Small Stone: January 6, 2014

A consortium of nonprofits in San Francisco has started providing mobile showers and toilet facilities in specially refurbished/decommissioned buses from SF MUNI for homeless people around the City. The “comfort vans” are run by a group called Lava Mae (coined from the Spanish lavame--“wash me”). They take the buses to where the homeless people actually are located...the folks don't have to come to a facility.

 As part of their civic awareness to help with crowdfunding online for the project, they recently had an artists contest to come up with outrageous art that would call attention to the project. This is one of three toilets that artists re-imagined. This one is called "comfurt". It caused me to laugh when I saw them today at the Women’s Building. And then, thinking about what life would be like without a shower or a private toilet made the smile go away. A great project.

Small Stone: January 5, 2014

The weather here remains unseasonably warm and dry. I spent sometime in my little winter garden pruning back, watering and just enjoying the morning sun. On a walk through nearby Dolores Park, people were firing up barbeques, playing Frisbee and just lounging in the sun. Strangely, both of these things brought on feelings of un-ease and even a little bit of guilt at enjoying the day. Both the environment and our economy need actual winter to prosper. Makes me aware of how guilt was always at the edge of pleasure in my upbringing. Monday will be warm and sunny again, and probably tinged with that familiar feeling. And, looking back at previous year's postings here....there is a similar January picture. Ah, how things don't change.

Small Stone: January 4, 2014

Through the years when life was uncertain or plans not clearly made, I would imagine going on a jet to some place that I never had seen. Or, sometimes actually go. Even putting my foot to the pedal on my beloved cars would substitute for that when I was much younger. Today, I saw this marvelous vapor trail…one of several planes leaving San Francisco flying west into the sunset. Life plans are uncertain at the moment. And, I realized that the escape to far away places fantasy is gone.

Small Stone: January 3, 2014

The process of turning gold from a friend’s orange tree in Sonoma into marmalade had a couple of big issues today. First of all, they brought two huge paint buckets full of oranges…after 6 small batches we had about 40 jars and still one bucket full …the photo is what is remaining. A LOT of work, but a lot of fun, too. We laughed and fussed and it was a great day of friends cooperating on a “sweet” project. Sadly, the last batch was on the burner nearly too long…the old Belgian cast iron pot now has a serious patch of burned sugar that is soaking. Most of the jars will be gifts of California “gold” to friends and acquaintances over the next months. A significant portion will be on my toast these winter mornings!

Small Stone: January 2, 2014

Living in the city offers an amazing number of things to be involved in….advocate for raw foods, learn to make money writing, trim the fat at Overeaters Anonymous, volunteer with families in distress, have your energy levels moved around through Reiki, protest circumcision, support low wage workers in the fast food industry, or if it is all simply too much…affordable psychotherapy. And, all of this is available at my neighborhood Laundromat. Lots of choices to start the new year.

Small Stone: January 1, 2014

The weather is astonishingly warm and dry on the first day of 2014 in San Francisco. The past year was the driest on record. A good day for a walk along the waterfront, looking at the old piers, enjoying the many people just enjoying the day. Walking through a passage between piers, I met a colleague/friend and his wife out for their stroll. Serendipity. Then around the next corner, this reflection, so very skewed, in the lightly wavering bay. I wonder if the new year will be as out of shape?

not a time of endings

The frenetic activity of the holidays has no place in the natural order here in the wintered west. The weak light is deeply slanted from the south. Most deciduous trees have shed their leaves and are resting. A range of migratory birds still find the occasional spider or a conifer bursting with seeds awaiting harvest or dispersal. And, the long nights and crisp days encourage a gentle sense of hibernation. The world around me is at rest, gathering silent strength for rejuvenation. Winter is not necessarily a time of endings. Like the conifer, it gives us seeds awaiting spring.