Column inspiration from Fiji to Ethiopia and back

One of the most popular questions I field is, “How do you come up with all your columns?” Well, the cats are getting as wild and wooly as the weather is outside right now, flying fur balls spinning through the house, which is why I am lying here at 1 in the morning coming up with an answer.

One of the cats grudgingly surrenders his spot lying across my chest to another cat, registering his opinion about the matter by launching off my bare arm poking out from under the covers. I’m awake now. Sigh. OK, this is why they call it the “wee” hours.

Fifteen minutes later, “POP!” Power out. Pencil and paper. Battery operated candles. The wind is the strongest I’ve heard in recent memory. “Hmmm, multiply this by perhaps three or more, and this is likely what Barbara (my little sister) experienced in Fiji with Cyclone Winston.” Can’t imagine it.

I might dare to go out and latch the gate that’s been slamming madly. Just as I step out the studio door into the driveway, I get blasted with a face full of rain, nearly blowing me back at the same moment I hear the darn gate catch and desist. That was refreshing.

I wander around the house, looking out the windows through ambient light (from where? Solar lights? A clouded moon?) to see what I can see. The silhouette of Miles’ old Christmas tree in the backyard is towering over the house, secure but playing double Dutch with the power lines. I hope this vestige of holiday cheer isn’t responsible for knocking out the neighborhood!

After watching shrubs and lawn furniture dosey-doe, I figure there’s nothing for it but to snuggle back down into bed. The cats hid after the lightning started and something large crashed outside (I would later find my back fence collapsed, amongst other things). Now my mind wanders.

My sister in Fiji — who’d have guessed she’d be experiencing the Southern Hemisphere’s worst weather event ever? My son’s Portland Timbers soccer team won their game today. He’d be celebrating late into night, riding on the high of today’s win as well as the sweet taste of winning last year’s title. Young men from all over the world, playing this sport.

In preparation for this storm, I quit the “whiney-pee-pee-poor-me-me-me-baby” attitude and weed-whacked the whole yard, pulled some things together, took some things down, cleaned out, cleared up all by myself. Because I most often have done so in my life and there’s no reason to change now. I am my own boss. I just needed to quite enabling myself!

I was approached to write about a young man whom I’ve known all his life, Sean Stromsoe, and his skate park project in Ethiopia. My friend, Kathe Tanner, covered it in last week’s Cambrian (http://bit.ly/1R1yRUo) very nicely. I had dropped the ball. Why? I suppose I felt I’ve used this space so often to ask neighbors to help neighbors and I just felt I couldn’t do it one more time at the moment.

I’ve heard, “Why build a skate park in a country that is tortured by drought and famine and injustice? Why not help here at home where we aren’t that far removed?” As I listened to the trash cans hot-footing it down the driveway, it occurred to me why.

When a local blonde haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned American boy finds an incredible use for his photography and film talents, discovers a culture that has endured and endeared itself to him and now wants to give them something to look forward to, why shouldn’t we help with his campaign on Indigogo (http://bit.ly/1mnEuUE)?

As is the case in so many parts of the world, when all you have to do is what-is-absolutely-necessary, no-room-for-fun … why go on? Where is the hope? A skate park, to me, represents spirit.

Spirit is what keeps us going. Spirit builds motivation, builds body and minds, spirit nurtures growth. It is a coping skill we all need. Some of us get that from retail therapy. Others, from some awesome young American guy recognizing a need. Right on, Sean!

I’ve come to accept there are no guardrails on this winding road we call life. Go too slow and you miss out on all the beauty and adventure there is to experience, be it love gone away or camping in Big Sur. Go too fast and you may wind up in a ditch of self-pity and overeating … or worse.

Perhaps it’s stories like Sean’s or perhaps it is this gale-force wind and rain that has cleansed my spirit, got me back in step with the universal force. I am grateful for it all.

This story was originally published March 9, 2016 at 11:46 AM with the headline "Column inspiration from Fiji to Ethiopia and back."