day… in the leg. They were a pair of goofy country folk. I thought to myself, “He’s walking just fine for getting kicked in the leg by a horse.”

The snow has been brilliant. I love walking in it. I found a shortcut to school that involves some very steep stairs obviously made by a private land owner. They are made with large stones and thick rusty pipe and I like to imagine they are semi-ancient. When I get to the top of the stairs and the hill that follows, the valley usually looks amazing… especially at 7:25 in the morning when the clouds are turning pink. The walk is a good time to listen to my favorite tunes on my headphones.

One of my jobs this semester is assisting a lab for the woody plant identification class. It is a bizarre thing to be the teacher when the students are so close in age and academic standing. I made stupid jokes along side them and many of them laughed with me and at me. I came to really enjoy my little group of students, and in the last day of class, they gave me a small round of applause. Hah! I only deserved it for my ridiculous approach to instruction. I also became a dancer this semester. African dance! Here is my class…

My blog gets classy on an enjoyable American evening.

"This house has so much love, it's almost sick." Amanda Rudd.


Here we are in our little verandah-less bungalow in the island. Justin is carving jewelry out of wood to my left. Across the table Mandy has pealed a pomegranate and is now knitting with her feet up against the open closet. We are all listening to "This American Life" on NPR and I am literally contemplating this American life.

Earlier today we decided spur of the moment to turn the newly empty room into a craft room. We moved the lawn table in, and put up a few decorations. Mandy has a sewing machine to contribute. The room used to be Tanya's room and it's a little sad not having her spirit around. Tanya and Bill decided to tie the knot last week and they are already living together. Their romantic status has been in debate for over a year now, and much to the relief of us all they are now married.

The wedding was brief and maybe that's what kept the energy high. We listened to Billy Idol "White Wedding" While we waited for the judge to arrive. Bill was ironing his pants in the living room, Tanya was beautifully marching up and down the hallway. Phil and I (witnesses) watched anxiously for the judge (and I danced a little.. it's a good song!). By the time he arrived it was nearing dark. The judge's grandson had insisted on coming, so the six of us walked almost a mile to a narrow bridge near first dam. My bicycle headlight lit the judge's paper while Phil and I held candles. A handful of sentimental words were spoken before we walked home to sign the papers.



Mandy and I have planned a 3 week train adventure across the U.S. to take place in January. The stops are planned, all that's left to do is purchase the tickets. It's hard to think of anything else. Mandy, Tanya, and Sara have helped cause an eruption of collective joy in this little verandah-less bungalow house. We really know how to live. We find the best music to stream from the internet, cook AMAZING meals, drink good beer, and we dance like it's going out of style. Our environmental (neo-hippie?) philosophies and creative activities seem like the answer to all the mysteries of my universe. We ride around town on our bicycles like we own the place, and most times it seems like we do. Babes.

We solve mysteries every day around the kitchen table. Work and school are stressful, but all in all, it's a pretty sweet ass American life.

Bioneer Revelations

Holy shit. "Ho-ly Shit!" I shouted across the incredibly clear valley standing above the amphitheater with Sara. The beauty of this place is astounding and it is my home. The peaks of our mountain fortress have been brushed with snow… a cold nose watching sunshine light the autumn trees. My heart is a cup of coffee for my spirit to drink. The friendships I have tied here have filled that cup so many times; I think they could change the world working at a 24 hour diner.

The Bioneers conference has shifted my perception and filled the cup in my heart for the third year. Thousands of people gathered all over the country to unite in understanding of our world. Of 18 sites, two are in Utah. It is hard to explain to someone who was not witness just how revolutionary this gathering of people can be. It involves reveling at the invitation to become revolutionary in our time. It involves remembering that this is our time. We are here together. The vision of the world that was painted by the national plenary speakers was broad, but it managed to cut right to the heart of collective society.

Revolutionary in terms of a Bioneer can mean anything from learning to love without fear, to refusing to ignore social injustice, to suing an oil company.

I am still reveling in the ideas of:

Death and life in great American cities, hyper-individualism, challenging bias, rivers: the arteries of the land, collective joy, sharing ownership of our business and acting like cathedral builders, food sovereignty, and how indigenous peoples have sustained a connection to the earth that others seem to have lost. It's about being more, not having more.

Some quotes:

"I knew I was going to take the wrong train, so I left early." Yogi Berra / Kenny Ausubel. "Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up." Kenny Ausubel.

"She said that when she kisses the goats ears, it makes the cheese better." Judy Wicks speaking about one of the suppliers for her innovative, sustainable restaurant, the White Dog Café.

"People are more terrified to love than to kill." Eve Ensler.

I have decided to tour my country. This experience has given me a deep longing to plunge into nationality. I will visit the farms where my food is grown, the places and people who are working to improve our country, other Universities doing research like mine, bars, bus stations, homes, alleys, parks, soup kitchens... The Moon Dog Café is on my list. The great wall in LA is on my list. Joel Salatins farm is on my list. And the list will grow.

Alone or not, it will be such an adventure. I know that the loving, cup filling energy of my time here in Logan will not be around every corner. I remember being in the city every day. I remember being grabbed on the street, not knowing what to do. I know I will see again the coldest of eyes and the haphazard oddity of life in America. I know there will be days when nobody seems warm, but I hope the warmth I carry will be enough for the journey, and oh the books I will read on the bus!

Agriculture Dance

TODAY.

My work took me to the Kaysville, Utah Botanical Center.  We arrived around 10 am and I had just finished my coffee.  We had harvested asparagus earlier in the morning and were briefed by Dr. Drost on our assignment for the day.

Our assignment was to wade out in the sea of wheat, mustard, and pea plots to retrieve samples for drying and testing.  It was a little like swimming.  In the tallest plots the Mustard flowers were chin height, the wheat above the waist, and peas right above the knees. -- And as we are wading and bagging the sky turns to dark and light featheriness pulsing above our heads and granting us partial shade. It is a unique enjoyment I have come to know.  The plants are being grown as a cover crop to help nurture the soil naturally for future crop planting.

Driving out to our plots takes us past the orchards there which I have sampled from in the past.  I remember standing in the shade of a big sweet cherry tree scooping flies from traps into little glass vials.  We would have cherry fights and eat well all the way home. (Forgetting the flies)

My schooling is taking me into the realm of research.  Sometimes it is truely magical, and other times I just feel like expensive labor.  I am very interested in our world's food growing practices.  Food is the almighty spice of life and without our generous sun and climate symbiosis we, along with the peas and the cherries, would perish into mineral and gas.  Agriculture is the working wheel of our relationship with the sweets generated by our working star. 

Driving home from Salt Lake the other evening I saw the sun setting farther out on the horizon than is possible in Logan.  It was big and sinking -- I could clearly imagine it rising in Spain outside Sara's window in a few hours.  I definitely want to revel in the spoils and the energy of the Earth.  I want to help small farmers stay small so the magical dance of growing food is not spoiled by the drudge of enormous monoculture.  I always want to be in support and celebration of working side by side with the natural tides of existance.

Who knows if I could accomplish more for the Earth by earning a degree to be an organic farming extension specialist ---or by just being a quiet hippie mother who grows her own, bikes into town and uses cloth grocery bags. 

Who knows if I will learn more traveling in distant countries ---or just by walking with my favorite people more and more.

Reponsibility is becoming rooted word in my vocabulary- looming and shadowing.  I am dancing a delicate dance.  I am in need of quality sleep and relaxation.  I believe I am in need of a sleepover with the mountains...

Good vs. Evil

I viewed this video on the New York Times website the other day and it has lingered in my thoughts since. I am no religious lady, no psychologist or anthropologist. I suspect there are infinite theories and profound stories about this subject, but here is my rant in response to this video...

Please view video (click)

http://www.lucifereffect.com

I really like what Dr. Zimbardo has to say in the second half of this video and it seems logical to me. His quote of some poet as saying "The line between good and evil cuts through the center of every human heart." His new book about how his prison experiment relates to Abu Ghraib seems extremely interesting. I have known about his first experiment for quite a while. It's pretty intense to think about criminals justified as being effected by extreme environmental stimuli... though I don't think this would justify release of violent criminals, but it certainly makes violent criminals seem... hmm not as completely inherantly evil.
I have talked (especially at work) about gruesome crime stories that have happened around our community. A man kidnapping a small child and eventually feeding the decapitated remains to cyotes. Rape, torture, murder... all these things seem so incomprehendibly evil. Even though most people don't go there, I do think we are all capable of descending into torment. It seems most people linger in the middle ground or on the good side. It's easier... I know I profoundly enjoy reveling in goodness and I do it a lot . I have found so much love and simple enjoyment these last few years and there is a lot more to be had. I also know I have spent time without much light... stretching like a seedling in the dark, pale and flimsy. My environment has changed a lot. I wasn't a crazy murderer back then or anything, but I enjoyed dark movies a lot more than I do now. I didn't think the world was anything special. It's hard to watch fucked up movies now-a-days. Why was it so mild and amusing earlier in life? Was I just young and naive, or was I exploring the other half of my heart in leu of circumstance? -- I'm not sure, but it is an interesting thought.
I don't think torture and that sort of fucked up necessarily represent or encompass the evil portion of heart energy. There are so many different actions and emotions... what is good.. what is evil... or is everything grey.. or WHO CARES. Do we require a balance, or could we live without sadness/anger/jealousy/hate? If you/I believe that evil exists, how can we believe we ourselves are removed from it... and the same with the good/God energy. If we are not good and evil, then what is?

The dance of luminosity and shadows... dark lines against unrestrained brightness... enjoying the hangover... zombie punk rockers...
=very nice to me

Maybe religion is just way to commit to the "gooder" half of ourselves.


Geoff http://www.vanl.freeserve.co.uk/images/thearts/mypic/Lute.jpg "Good vs. Evil"


Curtis Verdun "the Dance of Good and Evil"


Erik Dickman "Good and Evil are Within"


Mike Egan

Sometimes I believe I can sense which side..good or evil.. even the most subtle of situations or people reside on. Then again, maybe it's just my opinion/perception. Nothing is how it seems and everything is exactly how it seems. My train of thoughts has been threatening to de-rail lately my mind moves so fast.

I'm retiring now. Comments would be appreciated... even pure evil ones.