branches up, roots down

Morels, spring garlic, asparagus, duck eggs, several bouquets of sweet peas and daffodils. This is what came home with me from the farmer’s market this weekend. Last night I slivered some of the spring garlic, sautéing it along with the morels in butter. Served over a steak along with grilled asparagus, on a table graced with a vase of fragrant flowers, I gave thanks for the season and savored the taste and smell of it. The duck eggs? My neighbor has been baking up a storm – lemon pound cake most notably – from the eggs which I have been blowing out to make psyanky eggs. I have been making psyanky eggs for over forty years, learning the art from a friend in junior high. The practice precedes Christianity and takes a lot of time and focused attention. It is serious spell work. At eighteen, I complemented my wages as a dishwasher by selling psyanky at a gallery in the little town I had moved to on the Oregon coast. I ate a lot of eggs and friends kept me company as I drew symbo...

This past weekend I embarked on what hopefully will be the beginning of an annual tradition. I went on a staycation; staying close to home but experiencing it from a different angle. Traveling a few short miles across the Golden Gate, I took the first turnoff, and checked in at the newly restored Fort Baker , now called “Cavallo Point” . What better way to spend the fourth of July than at the transformed army base in my backyard? For three blissful days I inhabited a world where soldier housing and marching grounds have morphed into a restorative retreat center, complete with a healing center, spa, and basking pool. What was once a new military base in 1905 is now a new luxurious eco hotel in 2008. I spent the weekend living and envisioning a world in which military bases become obsolete and are converted into retreat and educational centers. I went on my staycation with my girlfriend and two other queer San Francisco couples. This, too, was part of the magic. Three yea...

I love the Oscars. I’ ve watched them as far back as I can remember, my parents letting me stay up late – a tradition I carried on when I had my own child. If magic is defined as “changing consciousness at will”, then movies are magic. Throughout time, stories have held power. Movies are the stories and myths of popular culture, binding us together and creating frames of reference. On Oscar night we gather around the flicker of the television screen to celebrate the stories and honor and award those who’ ve written, directed, produced, edited, and acted out the stories. Awards are given too to those who created sets, dressed the actors, and made the music that fueled the story. People gather around the screen, debating who they think deserves the award, placing bets, arguing over the significance of the stories. And, of course, dish the fashion. I wouldn ’t miss this for the world. Last year there was a plethora of movies with gay characters, signaling that the closet door of ...