Taos

Halfway Point

1.

It is so good to be back in my casita! As I mentioned, I have never been on a retreat of any kind before, despite the fact that I have always longed to do one. I heard that Pico Iyer is coming out with a new book about his annual retreat to a Catholic Monastery in Big Sur, where he goes to quiet his mind and till his heart for a few weeks every year, spending time alone reading and writing…. perhaps taking long walks and engaging in prayer.

It is something I have long wanted to do.

Reading so much ancient Chinese poetry and philosophy, I have always felt that when things fall apart in the world, the wise person takes to the hills. And more and more, I have been wanting to have some time apart, on my own, picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence.

I can’t even recall the last time I did anything completely alone.

I hardly know myself anymore.

Maybe that is why, as soon as I got here, all I wanted to do was become very quiet and try to unwind my mind. So surprising is how creative I have become! My novel has always been this unwieldy thing… Like a herd of runaway cattle that I am chasing and failing to catch. A mentor told me that first time novelists should start with a straight-forward story —NOT do what I am doing struggling with a complicated multiple POV novel, including men, women, ghosts and talking objects— and spanning a thousand years, but start with something simple, he said.

But in Taos, suddenly I am making breakthroughs and figuring things out. Slowly, slowy, mainly having fun with it!

I’ve also been working on new sashiko pieces and even baking madeleine cookies with matcha!

I have been noticing that all of the artists here can cook and do work in multiple forms… poets writing novels, painters doing pottery. I think it is how they go about being human… It is a great group.

And there is something so wonderful about being in an artist colony— In Japan, I lived not so far from Mashiko, a famous pottery village and artist colony. And I also spent significant time in the artist town of Ubud many years ago… I was told, when I was there, that in Bali there is no word for artist because every human being creates. It is part of being human. That might be true, but only in an artist colony is that way of life and that style of being in the world prioritized and truly celebrated. That is definitely what I am experiencing here in Taos.

2.

Last week, I finally left the casita when my husband visited. We ate at some wonderful restaurants and visited some museums, as well as finally seeing the famous Taos Pueblo. I did a translation many years ago about the pueblo for a documentary film series about UNESCO World Heritage Sites and was blown away that people have inhabited this multi-story structure for a thousand years. We had tried to visit four times over the years—and each time we were turned away. Once for Covid and the other times because they close the pueblo when there are festivals and important days, like weddings and funerals…. they live according to their own priorities and to the rhythms of their own cultural calendar.

Many of the people who live there have two properties, one inside the wall without electricity or water) and one outside—and they go back and forth. I thought how important that would be to have a foot in two worlds like that. How can a person ever gain critical distance from their preconceived notions without being able to think and dream and live in a different language? And in their case to be able to adapt to life lived so much simpler.

3.

The Flamenco Festival in Albuquerque was phenomenal. We saw several performances a few years ago in Madrid and Seville, even visiting a Flamenco School in Seville, but everything we saw was for the tourists. Even at the school. It was wonderful and we fell in love with it all—but really nothing I saw in Spain could have prepared me for the show in Albuquerque.

Gustavo, the Fulbright scholar musician and composer who is in the casita next door studied in Seville and told me that in Spain, it is hard to find authentic flamenco and one would have to wait months for a show like this and then it would have been these same artists who came to Albuquerque. They are Spain’s greatest performers and the interaction between musicians and dancers was intimate like what I saw in Spain but well—it was off scale.

And the audience too! Every performance got a standing ovation and people were screaming and well… I was surprised it wasn’t on national news (so much better than reading about the election, which I did manage to watch the debate on my cell phone. Agh).

4.

Today marks five weeks in Taos. I am halfway through my residency…. I am so grateful to be here and cannot recommend enough the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation Artists Residency!

I am already dreading leaving . I wish I could bring some of the peace and simplicity of Taos with me when I leave, but I honestly don’t know how. I have been hoping to sell our home in Pasadena and downsize. I hate the house and want something small and simple like the casita. I love sleeping with my windows open … and being surrounded by trees — at altitude, there is no sound of a loud air-conditioner since you don’t need one…. no traffic noise, no leaf blowers (how much do I hate those things?) There is not the relentless loud noise of the endless home renovations on my block back home… Why can’t people ever just stop?

I realize that I left California all those years ago and never looked back for a reason, I really do prefer a quieter life, living in some kind of close community with more like-minded people. Other than Waimea on the Big Island, Taos is the first place in the US I have felt I could be happy.

This is my “Room of One’s Own…” experience.

I love my hermit’s hut—speaking of which Matthew Stavros’ translation of the Hojoki was just re-issued by Penguin. Here is my review. As Stavros translates Kamo-noChomei:

Palaces and mansions:

      If the heart is not at ease,

      These worldly treasures bring no pleasure.

I love my lonely dwelling,

This simple, one-room hut.