Author: chaskemp

Love, grief, war, love

Barbara sent me a letter that began, “You will make it.” I printed a copy to carry in my billfold.
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David Kemp and Charles Binkley, married, September 2015


I see couples together, a man and woman, a man and a man, a woman and a woman, sometimes with a child, sometimes just a parent and child, and like a prayer, I think something like, “Cherish what you have, love her (or him) with all your heart, give it all you have.” This happens almost every day.

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I went today to the first meeting of a grief recovery group. The walking wounded. One man will mark one year tomorrow. “Clara,” he spoke her name softly. Another man just passed two months and I thought, “How can he do it?” Everyone else in the group has been in it longer, so I guess that’s how he’ll do it. It’s so hard. Until this, Vietnam was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. This is much harder.
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These things are written over time, so when I say something about “the past few days” I may be writing about days a week or two ago.
Hard times much of the past few days. The thing of writing down three good things each day fell by the wayside as I’ve cycled downward.
Phorn, David, CK. At Grace Cathedral,
David and Charles’ wedding

Sometimes patients would tell me their chief complaint was “desperation.” I didn’t really understand that, except that it seemed to occur in the context of depression and I always took it as a serious CC. Now I get it. Desperation. What to do? Where to turn?

Monday I went to the grief center at Wilshire Baptist Church. Had a draining 1.5 hour conversation with Laurie, the director. The next day I talked with Lillie, the woman who facilitates the group I will start in next Tuesday.
(Encourage, it’s a word I want to keep in mind.)
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While we were in San Francisco the last time, Jeff talked some about Vietnam. I started thinking about how much combat I was in. Really a lot. Definitions:
Battle = a sustained fight with a lot of people involved, lasting anywhere from hours to days.
Firefight or gunfight = a brief fight involving a few people, that may last a few minutes up to an hour.
1/26 = 1stBattalion, 26th Marine Regiment; likewise 1/9 is 1st Bn, 9th Marine Reg. and so on. A letter in front of these, e.g., C/1/26, designates C Company, 1st Bn…
With Elisabeth and Jim, on the trail, NM

Except for Marine nomenclature, these are my definitions (battle vs. firefight). In each of the following battles and gunfights I was actively shooting and being shot at.

Battles
Deckhouse/Prairie, a big one near the DMZ – battalions of NVA regulars, trenches, mortars, rockets, many firefights. On the last day I saw a tanker get his head blown off. He was wearing a commo helmet, and it was like seeing a radio explode. When the fighting was over, I got his .45. I remember when we got back to a firebase the tanks laagered up and we (the infantry) all just kind of fell down asleep in the center of the circle. In the morning I saw the entire 1st weapons squad asleep together – three men, spooned together under a poncho – a week before there had been 12-14 men in 1st squad. For the operation, 36 Marines were killed and 167 wounded (from several units). Deckhouse/Prairie lasted a week or two for my unit, C/1/26.
Sea and sky and land

Dodge City near Hill 55 when that corporal had his ass blown off – he sat up and looked down at what was left of his legs, groaned and died. Battle lasted about an hour.

Dodge City a few months later – 16 KIA, several helicopters shot down, bad action, Zamora killed. His friend went crazy, started screaming, and charged the enemy trench line, so everybody else did too. Lasted about a day.
The Hill Fights/the “First Battle of Khe Sanh” – this was the worst. At the DMZ. I was mostly with 1/9, “The Walking Dead” and also some with 3/3 or 2/3. 168 men killed over about a month. I was in this one at several different points, with some rest time back at the rear near Dong Ha, where the only problem was rockets. I think I can rightfully say this was at least two battles for me. Intense. Lasted weeks.
Firefights/gunfights
John and CK, in the Castro

My best guess is at least one every 4-5 days for about seven months and then in the last six months, maybe one or even less/week. But the Hill Fights were in the last months, so I don’t know how to count in those times. All told, I was in at least 50 firefights.

Sniper fire/mines
When we were near Dodge City (Thuy Bo) every bleeding day at least one person was hit by sniper fire or blown away by a bouncing betty or other mine. Every fucking day.

I’ve been shot at with hand-held automatic weapons, crew-served automatic weapons, mortars, RPGs, big rockets, artillery, and I don’t know what else. I’ve even been strafed by a gunship.
THAT’S A LOT OF ACTION! I don’t seem to be haunted by it, though. It comes up now and then, but not so bad. I don’t remember my dreams. Things might be different if I did. Haha, Jeff’s dreams are enough for me.
———————-
Phana and Jeff – we all love a pretty girl, don’t we.
Look at how he’s looking at her – just as if he was
looking at David.

I’ve been somewhat slouchish for a long time. Toward the last of the time when Leslie was sick, I realized I was becoming actually bent over. I worked to stand up straighter. At some point a few weeks ago I thought to myself, fuck it, bent over is what I am and I quit trying to stand straight. Now I’m working on straighter again.

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David and Charles got married a few weeks ago. It was a huge celebration. I realized a few days before the ceremony that it was a transition for me, too – and not the easiest one of my life. Of course, these are days upon days of transitions for me… More on this later. Will post video when it comes out.
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A woman was telling me how Leslie helped her years ago and how thankful she was for it. Somewhere in the conversation, I said, “Yes, she helped hundreds of people. The woman said, “No. Thousands.”

A screw-up, getting it right, lost, good things, a knight and a girl, song across the river…

Last night I was thinking about how my parents always said I was undependable – couldn’t be trusted – and they were right, where they and their deals were concerned, like school and family things. I was a screw-up.
Angel at La Boulange October 2014

And I thought about how for the rest of my life I’ve been completely dependable – a go-to, get-it-right person – in the Marine Corps/in combat, in rock-climbing, in hippie culture, in my marriage, with my son, in hospice, in the barrio/with refugees, in taking care of patients as a nurse practitioner, in the community…

This was actually a huge revelation for me.
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A month or so ago I had a conversation with a woman working at Trader Joe’s. It turned out that she had spent a year traveling in Asia, studying Buddhism – on a pilgrimage. Today I was in Trader Joe’s and chose her line. She said she remembered me and I told her I remember her – and in fact, have a small gift for her, but didn’t bring it. She said I would remember it when the time was right. I said, I dunno. She said to have faith in myself; and then told me that yesterday she felt lost and so wrote down some positives in her life (that’s one of her practices).

Street of Dreams, Hue 2005


The day before the above conversation I said to Phana, “Sometimes I feel lost… not in geography, but emotionally.” Yesterday I posted this in my blog: “(a few weeks ago) I was some sad the past few days. It began to lift as we drove on I30 today. I realize now that part of the problem was likely that for several days I had abandoned the practice of each evening writing down three good things that happened that day – because so much good is happening. Ha! So much good, so much sad.”
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So that was one good thing!

Goldy, David, Judo about 2005

Breakfast with Ron Cowart was good. He has been a significant source of support –
I read a good book.
Had a very nice dinner with Shirin yesterday evening – good time, good food.

Contact with David every day…
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The first time I understood about sexual abuse was at the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Transitions workshop in 1978. A young woman talked about having been repeatedly molested by her mother’s boyfriend with her mother present… The woman was talking about this for the first time. She was filled with pain and shame and loathing. I was staggered. I had no idea. It’s not like I really understood, but I did get a clue.
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Welcome!

Monday
I was thinking this might be a difficult day. But it wasn’t all that hard. I kept thinking about why aren’t all the beautiful times Leslie and I had together enough. I don’t know. But I do know how infinitely grateful I am that I never held back telling Leslie how I feel – how I adored her, how much fun she was, how pretty she was, how I respect her, how I love her – all those kinds of things. Other good things that happened today:
Went to the gym for what I call a sedate workout.
David and Leslie, Hue, 2010

Did a complete clean of the kitchen, breakfast room, and back bathroom.

I asked my next-door neighbor for a recommendation for a place to tune a bike that’s been sitting in a shed for 2+ years. He said he’d do it – as a gesture of thanks for all the cookies I’ve given him.
I received a surprise package from Amazon. It was a CD (Shaina Noll, Songs for the Inner Child) from Elisabeth in New Mexico! 
I’m rereading Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman. The author sent it to me after he read something I wrote about the book – I posted the following on September 2, 2013:
A book about a knight and a girl
CK at DMZ, 1966

When I got to the end of the book, Between Two Fires, by Christopher Buehlman, I actually cried – not a common response from me. The book is about a knight and a girl during the plague years. Though there are many differences between us, I identified more strongly with the knight than any (literary or living) character I’ve encountered in many years. He had been stripped of his knighthood, excommunicated, and had lost his home and family. He joined a band of brigands and was wandering the countryside, stealing and killing. The bandits came upon a girl at a farm where everyone else was dead. Some of the bandits were getting ready to rape her, but the fallen knight killed them. He and the girl then set out on a quest, for what they didn’t know.

They journeyed through the plague-decimated countryside and towns guided by the girl’s visions. Along the way people helped them and hindered them and gradually, they encountered greater and greater evil. There were temptations and fear and pain and love and joy. In the end, there was a terrible battle, then peace; there was redemption.
It blew my mind the extent to which I identified with the knight, though I haven’t lost anything close to what he lost, nor done what he did. But I have been on noble quests; I have faced death squarely in battle and elsewhere; I’ve defended the defenseless, been face to face with evil, tried hard to do the right thing, had visions/followed visions. I have been redeemed.
Tuesday
Stung Sankae – Battambang

Over the past few years I’ve gotten into the habit of making coffee in the evening and putting it into the refrigerator and then in the morning, having coffee as I awaken. This morning I was playing Songs for the Inner Child (CD sent by Jim and Elisabeth) as I had my coffee. I was reminded of one evening in Battambang, looking over the Stung Sangkae  (a river running through the edge of town) and hearing a woman somewhere across the river singing in a beautiful voice into the mystery of the Cambodian night…

Gym, 30 minute workout.

Elisabeth in Santa Fe, 2015

Thinking back on Jim and Elisabeth’s visit to San Francisco. You can tell a lot about people when things don’t go exactly as planned, e.g., a long bus trip to a long walk to an underwhelming destination, followed by a long wait for the next bus. Fine, no prob. Alright! The three of us connected during those days – the connections were/are deep.

How could anyone ever tell you
You were anything less than beautiful
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole
How could anyone fail to notice
That your loving is a miracle
How deeply you’re connected to my soul…

David, my beloved Son. What peace and love you’ve given to me. 

Chemo, happiness, travel…

This is totally not in chronological order and I don’t what happened when – and also, the photos are not necessarily linked to the text. Just another example of writing to remember (These days, how I treasure what I’ve written about travel in Asia with Leslie!).

David with Jake, CK, Phana – Ocean Beach, 2015

Last week I went with Phana and Kayleen to visit David and Charles. It was a great visit, full to the brim with activities – Golden Gate Park, Neiman’s, Castro, Four Seasons, Ocean Beach – all over the place. I backed out of some parts of the trip as I felt the focus should be on David, Phana, and Kayleen’s relationship.
We came back to Dallas on Monday, back to chemo on Tuesday, massage for Phana on Wednesday, chemo/pump out Thursday, dinner with Debora Thursday evening, rehab on Friday morning, and fly back to San Francisco on Friday. Yikes! In some ways it’s been a hard week for me – lots of sadness and longing. Yet good in many ways.
Some of the parts that were good were spending time with Phana and Kayleen (see below), spending time with Phana, seeing my brother John, finishing early with chemo on Tuesday (I was in kind of a dream-like state and then about 3:30 Phana said it’s done), the whole massage scene (see below), dinner with Debora, a rare dream, and heading back to San Francisco.

Kayleen, Ocean Beach, 2015

Massage – I had a dream about Jessica A. in which I was trying to ask her something, but couldn’t. I contacted her a few days later about who might give Phana a loving massage and she suggested our mutual friend, Kristina. I was so happy that I know someone I can ask about a loving massage AND who would understand what I meant by that term AND that Kristina’s name would come up. Kristina’s apartment was a lovely, high space – even a sacred space, so I was super-happy to be there – so grateful for the whole scene. By the “whole scene” I mean the connections within Atrium Obscurum and the good people who make it beautiful, and more immediately, what was happening that day.
Spending time with Phana was basically the same as always – good. Spending time with Kayleen was an opportunity to discover a rare mix of child and adult. At first, she manifests child, as in totally 17. Then over time, she reveals depth and maturity. She’s dealing with a lot and dealing with it gracefully.
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Phana and I went to a government office to pick up an important document. It was a very busy office with easily a hundred employees and countless clients and in all that, the person who ended up helping, said that she knows who Phana is! And I was thinking that all of us (Phana, from Cambodia; the employee, from Vietnam; and me, a combat veteran of Vietnam) are all children of war, ending up together, momentarily, in that huge office.

Phana, Kayleen, David

This was after 7 phone calls to that office with hold times probably averaging about 5 minutes (so not bad in that respect) and 4 phone calls to other entities such as a Congressman, Phana got a call from the office: yes, they have her passport and she can come in Thursday to pick it up. And, “Do you know a Charles Kemp?” LOL. So they got some little pieces of my ass and a bigger piece of hers, which is profoundly dragging after this 2nd course of max chemo, but still a better choice to go in now vs. them mailing it. 
Onward Through the Fog!
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Today, she’s in one of the big chairs in the chemotherapy infusion room and this man comes over, rolling his IV along, and among other things happening, looks at me and asks, “Do you love her?” I really did LOL and said, “I can’t believe you’re asking me that question.” And with clarity said, “Yes.” Pinned to the wall by an old man named George, with tears running down his cheeks. We talked about what kind of love – agape and filial I think. He also talked about how we’re all one. I thought at first maybe he was an angel – really. Now I think he was a man having a vision. 
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I was at the corner of Duboce and Steiner in San Francisco when one of those long fire trucks with a driver in front and someone else steering the back of the truck. The person steering the rear was waving at children and when I waved, too, he waved at me. Good times in San Francisco! 
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David at Golden Gate

I was some sad the past few days. It began to lift as Phana and I drove on I30 today. I realize now that part of the problem was likely that for several days I had abandoned the practice of each evening writing down three good things that happened that day – because so much good is happening. Ha! So much good, so much sad. Playing a little catch-up now. Good…

I know people who say, “Yes,” when I ask, “Do you know anyone who can give a good, loving massage?”
I’m looking so forward to being with David. Prodigiously forward to that!
I’m happy to be bringing Phana and Kayleen to see David. I’m glad to be with Phana and Kayleen.
It makes me happy that Nora is buying Leslie’s car – and sad, too.
It was a good thing to have dinner with John. He’s a good guy.
It is a good thing to think of Leslie – of how she was so many things (wife, mother, lover, get it done genius, beautiful woman, decent person, and more).
Bible study was good.
Kayleen and Phana – SF,  2015

Looking forward to seeing Kristina.

Glad to be returning to San Francisco.
Grateful for the Grateful Dead.
Grateful for sativa.
Go Cali!
Friday
For walking with David, Phana, and Kayleen and for having coffee with them.
For San Francisco.
For dinner at Italian place on 19th Street upstairs in the Castro.
For sitting here while Phana and Kayleen rest.
Good times at tastings at four Seasons and cake place in the Mission.
Beginning to get to know Kayleen.
Being on Haight Street.
Talking with Charles B.
Saturday
Being in SF.
Going to beach with David, Phana, Kayleen, and Jake.
Lunch with everyone at the Slanted Door.
Haight Street, 2015

Walk with Kayleen, talking with her.

My apartment in San Francisco.
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There was some sourdough starter (levain) dated 2/2014 in the refrigerator. I started the reactivation process and within 4 days, had a fully active levain (doubles in size, forms many bubbles, and has a good sourdough fragrance in ~8 hours).
I then spread the active material on a tray in the dehydrator and dehydrated it at a low temp for about 10 hours yielding crispy, light pieces of levain.
Then I dissolved 5 gm of the dehydrated levain in warm water and started the reactivation process again. Within three days I had a fully active levain! Then I replicated the process to be sure it would work. It did.
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Sourdough, Arizmendi Bakery

I ran into someone I knew today. She was telling me about her son working in psychiatry with veterans and how the smaller women working in that setting were glad of this woman’s son – they feel protected because of his size. I didn’t have a good reaction to what she was saying, but didn’t understand why. I didn’t realize until just a few minutes ago that what this well-credentialed and uber-progressive person was saying about veterans with PTSD was that we’re dangerous, not to be trusted – haha (she was saying it with humor – it was amusing), they like having some muscle with them around the veterans. Hard to know what to say. I didn’t grasp it at the time, so went off on alternatives to the ineffective way PTSD is treated at the VA. But I get it now. I wonder how many shitty, racist or whatever things I’ve said and never even noticed…

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To Phana: You asked if I felt tired after spending the day with you getting chemotherapy. I said something like “a little” – but later I began to understand. I wrote,
What I really feel after here is not tired, but… something. I’m not sure what. Except that I’ve been somewhere of import with someone of great import. I don’t feel at all glad in any way, but I would rather be here, right here, right now – than anywhere else I can think of: The Wind Rivers, San Francisco, anywhere (except, of course, with Leslie).
——————

Our hotel was on this alley in Saigon, 2013

In the hall outside of the Chemotherapy Infusion Area I heard a man say, “I have a tough situation.” 
———————-
The last time I played golf was about a month after I returned from the war in 1967. It had been several years, so I wasn’t playing well until I reached a hard par 4 hole going back toward the clubhouse. I hit a perfect tee shot – long and right up the middle. I tossed my driver over by my other clubs and walked off the course. It was a good set of clubs, but I just left them there. That was it for me.
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Now, several days later, sitting with Phana in an office in outpatient oncology, going over Advance Directives and Medical Power of Attorney, talking about how she is likely to pass, serious things.
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Things that help with happiness (from Greater Good in Action Center at UC Berkeley – http://ggia.berkeley.edu/ )
Three good things practice (every night) or gratitude journal
Mental subtraction of positive events
Savoring walk once a week vs. giving something up
Thank yous in word and deed; gratitude letter
Positives
Thursday
New Mexico, July 2015

BP close to normal.

John calls to say, when I’m having a late day, let him know and he’ll fix dinner.
Went to dermatologist who took such good care of Leslie. She was extra sweet and used the word, “adore.”
Messaged with friend I haven’t seen in about 20 years.
Friday
Ran into friend who is police officer. He called about 30 minutes later to say, “You’re one of my heroes.”
Flying to Albuquerque from DFW. Lucked into right terminal and close to right gate.
Parked free with Purple Heart license plates.
Read a good article about Robert Frank (photographer of The Americans)
I wrote this: I’m hopeful! I don’t know what for. It just seems like there is some future out there for me, some potential. I’m fearful. I fear further disconnection.

And there was the whole amazing scene with Jim and Elisabeth in New Mexico!

Liberation Day, San Francisco Pride 2015, the 1960s fully realized

I started writing this on June 26, 2015 – LOVE WINS DAY! Photos are from San Francisco Pride. What a weekend!!!

Friday on Castro, after Supreme Court announcement
Shut that street DOWN!

Last week was one of the great weeks of my life, even within the grief. Things happened that I never thought would happen.
In classes I taught over the years there would be discussions of “socialized medicine” as a concept, but not as something anyone thought would happen in the U.S. Nobody I ever knew gave a rat’s ass about “socialized” – we just wanted everyone to have access to decent healthcare. And some of us dedicated our lives to providing as much healthcare as we could to as many underserved people as possible, but it was a long, uphill effort. Now, after more than 50 attempts by conservative lawmakers to destroy the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”), it’s a reality.

Keeping the peace

Early Friday morning (June 26, 2015 – mark that date!) I got a text from my son: “Marriage Equality is a reality!” Here is what the Court said:
“No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.”
Love wins! And Gay Liberation rolls on like a mighty river.

Delores Park – the Dyke March

AND, I had the great good fortune to be in San Francisco on Pride weekend! Beautiful – as I type at this moment there are rainbows on my keyboard (from crystal hanging in the window). I danced with more than a million people! Literally!
FREEDOM!
Though not as personally important to me as the previous…
Then there was SC decision about fair housing – disparate impact, i.e., if housing policies result in discrimination, even if discrimination is unintended, it’s discrimination (depend on me for your legal information).
The Supreme Court also stopped Texas’ war on women by blocking the state’s laws blocking access to abortion clinics (depend on me for clarity in writing).
The Supreme Court threw a monkey wrench into the awful gerrymandering that is a crippling part of politics as usual in the U.S.

Oil wrestling in Delores Park at the Dyke March

It’s as if this week is a capstone to what started in the 1960s. Though much is undone or needs more work, still, look at what we did!
  • Equality in Marriage comes 51 years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
  • We stopped the Vietnam War (or as the Vietnamese call it, the American War).
  • We brought the consciousness revolution to the world and despite millions of incarcerations and trillions of dollars spent to stop it and lies without end, it’s alive and very well.
    Cops, keeping the peace

  • WE brought dying and death out of the closet. WE made hospice a reality.
  • Sexual revolution? We’ll take the credit for that, too (with all its side effects).
  • Environmental awareness? That was seriously fringe in the 60s and into the 70s. We are a bunch of unrepentant tree-huggers (Talk about a lot more work needed, though!).
  • And then there’s rock & roll! From the moon-June-spoon pap peddled by record companies to Bob Dylan singing, “Equality,” I spoke the word as if a wedding vow.
  • Free speech – this is a family-oriented journal so I won’t include the photo of me sitting on the steps of Sproul Hall at UC Berkeley (where the Free Speech movement was born), shooting the finger to whomever (think Ted Cruz, Jeb Hensarling, Franklin Graham, all those people).

And much, much more.

At the main stage – what a party!
(Representing Atrium Obscurum)


Equality, I spoke the word as if a wedding vow.

Onward

I try to limit my visits for a pecan roll and
coffee to twice/week
I started writing this on the day marking four months since my beautiful Leslie passed away. Oh, honey, I miss you, I am so sorry. Thank you for our life together.
Last night Charles B took a photo of David and me. Looking at the photo it was the first time I realized that my son is now bigger than I am. Life goes on.
I was thinking yesterday how much I miss lying in bed with you, holding hands or touching one another, sometimes talking, sometimes not. In love.
10/26/2012. We were both sick (GI – nevermind the details) and Leslie was much sicker than I. After a few days we were able to get out of bed to somewhere other than the bathroom… after we could move around there were many hours that we still lay in bed together, one or the other dozing, awake, not talking, holding hands, and even though neither of us felt well, it was a sweet time, together.
The Redwood Lily in Arcata 
Sometimes at night, when you’re asleep I whisper things to you, like, “Leslie, I adore you… My beautiful Leslie… Forever and ever… I love you…” Adore – a perfect word for all of this. Subsonic love-making.
These are the days.
The 6/21/15 NYT Book Review had a review of The Odd Woman and the City (a memoir) by Vivian Gornick. It was as if the reviewer was describing me and my walks and bus/train rides through San Francisco. Samuel Johnson wrote in the 1740s, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” One can substitute San Francisco for London, of course. Sometimes I’m part of what I see, but mostly I just enjoy and appreciate it. It helps. I got the book. 
The day before I read the review, I sent this to my friend, Joy Blacklagoon: I was thinking today that one of the things I do – that makes me happy – is just walking around or sitting or whatever and just digging people. Babies, especially. I was on the train today and there were two people sitting there, one with her head on the other’s shoulder and it was really sweet and I was so happy to be there next to them. Haha! They had no idea what I was thinking. I hope you have a day full of love.
My little cubby in the Redwood Lily
Here is poignancy for you: My front window overlooks the sidewalk. There are trees up and down the street and there is a planter around the one closest to me and right now there is a homeless transgender person sitting on the planter, carefully putting on makeup, nothing spectacular, I think she just wants to look good, her little dog curled up beside her on a coat or something.

Psytrance party in the woods, 7/2015
put on by Follow Your Bliss

I think it would be edifying, interesting, humbling, all kinds of things if everyone would exchange life histories with one another, something like each person taking 30 minutes or however long to say, here is my history, struggles, good things, things going on now, dreams, and so on. Not only would we learn about one another, but we might also learn about ourselves as we tell and retell our story.

Someone said today that I’m really lucky. I know it’s true.

Some things I’ve learned…

Early on in hospice I realized that often, those with the most to lose at the end of life have the easiest time. By the most to lose, I mean fulfilling relationships vs. a lot of unresolved issues like love unexpressed, anger swallowed, love lost, and so on. In terms of my grief, this has been The Truth. We lived and loved as hard as we could – all in, all the time. I am so glad we did it that way!
Flagging in the Park, June 2015

In a real sense, love is love. I’m three months post losing the Love of my life. Several times in these times, people have told me beautiful, joyous love stories of their own and within my grief, they make me so happy. And I see lovers walking along the sidewalk, people lying in the park, embracing – not to mention sweet parents and children together(!!!), and they make me happy. There is melancholy within my happiness at these times, but happiness is the main thing (though I’m a good ways from happy all the time).

There were times in that last month of Leslie’s beautiful life when love would come down around us as clearly and palpably as if I’d taken a large dose of mescaline. It wasn’t just a momentary thing either – it would be for hours, even days. Aldous Huxley wrote about heaven and hell. That’s what it was.
And there are those questions I asked weeks and months ago: who will I tell my stories to and who will hold me as I pass away? And the answers I’ve found in this embrace and honoring of my grief are that the stories have been told and we’ve held one another and so it’s ALL complete. It’s done. I want more, of course.

I can say these things in large part because of the steadfast love and support from David. Having a son like David is like having a wife like Leslie – more than I could have imagined. Ahhh, Son. I love you. John, Jeff, Aletha, Nora, and so many others play important parts as well.


The Story (a song by Brandi Carlisle)

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I’ve been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don’t mean anything
When you’ve got no one to tell them to
It’s true… I was made for you

So, yeah, I have stories of who I am, where I’ve been… and now you’re gone and who will I tell my stories to? Who will know? And this morning I was listening to this song by Brandi Carlisle and I was thinking how you knew my stories, including the deepest ones, all my life, the good, the bad, all my stories. I was thinking how I knew your stories, the good, the bad, all your beautiful life. I was thinking how in your last months you talked more than ever before about yourself, your childhood, so many stories.

And here is the point: we told one another our stories. I told you my stories; you told me your stories; we lived our stories together. We were made for each other. Who could ask for more?

The Story by Brandi Carlisle (link)

Psytrance, trance, trance culture

Deep in the Heart of Trances: dance floor 8am Sunday

Someone asked me about trance and trance culture and out of curiosity, I googled it. I wasn’t really satisfied with some of what came up, so… though I’m far from an expert, I have learned a little in these past five years. Here is how I see or experience trance (primarily psytrance) and trance culture. Other people will experience it differently – there’s room for us all. Speaking of which, Hey older people! If you liked festivals in days gone by, these events are basically everything you probably wanted a festival to be, except the music is different. Hit me up if you want to go to one of these.

Here is a link to a soundtrack for this journal entry. Just click and play in a different window and click back to here… Aes Dana – Summerlands (chill) or Alwoods – Psychedelic Dream (faster).
Into the forest!

Of course there is the music, but the culture is about more than music. There are shared values and views – including a high value placed on transformation and growth, and an openness to other people’s values and views. For me, trance culture is more about the people and scene than the music per se.

Psytrance! Here is what it’s like. To begin, you have to find out where and when an event is being held. Some of the big ones like Lucidity, Enchanted Forest, Lightening in a Bottle, and Ozora are widely advertised. The smaller ones are discovered via friends, flyers, Facebook, and so on. I want to focus on smaller events, which I prefer over the larger ones (easy to connect with people, easy to find quiet space, and not as much craziness as at some of the larger ones). 
Armadillo Acres

The gatherings are nearly always outside – such as in a forest, at a beach, or desert. Typically there is a drive of at least several hours to an obscure country setting. When you get close there may be one or two small cryptic signs that you have to look for to see.

Down some narrow road and through a gate and you’re on a one lane dirt lane now, winding through trees and ahead is a shade shelter, table, and two or three people (if it’s after dark, there will probably be sparkling lights). Pull over, get out, and walk to the table where you’ll usually receive a friendly greeting from the crew members (maybe my friend Ally Fiesta and me) working the gate. Sometimes the land-owners are at the gate, in which case, it’s more of a business transaction.
Sonic Bloom 2011 (Colorado)
Your ID will be checked, you’ll pay (for smaller festie, about $50 for Friday-Sunday – Not Bad!), and have a discussion about things like leave no trace camping and what to do if things get too intense.
Drive further along that one lane road, up hill and down dale, until you start to see scattered campsites with tents and canopies, sometimes with cars and trucks parked around. Some gatherings have no car camping, some have limited car camping, and at some, almost everyone is car-camping. Car-camping just means driving in and pitching a tent next to your car or truck. Some people sleep in their van or SUV.
Art Outside, near Austin, 2012

It’s a good idea to take some time choosing a campsite. Some people like to be as close as possible to the music and dance floor, while others like to be farther away. The music gets really really really LOUD, so some distance and not in a direct line with the direction of the speakers may be a good idea. Some people will have art or related materials at their campsite. I hang fabric woodblock prints I made as well as Tibetan prayer flags and crystals, and like at home, I always have an altar (there are also altars at the sound stages).
Set up your campsite. People are always willing to lend a hand if you need help. A nice hug is all the thanks anyone will want. You’ll have noticed by now a fair number of people with long hair, dreads, tattoos, piercings, feathers, and so on. And there will be a fair number of people with no outward counter-culture manifestations. Oh look, here comes a guy dressed in a giant bunny suit. Starting to feel like home!
Atrium Obscurum morning meeting

Let’s say it’s Friday afternoon. Sit back and relax OR walk to the dance floor or to the chill stage or dome or wherever to lend a hand setting up. It’s a good way to meet people and get started… there is high value placed on “co-creation” – in other words, these gatherings are not about passively attending, listening to the music, dancing, and so on. They are transformational gatherings, where we’re all involved in making it happen, i.e., co-creating – and in every case, working toward a higher vibe, a higher experience, a tranceformation for everyone.

For several years I’ve been a member of a crew – Atrium Obscurum – that puts on events. In addition to doing stuff that any crew member does like setting up, taking down, working the gate, and so on, I also bake cookies to bring (15-20 dozen, always with extra chocolate chips, of course) and I often present a workshop. More on workshops later.
Making deco, Kai and Tyson (Atrium Obscurum)

The sun is going down, but the music hasn’t yet begun. Maybe time to wander over toward the dance floor. Someone said something about a ceremony… sometimes the ceremony involves designated people wearing all white clothes with chanting and incense, and sometimes the ceremony will bring everyone in so that at some point there is a joining and swirling togetherness and the music starting up thump thump thump it’s really LOUD and this is really fun! The dance-trance ritual has begun.

At the events put on by Atrium Obscurum the music starts Friday night about 9 and stops Sunday about noon with the main climax happening from about 4 to 6 Sunday morning. There is a main stage for dancing and a chill dome for cooling out, though there is a lot of back and forth and at times there may be more people dancing at the chill dome than the main stage.
The Wave Farmers at Soul Rise near Austin
Into the night the tempo picks up and there are poi spinners and hooping, and other flow arts happening. People spinning with fire are off to the side for safety reasons there are lighted hoops and poi and it’s pretty to see. People are dancing and there are little groups of people sitting and talking with one another. Friday night is generally more subdued than Saturday. But the music never stops.
Saturday morning is quieter with the volume and tempo down. People are having coffee, yerba mate, and so on; cooking up some breakfast; wandering around, seeing friends; just a nice social time. Around noon or so, workshops will be starting (see below).
Art Outside

As the day unfolds into Saturday afternoon, the music tends to be mostly chill – for a relaxing day with old and new friends, taking a nap, taking it easy. I’m walking around, passing out cookies. There is a beginning anticipation of Saturday night.

There are artists set up beside the dance floor (which, by the way, is dirt or sand, usually shaded by trees and maybe a fabric shade). These are visionary artists who will paint or draw or otherwise create art throughout the gathering. Two of the artists you’ll sometimes see at Texas, Colorado, and other regional events are ChopsWanderweird and Chance Roberts.
Art Outside
As the sun goes down, lights begin to come on with some campsites having little sparkly lights and some having art light installations. There is someone else with a bunny suit on and there is someone with nothing on and someone with a tuxedo (no shirt of course) and some kandy kids are starting to come out and as night falls, the music is loud and good and people dancing and outside of the lights the darkness is good and it’s safe and if you need a hand, someone will help you. There are folding camp chairs and blankets (you brought your own, right) at the edge of the dance floor and it’s all a friendly and relaxed scene.
Artists working through the night

Into the night the tempo picks up and more people showing up on the dance floor – ecstatic dancing, being, laughing, swirling, stomping, yeah, this IS psytrance and you may realize that this music which you thought you didn’t much like is entering your self… The music and dancing continues well into Sunday morning, usually tapering off but not all the way off around 8 or 9 and mellowing out through the morning and finally stopping about noon. At least in the U.S., there will be almost no trash left as “leave no trace” is part of the trance/transformational festival ethos.

Workshop at gathering near Austin

Here is something I wrote a couple of years ago: Many of the people are from my tribe and to some extent (from a lot to a little) many seem to have hippie values. It is just so good to be around them. It feels good; it makes me happy. Now I’ve become friends with some of the people here and of course that’s even better. Some wonderful times hanging out, socializing at campsites.

I’ve experienced the transformational potential of the music, the dance, the dancers, the art – of the people who participate in other ways. The magic and the transformational potential is in the whole co-created milieu. A few weeks ago I spent time in a naming ceremony camped at the far edge of a festival. It was a perfect time and place in every way.
CK teaching re the end of life (honoring Adrian McF)

Of course there is ecstatic dancing, beauty, saying true things, euphoria, insight, validation, transformation, integration. I am amazed that I’m doing these things. At this age.

So, I’ve described a weekend of music, good times, and fellowship. How is this a “culture?” For some people it’s pretty much what they do, but for others, these events are an important part of life and liberation. Where else will we experience the freedom of ecstatic dance surrounded by others doing the same? Where else are values of peace, transformation, acceptance, and loving your neighbor so highly valued? Well, actually, these things are valued in other places – religious or spiritual settings, for example. But for me (and who else can I speak for?), there is no place or setting as conducive to growth, as accepting, as ecstatic, as connected as within trance culture.
8 o’clock Sunday morning on the dance floor

Music (from Wikipedia): “Psychedelic trance, psytrance or just psy (derived from the ancient Greek word ψυχή “psyche”, mind; soul; breath; spirit) is an electronic music style characterized by arrangements of synthetic rhythms and complex layered melodies created by high tempo riffs… Psytrance lies at the hardcore, underground end of the diverse trance spectrum.” Think in terms of loud, repetitive, and usually very fast (140-150 bpm) electronic dance music played by DJs. There are what seem to be infinite genres, sub-genres, sub-sub-genres, and so on. You can read about some of the musical details via google.

InertG at Unify in Colorado

Drugs: Some people use drugs and some do not. Psychedelics and cannabis are the primary substances used, though there are also alcohol users. There are Sanctuary spaces for people having difficult experiences with psychedelics.

Sex: Drugs, sex, rock & roll! Not really. There is sensuality, but this isn’t a cruising scene. It’s a lot more about relationships and if sex is an outcome of a relationship, fine, but sex doesn’t seem to be the purpose. But maybe that’s just me, my age, and my relationships LOL. Suffice it say, all my experience in trance events says everyone is safe all the time. Have you ever been in a people pile? That’s where 5 or 8 or 15 or however many people will kind of pile up together just to be close and kind. Sweet. These are not a fraternity parties! Burner culture is apparently more overtly sexual, but I’m just repeating what I’ve heard on that.
Chops and Jeff at New Era Transmissions

Workshops: The workshops are an integral part of transformational gatherings. Throughout the day there are workshops on yoga, edible plants (a walk in the forest), flow arts, permaculture, and related. I’ve led several workshops on psychedelic healing in PTSD and at the end of life. People seem to be hungry to learn and share – to gather knowledge and understanding (tools for life) to take back to everyday life.

From my campsite near Dripping Springs

Spirituality: Some electronic dance music (EDM) events are just about the party, while some have a strong overlay or even foundation of spirituality (at least as I experience them). From the unification of ecstatic dance to the workshops on yoga and flow arts to the ethos of safety and belonging the focus stays on the human potential to be at one with one another and with nature. There is no dogma, no preaching at, no charismatic leader – rather, there are those old messages: You are beautiful, I am beautiful, we are One.

Here is a video on global trance culture, The Bloom Series. I told Leslie that it’s kind of an idealized view and she said that fits well with my view – and she was right.

And here is an earlier 7 Minute Psytrance Documentary. I showed this to Leslie to help her understand what I was doing. I think it played a small part in her being so supportive of my involvement with the psytrance scene – though she never cared much for the music and was a total non-camper.
My list of things to bring for a summer event in Texas
Some venues have water, electricity, cell reception; and some have no water, electric, or reception.
Day pack with flashlight, water, gum, Gatorade, DEET, anti-itch, lighter…
Ice chest(s) with yogurt, coffee, sandwiches, apples, ginger ale, Gatorade, water, protein drink. You need lots of ice in Texas!
Water 2 gal/day minimum for drinking – and you can actually get a fairly decent shower with 2 gallons of water (get wet, clean up, rinse)
Freezer bag food, Tabasco
Cooking pack with super cat stove and fuel
Mug, plate, plastic ware, paper towels
Chair
Tent
Medicine, fiber (all the necessities), batteries
Camera
Hat

Change of clothes
Crocs
Jacket, cap
Umbrella
Sleeping pad [large or small]
Car air pump
Sleeping bag (non-REI) and/or fleece, sheet
Pillows, sheets
Fan (portable) with extra batteries
Spot
Insect repel
Fest box with decos – textiles, hangings, etc.
Mats for ground?
Canopy?
Cookies
Phone and charger

Thank you

I’ve written a lot in recent months about pain and grief. Now I’m writing to say thank you to all the people who have reached out with kindness and understanding to David and me. And I’m writing to express my appreciation for Facebook for being an important means for us to be connected.
I want each one of you to know that every kindness, every memory, every visit, every practical assist, every listening heart, every hug, every prayer, every conversation, everyone who came to the memorial service, every phone call, every card or letter, every gift, every email, every message, every text, every heart, even every FB “like” – every everything – it all counted, it all helped. Thank you.

If I could sing only one song, I’d sing of you.

Two months

May 5, 2015. Today is two months since Leslie passed from this life. It’s been an eternity. It’s been a hard, hard time. There have been some good times within these mourning times too – as I began to transition from a man defined by grief to a man who is grieving.

1969

How momentous it was that I held you as you passed from this earth, this life. Life! I was beside you, embracing you, caressing you, whispering of love and your beauty. How I trembled, knowing what was to come. And then I was calm, I was sorrowful, I was in love. I was strong. I was pure.
At every turn I see how incredibly fortunate, how blessed I’ve been with your presence – your love – in my life all these many years.
And at the end, to hold you and whisper these things!
Yesterday was hard. I ran a lot of errands, including taking the wheelchair back to the medical supply place We were minorly ripped off for $50, but fuck it. I thought of how you became weaker and weaker, going from walking slowly but without assistance to needing a walker to needing a wheelchair… I drove by the house on Robin Road where you grew up, where we first kissed.
I got home around 1pm and thought I would take a nap. I was so emotionally and physically exhausted – I was weary as hell – that I lay down on the floor in the front room (I just couldn’t go any farther) and despite being cold, basically passed out.
When we were living on LaVista

You never believed me when so many times I told you how brave you are. You insisted that having fear meant not brave. I would say, “Hey man, I lived with some of the bravest men on earth. Being brave isn’t fearless; it’s going in despite the fear.”

To have known you through so many seasons of your beautiful life – from 16 to 70.
Today (Thursday) was better. I went to Whole Foods for breakfast – took my time, talked with someone from the gym, read the NYT. I came home and did the first steps in baking walnut bars. I went to Central Market for lunch and came home and finished the walnut bars. In the afternoon I got an email from the lawyer re probating Leslie’s will. I had a physiologic response to it – a wave of something bad.
Later I was thinking; later I cried – hard again – thinking of the momentousness of how it happened. Remembering the anguish of realizing your condition was deteriorating. Remembering the enormous relief seeing Dr. Lichliter coming down the hall…
First trip to Hong Kong

And later that awful night, embracing you. What an extraordinary thing – leaving life as you entered it: loved, adored. Leaving my life as you came into it: in this embrace of love and adoration.

I’m so glad I was able to do it – that I took care of you. It does not matter that you won’t be able to do it for me. It does not matter that you won’t be here to hold me as I pass away because we’ve done it already. It’s all been done. Complete.
—————
Yesterday I said to John that I can’t tell any one person all the everything that’s happening – it would be too much. Then I thought, well, let’s just get it all out there… and so I wrote down all the bad stuff, and I wrote what sustains me, and I wrote what I’m doing to take care of myself (Adrian’s question).
Hard times between Leslie and me in November and December – the hardest days of our marriage (but some extraordinarily good times too)
The physical changes from unassisted to wheelchair-dependent
My great aunt Eloise died. We were not close in recent years, but still.
On Ko Samui (Thailand)

I found my brother dead. I was pretty sure then that he killed himself, but didn’t find out for several months.

John and I going through the huge volume of Tom’s stuff and finding things we’d rather not find – seriously.
Leslie’s condition worsening.
Leslie in ICU.
Leslie passing away – a 54 year love affair.
Working on all the paper, learning to pay bills on-line, dealing with banks, lawyers, people.
Filled with grief and gratitude.
The first month, crying so hard, sobbing, groaning, the pain. Then decreased frequency and intensity of crying, but then some stimulus (like taking the wheelchair back) and the deep crying that leaves me utterly exhausted. And then more stimuli – someone in my Bible study group’s wife died from MS. 20+ years of in sickness. Talk about the Hero’s Journey!
Finally received Tom’s amended death certificate: “toxic effects of fentanyl… overdose of prescription drug.”
Daily dipshit stuff – getting a parking ticket, bill from the m-fing surgeon who failed to manage Leslie’s pain, letters from Tom’s creditors. I’m pretty raw.
Through it all I am sustained by…
Shakespeare Garden in Golden Gate Park, 2014

David – his presence, his help, his steadfastness.

Memories – how you and I loved so fully, without reservation; all our years together; knowing you through so many seasons of your beautiful life; your beauty; your incredible life of service/mercy/how you saw the beauty in others; how I took care of you when you were sick; how brave you were through the physical and cognitive changes; everything.
John – my brother, a good guy, helping in a thousand ways (and I hope I’ve been helpful to you too).
Jeff, who comes with the dust and is gone with the wind – and at the right time
Friends reaching out, being present.
Activities – working in the yard, baking, etc.
Future – I feel like I have one.
Being fairly healthy.

In front of a sex club 

Being actually pretty resilient.
David and Charles – you too, Jake.
Very little guilt or second-guessing.
(A couple of months in) I’m laughing as much as I’m crying.
The kindness of strangers/random people.
What am I doing to take care of myself?
Connecting with David.
Enjoying memories.
Hanging out with John.
Connecting with others, like David O, Ron, Shirin, Charles B, Jim Z, Melvin, Chris, Freda, Lance and Chhorvy, Shane, Jay, Sarah Spirals, Bill McF, Ally Fiesta, men in my Bible study group…
Writing.
Experiencing fully the grief.
Evening bowl.

Monkey girl

Getting out: eating at WF, going to used bookstores, Central Market, talking with people, etc.
San Francisco!
Baking, working in the yard.
Not rushing (through grief, business stuff).
Reflecting on all the years of love and work and travel and just everything that went before. Having some of the photos I have has been huge – Leslie and Baby David, Leslie and David embracing a month before she passed, Leslie in Hue with David and me…
David, Charles, and Jake.
—————–
When we were working with refugees

It is good to be known – to live where people know you – some people already know what happened to Leslie and some do not. I went to place today where Leslie liked to go for lunch (Spec’s) and Katy, a young woman who works there (we would always go through her line) asked, “Where is Mrs. Kemp today?” I told Katy and she literally burst into tears. We talked and hugged and she told me that her great Grandmother and her good old dog had died last week. So Leslie’s passing triggered her grief…

Earlier I noted that the wife of a man in my Bible study group had died from MS. It had been a 20+ year journey. Epic. I went to the memorial service at my old church. I took a few notes…

January 2015

Exactly what I wasn’t looking forward to – people saying, “I’m sorry to hear about your wife…” And I’m wishing I wasn’t there. I sat in the back, to the side and then I saw two people I’m glad to see – Elvis and Joan. Then old Dave Kerr comes to sit beside me and then the first hymn and I realize Susie Grissom (a sweet person) is sitting on my other side. Glad I went to the restroom earlier and got some toilet paper, because the tears are coming down and before the first hymn is over I realize I’m in a good community and I’ll be coming back.
For better, for worse; in sickness and in health…