Guadalupe Etla, Oaxaca, Mexico

Today, I made a yeast bread, something I haven’t done for years.
I couldn’t help think of my friend Heather who taught me to make yeast breads. I thought of the dear place she has held in my life for so long. Through her eyes, I have grown from a young man to a man and with her I have walked among the trees, rivers and rocks for many, many days.
When we were 17, she invited me one day to plant lettuce, and after a few moments of pressing our fingers in the soil to give the seeds a nest in which to grow, it was done. I sat looking at her for a queue as to the next step. See looked at me and said, “let’s go swimming in the Crystal,” I looked at her with confusion and asked, “Is that it?”
“That’s it, now come on, let’s go swim,” she said smiling.

As I started to knead the dough, I thought of the others in my life, all of you, adding a bit to me to make me what I am. Often simple things but sometimes deep and complicated.
With a bit more flour, to keep things from sticking, I thought of my uncles and aunts who would pinch my cheeks, and kiss the fingers with which they pinched me as they would say ”Ab’delek,” which means ”I would die for you.”
With a tug and push of the dough, I thought of Grandmother Clara and the long walks we would take and of the ways they strengthened me beyond that of my legs and lungs.
Adding a little more flour, memories of my brother and sisters, constant companions. Jim Angell, Girly Rose and Momma Moore, my stepmother, Andrea; strong loving forces.

And then with each dusting of flour to get the dough right, I said blessings for my “family” of Port Townsend, friends who have given so much. The ones with whom I have sat at the wake of friends who have passed away. The friends with whom I have argued and cried and the ones with whom I have danced. And most profoundly, the ones with whom we raised our kids.

Blessings went to the kind people that trusted me and gave me work, the kind teachers that saw what I could be and gave me more.

With more kneading, I thought of Lavender, who put the most time and patience into me as I moved along my way. (The bread in those days often had raw spots and could be really crusty too, but in the end, we managed to eat it all!) And it was Kiyota and Tomoki that raised me the most. The ones to whom I vowed to not answer, “Because!” when they asked “Why?”

And Kirsten, the love of my life, the person with whom I have chosen to eat each and every loaf of bread.

It was my mom, Pyrrha, and my dad, Charles, and the stars, ancient stars, that made the mass of the living dough in my hands. It was the beautiful places that they taught me that I could go that gave the journey reason to be.

So where are we and what are we doing? Just know that I’m not able to do anything without you!

If you are reading this, you are what has toned, conditioned, and held together this big hunk of dough.
With every breath and step, know that most importantly the world is unfolding for us as it is because YOU.