Phoenix Rising: an Experience of Finishing

Well, it happened. I made a book, from the ground up. I designed the cover from a sketch I did in the first few days when I arrive to the ranch in October. I revised six essays I'd written and posted here through the winter. I did ridiculous formatting on ill-fitted computer programs. I carved six linoleum blocks and hand set lead type and printed the covers on a Challenge press at a collective letterpress shop. I trimmed a gazillion pages on a guillotine. I stayed up late. I got up early. I rolled the press arm over 1300 times. I rode my bike through this fine city like it was my job. I did not make the paper, though interestingly enough, making paper is the first thing I taught when I went to Big Sur in the summer of 2009. Still, this was quite an undertaking. And now, I live in the same room as a box filled with stacks of handmade books that are finding their way into the hands of others. This. Is. The. Coolest.

It is a phoenix rising moment as there are many things that have happened since I left Big Sur two and half weeks ago that have complicated this moment for me, to say the least. My car broke down (yes again and seemingly forever), and she and I are likely terminating our relationship. However, she is in Grants Pass, Oregon, 250 miles south of Portland, where I am.

Complicated.

After being in Portland less than 24 hours, I got word that a section of highway One in Big Sur had given up the ghost and fallen into the sea. A detour of several hours was put in place, having to travel to the southern edge of Big Sur and then drive up the coast to get back the ranch. In the meantime, it kept pouring spring rain at the ranch and a landslide occurred to the south, making my Big Sur an island, not to be entered or exited for the time being.

I am not in a rush – as the universe is making it perfectly clear that this moment in time for me, is meant to be here. I have so enjoyed creating this project in Portland, being with a family of friends, touching in with my Waldorf school colleagues and students, riding familiar bike routes and drinking fancy Portland coffee. It feels almost like a re-entry, and I am watching my perceptions. I am watching how my old Portland life habits have changed into awareness that feels present and not nostalgic, not shrouded in longing. Still, I am hopeful and excited to return to the ranch by the end of next week, fingers crossed.

The land has stopped sliding in Big Sur, and I’m sure there is much progress to opening entry. I look forward to my final six or so weeks of being on the ranch this season, another experience of finishing, an experience I would like to give myself more often.

***Notably, I would like to thank a few people who I was not able to include in the gratitudes in the printing: My friend Lindsay who came to the studio with Guinness on St Patrick's Day and helped me collate all. those. pages. Thanks Linds for all the laughter and making editioning tasks into a party. My friend Andy who has given me a place to stay, let me borrow his car to pick up supplies and finished books, and been nothing but supportive and encouraging of this project and process. Thanks Andy, for letting me make a huge mess in your spare room. My friend Patricia for being my publicist at the Waldorf School. Thanks Patricia, your art room will always feel like home to me.