Training In Paradise

As I step on to the cement pad that has become my training place in this warm weather, a sharp-shinned hawk glides slowly overhead, looking for prey. He disappears behind me and the ravens take his place, drifting and playing on the air currents as only they can do, all the while carrying on a serious conversation. Ever the watchful couple, they are my constant companions and I am grateful for their presence.

My legs are tired from yesterdays work and reluctant to get started. They plant themselves firmly on the cement, declaring mutiny, and I am forced to meditate on my surroundings for a short time. The wind blows and I look skyward for my black friends.

High, thin clouds swirl across the great expanse of blue and draw my attention northwest, to the Tehachapi mountain range. It is very close today. I can see the tall, white windmills that cover the western edge of the range. They look like crosses to me. And there are a lot of them; a giant's graveyard.

I remember I only have an hour and tell my legs to get on with it already. I attempt Chang Jin.

My legs laugh and say I told you so.

I tell them to be quiet and do it again.

And again.

The cries of small birds shift my focus from my mutinous legs to the vegetation around me. The rain has brought the green. There are mourning doves hiding in the tall grass, but I see them. As I work the form, I get closer to them. They should burst from their hiding places in a furry of high-pitched squeaks and fluttering wings, but they remain, unmoved.

They never fly from me when I train.

I turn to face the butte in preparation for my next form, Chul Ki Sam Dan. The sun is high and the rocks shine with endless tiny mirrors beneath it. Everything is green. A white moth with papery wings says a quick hello and disappears into the bright light of the noonday sun.

I close my eyes. The wind rushes past me, taking my scent with it. There are no planes, cars or people. Just the wind, the birds and my breath. I put my trust in what I know and the form is done.

Again and again.

My black friends shriek, reminding me to open my eyes and check my watch. My time is up and another afternoon of training in paradise has ended.

I cant wait for tomorrow.

The Earthquake Zone

Growing up in southern California has its ups and its downs. Sometimes those ups and downs come at the same time, in a big wave that rolls across the land much like any wave in the ocean. In my forty-three years in this state I have experienced many earthquakes, from the Sylmar quake in 71 to the 5.8 Chino Hills quake we had just a few days ago. No matter how strong a rolling quake becomes, they all start small. Very deceptive, these wave quakes. You never quite know if what you're feeling will grow into "The Big One"; the one quake that will turn Surf City into an island town, or if it will simply fizzle out more quickly than it started, leaving nothing more than a few rattled nerves in its wake.

One such earthquake rolled into Anaheim early one morning, beating my alarm clock to the punch.

I woke to a shaking bed. I was tired and really didnt feel like giving this quake any sort of respect so I stayed where I was, which just happened to be directly underneath a large, sliding glass window. Putting me in my place, or rather convincing me to move out of it, the quake grew stronger shaking the window above my head. I had just convinced myself that it was time to at least sit up when my roommate ran out of his room and started pounding on my door.

"Erin! Erin! Get up!" he screamed, terrified. I had never heard him sound so frightened.
"I'm up, I'm up." I answered as calmly as could, hoping to convince him that our rocking apartment was nothing to fear. That it was perfectly normal to be tossed around in your own hallway, bouncing off the walls like one of those little metal balls in a pinball machine.

When I got to my door, I threw it open and found him just reaching the end of the hallway. The sun had not risen yet, but there was enough light behind the curtains in the living room to outline my friend who stumbled sideways as the apartment pitched this way and that. His arms flew out to his sides for balance as he teetered dangerously on one foot.

Just then I heard a loud POP! that was closely followed by an electric sizzle and a blinding, phosphorescent blue light that filled the entire apartment.

Transformer I thought as the image of my friends fun house trip down the hallway was etched forever in my brain by the beautiful, deadly glow.

I began to feel real fear then. I hadnt seen an earthquake take out a transformer before. I had just a moment to wonder how much longer I was going to live when a scream from my intelligent, even keeled, rational friend of more than fifteen years cut through the panic.

"OH MY GOD! We're getting nuked!" and then he was gone, having bounced single footed around the corner into the kitchen and out of sight.

I discovered then that its nearly impossible to feel fear when you're laughing so hard you cry.

Alpha

First entry, just to get the ball rolling. Short and sweet.

When I was little, my family and I went camping all the time. Sometimes we'd go to the mountains and sometimes we'd go to a beach in Mexico, but usually we camped in the desert. For an adventurous girl of about five, the desert held many treasures. But none as special as the treasure I could make myself by throwing a plastic fork into the hot coals of a dying fire.

They would slither and twist, dance and spin. They drooped over my stick when I pulled them out of the coals. I watched them grow cold and hard in the cool, dry, desert air, a million stars looking over my shoulder. They became much harder than they were before I helped them become what they were really supposed to be and I imagined they were real. Some sort of plastic fairy with minds of their own and the ability to fly.

I kept all those forks for many years, my little treasure friends. I dont know where they are now but I imagine they are still together, dancing and laughing beneath the stars and telling tales of the toe headed girl who created them.