Seattle 23, or The Universe's Answer

I have acknowledged on this blog that I tend to be less prolific when I'm happy. This was, in fact, one of the reasons I moved to Seattle in the first place - it didn't seem like a place of blissful existence.

Well, it's been almost two weeks since I wrote an entry of substance. So much for that plan.

Work continues to be good, in its twisted way - I'm getting to know the kids, and definitely getting to know more of the staff. On the whole, not only do the other staff seem to be Decent People who are Dedicating Their Lives To Good And Impossible Work, they are also by and large friendly, supportive, cheerful, and have good senses of humor.

A quick story from this week: Many of the kids have their own bicycles, and each cottage has a communal bicycle, for the kids who don't have. Mikey just got his own bike a few weeks ago, courtesy of his Best Buddy (an adult volunteer who is paired one-on-one with a child to provide friendship, mentoring and positive adult role modeling), who picked it up for free from a relative who had outgrown it. Mikey is as happy with his bike as I'm sure my cousin Gili is with the long-term loan of my grandfather's car. It's got streamers from the handles, is bright pink, and full of sparkles.

The other day, I saw a staff come in with a few cans of green and blue spray paint. "Art project?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "Mikey's bike - I figured he might want to boy it up a little."
"Aww," I said, disappointed, "He wants to change the color?"
"Well, no," my coworker replied, "I just figured..."
"Let's make sure and ask him," I said.

Well, someone else had apparently beat us to the boy-with-a-pink-bike punch. When we asked Mikey if he liked the color of his bike, or if he wanted to change it, he looked up with huge eyes and said, "No! Don't! You'll cover up the magic sparkles, and they make me go extra fast!"

In other news, I'm living at the Ravenna Kibbutz (hereon referred to as the RavButz), and signed a lease today for the new house we're renting starting in June. It's a beautiful house, unlike any I've ever lived in before - it's very California. The floor plan is somewhat open, there's no basement or second floor, and the house design is circular - you can start in the kitchen and walk through every room in the house, and end up back in the kitchen without having to stop. It's unlike the typical Craftsman houses that line the rest of the street, with their crown moldings and compartmentalized layouts. This place was designed to capture light. (And the kitchen was clearly designed by people who love to cook - yes!) Once I move in to House Gimmel (as it is called), I'll become a full fledged Kibbutz member, and responsible for contributing to the many programs the kibbutz provides for the Jewish community around here.

I spent some time yesterday talking to a good friend from college back East about taking risks and trusting the universe. I think it can be widely assumed that I am not typically a universe-trusting sort of person, but moving here required an act of trust and surrender I've not ever achieved before. (Let's put aside, for a moment, the fact that some of the risks and anxiety were minimized by the fact that I was, and continue to be, somewhat financially comfortable during the process.) In less than two months, I feel like I've been rewarded for taking that risk with a job that I love, and a wonderful community to live, eat, and work with.

And poetry! How could I leave it for last? Not only am I doing well competitively, I have been more prolific here in two months than in the last eight combined! Right now, I'm working on a collection of short pieces, perhaps with a theme - we'll see. My goal is to finish it before the solstice, before my birthday. It even has a title.