Love and Haight in India

“If there is no struggle, there is no progress”
At almost 10 am, the streets of Haight Ashbury are slowly waking up. The sky is sapphire blue, bluer than any blue that I’ve seen before in this infamously foggy and overcast part of the city. The house was quiet when I left it this morning in search of a morning nook of inspiration that would do justice for this week’s happenings. After a short jaunt, I’ve found this mornings destination: Coffee to the People.

What feels like a neighbourhood coffee intuition, the classic guitar riffs and slow harmonica chords that accompany the idealist lyrics of “blue skies” and “burning love” on the tunes overhead could only be one person: Dylan.

A distinct hippy feel, this coffee shop not only touts being “the best coffee in the Haight” but also mirrors the vibe, class struggle and passionate, almost angry consciousness that the souls that have, do and will continue to inhabit this neighbourhood.

Today’s quote came quite clearly in the form of a bumper sticker preserved under many a layer of clear shellac on the peach coloured table to my right, although now temporarily inhabited by a man eating granola with soy milk, a glass of fresh organic OJ and on his Mac book browsing….Real estate? Yeah – I didn’t see that one coming either. Each table in the café, and there are almost 25 of them, are small collections of black and white images, articles and posters from times gone by reflecting the golden age and birth time of this neighbourhood: The 60’s & 70`s.

“If there is no struggle, there is no progress” came from the pen and lips of one of the most well-known social reformist in the US to document his time and escape from slavery: Frederick Douglass, as well as defend the suppressed rights for visual minorities and women during the 1800`s. Even 200 years later, his words are still chillingly relevant: from class consciousness to self discovery. Themes of justice, freedom, art, expression are still pumping through the veins of this ‘hood, but for me, the most striking aspect of my temporarily residence here has been in the culture and consciousness of the street people and artists (not necessarily mutually exclusive) of all kinds that paint, draw, strum, drum and beg for food or money with pride, respectively. Even the girl who is dressed in clean jeans and cotton shirt sitting against on the ground resting against a cardboard box, several sleeping bags, a guitar and backpacks outside the coffee shop is reading a novel by – Pablo Neruda, one of the Chile`s greatest gift to the world.

Passion is present in the Haight. Passion to live with freedom and as you choose in a loud and proud way. Being vocal about what you want, where you’re going, what you believe and how you want to go about doing so, is here. It’s raw and unapologetic and a great crystal to insert into the reflections, musings and contemplation of the Year of Passion.

Am staying with friends Lauren and Sean, a early 20-something couple who were brought together while studying abroad in Shanghai a couple years ago, and have since weathered the distance of her being in Buenos Aires and separate travels around the world. They have been subletting a room in a 2 bedroom, mainfloor apartment in an Edwardian Victorian home complete with a gorgeous marble signature San Francisco stoop perfect for morning, afternoon and nightly lounging and landlords that study drama therapy and theatre. The living room, my home for the past week and next 6 days, is like the suite of a museum of the Moulin Rouge. With a distinctly burlesque feel, the eclectic collection of antiques spanned the gamut including an antique baby grand piano, white painted fireplace, old black and white photos of seemingly unrelated people, a vintage seamstresses mannequin made from canvas, `wearing` a black top hat and lace vintage dress, framed posters of Italian films from the 60s, and Asian masks and sun umbrellas on the oversized mantel. All this, AND a large and overstuffed couch which has made a wonderful resting spot for my mind, body and soul as this transition continues as I remain `between`leases before leaving for India :)

Last weekend was a beautiful goodbye to my Mission oasis, Saturday was spent @ the Bike Kitchen learning how to repair the gear de-railer cord and housing and true the back wheel, wandering the Mission Street Food festival, dancing salsa under the afternoon sun to a lively 6 piece latin band on one of the off-shoot streets in The festival, and walking Valencia Street with a mango ice lolli chatting with Brian, the Puerto Rican acupuncture and herbalist. That evening, soon to be former room mates Caleb, the Michigan native astrologer and Karla, the youth art program Puerto Rican with an infectious laugh, biked to the newly opened Ethiopian restaurant Moya on Folsom. Remy, a 22 year old American born Ethiopian works with me at Purity Organic and comes into the office once a week to file documents, and her mother have opened this authentic restaurant in SOMA (South of Market Area) and she was working on Saturday night.

Tofu tibs, 100% teft anjara and other Ethiopian delicacies awaited us before we left to go see the live flamenco, ska and acoustic inspired Makru band perform at a 1 room art space in the Mission.

A Mexican 20-something with talent like Juileta Venegas, a Spanish box drummer, a short, dark haired bass guitarist who reminds me of a former Chilean lust Aaron, and others, compose this amazingly refreshing group of performers.

Sunday, although less tranquil due to the moving of my gorwing collection of “stuff” to lauren and Seans, culminated in an impromptu women’s circle meeting of the females in the Gooddess Vortex on the stoops of our purple Victorian. The Sunday afternoon sun was hot. The steps were asking to be inhabited, and we answered with Sangria, Gin and cucumber cocktails in Mason jars, and girl chats about boys, sex and…knitting.

Olivia, the early 20-something with the knitting needles in hands and 100 watt smile studies full time, and works almost full time at Scarlet Sage, the neighbourhood herbal shop on Valencia. Having attended the desert festival Burning Man as a child, a rare and unique experience for both child and parent, her mother is deeply wound into the world of recycling and waste management within the city and state.

The other Olivia, is a 1983 baby hailing from the culturally rich Aussie capital of Melbourne, Australia, has been a warm and welcome addition to the Goddess Vortex since her arrival with her equally lovely partner Heath almost 3 weeks ago. Both she and Heath are digital marketing folks who have hit the ground running since arriving to establish themselves in San Francisco for the next year. With her open mind, free flowing spirit and heavy hiking boots, Liv was sipping her gin & tonic spike with a slice of organic cucumber, while we dissected the “witty dialog” of the gin she had selected for her afternoon of Gin in the Sun.

So with a bit of a buzz, I headed back to my new home in the Haight, where I would continue with the seemingly endless internet dig into VLR of which I have been putting off in light of the sunny weather and blue skies. VLR being the Visas, Logistics and Reality of getting a US work visa, an Indian tourist visa and renewing Canadian passport - all at the same time. I am elated to say that at this point, despite the delays, all 3 are in the works to successfully be completed WOOHOO! Ok, so my original intent of this post was to share about India. More specifically -why. Why now? With who? Where? When? But alas, the sun is high noon now, the skies are still clear and this Sunday is calling my name. So India details will have to wait...until Tuesday :)

One sleep til the Haight...

“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.”

Dear Mister Mark Twain poetically said these words many years ago, and after spending July and almost all of August in this notoriously chilly and seasonally undecided city, I can see why this phrase has met the lips of so many San Franciscans...repeatedly...this summer, as rumour around the water cooler (yes we have one), the taco trucks, and streets has it that it has been the coldest summer on record in over 80 years. Yum!

Cool overcast mornings of no more than 13 degrees, sprinkled with the expected mist of not-quite rain, not-quite fog, and an evening chill that makes ice cream seem out of the question (only SEEM). It operates almost like a light switch - somewhere around 6 or 7pm, any warmth seems to disappear and vanish all within a breath; often mirroring the quintessential sign that autumn has arrived. Ah autumn: the season of change, of new beginnings, of shedding previous layers and preparing for the next phase of growth. Unconsciously, the Year of Passion is right on track.

With just one more sleep til until my 10 week sublet is complete at the Goddess Vortex in the Mission, this Sunday, tomorrow, I move out and begin 3 weeks of in transient yet familiar couch surfing...aka the return of bag lady status.

Although this time it will be spent predominately with some newly made friends that are extending some kindness to a not-so-stranger. The 75 days that I have spent at this heart-warming and welcoming space, has opened my eyes to so many new ideas, thoughts, theories, ways of life, people, foods, experiences, dances, art, relationships and more. I am grateful for this time spent here, although more signs than the seasons are saying that the Year of Passion marches on in exploration of new pastures of inspiration.

In honour of the mini-journey and personal growth that has occurred while here, starting last Monday, I’ve decided to challenge myself to “go” 100% raw vegan for 1 week. Sometimes seen as a cleanse, the “Raw movement” is the consumption of only uncooked (or to the max temp of 106 degrees) unroasted foods, and definitely an emphasis on local, organic too. Fresh fruits, veg, greens, raw seeds, nuts, dates, fresh herbs & vinegars are fair game. Enter: Cashew “cheese”, sunflower pesto & the cornucopia of farmers markets colours....

In preparation, last Saturday’s trip to the Alemany Farmers market on the other side of Bernal Heights had my backpack brimming with 2 kinds of char, basil, 4 variety of figs, apples, dates, long beans, mustard greens, cabbage, and baby yellow heirloom tomatoes.
Room-mates, former and current, Adri and Caleb have both been advocates for eating a raw vegan diet, as the nutritional content of foods is higher in foods that have not been cooked and since raw “living” food contain live enzymes, your body doesn’t have to work as hard to digest, giving you much more energy to do other things – such as go for a bike ride, play Frisbee at the park, or even plan a trip to India.

So in the spirit of going big or going home, I’ve dived right into this nutritional experiment starting off by sprouting lentils and making sunflower pesto garlic paste. Both involve soaking sed seeds for at least 12 hours in order to help bring the seed or nut “to life” – the water being a signal that it should “come alive” in preparation to germinate, or sprout – but in my case – to be eaten. Poor things never had a chance against my hungry eyes…

A sense of rawness is not only what I’m putting in my mouth and body this week, but is also a sentiment that am feeling as a result of this week`s inevitable and foreseeable conclusion of what I might even call a passion-filled romance. Within days of arriving at this blessed spot in the Mission, I had the joy of meeting one of the most interesting, and complexly layered companions I’ve had the opportunity to explore on a level that has been dormant in my heart for some time.

A fast and strong connection, followed by a loving and passionate lust made this recent decision to separate a difficult reality to admit. Looking back upon this collection of unique moments of unspoken understandings and connections between the sheets and on the streets, my heart feels a bit raw, if not only for the mourning of the end of simply something beautiful that was. But this has come full circle at a time of other endings - the summer, the Goddess Vortex, and perhaps even the honeymoon of a living in a new city, even one that still captivates my heart at every new turn.

This finale in the heart department that I`m experiencing is slightly comforted by the fact that perhaps this is clearance time for not just I. Accompanied not only by the quintessential introspective, melodramatic songs of ColdPlay and Dave Matthews Band that continue to play on my Pandora station, I`ve learned of two other ladies, both within close degrees of separation, who are have also closed similar chapters this week with their San Franciscan lovers, lusters, companions...

But as the curtains fall on Act 1, an intermission ensues, followed by Act 2, Act 3 and then a whole new play. Act 1 @ the Goddess Vortex has been everything I’ve dreamed of my intro to Cali and more.

Organic juice company job, farmers markets with the most succulent fruit and vegetables that make my eyes dance with excitement, naked yoga in the sun, raw vegan food diet, purple Victorian home in an urban oasis nestled in my favourite colourful neighbourhood that is filled with raw life, lazy afternoons in Dolores Park, experiencing a Women’s Circle in Berkeley, a beautiful new road bike and an even stronger love of urban cycling, a legendary gay pride celebration in the Castro with new friends both gay and bi, hiking with Couch Surfers and friends amongst Sequoias and Red Woods, putting Sweat Equity into an SF start-up with the Dutch-born Indian Coconut sponge Julian, impromptu sing-alongs in the kitchen, back porch and stoop, biking the Golden Gate, art crawls in The Mission, passing passion-filled outdoors murals everyday, speaking, seeing, hearing Spanish everyday, drinking too much wine, passionate nights under the peace flags on my room, and countless “Is this really happening?” moments.

This intermission period begins on Sunday, when lovely Lauren, a 20-something lady friend who is newly transplanted from Boston to SF will be hosting me in her delightful Victorian house right off of Haight for some days.

With the intransient nature of these next 2 weeks, passion ponderings and musing are bound to surface, as will with the planning of the Year of Passions next stop beginning of Act 2: India.

Webster's got passion?

Made using the blank canvas space of the bottom of a fresh produce box, written in simple blue pen, the make-shift sign read “Free Relationship Advice”.

A young man, no more than 25 and no taller than 5’7”, was accompanied by a taller, warm and smiling fellow, and both were gentling asking people if they would like some free relationship advice while holding this hand-made sign up in front of them.
We were in line for the Free Farm Stand on 22ⁿ and Treat Street (yes that’s a real street name, although its definition is rather indicative to this days activities) in The Mission. Every Sunday the colourful souls of el barrio, of all ages, shapes, sizes and backgrounds, come together to receive the weeks cast-offs from farmers who will be returning back to their farm, preferably sans last week’s harvest’s offerings.

After intentionally overhearing these free farm stand prophets share their young wisdom preaching honesty and choosing reality versus games, I couldn’t let this opportunity to engage these two thriving gentlemen in a conversation about passion. A deliberate act to engage in this discussion about “What is passion?” So when our eyes met, and was asked if I would like some advice, I politely declined, and as articulately as I could, explained the Year of Passion, asking instead for their thoughts on living a life of passion. They politely accepted.

This became one of the handful of intentional conversation of this exact question from the past 10 days, all of which provided some intriguing food for thought in this feast of a journey to discover passion.

Last week on a bike ride home from a cheap and cheerful dinner at The Citrus Club in the Upper Haight,

which just happens to be home of my favourite gluten-free orgasmic orange veggie concoction, I confessed out loud the thoughts to travel with no more than a backpack and blind faith, that had been burning brighter and brighter this past week.

It’s the instinctual reaction that arises from within usually at even a whif of regularity. Or is it routine? Complacency? Stability? I've been in the city for just over 2 months now, and already the travel pangs. What gives?

By definition, life is good. Work is going well and am enjoying what I'm doing; as is my living situation, roommates and even some Bon Bon romantic tenderness sprinkled in. I adore riding my road bike everyday is this enchanting, hilly city, am blessed to eat delicious, healthful, organic foods regularly, and am meeting some of the most interesting people that even the most talented writers could not piece together. Relationships are being started and nurtured; from acquaintances to friendship to romances and all the indefinable kinds in between. Life is good. Yet the questions still remains:

Where’s the passion?

In the midst of getting set-up here and seeking for exciting, unique, boundary-pushing experiences and people (a notorious Vanessa-ism) partly fuelled by the desire to deliver juicy blog-worthy content, I perhaps have lost sight of the original intent of the YOP. The pursuit, the discovery, the journey to passion.

Webster says that passion is

1 a (1) : emotion (2) the emotions as distinguished from reason b : intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction c : an outbreak of anger

2 a : ardent affection : love b : a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept c : sexual desire d : an object of desire or deep interest

Emotion without reason.

Intense.

Overmastering feeling.

Ardent affection.

Sexual desire.

Webster, I never thought you had it in you, but I like it. I like that a lot. But how does one ignite that within themselves to live it and not just feel it with isolated events. Or is it something that when you find it and have it, it isn’t about igniting it, it is just about living life – with passion already woven in?

In search of living, breathing thoughts on living with passion, one turns to who else but the people in the free farm stand handing out relationship advice. Dana and his partner were intrigued and excited by the challenge to try to define what living with passion is. Dana said that for him, it would be to try to find some aspect of passion in all things that happen in your life – there’s passion underlying in everything, we just need to unearth it. So, it was interesting to hear his response to “So are you living a life of passion?” He replies “No. Not all the time. It’s tough.” Interesting. His partner answered the question with a comfortable, calm smile with a calm “Yes”, he was living a life of passion.

Recently, others have shared with me their thoughts on living with passion too. One has said to approach the acts in your life with a fervent, passion; everyday. From the small actions and the life changing ones – would this mean that if we put our full mind and intent into each act we do, passion, or an “overmastering feeling” or an “emotion without reason” will be created?

Learning from others who are already living with passion seems like an obvious stepping stone in the YOP, yet I can’t help but wonder, for those who are living with passion, was it a conscious quest for them, or was it a natural, honest connection to their passion that they’ve been listening to and guiding their decisions all along? Furthermore, without the explicit conversation, how does one know they are in the presence of someone who is living with passion? Although am unsure exactly on how to articulate the je ne sais quoi that is emitted when in the presence of passion, but like your gut has instincts, it exists and is something to be said about surrounding yourself with passion to help open ones senses to find and recognize their own.

I'm listening to some of my favourite introspective blog writing music as am enjoying getting lost in the musings of passion...

Interestingly enough, the title of the song contain the Sanskrit words Sat Nam, which Wikipedia says "not to be mistaken for Satya" the Sanskrit word that loosely translates to truth.

Truth, eh? In relating this to the YOP, I can't help but wonder: Can passion exist without truth? I’m not so sure it can. Would that then imply that one must be true and in tune with themselves to live with passion? So perhaps included in the definition of passion is also truth and the courage to be truthful in one's pursuit of passion.

Woah! Musings overload! This is a journey and thank you for being here share to share it with me.

xo

V