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Mar. 16th, 2005 08:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aprilstarchildAngry Bed Positions. Otherwise known as: what happens at night during a nasty fight when you do, after all, in theory share a bed.
I love that guy. Read the webpage of Things My Girlfriend And I Have Argued About. You're guaranteed to laugh. Please don't be drinking anything, your monitor and keyboard are either expensive, or you have no money to buy new ones, or both.
Work today: Very boring. Forgot my blasted knitting and didn't have anything to read, either. Grrr.
On the other hand, I made a very tasty soup last night from a recipe torn out of the food section of the paper. (BTW, I just tried to type "sextion" which I'd like to point out is phonetic and therefore not necessarily a Freudian slip.)
There were a lot more trilliums today. I don't know if this is because of the rain, or because I was looking harder. Also found a newt on the path. He was posed mid-step, and proceeded to Not Move for several minutes while I stared at him, crouched on the ground next to him. OMG, it smells so good to be in the trees, whether it's rained or not. And I had the place damn near to myself.
I've know two people nicknamed Trillium. The first was when I was at Eagle Creek. Late October of 1999 (the week just before Halloween, actually) I had a few days off in a row and drove up to the road blockade that existed at the time, by myself. Tyson and I had visited it the Sunday previous as part of a group of people delivering provisions and offering support (we brought a huge bag of cornmeal, some toothpaste, and condoms). All I knew was what I heard here and there on the KBOO morning news: there were people living in trees and suspended over roads to protest logging, east of Portland. I'd heard of Julia Butterfly, and I believe that by then I'd also read several issues of Earth First! Journal. I remember my first question to the person suspended over the road: How do you pee up there?
So even though my parents thought I'd gone stark raving loony, off I went. I also brought food with me, I believe a case of soymilk (the idea of "vegan" was entirely new to me--and not something I thought I'd ever do). I wanted to see what it was they did up there, I wanted to learn how to climb, I wanted to show that I supported them.
I loved base camp, sitting just off the road and before the road block. A fire pit had been dug and it was circled with old logs and camp chairs. Over it hung a large blue tarp that had been suspended at an angle from nearby trees. A sort-of kitchen had been set up--someone had brought out old 2x4's and used it and some fallen limbs to make a semi-flat counter and a rack, and some space for buckets (the kind bulk food comes in) for washing dishes. Old milk cartons underneath the makeshift counter held all sorts of food and dishes.
The morning after I arrived, a girl whose name I no longer recall but who was young and had naturally flaming red hair, taught me to climb, on a rope tied relatively low around a nearby tree. I was introduced to prussik knots and carabiners and figure eights. Use your legs, not your arms!
I hung around all day after that, helping them cook (hoo boy that was some spicy pumpkin curry soup...hey, what's nutritional yeast?), and digging the vibe. In the early evening, I was told that Trillium, who had been up in the "pod" for around a day, wanted down for some socializing and hot food. I was asked if I wanted to try being up there, and I said "sure!"
I need to explain the setup (what I remember), of course. There were two heavy ropes crossing the road--one was around two feet off the road (with a colorful banner hanging from it), the other a bit behind it (thirty feet?) and around sixty feet off the ground. Both were tied around trees on each side. In the middle of the higher rope, there was a metal ring of some kind. There were a good number of smaller ropes tied to the lower road-crossing rope, that angled up, came through the ring, and then held up the pod itself by being tied to the corners and sides. The pod was a frame of four limbs lashed together, with a rope net hung between them. There was a tarp that could cover the whole deal. Hanging off of it were buckets for various bodily functions. The rope for climbing was connected to the top of the pod, along with a loop of rope similar to those used for climbing. The morning after I got there, they'd tied several ropes diagonally coming from the pod, loosely to nearby trees--after a windstorm a few days earlier when the person in the pod became seasick from spinning and threw up over the side.
The rope was let down, and I put on my climbing gear. With nary a second thought, I began climbing. I soon realized that it was much more difficult than it was to climb fifteen feet up the side of a tree. Physically, it was very tiring--the movements were unfamiliar (sorta like an inchworm, crawling up the rope--sit back in your harness, lift the knot that supports your feet, stand on it and shove up the one attached to your waist, repeat ad nauseam). I was not in the best shape. Psychologically it was tricky as well--I was climbing a rope that hung over bare asphalt, and the rope bounced with my every move.
But, nevertheless, I got a good halfway up before I made the fatal mistake. Not looking down--that didn't scare me. But looking down to see how far I'd gone...and then looking up to see how far I had left. I froze up. The girl below asked me how I was doing, and I admitted, not so good. "What can I do to help?" In moments like that, there's no pretending. "Could you get the people in base camp to cheer for me?" She ran off, and soon enough a good half-dozen people came out and started rooting me on. Sobbing with fear, I quickly spanned the last twenty five feet or so, and Trillium, who'd been encouraging me the whole time, helped pull me (with my lack of upper-body strength) the rest of the way in. We quickly discussed bathroom and safety issues (personally, I had no plans of using the "facilities" unless I really had to). I chose the option of staying locked in, and kept my harness on and connected to the pod's support. Trill rappelled down quickly, making the whole operation bounce around while I white-knuckled the edges. Not long after, they tied my bag (with my journal and walkman) to the rope and I pulled it up after me.
Now what? I wrote for a bit. I listened to the KBOO evening news--the radio reception up there is spectacular. Eventually I lay back and listened to a tape of my Trillian Green CD. I started measuring time by putting my thumb out at arm's length and using it to note the distance between a tree's top and the moon. I really thought about what I was doing, from a symbolic and literal standpoint. At that exact moment, I was what was standing between many acres of old-growth, and the means of their destruction (not that the logging trucks were waiting right there, or anything). Pretty heady stuff. It was hard to wrap my mind around, but what I understood completely awed me. I loved the idea of being like the Lorax: "I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues." As a human being on this earth, I had a responsibility towards it. Saving some one of the last wild places by putting my body directly in front of them, seemed like a good place to start.
I eventually got cold (I wasn't used to dressing for cold weather, and froze my butt off a good portion of those couple of days) and had to pee. I hollered out the side, and Trillium was ready to come back up. If I thought her going down made that thing bounce, I was unprepared for her coming back up. She'd been doing this a while, and was fast. Boing, boing, now I really have to pee. I put on the figure eight and my safety. No big deal. Now I just have to...well, jump.
Holy Mother of God.
My logical mind is saying: This is a well-thought out setup. This is a very strong rope. The metal equipment gets x-rayed every few weeks to make sure there's no structural problems. I know I can control the speed of my descent, and that I will be glad to touch ground. My reptillian brain is saying, You're 60-something feet in the air, suspended over bare asphalt, and you're going to jump?? Trillium once again had to deal with me as a sobbing frightened mess. I don't remember eventually easing myself off the side. I do remember that the second I was free from the pod (possibility of pinched fingers over as well), I felt incredibly free. Rapelling was fun! I experimented with controlling my speed, and settled for a nice slow trip down to earth. My legs were so wobbly they could have been made out of jello, and I barely got the harness off before I ran to pee behind a tree. I don't think I'd ever liked myself as a person more than I did, at that exact moment.
On the way home the next morning, I stopped in a spot where there had been some cutting. I stood on a stump and looked around. Out loud, and to the universe in general, I announced that I would not let this place be destroyed. I swore to protect it, as much as I was able. It felt good. I went home with a goofy grin, took a nice hot shower, and tried to keep that feeling while working the daily grind of being a Fred Meyer cashier.
I never forgot Trillium's kindness. I met lots of the most dedicated people working to protect Eagle Creek in those few days, but Trillium I always held in the highest regard. Over and over I watched how she was kind and accepting of other people--whether they'd been doing forest activism for years, or whether they'd just shown up. I also wonder, of course, how much of it is just because she didn't get exasperated or frustrated with my fear. Her attitude seemed to be: yes, this is very scary, and it's good that you're afraid, but you can do it, and I trust you to do it.
Conquering one's gut-level fears feels pretty damn good.
Hey, I could be a writer. *snicker* Okay, that needs a bit of editing...but what do you guys think? Eh!?!
Now: To figure out how to use an ftp and get some damn pictures up on the liquidaffinity server.
I love that guy. Read the webpage of Things My Girlfriend And I Have Argued About. You're guaranteed to laugh. Please don't be drinking anything, your monitor and keyboard are either expensive, or you have no money to buy new ones, or both.
Work today: Very boring. Forgot my blasted knitting and didn't have anything to read, either. Grrr.
On the other hand, I made a very tasty soup last night from a recipe torn out of the food section of the paper. (BTW, I just tried to type "sextion" which I'd like to point out is phonetic and therefore not necessarily a Freudian slip.)
There were a lot more trilliums today. I don't know if this is because of the rain, or because I was looking harder. Also found a newt on the path. He was posed mid-step, and proceeded to Not Move for several minutes while I stared at him, crouched on the ground next to him. OMG, it smells so good to be in the trees, whether it's rained or not. And I had the place damn near to myself.
I've know two people nicknamed Trillium. The first was when I was at Eagle Creek. Late October of 1999 (the week just before Halloween, actually) I had a few days off in a row and drove up to the road blockade that existed at the time, by myself. Tyson and I had visited it the Sunday previous as part of a group of people delivering provisions and offering support (we brought a huge bag of cornmeal, some toothpaste, and condoms). All I knew was what I heard here and there on the KBOO morning news: there were people living in trees and suspended over roads to protest logging, east of Portland. I'd heard of Julia Butterfly, and I believe that by then I'd also read several issues of Earth First! Journal. I remember my first question to the person suspended over the road: How do you pee up there?
So even though my parents thought I'd gone stark raving loony, off I went. I also brought food with me, I believe a case of soymilk (the idea of "vegan" was entirely new to me--and not something I thought I'd ever do). I wanted to see what it was they did up there, I wanted to learn how to climb, I wanted to show that I supported them.
I loved base camp, sitting just off the road and before the road block. A fire pit had been dug and it was circled with old logs and camp chairs. Over it hung a large blue tarp that had been suspended at an angle from nearby trees. A sort-of kitchen had been set up--someone had brought out old 2x4's and used it and some fallen limbs to make a semi-flat counter and a rack, and some space for buckets (the kind bulk food comes in) for washing dishes. Old milk cartons underneath the makeshift counter held all sorts of food and dishes.
The morning after I arrived, a girl whose name I no longer recall but who was young and had naturally flaming red hair, taught me to climb, on a rope tied relatively low around a nearby tree. I was introduced to prussik knots and carabiners and figure eights. Use your legs, not your arms!
I hung around all day after that, helping them cook (hoo boy that was some spicy pumpkin curry soup...hey, what's nutritional yeast?), and digging the vibe. In the early evening, I was told that Trillium, who had been up in the "pod" for around a day, wanted down for some socializing and hot food. I was asked if I wanted to try being up there, and I said "sure!"
I need to explain the setup (what I remember), of course. There were two heavy ropes crossing the road--one was around two feet off the road (with a colorful banner hanging from it), the other a bit behind it (thirty feet?) and around sixty feet off the ground. Both were tied around trees on each side. In the middle of the higher rope, there was a metal ring of some kind. There were a good number of smaller ropes tied to the lower road-crossing rope, that angled up, came through the ring, and then held up the pod itself by being tied to the corners and sides. The pod was a frame of four limbs lashed together, with a rope net hung between them. There was a tarp that could cover the whole deal. Hanging off of it were buckets for various bodily functions. The rope for climbing was connected to the top of the pod, along with a loop of rope similar to those used for climbing. The morning after I got there, they'd tied several ropes diagonally coming from the pod, loosely to nearby trees--after a windstorm a few days earlier when the person in the pod became seasick from spinning and threw up over the side.
The rope was let down, and I put on my climbing gear. With nary a second thought, I began climbing. I soon realized that it was much more difficult than it was to climb fifteen feet up the side of a tree. Physically, it was very tiring--the movements were unfamiliar (sorta like an inchworm, crawling up the rope--sit back in your harness, lift the knot that supports your feet, stand on it and shove up the one attached to your waist, repeat ad nauseam). I was not in the best shape. Psychologically it was tricky as well--I was climbing a rope that hung over bare asphalt, and the rope bounced with my every move.
But, nevertheless, I got a good halfway up before I made the fatal mistake. Not looking down--that didn't scare me. But looking down to see how far I'd gone...and then looking up to see how far I had left. I froze up. The girl below asked me how I was doing, and I admitted, not so good. "What can I do to help?" In moments like that, there's no pretending. "Could you get the people in base camp to cheer for me?" She ran off, and soon enough a good half-dozen people came out and started rooting me on. Sobbing with fear, I quickly spanned the last twenty five feet or so, and Trillium, who'd been encouraging me the whole time, helped pull me (with my lack of upper-body strength) the rest of the way in. We quickly discussed bathroom and safety issues (personally, I had no plans of using the "facilities" unless I really had to). I chose the option of staying locked in, and kept my harness on and connected to the pod's support. Trill rappelled down quickly, making the whole operation bounce around while I white-knuckled the edges. Not long after, they tied my bag (with my journal and walkman) to the rope and I pulled it up after me.
Now what? I wrote for a bit. I listened to the KBOO evening news--the radio reception up there is spectacular. Eventually I lay back and listened to a tape of my Trillian Green CD. I started measuring time by putting my thumb out at arm's length and using it to note the distance between a tree's top and the moon. I really thought about what I was doing, from a symbolic and literal standpoint. At that exact moment, I was what was standing between many acres of old-growth, and the means of their destruction (not that the logging trucks were waiting right there, or anything). Pretty heady stuff. It was hard to wrap my mind around, but what I understood completely awed me. I loved the idea of being like the Lorax: "I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues." As a human being on this earth, I had a responsibility towards it. Saving some one of the last wild places by putting my body directly in front of them, seemed like a good place to start.
I eventually got cold (I wasn't used to dressing for cold weather, and froze my butt off a good portion of those couple of days) and had to pee. I hollered out the side, and Trillium was ready to come back up. If I thought her going down made that thing bounce, I was unprepared for her coming back up. She'd been doing this a while, and was fast. Boing, boing, now I really have to pee. I put on the figure eight and my safety. No big deal. Now I just have to...well, jump.
Holy Mother of God.
My logical mind is saying: This is a well-thought out setup. This is a very strong rope. The metal equipment gets x-rayed every few weeks to make sure there's no structural problems. I know I can control the speed of my descent, and that I will be glad to touch ground. My reptillian brain is saying, You're 60-something feet in the air, suspended over bare asphalt, and you're going to jump?? Trillium once again had to deal with me as a sobbing frightened mess. I don't remember eventually easing myself off the side. I do remember that the second I was free from the pod (possibility of pinched fingers over as well), I felt incredibly free. Rapelling was fun! I experimented with controlling my speed, and settled for a nice slow trip down to earth. My legs were so wobbly they could have been made out of jello, and I barely got the harness off before I ran to pee behind a tree. I don't think I'd ever liked myself as a person more than I did, at that exact moment.
On the way home the next morning, I stopped in a spot where there had been some cutting. I stood on a stump and looked around. Out loud, and to the universe in general, I announced that I would not let this place be destroyed. I swore to protect it, as much as I was able. It felt good. I went home with a goofy grin, took a nice hot shower, and tried to keep that feeling while working the daily grind of being a Fred Meyer cashier.
I never forgot Trillium's kindness. I met lots of the most dedicated people working to protect Eagle Creek in those few days, but Trillium I always held in the highest regard. Over and over I watched how she was kind and accepting of other people--whether they'd been doing forest activism for years, or whether they'd just shown up. I also wonder, of course, how much of it is just because she didn't get exasperated or frustrated with my fear. Her attitude seemed to be: yes, this is very scary, and it's good that you're afraid, but you can do it, and I trust you to do it.
Conquering one's gut-level fears feels pretty damn good.
Hey, I could be a writer. *snicker* Okay, that needs a bit of editing...but what do you guys think? Eh!?!
Now: To figure out how to use an ftp and get some damn pictures up on the liquidaffinity server.
