Follow the passion...

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Home Sweet Yogi Home

It’s just after dusk. Am sitting on the top step of the wooden stairs that wrap around the back of the house listening to the soft latin rhythm of ManĂ¡, one of my favourite Mexican exports (which may or may not be tied with my love of the corn tortilla that are rampant of the streets of The Mission)



Three floors up I am watching as a body of peach-tinted clouds roll in from the west, a wind that rarely ceases to make itself known. With this feature also comes with the nearly infinite number of scenes that emerge and transform each second overhead. The sky is barely aglow with the suns last rays, as a gradient indigo charcoal wave settles in. The orange and yellow speckles of the lights of houses in the distance on the hillside begin to appear in the background and create a backdrop mimicking a playful LiteBrite. The Year of Passion is becoming an active and powerful force truly guiding this journey of self exploration, experimentation and an opening of the mind, and hopefully the eventual release of that which causes disconnect and narrow vision.

An influential aspect of the laying of these thin, hesitant roots has been my new home, which has proved to be one of the most open, welcoming and expanding places of which to lay my head at night, gain inspiration and energy to approach life.

An ad on Craigslist looking for a roommate in a “Conscious Household”, with a vegetarian kitchen , a drama-free environment and a colourful collection of roommates, was what brought me to the Goddess Vortex. Carter, the girl subletting her room responded within moments of my first email. As I sat in the massive common space at The Green Tortoise hostel near San Francisco’s China town, I nibbled on the free breakie of fresh oranges, pineapple and banana - shamelessly returning to the fruit tray for more. That morning, determined to cease paying $35/night at the hostel and prolonging the inevitable of finding a real place, the next three hours I spent combing Craigslist for interesting flat-share ads, hoping to find not only a “nest” of inspiration to compliment and realize the Year of Passion as it begins to take shape, but also something that would allow me to grow, experience more, feel more, meet and connect with likeminded souls. Oh right, and it had to be furnished, available today and within my very limited internship stipend budget…no simple task in a town where the typical cost of a decent shared room in a decent neighbourhood is $700 minimum and you'll be competing with 5 other prospective rentees for the room.

Motivation to do so was evoked from carting my limited belongings (in a overly stuffed wheely bag) from 2 hostels over 3 nights – 1 at the Pacific Tradewinds Hostel, the hostel pet project of one of the 28 year old American boys that started HostelWorld.com. With its steel-framed-anti-creaking bed bunks, 4th floor sans elevator and community feel, this was the hostel of which I had interviewed for to do a work-exchange: 24 hours/week for room and board. And I would have done it too, had the internship with Purity Organic not come my way. The other 2 nights were spent at infamous The Green Tortoise Hostel- known for its rowdy party scene, seriously adventurous trips to the dessert, beach, forest and being an SF staple for the under 30 travel crowd.

One of the first replies to my search for apartments was from Carter. Her voice was happy and hopeful, genuine and kind. Her room was in an enchanting Victoria house opposite a lively Park in my beloved barrio of The Mission. She had already left for San Diego and needed to fill her room ASAP. I would see the room that afternoon; Caleb her room mate would meet me there and show me the room. I took the metro, or BART to 24th Mission stop, walked 6 blocks to the address and fell in love with the idea of calling this walk, my walk home. I found the house, and it lived up to its image and story, even more so than I had imaged.

I rang the bell and down came Caleb, a smiling bearded man with slightly ripped jeans, a casual vibe, and soft demeanour.

The faded Tibetan peace flags draped across the entranceway of the door (as well as variations of such in the bathroom and kitchen), the handmade sign at the top of the stairs saying “Take your shoes off - stay a while”, and collection of sketches, paintings, art and photography scattered throughout the space like an Italian mosaic made this purple Victorian mansion seem like one is stepping into a sacred place; vegan raw foods, astrological contemplations, performers, body works, artists, herbs, elixirs, acupuncture, cashew cheese - this was all very new territory and it scared me.

Like the new kid in class, I wondered: could I fit in here? I enjoy yoga, was once vegetarian, have an open mind by many standards, prefer to sit crosslegged to eat meals and like to experiment with food - but am a novice when it comes to Eastern philosophy, chakras, astrology, alternative healing and the list goes on...

I tossed with the idea for the next 24 hours, keeping the YOP at the front of my mind. Here is my chance to embrace much of what is San Francisco, follow through with my desire to live more cleanly, clearly and with intension – so why was I afraid? In the name of the Year of Passion, why choose fear? Keeping in mind a quote that resonated with me, I felt now was the time to put it into motion: “Fear is just excitement that has forgotten to breath.”

So I breathed. That was almost 4 weeks ago, and my time at la Casa de Yogi has opened my eyes, mind and heart to a world of new souls, delicious vegan cooking, a slower-paced, multi-sensory home where whole food is cooked slowly, nothing is wasted, fresh fruit and vegetables and combinations of flavours, textures and ingredients that were almost unthinkable come together in the cast irons pans, wooden cutting boards, the beloved slow cooker, and dehydrator in a family based atmosphere. Conversation of astrology, Venus, Saturn, Moon rising, philosophical musings, laughter and silliness are commonplace as the cushioned floor around the 4 x 8 ft table a mere foot off the ground create an open space to come together.

It’s a cast of intricate souls with stories and tales to rival a storybook, one of which am so glad to be apart of. People come and go here, sublets, friends of friends, those that spend the night, kids of room mates and those just passing through town needing a place to crash, it only makes sense that they could find solace and probably some vegan food, at the House of Yogi.

Technically, there are 8 of us at the moment – in a 5 bedroom apartment – on one floor, with one kitchen and one bathroom.
The back yard has a beautifully kept colourful garden of edible treats such as kale and chard, as well as wild purple popies, Californian wild poppies, iris orchids, roses, sunflowers and a others of whom are lovingnly cared for with homemade compost and a green thumb of the downstairs neighbours. The back steps are lined with pots of seedlings gaining new life, growing experiments from avocado seed, herbs and other green treats.

My room looks onto the street side; the large bay window takes in the afternoon sun like a cat basking in the 3 o’clock sun.


The room warms about 5 - 10 degrees and the encompassing warmth and light makes the room glow with positive energy, the rainbows of the hanging crystals, and oasis-like retreat space in the city. The walls are tapestry hangings, costumes and photo’s from last year’s Burning Man festival, (the 3rd biggest city in Nevada - Black Rock City, with a population of 50,000 people is inhabited for 1 week of the year then disappears again without a trace...), pics, paintings, and art of nature, family and friends. Collections of rocks, shells, and many juice plants fill the nooks and empty spaces of the room. The thin glass windows invites the world of the street into the room and under the covers as conversations on the stoop below float up with perfect clarity into the space. Authentic, raw and well-loved, this is good.

My direct room neighbour is Adri, the 22 year old Costa Rican body works instructor and lady shaman of sorts whose brown wavy hair, deep eyes and skin with several earthly tattoos and a flowing wardrobe of soft, natural and figure hugging often involve a and harmonious flare. Despite her young age, she embodies a strong sense of self, is an incredible creator of vegan salads with leafy dark greens having been massaged with oils and flavours.

Caleb, the astrologer, and philosophy masters student, is a fellow Scorpio and someone I have connected with over the past month through culinary learnings, experimentations, sharing of meals, ideas, and conversations of close to near everything. A man never short of words, or inspiration for cooking, he's a the culinary scientist behind some of the most delicious, labourous food I’ve ever tasted.

Homemade chai almond milk made from soaked almonds, coconut milk and a medly of chai spices to compliment a slice of gluten-free, vegan chocolate cake so decadent it would have dazzled even the most sceptical of meat eating, wheat-loving Texans or Albertans. Oh, and don’t forget the coconut, walnut and banana-ed icing to encompass the dense brownie-like cake.
YUM! This particular cake was to celebrate his daughter’s 12th birthday. Caleb’s 2 kids, Nebraska - 12 going on 22 and Revelation or Rev for short is 7 going 17, grew up socializing at their parents’ vegetarian coffee shop in Michigan, who have come to stay for July.



So that makes 8 of us, in a 5 bedroom flat.

Then there’s Karen Light, the miming actress who works at a tea shop, has hair like Rapunzel, long and blond that goes beyond sweeping her tailbone, and literally lives in the closet. Her “room” a mere 5 x 7 ft is the former closet, complete with wooden dowel to hang coat hangers still intact, and with one small window that looks to the tiny center atrium in the middle of the house. Her delightfully artistic girlfriend Coi Coi is from Colombia and commutes by unicycle. Their closeness and tenderness is inspiring and uplifting.

Laura lives in the back room, which receives the most glorious morning light, and with the reflection of the newly painted house directly across from us, she is a free spirited silk screen artist, whose bicycle inspired prints on tees are candidly unique and captivating. Having spent 6 weeks at a Buddhist temple in Nepal a few years ago, she has returned to Ithaca, NY for the next 6 weeks to work at a Body Mind retreat centre in northern NY. Before she left, she took this photo from her room with some delicious grapefruit from the farmers market she worked at.

She can also be seen picking wild blackberries with her friend and studio space companion Kazoo on Bernal Heights. For the record, after a particularly fruitful (pun intended) Sunday of wild blackberry picking, Kazoo made several pies and sold slices of it in Dolores Park – the iconic weekend-picnic-hipster park in the city (and also one of my favourite spots in the neighbourhood to soak up San Francisco, nature and reconnect with a slower pace and the book I'm reading at the moment: Cradle to Cradle)

Recently a new friend told me after some recent posts from the YOP blog, that he observed that there has been an increasing amount of content about the people, the characters in the YOP, and perhaps not as much as personal musings and contemplation about capturing the passion and the journey of the YOP; especially after today’s post.

The thing is, I just can't resist sharing the stories of these colourful, eclectic characters that have come in and out or stayed in my life, and even some of whom I get to share this home, this neighbourhood, this city with. Unknowingly, they not only have become an instrumental part of my grounding in San Francisco, but also contribute in continuing to grow my mind and the impact and journey of the YOP. Their subliminal teachings in openness and exposure to new thoughts and approaches challenge and push my current shifting reality, and at times it even feels like I'm consciously feeling these shifts happen during my once unconscious decision process. Those thousands of decisions made out of habit, routine and thus ease of the process; are perhaps coming to the surface to be remolded into something more true and insync with what it is, who it is, where it is that I'm to be. To be.

This is the peach tree dish of spiritual experiments and what the final result is, am excited to not know, but will most likely prove something beyond any realm of my thought in this moment...

or at least one could hope...


GRACIAS MADRE!

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Harps, Hikes & Home in San Francisco

Home. What a concept. What does it really mean? We know its not just bricks and floors and ceilings with leaks and creeks and other miscellaneous idiocynracies that can stick in our minds like honey dripping on the side of a glass jar. This week has been a revealing week about creating a quasi homebase foundation in a new city. A new city with a transient population, where everyone is either just arriving, just leaving or decided to “just stay” because, you really can be who you want to be.



This song came about 2 Saturdays ago, when San Francisco was “baking” in a delicious stew of “hot” sun and mild winds (aka 23 degrees delicious). After a lazy sleep in, a friendly room mate Brian, and an even friendlier Mission neighbour Matthew and I enjoyed some eggs with kale, tomatoes and red peppers and a coffee on the back porch of the Goddess vortex…aka my house.



Brian is a Puerto Rican acupuncture student at AIMC in Berkeley whose father from NYC, has adorned him with a hint of Puerto Rican on his neutralized accept that certainly doesn’t scream latino (as if the name Brian didn’t already do so). A musical man at heart, he recently came home with a vintage brass trumpet from a yard sale, then 2 days later, a small gorgeous wooden harp, his musical A.D.D, as he says, serves the household beautifully as just 1 day later, I awoke to the sound of his new harp being played down the hall ---almost a surreal awakening.


Matthew, a Colorado native with a heart of gold and smile that glows when making a cameo, works for Transfair, the NGO that certifies Fair Trade – he’s on the coffee, wine and beers side, although once referred to himself as possibly being a “peon” at an NGO.


(I mostly noted this last part as I like the word “peon”) A travelling man, has studied in Paris, worked in Ghana, and among other neighbourly invites, was my local host 2 weekends ago for the infamous Pride festival with his fabulous visiting friend Jeff.






After a hike up Bernal Heights that afternoon, I came back to the ranch to sun bake a bit, read the paper, and apparently join Brian in a sing-along to this song “Home” Which subsequently has been stuck in my head as the default track on the ibrain while riding my bike to work. Bernal Heights is the neighbourhood just a few blocks south of mi casa and named after the grassy-topped hill that divides Mission & Bernal Heights with Outer Mission on the other side, and provides a spectacular view of the city. Lucking in for a sunny day, the views from the top were blissful point of view of this enchanting city...






After a toss of the Frisbee at Precita Park, I returned home with no plans for the rest of the avo, but perhaps the reading of a book in a park, the paper on the back staircase or even a , or even a blog post musing about the flurry of activity with the YOP. The latter option was what happened, until the sing-along with Brian that is.

And as I begin to let my mind follow its intention and will, I am faced with the occasional moment of stillness - no plans, no net, no default activity to distract as I continue to set out each day to lap up this life of growing honesty and sincerity of what passion looks and feels like for me. At times vulnerable and feeling rather exposed to the whims of seemingly insignificant occurances, its amazes me that even the kind smile of a passing stranger can re-instil a wavering blip in self-confidence. No deposit, no return. Smile at someone and they will smile back. Amazing. Say good morning and you'll have one in return. Amazing. Amazing how maybe anything we're looking for could be realized if we just provide it first. mmmmm.....

Home is a strong word indeed, and has nothing to do with where we put our bed, furniture or keep our possessions...inevitably there's too many of that in any case anyways. Making a place feel like home, become home, or serve as the landing pad of safety, doesn't happen overnight, not even really over weeks or months. However, like all delicious parts of life, its a journey, a relationship that changes and evolves as we exchange time and energy while rotating around the blazing sun. I've been at the Goddess Vortex for over 3 weeks now, and am realizing more and more each day, that making a home requires patience, an exceptance of sometimes feeling alone, the openess to look far beyond previous horizons and yet to still listen, with a soft ear, to the voice of our own soul.

So although it’s taken me a few extra days to post a long overdue entry about mi casa stay tuned on Friday for a deep look inside the Goddess Vortex, the colourful souls that create this urban oasis and the revolving door of characters that are making an appearance in the Year of Passion