essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: art

  • Welcome

    “Just don’t do laundry here,” said the apartment dweller. It was dawn, and I was shaking out blankets from the Jetta on a residential side street in Santa Monica, my hometown. I didn’t say, “Of course not. I’m homeless, not stupid.” I also didn’t say, “I am human, like you. This is the best I…

  • Bioluminescence

    Camped by Bahía Concepción under a fullish moon, I rinse my hands in the water and sparks fly. Delight! Skimming handfuls of sand across the surface elicits underwater fireworks. Bioluminescence. Years ago in Florida, I noticed the same phenomenon. So I stripped and dove into the Atlantic. Every stroke was a miracle, light streaming from…

  • Directions

    “Turn left at the field of basil.” “Tom’s house is just past the one with the fake lighthouse in the front yard.” “The surf shop is around the corner from the mini mart with the shaka mural.” Time and again friendly folk have given me detailed directions better than any Google map. Yeah, I take…

  • Baja Boots

    I stopped in San Bartolo to look for a hat. I’d left my Hawaiian lifeguard topper (made in Mexico) on Kaua’i — traveling light. “No sombreros, lo siento,” said the vendor. But what’s this? Boots. Two pair in a plastic bag, leaning against the brick wall. The woman brought me a chair and I tried…

  • Phoenix

    One cannot fly directly from Kaua’i to Baja California Sur, not on a commercial airline, anyway. Instead, I first traveled to the land of my birth, Phoenix. This makes metaphorical sense to me: new start, new life. Sluff off the old and regenerate. Back to the beginning to move onward. Today I’m in La Paz,…

  • Baja Bound

    “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to drive my truck onto the Young Brothers lot,” says the weathered guy outside the port gate. I’d just dropped off my 4Runner for shipping to San Diego. He claims he doesn’t have proper ID for security, and wants to get his (also weathered) vehicle on the barge to…

  • Wahine Pool

    Two women stand on a rock above me, surveying their domain. The ocean storms have scoured the sand from between two outcroppings, and now the water rushes in and out tidally. I am carefully navigating the new pool, unsure how strong the pull out to sea will be. A wave surges in and they jump,…

  • Same Dog

    “You’re a strong woman!” yelled a pick-up driver stopped at the uphill intersection I was pedaling through, “I love it!” Laughter fueled my wheels. This made a nice change from another pick-up driver in another intersection who threatened to run me over as I was crossing (legally) on foot. I stopped in the middle and…

  • Double Fire

    “You are double fire,” says Kokomon after the drumming meditation. “Your father is fire; you are double fire.” I do not ask him what he means, my bones know: I am more powerful than I believe. I can protect myself. It takes a long time — decades — to understand this. I am not stuck.…

  • Painting

    “Paint the ocean,” said my dad, but I didn’t dare. His huge 3D map of northern California covered a wall of his house, sans sea, and I was afraid to screw it up. I was fifteen. Back in kindergarten, though, I painted a picture for my mother every day, so she would be alive when…