Karinaland River

  The Cicadas are Calling   This summer the cicadas are singing again in my patio! Oh, how I yearned for them to be back. Last May’s "mind-boggling" flea infestation of the whole hill forced me to have it sprayed with chemicals. Meanwhile, bitten all over my body and discovering that I am extremely allergic to the hundreds of fleabites from working in the garden, I get my first anaphylactic shock. My whole body is densely covered in red welts, ferociously itching every minute of the day and night. Unrelenting. Not just the garden, by now house and bedroom cottage are also infested. Non-stop, I am vacuuming, and washing clothes and sheets. Everywhere I am spraying oils of cedar wood, rosemary, and lemon grass diluted in water, and wipe floors and furniture with it. After two sleepless weeks from the intense pain – worse than itching – I catch a high-dose covid infection, first time and brutal. This takes me out for another three weeks, ribs dislocated from excessive violent co...

Practice – Life   Some people are naturally disciplined. I often confess to my students that  I am an undisciplined person . Whenever I muster discipline, it is fueled by curiosity, then passion (a kind of falling in love), then devotion, in that order.  And practice is all. My life has guided me deep into three fields, each organically blending into and building upon the other, complementing. In each field, I will dedicate myself to daily practice for two or three decades – not just years. The question is: can I keep learning, improving, transforming, contributing, discovering? T o me p ractice means never-ending exploration. I keep developing skills and artistry in these three areas through thousands of hours of practice, study, and work. First in the   Theater  – via creating, choreographing, performing, writing, directing, designing, collaborating. At the core is my aspiration to grow as a human being. Secondly, in   Filmmaking  – via envisioning, ...

  Equinox   Each year, the time at the Autumnal Equinox invites me to contemplate balance. Balance between life and death – gain and loss – up and down – full and empty – joy and sorrow – light and shadow – young and old. There seems to be a hint of decay and death in the air, yet all is brimming with life. And ripening. Or is it that the light of Fall is initiating a pensive mood? The musky smell of forgotten apples on the ground. Today a dear friend’s glorious 80 th  Birthday Brunch full with vibrant guests, last night sad news of the lonely death of a 39-year-old Black solo performer and author. Fate & destiny.     Death is great as Life, wrote Walt Whitman  – painted on stone, in my garden   Yesterday evening, the sun is about to set as we listen to ten musicians perform a score that blends into the idyllic outdoor setting at the creek in Berkeley’s Live Oak Park. The music features sporadic horns, bird whistles, violin sighs, singing glass, fa...

Atman         The empty space, hot sun, and stars at night. Cleaning up in the garden, a gentle breeze on my sweaty skin. Presents are still trickling in, surprising me... touching me. A couple of days ago, Bob Ng, my cello teacher, sends me this beautiful note and audio gift:    “As I thought about the silence which must have settled on your garden after the chain saws and workmen had completed their task, I was inspired to record my transcription of "Atman" as a tribute to Mama Oak.  According to Google,      Atman is a Hindu word that means 'soul or spirit'. Essentially, it refers to the real person inside an individual. It is made of part of the spirit of Brahman, who Hindus believe is the one true ultimate God. Therefore, it is not something that can be seen or touched, but it is eternal and everlasting.     I'm sure that Mama Oak had an interior soul that is as real as the ones that we humans experience.  This song i...

Sometimes Life offers us completely Unexpected Gifts   Such a thing happened when I decided in December 2020 to take up my cello again. One of the best decisions in my life, especially with losing my husband four years earlier and retiring from documentary filmmaking. The previous pandemic months, I had spent much time outdoors, working in the garden, and on my new project which involved community: the  BLM Memorial Mural  on the garage doors, often painting with friends, masked, and on a scaffold. When working alone or with collaborators * , this would become social time, talking to passersby of all ages, neighbors, dogs, and once in a while a special visitor. What a tragic year of loss, deaths, killings, fires, insanity and cultural awakenings. As the pandemic’s first winter with our Californian rains was looming, I decided to muster courage and take my cello out of the closet. 30 years had passed since I had touched it, always in fear that I would never again be able t...

  Planning a Book Celebration for the 2022 re-issue of  Black Lives, White Lives   to honor Bob’s legacy, and create an opportunity to bring together old and new friends, young and old, in Karinaland Garden. Who will show up?     With a live outdoor concert of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Duo for Violin & Viola in B flat major, K 424 , played by professional musicians  Elbert Tsai  and  Christina J.Simpson .  (Elbert and Christina are part of the  Sierra Quartet )   Three friends of mine helped out – you know who you are – became sponsors and made this special musical treat possible. I am so-so-so grateful for this!      We will be sharing Armenian finger food and drink, including garden herb tea, mingling in the magical setting under the big old Live Oaks, surrounded by squirrels & hummingbirds. Those who actually have read a bit in the book, are invited to share their impressions. I hope this draws some of...

  My Yellow Irises started to bloom early this year, in April.   Theirs is an expanding area near the wild roses. Normally they show up in mid-May reminding me of my father’s death day – May 14, 1992. My heart is beating softly with admiration & tenderness when gazing at them.     Today, I continued again to research exoneration cases and the individuals’ stories. As before with my research on the victims of police violence, this research is extremely upsetting. So much indifference, racism and cruelty in the justice system is overwhelming and dispiriting. But at the same time, for decades such incredibly dedicated work has been done by lawyers and organizations like  Centurion – Seeking Freedom for the Innocent in Prison    https://centurion.org/    and many other Innocence Projects all over the country. Most famously Bryan Stevenson’s  Equal Justice Initiative   https://eji.org/issues/wrongful-convictions/    which I...

Cello Hero The last two years have been either offering or forcing on us plenty of opportunity to be creative.   How did you experience  Prince Corona’s  stern reign? Some of us had choices in how to meet a drastically altered daily life, others did not. All of us were challenged.    Hopefully we are learning to be flexible, inventive and creative. Sensitive to what is needed at a given moment, finding new ways.   For me that means   to be creative   which so many people are yearning for. How about just simply meeting life with openness and curiosity? Practicing our innately unique ways of participating in community.   My cello teacher Bob Ng is a C ello Hero ! He went on the adventure of teaching outdoors and made it an exciting experience for his students and neighbors. He erected an open tent with a heater for cold days, a fan for hot days, a copy machine, lights. It was cozy and luxurious. I started my weekly lessons like this and...

Once a Post War Child.... When a war starts anywhere, we can read, see and hear it in the news, and each time my heart sinks to the bottom , something old and seemingly bottomless gets activated, something residing in the depth of my collective memory pool.   I can only explain it as the visceral remnants of my ancestors being stirred – two major world wars in one century, vast devastation, millions of dead, decades of violence, loss, trauma, and injury to hearts. Human made. The sounds and reverberations of missiles, shelling, bombs, explosions are shattering inside my body. News of wars in Africa, Asia or Middle East does the same thing to me, a sickening deep in the guts suppresses my appetite, draws life out of veins, and makes the garden in my heart shrivel. Of course, getting older I have learned to make an effort to counter these manifestations or symptoms since it does not help anything. But I let it be a red light – a bell rings. Yesterday afternoon, I get take-out Chicken...