Grand Canyon Closure Day 8

I arrived at the South Gate of Grand Canyon just as a protest began. Business owners and employees from the town of Tusayan, park concession staff, and tourists gathered at the gate to hear why park Superintendent Dave Uberuaga is not able to re-open the park.

Heading Back to the Canyon - Closed or Not

On the eve of my return to the southwest, I want to share this film with you. It is in honor of several things. First - the Grand Canyon - that magic place that takes up a huge part of my heart and life. Second - Kaitlin Kenney - the beautiful young woman who lost her life in the canyon in January this year. I have learned a great deal about life and beauty and hope and faith through her life, and I thank her and her family for that. And finally, this is for all those thousands of people who had planned to see the Grand Canyon, but can not because of the government shutdown. I am right there with you. The trip I planned is not likely to be the trip I will have, but I am open to what comes.

For the Grand Canyon. For Kaitlin. For you.

The Soul's Journey, a Film By Naseem Rakha

Spitting Mad

dream

I was standing on the bank of the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon when I saw a huge raft approaching. Bigger than any raft I had ever seen. It was bright white and the water was red. On it, stiff as pillers, were about one hundred men. All of them dressed in suits and all of them mouthing something. The sound of the water drowned out their words until they got closer and I could hear that they were actually chanting, 

"WE DO NOT LIKE GREEN EGGS AND HAM. WE DO NOT LIKE THEM UNCLE SAM!"  Over and over they said this. Like something out of Monty Python. 

Then I noticed they were approaching Crystal Rapid. Crystal is a killer rapid. Monster water, with a monster hole that has swallowed its fair share of rafts and rafters. But there was no way that raft, so big and full, would be able to get into the rapid, let alone through it. But then, cartoon like, the raft narrowed and entered the rapid and glided straight toward the hole. 

I shouted and pointed, but the men were oblivious and soon the entire raft and its suited cargo was gone—the only thing remaining—red, white and blue lapel pins flying out from the hole and landing on shore like fish scales.

I began to run down river. One by one, I pulled the pallid men from the water. They were cold. Shivering. And they were pissed. 

"This is why we should get rid of the parks!" one said. "Sell them!" said another. "Close them." "Drain them!" And at that, Moses-like, the river emptied. Roaring water flushed away. Fish flapped on dirt covered rocks. 

"No!" I screamed. And then, not having anything better to do, I spat at the men. And then I did it again and again, and soon there were a whole bunch of people standing next to me and we were all raging and spitting. And before long the river filled with our saliva—clean and clear with purpose and direction—washing the men away.

reality

• 401 parks were closed today because of the Government Showdown over the Affordable Health Care Act (Obamacare)
• National Parks typically receive 750,000 visitors per day in October.
• 22,000 National Park Service employees have been furloughed.
• Over 7,000 private concession staff have been furloughed. 
• All current visitors to the parks have 48 hours to find alternative lodging.
• No river, climbing, backpacking, lodging, or camping permits will be honored. 
• Overall it is estimated the shutdown will cost local businesses near the country's 401 parks over 30 million dollars a day in lost revenue.

conclusion

This is what happens when voters elect government haters into office. Things bog down then, shut down. The airwaves fill with passion and pundits and prodigious speeches filled with kitsch and clamor.  But progress, real progress, policies which educate and feed and build and create, they are scrapped for ego and ideology. And in the mean time, parks close, and people don't get paid, and stores lose customers, and an economy - getting some breath of life this last year—gets strangled once again. 

This is what happens when we sell our vote to the highest bidder. Or believe the lie that a nation can be great without government services. This is what happens when idiots reign. 

It's time to get mad. It's time to get spitting mad. It's time to crash the Tea Party and its Koch addiction, and send them all down river. 

And now, for the book we all need to read: 

-Naseem Rakha, October 1, 2013

Who Wants to Join Me?

I am putting together a river trip down the Grand Canyon for late summer 2014 or spring 2015.

It is open to women artists and naturalists - both defined widely.

Grand Canyon - August, 2012, photo by Michael Miles

Basically I am looking for women who reach deep into their lives, challenging themselves to grow more compassionate and whole. Women who would find solace in a break from the rim-world, and love the buzz that comes from self expression and autonomy.

Bold. Honest women who don't mind big waves, sandy clothes, heat and cold and everything in between. I hope to put together the crew that I was with in 2012. (See Carl Sagen and Joseph Campbell meet Mandela in the Canyon).

Think breathtaking scenery, awe inspiring geology, mind bending conversations, and moments so grounding it will change your perspective of the world.

If you think you are up for this, email me with your name, reason for wanting to go, and mailing address.  I will have info sent your way.

Expect the trip of a lifetime. Also, expect to pay a few grand. The price is not yet set.

For a taste of the adventure - watch Mandela take on Lava Falls during our river trip in 2012.

-Naseem Rakha 8/9/13

My Chautauqua Home

If I could bring back one thing from Chautauqua
it would be my neighbors
It is so nice to be someplace where people invite you onto their porch,
take an interest in your day,
the community, the world.

Where people keep a close eye on the children,
know them by name,
mark their growth with pictures and notches on posts

So nice to live where people don't walk around with their fingers all pointed

their noses all bent
their eyes all scrunched into worried little sores.

Brittle people
with nothing better to do then
then shine their own buttons.

If I could bring back one thing from Chautauqua it would be my neighbors
and their soft swooping arms
ready to catch, and then, no matter how hard
release us into our lives.
No judgement.
No scorn.

The place we stay on Waugh Street - The Assembly Building 1887

Run Woman Run

1967 - Kathrine Switzer of Syracuse found herself being physically attacked and told to "get the hell out of my race," by Boston Marathon Race Director Jack Semple.

I run.
Correction.
I jog a nice easy 10 minute mile (if I am lucky).
Point is. I get up, get on my shoes, my jogging bra (which I hate,) my shorts, or pants, or whatever, and I hit the streets.

Just today I was running. It's a short route around the Chautauqua grounds. 30 minutes max. But there are hills, and it gets my heart going. Nothing for a Tarahumara Indian, but I'm no Tarahumara Indian. (Check out Born To Run by Christopher McDougall.)

I am Naseem. Born in Chicago, raised 22 storys above the ground to parents who never ran, or coached teams, or watched sports (except for ABC's Wide World of Sports - "The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat....") I was an unathletic, "drink of water" that was always chosen last to be on any team. Let's see, Naseem or the kid on crutches. Naseem or the kid on crutches....

But then in college I started to run. I don't remember motivated me, But I soon discovered that though I may not be fast, I was at least steadfast. And more than that, I found that my lumberous jogs around towns, through forests, around lakes, made me feel pretty damn good.

It's all that dopamine and endorphins and stuff. Happy drugs snapping my synapsis to action.

The point is, I run, and today, after my run, I stopped at the amphitheater where, Paula Kerger, President and CEO of PBS was speaking. I stood there, all sweat covered and hyped up on endorphins and listened to her talk about PBS and community, and then she starts in about the history of the women's movement in the United States and up goes a three minute film about the first woman to run in the Boston Marathon, and suddenly it was not just sweat wetting my face.

I shouldn't, but do forget sometimes that women have had to fight for every scrap of power, recognition, and rights that they have today: to drive, to vote, to work outside the home, to divorce, to marry whom we want, to not marry, to go to school, to enter the profession that we choose, to have an abortion, to run in a marathon.

Thank you Kathrine Switzer.

"The Pursuit of Happiness"

Late June.

The Pacific Crest Trail still with fog.

Quiet as sleep.

The charcoal and silver skeletons of an ancient forest reach into a woolen sky.

I rise before dawn.
Watch the sky lighten, the path lengthen, the dark spires of stone and bone take shape and form.

During this Chautauqua Institute week on "the pursuit of happiness," people spoke of the foundational requirements for a happy life.
Love, family, community involvement, physical well being, tradition, belonging, balance, meditation, prayer, learning, awareness....
But no one mentioned the trees.
The soil.
Catapulted arrays of lighting cleaving the night sky.
No one talked about the susurration of the forest. The melodies of the wrens. The brackish suck of delta mud.
To stand on the edge of a canyon. To spirit down a river. To lay ones aching body against a sun warmed stone, and melt into the space beyond existence.
No one talked about that deep connection we have to the earth, and how it is our first mother.
Born of it. Return to it.
Molecules reclaimed by planets and stars.
But I think of it.
And know it to be true.
Happiness rides on the tides.
Settles in the sand.
Seeps with the springs and slithers with the snakes.
Yes, even the snakes make me happy.

Late June.
The Pacific Crest Trail still with fog.
Quiet as sleep.
The charcoal and silver skeletons of an ancient forest reach into a woolen sky.
Reflect in the flat gray slate of a mountain lake. 





















-Naseem Rakha 7/25/13
more PCT photos at Naseem Rakha's photos - Fire and Fog