Wednesday evening, we gathered and brainstormed the affordable permaculture housing project. We had a good time, kept the meeting to a responsible length, and pretty much decided that there is a viable project lurking in this sea of ideas. In attendance: Dan Swain, Paki Muthig, Merideth Mehlberg, Hank Obermayer, and me.
One thing I really liked in permaculture class was that we started each session with a ritual of some sort. I'm super comfortable with this; what was new to me was how to do it in a welcoming, non-denominational, positive and supportive manner. So I started us off with a simple "What higher good am I welcoming into this space" ritual. And I felt Spirit come in and be welcomed. I loved it.
Thursday, on the way to a luncheon meeting to discuss the project with another potential member, the van broke. Radiator fluid squirted out. I made my meeting, and managed to let go my anxiety about the loss of our transportation. Lunch went well. I called Emo's Automotive, dropped off the van, and lost my head. I mean, I went into a floaty daze. I wandered Alameda for about half an hour, simply disassociated from reality. I got change from my barber to get on the bus.
The stop after I got on, my daughter got on. I loved sitting and visiting with her. And when we changed routes, Nicholas was already on the new bus. So all three of us got to spend a few wonderful, unexpected minutes together.
It's weird to be the only white people on a bus, though. Bus travel is so environmentally friendly; where are all the white, asian, and latino people I see at green tradeshows, sustainability events, and post-carbon gatherings? Are they driving their gasoline powered cars for their daily commute?