To Update this blog:
Check out this week's Flag Live issue for my inside feature on our travels and other lovely content by the amazing contributors to this publication!
See it here: Skipper Feature Story
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Creature comforts
Life is such an amazing, perplexing riddle. We spend so much of our lives in a race against time, trying to plan for the future that always eludes us. If only we stop running from the past or to the future then we can step into the light and the ecstatic dance that is now.
An old film photo from the begining of our trip northwest :)
Happy mushrooms in the moist Indiana forest.
The McDermotts in shades of violet~
Children of the corn. Turning 24 in a new state.
Our sweet flat in Wicker Park.
Exploring the bean in millennium park!
Floating above the other skyscrapers on the top of the Sears tower!
¡Salud! Houston family!
The beautiful view of canyon lake, always a pleasure. (We had a great time playing charades, a family tradition)
Me Matt and Jordan.
Gruene Texas.
Jen, joycie and Kyle at my Moms property in Blanco, tx.
Our neighbor carol was very kind to water our garden while we were gone :) now our lettuce is ready to eat!
We just returned to California from a trip all over the country. We visited 5 states in 10 days. I got to check Illinois and Indiana off my map of the US! We spent time with both of our families which was a blessing. We also explored new things like the cobwebby bookends, record collectors paradise, and juice bar heavens. Then we went to Texas to reunite with my kin. There's something about drinking a Shiner Bock at sunset on a lakeshore with your family that just makes you feel like the happiest girl on earth.
On our fast paced, jet thrusted travels we were exposed to all sorts of things. An airport and a subway station are a viruses dream. Germs get to travel at Godspeed around the globe. We picked up a little piece of God on the Chicago L and brought it back to Texas, now I'm in California still holding on to it in my cells. Pretty amazing if you really think about it.
I also couldn't help but take notice of the excess that happens in our world. My partner and I seem to have made our own little country here in our tiny home, the democratic republic of skipper, and when we travel to the foreign lands of say, the Midwest, or the South, we can be subject to a bit of culture shock.
I guess we've just gotten used to living so simply that waste seems to be a truly "bad" word. Like when I see disposable plates for instance... I realize the ease of not having to do dishes for a large group (or throw them in the dishwashing box)... But I just can't help but look at those little pieces of paper coated in a thin layer of plastic and wonder how many different things it could be used for. I picture a child in Africa bringing home fruit from a tree he has climbed over and over again all on the same little "disposable" plate. Or a woman in South America using that plate to dig adobe to build her family a one room home.
Here in the Democratic republic of Skipper, I realize we have chosen a life that is much different from others in our surrounding county. We sleep soundly each night on a double bed in a 8x16 foot trailer. We shower outside with a three gallon solar shower, and still have extra water at times. We have one pot and one pan for cooking. 4 plates. One table. One hand pump sink. One closet. One half milky mirror on the wall. And we get by, not only that but we actually do still have excess! We are still trying all the time to simplify. So much abundance is a wonderful yet overwhelming thing at times.
I challenge you, the reader to try to simplify your life a bit. See how good it feels to use one thing for its use. Be here now. Try to be mindful, you don't have to flush that gallon of fresh drinking water just because you peed on it! This world is crazy, and I'm probably a little crazier because I've found ways to deal with it that I think are working. We are all one global community. Share the love :)
Cool sculpture in Chicago
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Greetings, Greetings
Hello Ya'll, you all, youz alls, a few of you, and the rest. Hello.
Helloooo out there!!!
This page feels like a big empty room. I like big empty rooms. We live in a big empty room. We're living in a barn. It's red. Its name is...we haven't named it. I'd rather not. What if we didn't name anything? What if none of us had names!? Some people search this concept, but ultimately sharing a name with your parents is pretty cool. What if we chose our name after a while? Or chose it at any point? Well, we can. I'm not ashamed of my name, but I also realize that it's me. That's okay, because for as long as I'm here, I'll be myself.
So on to the next topic: Dolphins.
I feel this needs to be sincerely discussed. The free bin in Mount Shasta is a pretty good representation of what people are up to. It's more of a 'Hey I really want you to read this book about communication with dolphins so when I run into you everywhere I go because this town is small enough where you see the same people every day but they're all really cool so it's okay' bin. And thats okay. It sits outside a thrift store, and I've pretty much outfitted my self with clothes and books and other odds and ends from this bin. Most recently was a history of 20th century Jazz. I had a dream that I was listening to Bob Dylan on the radio and looked over to my father and said "what the hell does this mean." He looked over at me and said, "I don't know—you're the poet."
Dreams don't have to be seen as real, or unreal, anymore. He proceeded to tell me that he didn't like Bob Dylan or John Prine very much anymore (these were his two favorite artists, hands down), but instead he was in to Duke Ellington. I don't recall hearing much of Duke screeching from his turntable, housed in an asymmetrical wooden cabinet. It was usually folksy type stuff, lots of Beatles, Hendrix, a fair amount of Zappa and Beefheart, Marley, oh yea, and his all time favorite—Joni Mitchell.
So this Ellington thing was new to me, and I went about me day saying to myself—yea right. He was this and that and that's who he was. That's because I don't know his likes and interests as Scott McDermott anymore. I don't know what his body and his name associate with, so I figure it's easier to just assume that it's those things he once did.
I used to associate with eating McDonald's and collecting happy-meal Beany Babies, playing video games day-in and day-out, blowing up aliens with sticky grenades and flying Banshees over virtual realities. That must be how our politicians feel. Things change. We change. We grow beyond what we can see, and what we can put a name on. I'm only Kyle because I'm alive and as long as I'm living that's what people can see. They can't see the depths of my soul, but neither can I.
So I challenge you, the reader ... to like Duke Ellington. To accept something that you normally would pass by. To check out that concert that your so-so on. To write down the band that your friend suggested you listen to. To take a walk when you think about it, rather than talking yourself out of it. I'll leave you with this:
"Let yesterday's high be today's low."
And just to wrap up the dreamscape into something cohesive, the same day I had that dream, I found the book about 20th century Jazz, and sure enough, I open it up, and there's Duke Ellington.
Hurah!
KMCD
A few film images from our travels taken by Madeleine~ www.madeleinehanlon.com
Helloooo out there!!!
This page feels like a big empty room. I like big empty rooms. We live in a big empty room. We're living in a barn. It's red. Its name is...we haven't named it. I'd rather not. What if we didn't name anything? What if none of us had names!? Some people search this concept, but ultimately sharing a name with your parents is pretty cool. What if we chose our name after a while? Or chose it at any point? Well, we can. I'm not ashamed of my name, but I also realize that it's me. That's okay, because for as long as I'm here, I'll be myself.
So on to the next topic: Dolphins.
I feel this needs to be sincerely discussed. The free bin in Mount Shasta is a pretty good representation of what people are up to. It's more of a 'Hey I really want you to read this book about communication with dolphins so when I run into you everywhere I go because this town is small enough where you see the same people every day but they're all really cool so it's okay' bin. And thats okay. It sits outside a thrift store, and I've pretty much outfitted my self with clothes and books and other odds and ends from this bin. Most recently was a history of 20th century Jazz. I had a dream that I was listening to Bob Dylan on the radio and looked over to my father and said "what the hell does this mean." He looked over at me and said, "I don't know—you're the poet."
Dreams don't have to be seen as real, or unreal, anymore. He proceeded to tell me that he didn't like Bob Dylan or John Prine very much anymore (these were his two favorite artists, hands down), but instead he was in to Duke Ellington. I don't recall hearing much of Duke screeching from his turntable, housed in an asymmetrical wooden cabinet. It was usually folksy type stuff, lots of Beatles, Hendrix, a fair amount of Zappa and Beefheart, Marley, oh yea, and his all time favorite—Joni Mitchell.
So this Ellington thing was new to me, and I went about me day saying to myself—yea right. He was this and that and that's who he was. That's because I don't know his likes and interests as Scott McDermott anymore. I don't know what his body and his name associate with, so I figure it's easier to just assume that it's those things he once did.
I used to associate with eating McDonald's and collecting happy-meal Beany Babies, playing video games day-in and day-out, blowing up aliens with sticky grenades and flying Banshees over virtual realities. That must be how our politicians feel. Things change. We change. We grow beyond what we can see, and what we can put a name on. I'm only Kyle because I'm alive and as long as I'm living that's what people can see. They can't see the depths of my soul, but neither can I.
So I challenge you, the reader ... to like Duke Ellington. To accept something that you normally would pass by. To check out that concert that your so-so on. To write down the band that your friend suggested you listen to. To take a walk when you think about it, rather than talking yourself out of it. I'll leave you with this:
"Let yesterday's high be today's low."
And just to wrap up the dreamscape into something cohesive, the same day I had that dream, I found the book about 20th century Jazz, and sure enough, I open it up, and there's Duke Ellington.
Hurah!
KMCD
A few film images from our travels taken by Madeleine~ www.madeleinehanlon.com
Monday, August 4, 2014
Blackberry days are back!
Hello hello!
Kyle and Donna on Sundail bridge!
Kyle in a sculpture.
Life is good in Northern California!
Although there have been fires all aroun us, Mt. Shasta has been very lucky and has been missed by the destructive paths. I don't think we were ready to evacuate due to wildfires again.... And as I write this it has just started raining outside, which we desperately need!
This past weekend Donna, Kyle's mom, came out to visit us. It was so nice getting the chance to show her around our new home! We went to Redding and saw an incredible show by the reggae legend Jimmy cliff, we went to Castle lake and soaked up the sun and good vibrations, we drank spring water from the Mountains, picked blackberries in Dunsmuir, and Kyle and she just went up for an evening in Ashland, Oregon before she heads back to Arizona. Love really does make a family.
We also got a quick visit from our friend Ashley from Flagstaff! She was passing through on her way south and we got to spend the day with her which was a true joy :)
Here are a few photos of the good times that have been rolling through our lives and echoing elation~
Thursday, July 24, 2014
The infinite adventure!
Here are some photographs from our recent escapades in Northern California.
Paige and Karlie's visit! Our first out of town friends to see our new home in Mt. Shasta!
Kyle & Madz meadow explorin' Independence day~
We've been having so much fun adjusting to our new life here that we haven't had much time to post on the blog, our apologies!
Pluto's Cave! 7/23/14
Paige and Karlie's visit! Our first out of town friends to see our new home in Mt. Shasta!
Kyle & Madz meadow explorin' Independence day~
Lenticular clouds over Mt. Shasta!
Friday, July 11, 2014
Liquid consciousness
Hydration. This new chapter in my life seems to be strongly influenced by water. What time in our lives have we not been affected by water? But now it seems different. Palpable. Tangible. The feeling is both enlivening and mysterious.
How it feels sometimes.... I am swimming in a high alpine lake. A body of water suspended above surrounding clouds, floating below me in other parts of the world, I feel their form as I glide through the captivating liquid. The water is quite cold but as time passes our temperatures meet somewhere in the middle. The sound of the water moving past my ears is familiar like the voice of an old friend yet exciting like locking eyes with a complete stranger. As I swim further into this seemingly endless oasis I begin to feel a sense of insecurity at the depth below me. The water I cut through is now black in its vastness. My muscles feel strong and useful, I look back at the opposite shore and see the bodies of my friends are now very small. I keep going. Trees reflect on the ripples in front of me and the sunlight refracts rainbows off the crystalline water into my eyes. I realize that I am not much different from this essence. In fact all of our bodies are in majority composed of water. I feel better. Although i'm sure they are watching me with curiosity, no fish have shown themselves as of yet. This water is alive all around me. Could there be any better feeling in this world? I feel at the pinnacle of my own reality. Completely at peace. I make it to the opposite edge of the lake. Hundreds of turquoise dragonflies populate this area which is shaded by the mountain above. All of my senses are fully awakened.
How it feels other times...
A congregation of my species around a spot in the earth where water pours out. The city park in Mt. Shasta is dedicated to this spring. This spout in the rock-face where life emerges, 50 year old snow-melt from the mountain above, free for your drinking pleasure. People tactfully hop from rock to rock to get closer to the source. Filling bottles, filling their hands like cups, even sticking their face right into the icy cold water, their cheeks pressing against the rocks at either side of the opening. Filling their bodies with liquid consciousness. It is truly a sight to behold. All different "types" of people, families, hippies, hobos, motorcycle riders, elders, and youngsters of the community gather in this sacred spot to share the gift of life. Instruments play, people sing, dance and celebrate, all with the constant sound of flowing water, like a peaceful reminder. Stay true. Run free.
How it feels most of the time...
Life is ever changing. Especially it seems in this time in our lives, when things are conceptual. We are capable of creating our own destinies, our realities. It is exciting and sometimes scary, like diving into the unknown. But you must realize that this is your life. There is nothing to be afraid of. Be joyful. Ride the wave. The water will flow on, like time, and before you know it you'll be downstream in another part of the world, or on the ocean looking out onto a brand new horizon.
So for now, as the wise man John Lennon once said:
"Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream
It is not dying, it is not dying
Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void
It is shining, it is shining
Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being..."
How it feels sometimes.... I am swimming in a high alpine lake. A body of water suspended above surrounding clouds, floating below me in other parts of the world, I feel their form as I glide through the captivating liquid. The water is quite cold but as time passes our temperatures meet somewhere in the middle. The sound of the water moving past my ears is familiar like the voice of an old friend yet exciting like locking eyes with a complete stranger. As I swim further into this seemingly endless oasis I begin to feel a sense of insecurity at the depth below me. The water I cut through is now black in its vastness. My muscles feel strong and useful, I look back at the opposite shore and see the bodies of my friends are now very small. I keep going. Trees reflect on the ripples in front of me and the sunlight refracts rainbows off the crystalline water into my eyes. I realize that I am not much different from this essence. In fact all of our bodies are in majority composed of water. I feel better. Although i'm sure they are watching me with curiosity, no fish have shown themselves as of yet. This water is alive all around me. Could there be any better feeling in this world? I feel at the pinnacle of my own reality. Completely at peace. I make it to the opposite edge of the lake. Hundreds of turquoise dragonflies populate this area which is shaded by the mountain above. All of my senses are fully awakened.
How it feels other times...
A congregation of my species around a spot in the earth where water pours out. The city park in Mt. Shasta is dedicated to this spring. This spout in the rock-face where life emerges, 50 year old snow-melt from the mountain above, free for your drinking pleasure. People tactfully hop from rock to rock to get closer to the source. Filling bottles, filling their hands like cups, even sticking their face right into the icy cold water, their cheeks pressing against the rocks at either side of the opening. Filling their bodies with liquid consciousness. It is truly a sight to behold. All different "types" of people, families, hippies, hobos, motorcycle riders, elders, and youngsters of the community gather in this sacred spot to share the gift of life. Instruments play, people sing, dance and celebrate, all with the constant sound of flowing water, like a peaceful reminder. Stay true. Run free.
How it feels most of the time...
Life is ever changing. Especially it seems in this time in our lives, when things are conceptual. We are capable of creating our own destinies, our realities. It is exciting and sometimes scary, like diving into the unknown. But you must realize that this is your life. There is nothing to be afraid of. Be joyful. Ride the wave. The water will flow on, like time, and before you know it you'll be downstream in another part of the world, or on the ocean looking out onto a brand new horizon.
So for now, as the wise man John Lennon once said:
"Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream
It is not dying, it is not dying
Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void
It is shining, it is shining
Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being..."
With love, MH
Thursday, June 26, 2014
A look at today, from the future
Recently I've been noticing a shift. When it may of started, I'll get to later, but I'll start with what reminded me of this realignment. I was reading this week's issue of the Flag Live and one of the contributors mentioned spirituality and how it is becoming more and more widely accepted as part of the answer to scientific debacles. My own personal journey has led me out of the state for travels, internal and external exploration. We've been mainly on the West Coast in more progressive areas—for a while I couldn't tell if I had turned on the light switch or if the rest of the world was suddenly illuminated. Maybe it's living in a country with an at-least semi-conscious, non-war mongering leader. There's some food for the spirit when it's not being barraged by gruesome wars and blatant self-interest.
So when I read that someone was noticing this shift—the idea was, maybe my simple writings or contributions have caused a butterfly effect? Or, maybe everything you do is like this, it affects the world, the global consciousness and that's the grandeur idea. Consciousness is just a fancy word for doing what needs to be done, anyway. Some mistake it, and I use the word mistake loosely, for their own reason of divinity. That is, in the sense that they realize they are divine, but only to feel tingly and powerful.
Now I propose the tingly feeling to empower ourselves and launch out earthquake-like vibrations. Maybe that's why San Francisco, sitting atop the San Andreas fault is so colorful, exciting and spawning of great ideas. Why Jack Kerouac called it the greatest city on earth—why I'm getting the tingly feeling from California—it has learned to transform this energy into ideas.
Literally, it is one of the few states moving forward on renewable energy—which leads me into the next segment—that of a new paradigm.
It started with Dr. David Vasquez, at the very end.
It was the last few months of my schooling in Flagstaff. The outlook shaky, an Environmental Science major, the study aligned with grim clouds of hope, the silver lining in some unknown possibility.
So the strange fellow comes in on a cold midweek evening. He's putting on a seminar at the School of Social and Behavioral Sciences. He's kind of squirrely, giddy. Maybe that's what Einstein was like when he was inventing the light bulb, da Vinci and his once far-fetched conceptualization of a helicopter. Looking back, I ask, have I just been placing myself into these situations? Maybe I am creating this idea of change through my actions—but the audience was just a handful of scraggly freshman, cold and pale, showing up for extra credit, scrambling to boost their grade.
So, others are finding the same type of feeling elsewhere! Aha.
Dr. Vasquez goes on to talk about the inevitable shift of the paradigm. His message comes from the vibrating lands of San Francisco! He proposes a revolutionary and inevitable shift in ... just about everything—but particularly the transition into a solar/hydrogen economy. Both of these technologies are on the verge of cracking through the shell, Toyota has just announced a summer 2015 launch of a hydrogen powered car in the US. Why does this matter? The development of hydrogen storage technology may be the key, the yin to the yang of the storage issues plaguing renewable energy.
We've all heard it before, they (my parents, et cetera) had it in the '70s! Things are far different now, and if you think the '70s movement wasn't just incubating a generation of change, then take this pencil from may hand and make it disappear. The magic exists in more than one place, including in various places in time. It existed just as much, if not more in Mr. Bobby Seale's speech a few years back just next door in the W.A. Franke College of Business. Seale, a pioneer of the '60s Black Panther movement, with fervor and cunning wisdom, laid out the tracks of history to an audience that was momentarily paralyzed by its intensity and gashing relevance. The magic was, as Kerouac described in his iconic literary work On the Road, "blowing" through horns of the jazz musicians he was digging in the '40s. Man, it was happening. Music was leading to a generation of social change. It may never be quite like that again. Art may never be as good as it is right now.
So for those of you who have "woken up," welcome to a beautiful sun shining day.
And for those that haven't—look around, enjoy the paintings, the writings, the creation around you. The future is being written by the remarkable movement that is happening today.
So when I read that someone was noticing this shift—the idea was, maybe my simple writings or contributions have caused a butterfly effect? Or, maybe everything you do is like this, it affects the world, the global consciousness and that's the grandeur idea. Consciousness is just a fancy word for doing what needs to be done, anyway. Some mistake it, and I use the word mistake loosely, for their own reason of divinity. That is, in the sense that they realize they are divine, but only to feel tingly and powerful.
Now I propose the tingly feeling to empower ourselves and launch out earthquake-like vibrations. Maybe that's why San Francisco, sitting atop the San Andreas fault is so colorful, exciting and spawning of great ideas. Why Jack Kerouac called it the greatest city on earth—why I'm getting the tingly feeling from California—it has learned to transform this energy into ideas.
Literally, it is one of the few states moving forward on renewable energy—which leads me into the next segment—that of a new paradigm.
It started with Dr. David Vasquez, at the very end.
It was the last few months of my schooling in Flagstaff. The outlook shaky, an Environmental Science major, the study aligned with grim clouds of hope, the silver lining in some unknown possibility.
So the strange fellow comes in on a cold midweek evening. He's putting on a seminar at the School of Social and Behavioral Sciences. He's kind of squirrely, giddy. Maybe that's what Einstein was like when he was inventing the light bulb, da Vinci and his once far-fetched conceptualization of a helicopter. Looking back, I ask, have I just been placing myself into these situations? Maybe I am creating this idea of change through my actions—but the audience was just a handful of scraggly freshman, cold and pale, showing up for extra credit, scrambling to boost their grade.
So, others are finding the same type of feeling elsewhere! Aha.
Dr. Vasquez goes on to talk about the inevitable shift of the paradigm. His message comes from the vibrating lands of San Francisco! He proposes a revolutionary and inevitable shift in ... just about everything—but particularly the transition into a solar/hydrogen economy. Both of these technologies are on the verge of cracking through the shell, Toyota has just announced a summer 2015 launch of a hydrogen powered car in the US. Why does this matter? The development of hydrogen storage technology may be the key, the yin to the yang of the storage issues plaguing renewable energy.
We've all heard it before, they (my parents, et cetera) had it in the '70s! Things are far different now, and if you think the '70s movement wasn't just incubating a generation of change, then take this pencil from may hand and make it disappear. The magic exists in more than one place, including in various places in time. It existed just as much, if not more in Mr. Bobby Seale's speech a few years back just next door in the W.A. Franke College of Business. Seale, a pioneer of the '60s Black Panther movement, with fervor and cunning wisdom, laid out the tracks of history to an audience that was momentarily paralyzed by its intensity and gashing relevance. The magic was, as Kerouac described in his iconic literary work On the Road, "blowing" through horns of the jazz musicians he was digging in the '40s. Man, it was happening. Music was leading to a generation of social change. It may never be quite like that again. Art may never be as good as it is right now.
So for those of you who have "woken up," welcome to a beautiful sun shining day.
And for those that haven't—look around, enjoy the paintings, the writings, the creation around you. The future is being written by the remarkable movement that is happening today.
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