This journal entry was inspired by and taken from a letter to a close lifelong friend from California, Jen Rosen;

My meditations on my dear friend Jen Rosen’s paintings have helped me feel the need and pull to open my sketchbook up and use it… to draw, to paint, whatever comes, to journal… must do!

I recently had a strong vision to do four sweats (Native American sweatlodge ceremony) in eight days.  A powerful cleanse, and a dire need to sweat.  I am meditating on having it ready for solstice and doing one then.  I need to build the sweat, so finding those moments is big.

It’s been a hectic time since I got back from El Salvador.  Missing almost two weeks of work out of a month made getting the mortgage together a real grind.  We managed it, but just… whew!!!  It was the first time I can remember where I really let it get me depressed.  sigh.  Such a grind sometimes.  I am blessed in that we have been well and able… but it all teeters on the edge so much… this whole system.

I am trying to get a clear image in my minds eye of a circle of yurts in the woods, part of a larger vision I share with friends who with us would relocate to the southwest.  I have seen it once or twice, so I am working on focusing on it.

I have often had difficulty in the last ten years or so focusing on a dream or vision.  I get clouded in my present state so easily.  My challenges as a husband of a beautiful but damaged wife, and the tragedy of my own faults as a father and a business person, equally damaged.

I have hopeful days that show me possibility here where we are, but still we lack community, real community with purpose.  I feel so torn by this often in my present that focusing on those dreams and visions are a struggle, like the community vision for the Southwest.  I have doubts about our personal ability in such a place, a close knit community.  But still, it is what I want and idealize about.

Picked up Sun Bears Path of Power, and looking for revisions of hope and self strength.

I just got up to turn up the heat in my chilly office and as I sat my eyes rested upon one of the quotes hanging on my wall: "Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.  Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." W.H Murray, Leader of the 1952 Scottish Ascent of Mount Everest

Baby steps.  I got out into the woods on my cross country skis this morn.  Mostly a workout venture to get my body healthier, but being out there helped me consider being there to build my sweat lodge.  I have a week.  Gonna focus on that outside my work.  Got to.

This is my 
Wordle
 for this blog... the top 100 words organized by size... the largest being
most used

Tags: wordle

Thanksgiving,  a day to be reflective, of our moments, gifts, successes, failures, lessons and relations.

I have so much to be grateful for, so much to celebrate, so much thankfulness.

Having just traveled to Central America, by the grace of my grandparents, Herb & Peggy Repass, my uncle and aunt; Beth & Jay Repass, my father and his wife; Randy & Sally-Christine Repass, my first client ever as an IT consultant; Shannon Lee, all for having helped cover the cost to go on a house-build.  My mother; Sue Robinson for inspiring the trip, and all those engaged in the trip itself.  From the persons I shared the chicken bus with, to the local expatriate who first informed me of how I could get to where I was going, to the founders of the Fuller Center for Housing, Millard and Linda Fuller, to my facebook friends who encouraged me and listened as I mentioned a place or a picture along the way, and to my family; my wife Sukhada and my children who kept me grounded and gave me the freedom to let the wind carry me; and to Living Love-Noni and Dear for teaching me to ground and showing me unbridled love… so many made this possible.  I am so grateful to you all.

I am a man of God.  Not someone who seeks to force that on others; God knows I have.  But one who lives internally on the quest daily, remaining open to the messages of the Spirit, the Divine, in each of us and all around us.  Today is a day for me to reflect on this and be grateful for this vision and a vision of hope in that guidance and the greater plan of all that is. 

We live in uncertain times.  I believe that we will be tested in this time far more than we are experiencing now.  I believe that that is a good thing, as it teaches us new ways to live and breathe, to pray and respect each other, the earth, the universe and beyond. 

We are a people globally who are spoiled and take so much for granted.  Even the impoverished, the down trodden, the beaten.  We all do it.  We overlook what we have breath to breath. 

Granted, there are many who take this moment each and every day, to be thankful to love what they have and respect all of their lessons and such.  But we all expect the sun to rise, the rain to fall, the earth to give, the oceans to make waves, on and on; and that may be, but I am here questioning of my own ways, not to judge… that is not my job. 

In travelling to Central America, what have I come back with, what will I do with that, how will I live today? 

On one level, I hope to help further stimulate the community we built 16 houses for by providing computers for each of those houses… I mean, how many of you have an old computer which is a “dinosaur”?  Well, that dinosaur could be a treasure for someone in that community, and puts those people on an even playing field with the rest of the world, literally (not to mention keeping that toxic stuff out of the landfills).  That is the beauty and the danger of the internet… you never really know what you are dealing with on the other side of that web; in this case it is an opportunity for sure.

On another level; I believe most of those “impoversihed” people are far more wealthy than most of the “first” world.  We are so buried under our “stuff” and often so lost in our “stuff” based holidays, that we forget that our hearts are led by pain, hurt, anger and the biggie, FEAR.  This is a personal journey for each of us.  We each must look at fear, or choose not to, and learn from that choice.  Or as I have been learning; wash it from us.

Washing the fear from the heart means washing the anger, pain and frustrations of our lives right out of us.  This is everything directly apposed to what we are taught and how we live since our learning and teaching is based on so much fear.  Fear through war, fear through suffering, fear through what will happen if we do not accept this way or that.  Fear.

We are afraid of poverty.  Yet, our own poverty is there to teach us and we live in poverty. 

In the world I grew up in, poverty was how we avoided dealing with our pain, our anguish at not being heard or understood, or whatever.  This poverty is in either trying too hard to understand it (via this therapy or that, this answer or that), or in not doing anything about it.  After a life of this journey, in embracing religion, institution, shopping, yoga, this way and that; I am finding that the simplicity of the body I was given is telling me so much, the world in which I live is constantly communicating with me.  It is only up to me to pay attention be alert. 

I don’t want to make this posting a “way” for others.  I want only to share my joy in finding my way.  In knowing that we are all individuals, we each have our way.  Yet, ironically that way for each of us, I believe, is only available to us when we embrace what others; friends, relatives and the Divine Spirit, are showing us.  Each is our own personal messenger.  Each entrance of a being, each vista, is there for us.  There is no shame in this, there is no egoism in it.  It is a gift to us from the Divine Spirit, or what ever you personally call it. 

I am aware that it is not an easy vision to see, and I as much as any often refuse it’s lessons.  Yet still they are there, and the Divine Spirit never tires at showing us those lessons, never gives up in the effort to bring forth our love.  First for ourselves so that then for others.  Oh, what a hard lesson I find.  To love myself as a divine being, here to grow, here to learn, here to love and be love.

Oh’yee!
Aho!
Jai!

Blitz build is right, and blitz trip as well. Fit it all in in a week, less really if you discard travel. A week to get to know a people, a country, a bus driver, and a whole horde of great people from all over the US and beyond.

on the scaffolding, on site

I was traveling with a group of eight others organized through the First Congregational Church of Manchester Center, VT where my mother, Sue, attends. Of that group was their pastor Steve Berry, a forward thinking and “thinking encouraging” minister who’s mission rides strongly on reminding his flock to look outside the box at ways that are not of the heart and the mission of Jesus Christ, see it in their own lives and grow from there. A perfect telling of this came in his morning devotion to our roughly 200 builders in Thursday morning; that competition is not the way of Christ. It was spot on to say the least.

Steve & Kristoff Berry

The trip organizer, Bob Rice, is a gentle perceptive man who won my heart immediately in his clear acceptance of my “less traveled path” way of arriving into El Salvador and his kind nature. We shared some fine discussion and mutual mission in discovering a dark beer in El Salvador (which alas we never found), and discussing our favorite VT micro brews which have spoiled our taste for anything less. Bob did manage to find a Hefferweisen which was certainly more satisfying to his taste.

Bob Rice & mason Gorje behind

Karen Coppin is a kind and concerning mother of two beautiful twins (Jennifer & Karla) who lit up the youthful community wherever we went, oh yeah, and the dogs who followed them everywhere. Karen explored this trip with great interest and was a passionate worker even after giving over to exhaustion. She expressed to me her feeling of loss at not having my adventurous energy around once we parted. Who wouldn’t love this fine woman!

Karla & Carmen with kids (Jen’s legs in the top left)

Ken Moriarty, is a slim inspector Cluseau looking fellow who’s initial quite demeanor and warm smile gave way to a sharp and strong willed conversationalist eager to debate any topic put forth.  I was impressed by his steady work ethic on the site and immediate support when at one time I was in need of American dollars, having not had the chance to cash a traveller’s check.

Ken Moriarty & Sue Robinson (My lovely mom)

Kristoff Berry, pastor’s son, is a gentle and kind soul who accompanied me in my ramblings of journies through Honduras and my philosophical maze of thought and journey for many hours the the first two nights of our meeting.  We connected on many thoughts and I look very forward to any opportunity to cross paths again.  On the site, in our house, he was referred to by our house leader as one who “works like a slave”!  When there was opportunity to venture off site for tourist oppotunities, even though they were during quiter times of the week with little to do, he refused to leave and only gave continually to the build.

Kristoff breaking for lunch

Doug Miller, our house leader, a robust 72 year old who’s experience was a relief and his pace a setting for us all as he mixed mortar tortoise-like for 2 1/2 days straight.  He filled our moments with visions of builds throughout the US and beyond. His “gypsy” life of living in Montreal, Vermont, Georgia, Arizona and more was painted colorfully and joyfully as he embodied the storyteller of old.  He passed me his tool belt as the last day was coming to a close and stated, “Randy, I’m giving this to you, but I’ll need it in Peru (the site of a major build next June) so please return it to me then”.

Doug Miller, leader extrodinaire

Wendy Miller, Doug’s daughter, on her first build is a tough minded and bodied ‘Mama sita su casa’, our little mother of the house (or at least how I called her that!).  She kept the house we worked on clean, found any tool or material that we needed somewhere on the site, and was our savior in communicating with the local masons in our house.  She and I share a common profession as technology consultants, and generally had a very fun brother/sister style relationship… there if needed, to chide or comfort.

Mama sita su casa (Wendy Miller) & Gorje

There were so many other, it is hard to mention them all; Jacob Battle, the enthusiastic African American preacher from Americus Georgia, with the southern accent and the energizing words to the group who I assisted in getting his laptop online and setting up a Facebook account; Carmen, the representative for us to the locals who so expertly supplied my vegetarian fare and learned that, no, fish is not a vegetable; Joel, a world cruiser on a 47′ catch held up all winter in El Salvador from a massive wind that tore three sails in five minutes now living down the road from our hotel in the little beach front property he bought; Cindy, the bubbly curly haired and wide eyed conversationalist who told of her gentle reminders at her work desk that helped her get through the days to the next build; Marybeth, our body surfing buddy who helped us round up more bodies to enjoy the night surf below beautiful stars; Millard Fuller, the staunch founder and advocate of this whole project who so mirrored the nature of my own granfather; Bobby, the enthusiastic Bostonite who exposed his gentle uncertainty as our Steve Berry chided his Boston accent as a former Boston man himself; the 20th anniversary couple (forgive me for forgetting your names), who accepted our party crashing efforts in search of cake for our fellow Vermonters; Bob, the fellow vegetarian who shared my veggie fare when he had nothing else to eat… and so many more.

Jacob Battle, keeping the spirit alive

Bob, my fellow plant eater

Millard Fuller, founder of Habit for Humanity walking with Sara, a soon to be house owner to tour her present house

And… of course, my mom, Sue Robinson, who I shared this trip with from many months before.  We approached it differently, but there is no doubt it was life changing for both of us.  She was touched, expanded in consciousness and a way to be, live give, like she had not anticipated.  She has more of this in her future I am sure, and any opportunity I get to join i will most certainly jump at the chance!

“Hola Mama!” Mom and a local boy who is peeling an orange with a big knife

What a ride.  What a pleasure, what a gratitude to spend this time with people who voyaged to give and in doing so opened their own eyes to a greater world view and a new possibility for those without a simple dwelling like those we provided.  What a heart break… breaking open our hearts as we watched the new home owners shed tears of joy and awe at what they now have.  What a ride.

The whole group gathering for a group shot

Father and son in our “finished” house

Doug gives a bible to our new home owners at the dedication ceremony… Francisco was so touched and swelling with tears with the house he could not speak, understandably

 We all signed the house… good job team!

So we’ve done three days of blitz building and Thursday rolls around… this is the time that we need only a few more bricks, a little more rebar and a lot more concrete… but we can’t order too much.  If we do, we have too much, meaning we spend more than we have, etc.  So, this morning we were looking for things to do after a hard working day yesterday; wed is the traditionally the tough day, we were tired, but managed to work hard and get a long way along.  Thursday on arrival we were mostly done with the brick laying but needed rebar to complete the top of the walls.  We have used tons of rebar due to the earthquakes they get here.  This is volcano country.

Steve & Bob Rice in front of our build

Due to the slow activity level we decided this was a great time to go see our new homeowner’s present house. 
On the road to our homeowner’s present house

Steve Barry called us together and offered that we do this, so most of us got together and were given a lift to his place.  The trip was about twenty minutes on a well built road with corn being dried on the shoulder of the road.  The neighborhood was well developed with shops and dentist and doctor’s office.  The new owner, Francisco, showed us the place where he lives, which belongs to his father-in-law’s because his place washed away in recent storms.   Their present home is built from steel box and corrogated steel.
Steve Barry & Francesco in front of Francesco’s tin house

Francesco & House

Francisco & family

the present “banos” toilet, which I used

Some chicks following a hen

a “bambino” baby in his hammock sleeping peacefully…
 

I must say, I was appreciative of the new “banyos” bathroom they were building there which will be a composting toilet!  Very cool, evn though the house is tin, the toilet is right up to date IMHO.

I was thrilled to record several rooster sounds with my iPhone for a website I am working on for Living Love in Johnson, VT.  I had been planning on using a sound from a freeware video online, but now I have my own!!! Cool!

We enjoyed our trip there very much… Francisco and his family were very hospitible and I personally learned a grat deal of how one can live if they have very little, and what they will have once they make this transition to their new homes.  Not only will they have an “instant” community, but a bigger space and a possibility for further cleanliness and potentially peace of mind.

Jennifer, from our VT group with Carla the daughter of one of our Masons

check out the machete strapped to the bike

On our return we worked for about an hour then had lunch.  During lunch Jacob, an inspired and lively man asked me if I wanted to join him in a trip to San Salvador to buy some souvineirs.  I jumped at the opportunity and helped organize a trip there.  We have very little time during our build, and have very little left to do so this was a prefect day to do this.  With two kids birthdays comign up I was ready!  We managed to gather about 15 people together and hop in one of the buses and go to San Salvador.  We journeyed to the “artisan market” a touristy place were local arts and souvineirs are sold and did what us US citizens do best (ashamedly or not!);  we shopped!

I managed to find some great little, and VERY traditionally made local arts and gifts for my kids, my wife and yes… myself.

A volcano in San Salvador

Rush hour crowd heading home

We arrived back to the building site in time for dinner, ate quickly and hopped back on th ebus for the hotel for our nightly body surfing expedition and, yes, cervesa (beer) drinking evening.  Nice.

sunset at the “playa” , beach

Our preparation began the night before.  Millard Fuller, founder of Habitat for Humanity, and some of his crew explained how it would work and what we would be doing, how we would eat and get to the site, and how we could best use this time.

Monda morning came early; 6am, up for breakie and a few moments to ourselves or each other and into a bus for a 25 min ride to the building site.

We drove on paved roads except for the last 1/2 mile which was a very rough dirt/dust road into the site.  Passing very simple dwellings, seemingly impoverished spaces.

Eventually we emerged in an opening with six large tents set up as one.  Here there were many chairs and we were guided to gather there.

As we waited a few of the better known leaders sang songs and engaged us in thoughtful prayer and devotions.  This is a Christian based “ministry”, so the impression of this is carried by the way many people come forward with great sincerity and devotion in the work we are doing here.  It is seen by the leaders, not just as charitable works, but a service to God.  The song was inspiring and lively, including one solo by Jacob, a very good humored African American man in his early 60’s.
 

We finally began our work there at about 8:45 to 9am.  A late start, but sufficient for a good first day.

We met our brick layers, our house had two, who were initially visually irritated with an ignorance many of us had in what to do to help.  We eventually found our places where we could be of best use and began going at it. 

The first view of the site, 16 houses, already begun…

Christoph Barry, Steve Barry’s son, and Jorge (Hor-hey), working on the back wall of House 5, our house.

Doug Miller, our awesome Team Leader, at 72 the pace setter… this guy is an amazing worker and bank of knowledge.

Steve Barry the pastor from my Mom’s church who originally invited Millard Fuller to speak and inspired us to take this trip & Doug chatting.

Wendy Miller, Doug’s daughter, I call her Mama sita du casa, the little motehr of the house cause she is always cleaning up and looking after us.  She is a tough one, works hard and plays hard… very fun!

Bob Rice, the organizer of our band of nine from Vermont and my mom Sue at the end of the first day.

We met our brick layers, our house had two, who were initially visually irritated with an ignorance many of us had in what to do to help.  We eventually found our places where we could be of best use and began going at it.

We took a break for lunch at 12pm, served up in the tents, then continued on afterwards until 4-4:30pm when we had dinner in the tents again.

The caterers getting ready to serve us.

All in all, the day was a great one.  We worked through our kinks in finding the work we needed to do and getting the work done.  I felt like a week had passed, both from the amount of work we accomplished and the challenges in working in a foriegn language with that language barrier.

We returned to the hotel by 6:30 and Christoff and I went for a body surf in the ocean then a swim in the pool to wash off the salt.  SWEET!

A few beers and a margarita and off to bed!  What a great first day!

The journey for me on the solo part of my trip ended on Saturday night after 14 hours of chicken bus travel. 

I got into San Salvador at about 6:30pm and had met two ladies who helped me get into the town center and then find a bus to the airport where I thought I would meet up with a Fuller Center for Housing bus going to the hotel where we would be staying.  But, it didn’t quite happen that way… sure, what fun would it be if it did happen  that easily!

I caught this bus out of San Salvador, a local bus that took me to a “terminal” ( a dirt lot beside a football [soccer}) stadium.  But, all buses for the airport had stopped.  I was directed to a taxi and negotiated $17, down from the $25 he asked for… not bad.  On  my way to the airport I called my “contact”, Mike, with the Fuller center and found that he had given me th ewrong time (8:30) but that the group was picked up at 7:30, about 5 minutes ago, and we had about 15 min to get there!  So, now I would take the taxi the whole way.  I put the driver on the phone with the contact’s wife Susie.  They talked for a bit and renegotiated my taxi cost and on we went.

The poor guy was totally stressed as we drove on and on, further away from his home base, work area.  I could feel his stress mounting more and more, so after driving on and one in the wrong direction for about 30 minutes turngin around and going back for another 20 then another 15 (this was meant to be a 14 min ride), I had him drop me off at the end of the road where the hotel was, gave him $30 and walked the last 3 miles on the very rough dirt road. 

This walk turned out to be one of the best parts of my day!  The moon was just past full, the ocean lined the road and it was, of course, very temperate.  I had a good alone time walk, getting barked at by dogs and observing the evening life of the locals in their little houses, which were wide open to the world.  People gathered around a TV, walking down the road, chickens, dogs, bats…oh yeah, the bats, they were HUGE, like 18″ or more wingspan! 

Then I came apon a man on a bike picking up stones.  He and I walked alongside one another for a bit and we came upon a group of dogs, he had picked up the stones to chuck at the dogs to keep them back!!! classic.  He was a kind person, what I have come to expect from the local rural people, who stayed with me and told me where I would find my hotel, me with my bad spanish, him with little or no english.  This is why I took the time to travel alone for a few days, to have such experiences.

Finally, I arrived.  I walked into the walled area of our hotel and found myself in El Salvador’s version of a Disneyland experience.  nothing like what sits ourside it’s walls,  that  poverty is for them… us gringos need our confort… so we have this, a little “oasis” of trees, animals wild and in cages, pools, fountains and macaws… and even a little display of “how the locals live” straight out of a water ride in some amusement park, strange.  More about this later.  
“disneyland” El Salvador

Well, I made it through Honduras without |much| of a hitch.  If you missed my previous post, go read it for the “much”.

Now I am on another slow bus, only it’s MUCH slower, 98km in three hours!  What is that? 15mph?  Well, I am in that groove now, so it works. One bus like ours right beside us… colorful!
That’s me on the new chicken bus… That’s my dinner, served up by a local who jumps on the bus to offer food.  These are quesadillas, but nothing like what we call quesadillas.  They were more like square pancakes made with corn flour and flour, a little sweet and served hot.  One boy joined us for about 20 min till he got to his families stand down the road, it seemed he had jumped on a bus going the other way serving on that bust, then jumped on ours to keep selling and get back to home base.  All the while these things were very warm when I got mine, which he somehow kept warm.
Now, why don’t we decorate our vehicles like this!  Very colorful and fun!

There is no doubt, my trip to Copan Ruinas was an important stop for me on my little adventure.  But what I didn’t expect was the sense of loss I would feel as we departed this morning on the “chicken bus”.

It was not until the morning after Obama had won the election that I realized, from tears that I did not expect, how much until that moment I had lost faith in US politics.  In the same way, and as I expressed in yesterday’s post, I had not realized how connected I had been in this place of Copan.

As we drove away I felt I was saying farewell to a loved one.  It was the very same feeling.

But, alas, i am on my way now to Santa Rosa de Copan and then to the boarder of El Savador… That is if the bus I am in gets moving again.  We have been stopped  now for about 15 min in the middle of rural Honduras; I think they are changing the tire but it is not clear.  The bus certainly didn’t sound healthy from the start (only about 15 min before!).  It could be a truly “local” day…

We’ve all heard it before… the Mayans were a bloody, brutal culture, or at least that’s what we’ve been told.  By intuitively, I felt that is only part of the story.

I paid for a tour today, $25 for 3 hours of touring around the grounds expressed as the “Paris” of the Mayan culture, who’s fame lay in its creative expression.  The site is 1 km square, not huge.  Though the central arena is impressively big.  My guide was Fidel, who was appropriate in his link to the intuitive side of the place, to a point.  He was jolly and knowledgeable, more than one can absorb in three hours.  He’s been doing this since 1982 and hungers in learning all he can from what the archeologists discover there daily.

At about 1 1/2 hours I was ready to move on, but looking back I am glad that we went as long as we did.  The place was busy, so when I did finally get an opportunity to settle down a little and do a little personal ceremony, meditate and take that side in I found it hard in the space with all the activity, and felt timid to look for more remote locations for my personal space. 

I spent a little time adding some things to my ceremonial pipe, a goose feather, a tuft of raccoon fur a cutting from a beaver stick and a porcupine quill.  I then did meditated and prayed and lit my pipe making an offering to the four directions.  I then journeyed around the woods a little and then ventured back to the arena and scaled the sacrificial central pyramid. 

My prayers consisted of the awareness I had been given of the bloody nature of the treatment of the Mayan enemy and sacrificial persons.   But, that I felt an awareness that these people were not always so violent.  At least I felt this.  As any society disintegrates, so do their values and ways.  Take for instance the US capitalistic ways and where they have gone. What once was a fair and even way of being (of course there are always those that take advantage of any situation), it is often that corruption creeps in more and more.  All in all, I felt that this was once a very sacred space, and I left with a recognition that no matter how violent this or our society becomes, there are always people with goodness and love working to spread that.  My prayer would eb to be among those people.

I don’t know why, to be honest, I felt I needed to come here.  I don’t know if I will ever know why, perhaps I will, perhaps not.  But, I am glad I did. 

I wonder now, as I write this: Is seeing the sophistication of a gone culture, corrupt as it may have been in ways, a mirror to our own culture on the potential brink of collapse.  What can I as a person take form that.  What can I bring with me and make good with?

I made my  way back to Copan Runias and realizing I had not eaten since breakfast have been settled in to do that ever since. 

Love and light
Rad