This place renamed

A blog allows an unfolding and changing journey to be told as story living itself out in real-time. This blog, and another before, have been a place -- virtual as it is, to share the amazing journey of a small golden wagon and her people.

We built a very small home to learn how to live with Environmental Illness or MCS (Multiple Chemical Sensitivities). It has been ten years since we began handling a dream a vision made physical and attached her to a 1966 Dodge 1 ton truck we named Bernadette.

Vardo for Two is the name we gave to this place, and it is with the greatest of respect for the Romani that we use the word, and name, Vardo. Too often people have called her a 'Gypsy Wagon' and too often we have gone along with that description. But it is not; and the Romani would not appreciate the use of that phrase.

We designed this place with the Travellers (the Romani) as inspiration ... not as a way to steal a piece of their history or culture ... but, perhaps to connect with the spirit of a People who know how to be intimate with the Land where they are, wherever they. Throughout their long time on the planet their ways have not been well-received by the Settled. We have ten years of experiencing many versions of being received by the Settled; we are initiated with tattoos seen and unseen.

She, this place we live in is a golden wagon for two old people with the blood of Hawaiian-Filipino-Chinese and Polish-Ukrainian-Irish ancestors running through our bodies. We are makua o'o, elders-in-training and this blog is a place to read about life from a golden wagon with the Settled.

What do you see?
A Small Golden Wagon. 

What's the story?
At one time this was part of the story.

And then ... 

The answer we got, was "NO." Not now. Not there.

For now, we negotiate and navigate life from our Small Golden Wagon, make amends if we have used a name, and stolen a bit of magic without permission and give gratitude to the People of the Roads, the Romani, and offer this ongoing story as a gift to all who read here.

Like the Faceless Woman from the medicine story The Safety Pin Cafe we are in a place of unhinging; we need to unhinge and unplug for awhile so don't be surprised when we disappear.

Can you relate?

Any questions?