Angel Dust

It was snowing when I dropped Elijah off at school today. At least it looked like snow - it was white and covered the ground and plants and streets and cars. Then I drove east a few miles, climbing to about 1500 feet, and poof - the snow was gone, as were the clouds. Below me, I could see the valley carpeted in fog.

This happens in Oregon's Willamette Valley from time to time. It's called freezing fog, and it crystalizes every speck of moisture in the air. The picture below shows that layer of fog. And the ones below that, the magic it creates.

Looking west toward the Willamette Valley from east of Silverton, Oregon

Fennel seed

Magnolia bud

Blue sky peaking through

Dawn the following morning - Silverton, Oregon

The Life of an Author's Dog

Waldo is my dog and dearest friend. He is always at my side, or close by as I sit at a desk or under a tree writing stories. He patiently waits for the moment I look up and say, let's go take these characters for a walk.

Waldo on the Metolius

Grand Canyon Inversion

On November 29th, 2013, the Grand Canyon had an unusual inversion. With warm blue skies soaring above, the canyon, at a cooler temperature, filled with fog. This time lapsed video shows the phenomena well. It was created by photographer Paul Lettieri. Enjoy.

Grand Canyon Timelapse from Paul Lettieri on Vimeo.

Remember To Live - Naseem at TedX

Here is the talk I recently gave at Ted X. It was a wonderful and challenging experience. I think Brian and Linnea Kenny for allowing me to share a small part of their daughter, Kaitlin's, story. I think the National Park Service for giving me the present of a one month stay at the Grand Canyon as their Artist in Residence.

-Naseem Rakha 11/22/13

Gun Threat at School - What Would You Do?

We got the call at 9:15 last night. It was a recording from the principal of my son's middle school. "Excuse the lateness of this call, but I think it's important you know that yesterday after school one student reported hearing another talk about bringing a gun in tomorrow."

The principal wanted us to prepare our children to see police at the school. She wanted us to believe she and her staff would do everything they could to keep our son's and daughter's safe.

Mark Twain School, Silverton, Oregon

I considered not waking my son this morning. Let him sleep in, I thought. He hadn't been feeling that well anyway. Let him have the day off. But I didn't do that. Instead, I woke him, we talked about breakfast, lunch, after school plans. I asked him if he knew anything about a gun threat. He didn't. I told him about the call and what to expect at school. He nodded, and said he'd be careful. It occured to me to ask him how he would be careful. Do you know to duck and hide under a desk? Do you even know what a gun popping off in another room sounds like? But I didn't ask him these things. No. I simply got my keys and drove him to school. There were police cars in the parking lot. Officers at the entrance door, too. News crews stood outside with cameras.

I told my son I love him, and he got out of the car and told me he loves me, too. And then he shut the door and walked away and I drove off thinking this is just so damn screwed up. What kind of mother would just drop her child off at a place where someone has threatened to bring a gun?

This kind, I guess. Me. Maybe it's denial. The refusal to believe the worst could happen. Maybe it's faith that good people prevail and that the principal is smart and savvy and was taking all the necessary precautions.

But damn, I dropped my thirteen-year-old son off at school this morning. And damn, guns are showing up everywhere and kids are using them against one another. And damn, this is screwed up. Screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed up.

Where have we done wrong?

The hapless children, the hungry children, the angry children, the drugged up children, the worried, stressed out, "what kind of future do we have, anyway?" children. We are failing. It is as simple as that. A gun in the hand of a child is a failure of a culture, not just a parent.

I dropped my son off at school today because I don't want this culture to fail. This world is sharp with edges and ignoring them won't make them go away.

I dropped my son off at school today. That was two hours ago. School lets out at three.

-Naseem Rakha

November 21, 2013 

Cats and Cookies - Why to Buy at Indie Bookstores

You are going to buy books for the holidays, right? Lots of books—hard bound, paper back, but books you can actually close with a thump, write on, take into the tub. Books which can prop open doors, or simply be stacked into avant garde furniture. Coffee tables made out of books. Bed stands. Platforms.

Well, when you go to make your purchase—promise to buy from an indie bookstore.

If you promise to do this one simple thing, I promise you will have a much better shopping experience. It's so much better to browse real shelves, made of wood or crates. There is a randomness to it, a spontaneous tickle of delight that's generated each time you find something you didn't even know existed, and there it is in your hand.....

Oh, the joy. So much better than clicking buttons on a computer, I promise. And not just that, at an indie bookstore you can find like-minded people, have actual face-to-face conversations, and maybe even a cup of tea or coffee and a cookie. Yes, a cookie! Indie bookstores are known for having cookies and even—get this—cats. All over the world - bookstores with cats in the windows, lazing on shelves, or under chairs. There are no cats on the internet.

Strike that.

There are a gazillion cats on the internet, but none can actually sit in your lap and purr like a purrrrrfect indie bookstore cat can, and will. Often. If you are good and come in and buy a book they will come and sit in your lap. And if you are allergic? Well for you, there are bookstore dogs! How great is that?

So promise. I dare you. Buy from an indie bookstore this holiday. Heck, buy from them all year long. Make the store owners and their staff feel their time stocking shelves, and reading books and writing reviews, and hosting authors and book clubs and story hour is all worth it.  Walk in, let them point you in the right direction, watch them smile with real honest-to-god lips.

Here is a link to Indie Bounds bookstore finder. Put in your zip code and you are off for a magic adventure into the real world of books and tea and cookies and cats.

Also, here is an article about 45 great indie book stores. But there are so many more. Wonderful places that are just waiting for you to visit.

What are your favorite bookstores?


-Naseem Rakha 11/9/13

Three Gifts

Today, on the Daily Challenge, I was asked to list three important gifts I have received from friends or family that have helped shape me. It was a good exercise.

So tell me, what three gifts have you received that have helped shape you?

Here are mine:

I have received the gift of time. My husband, son and father each allow me to get away from them and everyone else to write, or go backpacking, or live for a while in sacred spaces like the Grand Canyon. They understand that solitude and the wild are not just my fuel, but bring me quickly to the place I need to go to remember to be in the present. To walk with my fears and be at peace with who I am. 

I have received the gift of freedom from my father. An Indian man who was brought up in a very strict and patriarchal Muslim family. My father came to the US in 1951, and then defied his family and married an American. I was raised knowing I had to believe in myself and my dreams, and to always strive for independence, to never be shaped by peer-pressure or fad, and most of all to never be dependent on a anyone else for my welfare. 

I have received the gift of appreciation. Brought up in a multi-racial home in a multi-cultural housing development in the 1960's, I had friends whose backgrounds came from all around the world. Nobody was rich, but we had each other and I never did understand or accept the false notion that one group of people were better than another. All of my friends, whether Caucasian, Black,  Hispanic, Russian, Native American or Asian had their talents and I was privileged to learn from each. I was also taught to appreciate beauty. I was raised on a diet of music and art and culture. Classical music always played on the radio, I had ballet lessons, art and piano. I remember my father waking me at dawn to listen to the birds, my mother taking me out in autumn to collect leaves and press them between the pages of a book. 

I was raised with my senses alert and my mind wide open. 

Thank you.

Naseem Rakha, 11/4/13