A Zen Goodbye
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Squaw Valley, California is an amazing place to hold a kite festival. Anyone living in or near the mountains understand much better than I the near impossibility of experiencing consistent smooth winds at 8200'. But in the truest sense of "hold it and they will come", a kite festival was held the last weekend in June, 2002, at High Camp above beautiful Lake Tahoe. Members of the Northern California Kite Club, some Nevada fliers, and one low-lander off the North Dakota prairie put forth an effort to color the Sierra sky.

Brian Champie and Dan Whitney made valiant attempts to fly the big stuff...the 252 flowform, a couple of pyros, and an Octopus all bumped and shifted in the alpine air too often succumbing to the lack of wind and radical directional shifts. The rest of us tried to the fly the smaller stuff, often with less success than that experienced by Brian and Dan.

My best flying kite at that time was a della porta that I made that I affectionately called "Zen". So named for the reference to my last name and also for a reminder of how I would like to be able to live my life. So in every real sense, Zen was my signature kite. It had yin yang symbols done in amethyst and pearl sitting on a sea of teal. The yin yang represented my striving for a balance in my life, east/west, work/play, head/heart, prairie/ocean, and good/bad (a Mae West reference, no doubt). A star was placed on the kite for my north star location in the world. It was all framed in a Camelot inspired border (King Arthur and John Kennedy are two of my life's heroes) and at the center of the yin yang symbols were Native American medicine wheels. Native American tradition and thought has long been at the core of my belief system.

Zen flew well for the better part of the afternoon of the first day of the festival. Then the unthinkable happened...the line broke. I'll never know if it was cut by another kite line, got caught and cut by the bungee jumping tower nearby, or if the kite itself decided to see more of the world and with one good gust of wind, snapped its own line taking off for places unknown.

Arnold Stellema hollered at me and we both ran hoping to see what tree the dragging line got caught in. Zen had other ideas. Arnold and I stood on the viewing platform surrounded by Olympic flags and watched as Zen gained altitude over the first ridge, gained distance and altitude to cross the second ridge and surprised us both by avoiding the hang glider that was in the area by catching another thermal and sailed beyond the farthest ridge into the State of Nevada.

Watching Zen through Arnold's binoculars was bittersweet. I was proud of its flight capabilities yet knew I was saying goodbye to a good friend. A park ranger came over and said that the ridge the kite just crossed was 15 miles away from High Camp. He said he would notify the other park personnel to keep their eyes peeled for a kite in the northeast quadrant. He also mentioned that the kite was already in restricted air force air space so if it came down it would most likely be beyond reach.

So it was a sad kite wench that left the viewing platform. I headed toward my kite bag to see what else I had that might fly and to prove that I was capable of keeping a stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. Before I reached my bag, Brian met me, wrapped me in the flag he was carrying and gave me a comforting hug. And, OK, I have to admit...I did cry a little. Brian was able to bring a smile back to my face and before long I was assembling another kite to offer to the festival sky. As the afternoon progressed I heard many stories of other kites that had been lost, especially appreciated the mystical words shared by J.R. Tolman, and knew that I was blest to be in such great compassionate company.

Zen still tugs at my heart occasionally. I still reach in the kite bag for it when the wind conditions are exceptionally light or exceptionally variable. I like to think of it still in the sky somewhere, as a forever gift to the gods. May the gift of Zen bring silk breezes to all our endeavors.

skydance@rtc.coop