Stepping beyond borders

• ...is best when you bring your passport to the airport to prove you are an American, else you change your flight, head back home and are delayed a few hours.
• Borders are terrible when you are carrying a beautifully wrapped piece of crystal that TSA has to visually inspect because crystal x-rays black (yup, if I had half a brain I would have remember this); this was horrendous on so many levels...mostly the perfection of the blue Tiffany's packaging has been totally corrupted!!! (Yes, I was in tears.)
• And then this thing called duty & tax coming into Canada...anything about $60 US is taxed...so we're paying for the gift twice. As Steve said, "They really wanted an REI gift certificate...maybe you should have just listened." And we laughed because...because...wow...hmm...yeah.

Toronto is cold ...low 30s, supposed to snow (Mable, my artist friend, said below 20 C is considered cold...I couldn't agree more, maybe I should be living in Singapore?). It's about an 1.5hrs southerly drive to the wedding which will give us the opportunity to listen to music in French...if Steve will put up with me.

The wedding itself should be interesting--two woman legally getting married. I have been wondering if it will be "different" and then realize--nope, it'll be a wedding. Jo is very funny and imagine that it will be a far more genuine event than most weddings. Is that fair? Unknown. Steve and I laughed and cried (physically cried) at during our City Hall service. The female judge who did the service was probably in her early 70's with twinkling vibrant eyes and a smile that relays, "Things are right in the world." Steve and I still talk about her...that sort of happy peaceful vibe.

A pattern is emerging...traveling a distance to a wedding for friends I rarely see or speak with yet there is an intense affection for (the kind of people you just click with and who stay with you--somehow touched your life and embrace you for you and all your quarks). And then this traveling thing "tween the holidays" as Steve says. China, Canada next year...Maldives, Bhutan, space...?

Space and stars.

The examined life

"A while back you suggested that if we found something it would be a compass. Is this what this is--some kind of compass?"

"Am I meant to go back or forward?"

"...some revelation is at hand."

Coins and patience

3 months . . . no wheels . . . .

breathe.

could be worse.

Transportation

At 9:00am...in about 1/2 hour I find out what the decision is.

Wheels or no wheels.

Coins or keys.

Their schedule or mine.

Quiet patience in the presence of strangers or solitude and my music.

The porn stars blog...

I found a blog that is written by a gay porn star who also is an ecort. Raw, real, genuine and somewhat malevolent but always insightful. The blog itself is as sexual as his life and yet his words (although centered on his work and his other encounters) is applicable to all of us. That alone I imagine makes others shiver.

“…

I have a low opinion of guys who regard themselves as angels. Forcing you to play the corrupting devil, the big bad wolf. While actually you're giving them what they always wanted. They want it but are afraid.

I suppose the lesson to be learned is: be careful for want you want secretly. Because there are people who will give it to you. Though it may come admidst your fake protesting. This way you fulfill your desire without having to take responsibility.

The trouble with some is they move through the world with an rarefied air of preciousness. They can't look in the mirror and admit to obscene wishes. Thus, salvation can only come as a violation. Liberation by surprise.

If I could teach some just one thing it would be this:You don't have to afraid of what you are. Everyone seems to live in fear of their desires, fear of what may come. What would happen if you get what you want? They behave as if they will no longer be who they always were, if...

...

Like their identity will somehow be removed from them. As though their identity is fragile and only exists through sitting on a shelf, untouched.”

Taking time for granted

I remember the eyes, and look of, "It is a holiday Zane." And it was lost on me at the time.

I have thought back over the last week. Averaging three hours sleep a night...the deterioration in thinking, the voids in time filled with 'nothing'. And the reality is I have seen Jefferson for 20 minutes, Frederick for 40 minutes, a conscious husband for an hour and have generally not been "here" and even when I am "here" I am not fully present. It's something I have to learn...the ability to step back and not be so self-consumed.

The holidays....I am not ready. I am not focused on the spirit of things. I came home one evening and the tree was done. Steve did it on his own and I recoiled. I almost could not deal with it out of a sense of guilt. It looked beautiful and all I felt was absence--and that this too is terribly unfair.

Err...

You have this life. One time. In each moment it is passing. How do you fill it? How do you ensure when you look back that you made the best effort in living? How do you let go of the failures such that they do not take your attention away from the opportunities? How do you...just breathe comfortably. "It is a holiday....", how do you learn to listen in every moment without the presumption of your own direction?

What is it to live a life slightly in fast forward...looking in the future and missing the present?

In a blink

the rage is almost always silent . . .

leading to a need to walk long and far,

or made visibile by trembling hands . . . and tearing eyes,

or pauses life with the long pensive look into the distance.

blink.

returning. . .

and the moment passes.

Hope, Joy, Peace

" . . . all things in time. . .:

all things in time.

Turning the corner...

Jefferson has grown...a distance in his eyes that relays a sense of, "I'm on this journey." He has become a bit more humble...a bit more attuned...learning to be an active listener. "All you can do is show people what's possible...", "You just try to be supportive of your friends--tell them how proud you are that they are trying...and the guys who are doin' nothing...I don't know." I remember long conversations (way back when) about his friends in high school will always be his best friends. That was the fun factor, the validate who I am today factor. Jefferson has realised that his friends--those who he truly enjoys the company of, are those he shares common values with. His voice is tempered, pensive and his smile and laughter exuberant.

It was a good few days and very much look forward to xmas break.

Steve is in Chile now. His blog has some amazing photos. And I hope he has time to sit back and breathe. Just breathe.

Steve's away message

"I will be out of the country on vacation from November 18th through December 9th. I will have very limited, if any, access to email or cell phones. I will, however, have much greater access to beautiful lakes, towering mountains, coastal fjords, majestic glaciers and llamas.I will attempt to respond to your email after I return.

-Steve

He made it to Argentina and sent a Blackberry msg from the airport. And wanted me to tell you Charters, that although he tried to run on the plane, he thought better of it. But he did take a few laps around the concourse when he got to Argentina...giggle, making all of that up--but he probably was thinking it!

Ziji

"Zi: shine or glitter
ji: splendor

Ziji: expresses shining out, rejoicing while remaining dignified."

The fog has lifted...

now just to catch up with everything.

Getting back on track

Getting back to the usual Zane...the one with eyes wide open, who doesn't fatigue, who "eats determination for breakfast". Slowly but surely...all things in time.

The best thing about not being able to drive is finding yourself taking it the very simple things...the deep purples, bright reds, the magentas and numerous shades of yellow. I can't say I notice how vibrant the fall flowers are in California...or actually anywhere. 36 years and I haven't noticed. The smaller lessons learned through those lemony type events in one's life.

Weekly lunch with a friend from work...he told me about his move to "the fishbowl". His previous loft was facing outward toward the parking lot, the new one--down the hall faces the courtyard. His stories are wonderful--what it is to live surrounded by foreign eyes. Coming out of the shower, what you watch on television, what you and your company are doing--all entertainment for those outside, a floor above across the way. It was an exceedingly good conversation. I imagine in a couple of weeks what he watches on television and who he is sleeping with will be a well known fact. What comes to mind is "freedom" and "not worrying about what others think" and "living out loud". It's about living out loud in a manner that is consistent with your values. I look forward to the weekly touch base and the laughter that boldly shouts to the world, "This is a life being lived!"

Unresolved emotions

It's seven months later and I can...I can in an instant feel the rage spread from head to toe in an instant. Is it the arrogance? Is it the sheer ridiculousness of the situation? Is it my wanting to shout out, "Are you f-ing kidding me!!!!!" Maybe all of it...perhaps something far more discrete...maybe the opposite--the all encompassing denial of reality.

But the point is not about the rage, but my lack of resolve.

Need to find resolve.

And move forward on the journey.

How it is here...

I remember when Steve and I went to Salt Lake to visit some friends. We were struck by the difference in style of interacting with people, the lack of social graces, the constant use of a loud "What?" in response to a request (order, question, etc.) To the outsider this all appears to be in the realm of rude yet over time--a couple of days, one realizes that it's the culture, it's part of the experience of being in SLC.

Our friends told us the worst thing about SLC was the service in restaurants. The food--as good as the Bay, but the service.... Buck said he wanted to open a restaurant with OK food but stellar service--he was convinced there was a market of hungry people who wanted the experience of a being treated in a manner consistent with, for lack of a better way to put it, "We're here together, let me make you as comfortable as possible for the next two hours."

Seattle has its own sort of mode of being. Yesterday something seem to click in my head. There is a lack of attunement, there is a lack of awareness and most dominantly there is no will to recognize the consequences of this. There are sparks of hope--people who in the face of everything "NO", when the opportunity is openned up safely are in their quiet way have a deep desire to "go", to make it what it can be. There are others most comfortable in how it is--leverage it--enjoy it. Yet the mass majority, I wonder. San Fran has angst...constant meandaring through one's head of left and right issues. New York has an edge. Seattle has...not fully identified yet.

Seattle

Clash of cultures....

Beyond twilight

Beyond twilight and into darkness. WEBCOR shines brightly 20 stories up...building rising toward the sky...a standing skeleton, a frame of what is to be. And this is akin to the here and now, in all its many facets of ones particular life. Frame works in different directions, eventually more than a foundation constructed, an end-state of something wonderful. And onto the next thing.

I love San Fran at night...by lights in moments of discrete and insignificant events. The brightness of a brake light, the streetlight turning from green to yellow, the interior of a lighted bus and the bluish sparks from the muni lines...technology lightning storms.

~~~

Where is the map? And yet, I don't want one.

Weekends

Last weekend while we were in NY Freddie scored two touchdowns in the game against Serra. This weekend he scored three touchdowns agains Mitty. He feels his confidence coming but is still looking very much forward to basketball season.

Life is challenging in a good ways these days. Lots to stay on top of, very little sleep but finding for the most part exhilirating. Learning heaps both personally and professionally which is my 'drug' of choice.

Steve said he would pay for a trip anywhere--**ANYWHERE** in the world if I complete a marathon in 2007. As there are no limits that means if I wanted to I could go see the Middle East...hehe...I think he got so caught up in the marathon part that he didn't think through the anywhere part. [He is currently running his fist 50 miler...and I imagine it is one of the hardest things he will have accomplished].

...

I miss NYC...being there last weekend...the sounds, the feel, the energy--I miss it.

Pay It Forward

The assignment

"...voices that soar"

Never save anything for the way back...

Switching gears

We're into football season..."I'm going to be a two--maybe three sport All-American." Off to the races; Freddy is loving football...playing fullback and linebacker and executing pretty well. He had two touchdowns and a number of key blocks that allowed for great yardage by the running back. On defense he was fairly impressive with the number of stops/tackles and one play in particular where he blitz'd the QB by superman-ing over the line...the QB ended up throwing the ball at Freddy's waist and the crowd went crazy.

We had a great time spending time with family afterward. We played bocci ball at Steve's parents. My team lost but we're going for the win in the next set of play!

Steve and I watched the UofA vs. BYU...makes us feel like we're involved in Jefferson's life in a weird distant way. It was very cool to see them win. I remember Jefferson last year over parent's weekend telling me, "Yah, the best thing we're gong to see at the football game is the marching band. They do all this stuff that is so cool...." When it was halftime he told me I had to sit and watch it...Freddy was with us and was like, “Gee whiz--a bunch of band kids”, and Jefferson pointed out every next step. {Charters you can confirm this with Frederick and Jefferson--I swear Jefferson was totally into the band and not the game}. Jefferson said the only thing better than the band was when they actually one at home--cuz you get to run on the field!

We have spent most of our weekend cleaning. A list of 85 tasks being whittled away at. Overall it was relaxing. Relaxing in a way that I haven't felt for in some time.

Snippets

"E.L. Doctorow once said that “writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” You don’t have to see where you’re going, You don’t have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice about writing, or life, I have ever heard."

...wiser…less stubborn…a better listener.

My mind wanders…books to read…finding images to understand. Some things shout out loudly—“yes, that is how I feel”. Other things pass by without a second thought as if they are alien and not in the realm of my emotions. Mental monsters looking…this is what one calls suffering I think—it is like being a teenager again with a mass of questions that one is sure will never be answered and thus convinced that there are no answers. Frustration, rage, anger, sorrow, sadness, grief, suffering and guilt. And just beyond that, when I breathe deeply are the happy images. The memories of letters I received at summer camp, of the acknowledgement that wanting to be an astronaut was never lost on my mother—nor was it ridiculous (I still want to be an astronaut), of dance recitals and matching outfits, of sailing and long road trips. It’s the little things…the nuances…a merging of sorts between parent and child. Much like finishing another’s sentence or seeing something in the same way that causes prolonged and deep laughter. It is these things…that bring me back to the balance. That all of this—predictable and unexpected—this is the journey and it continues. My mother used to tell me and I think it was her mantra for many years, “All of this is preparation.” In moments when things were terribly down, she would change it to, “This is my punishment and I must learn to endure.” And when things were good, “I am learning. I am learning.” The golden mean…that middle ground, that balance being “preparation”. A life of attuning oneself to the possibilities and probabilities—of never being too serious to lock out hope and never too reckless to stamp out life sustaining actions.

My mind wanders…I wish I had been wiser…less stubborn…a better listener.

A book to read: Upheavals of Thought: What is it to grieve for the death of a parent? More literary and experiential than other philosopical works on emotion, Upheavals of Thought will engage the reader who has ever stopped to ask that question. Emotions such as grief, fear, anger and love seem to be alien forces that disturb our thoughts and plans. Yet they also embody some of our deepest thoughts--about the importance of the people we love, about the vulnerability of our bodies and our plans to events beyond our control.


And a prayer to live by (?): Talmud: Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

"the luxury of doing nothing"

I have slept more in the last couple of days than I have all summer. Much needed rest. Downtime. "Vegging" and learning to breathe. I'm completely stressing myself out...but also "getting it".

My preference for being alone, few attachments and little engagement in others lives is totally not commensurate to dealing with everything going on. It is amazing the number of things you need to do--how social one has to be--constant vigilance and responding to correspondence of all types...and just then all the legal stuff. Looking back on this past week, it's clear why I lack focus, direction and have slept little.

Steve recommended going to Ashland, OR for a long weekend. Take in a few plays, go hiking, camp out under the stars and chill-out. Nothing but just being without any distractions...except some laughter, theatre and some good food. It's not resonating--but I should go and that was my response--and we both laughed. Seeing through you're own particular mayhem realizing that you should take action in spite of your mood. Far healthier to live than to stew.

Images

Life time of images . . . found some great ones. My mother is the child in the first picture with her half sister. In the second picture she is the one on the left with the hat on--wonderful! I was on a bit of a mission last evening looking for pics of Okiremute, a young man who was a ray of sunshine for my mother. I spent a couple of hours going through a large box . . . the second to last set I found her "boys" and hopefully these are the pics I was searching for.

I found some great shots along the way. The best pics are from when she is about nine nd then the next set is sometime in her 30s. The grin in some, the subdued smile in others...we differe here...most of my pics are pensive looking and non-smiling or a that deer in the headlights thing going on. My mother knew how to pose--how to turn on a smile--to not give away the questions marks residing in her head.

The DVD project is beginning to excite me...now just to learn how to do a digital photo collection in a manner in which she we would more than approve.

Onward...slowly.

What you don't know

Dinner last night. Total trip. Good and bad. Wondering how what I have learnt merges with her writing….

I read the words over and over again…the loneliness, the lack of people being able to really see through the exterior. To die from loneliness, to having never really felt loved, to never feeling secure that someone in the world—anyone really understood you. This is all of us at one time or another in our life, no? But to feel it everyday, to wonder and struggle through a second skin that questions the value of your existence—what is it to live there and to see nothing other than that?

How much do we allow ourselves to see into another’s life? How far do we permit ourselves to look, to know, to empathize and be there? How much of our expectations impacts our vision of others yet protects us into inaction?

And what if it was never the way you assumed it to be? …chilling to the core.

Reservations else chicken nuggets

"It's all in how you react. This determines the quality of your life."

I find this to be more than true. If the critical eye is on constant alert, then surely it will be a life of frustration. If the eyes are attuned to being openned just a bit wider,
the opportunity differs...the emotions perhaps similar but the processing of and the actions one take very much different.

A friend at work told me about "reservations and chicken nuggets". If you plan, the opportunity is reservations at a great restaurant, else it's chicken nuggets. I love this for the workplace, where there are innumerable moving parts and communication really is in timing and dealing with the unforeseen obstacles in relation to coordination. In the sphere of our personal lives I am not so sure this is always the best mode of being.

Steve and I on a whim attended our community theatre production of Totally Modern Millie. It was performed by high school and college students. We enjoyed it immensely. It was a chicken nuggets situation--and it rocked.

After everything, there a couple of changes I see emerging. There are things I have put off that I threw into a schedule. There are people I haven't spoken to in years that I'd like to have an understanding of how their lives are going. There is an odd attunement to things I have probably seen for years but never really looked at or allowed my mind to wander through the connected memories.

The key: don't let it fade, learn from it, integrate it...it's the gentle gift of being that much more in this life rather than comfortably insulating oneself from the experience.

Pics of the boys...giggle

All in a months time--

Fly from San Fran to Pitt…backpacking nixed…
drive from Pitt to upstate NY…talk to strangers…
drive to Long Island…see relatives…
drive back upstate…wander through a lifetime of stuff…
drive to Louisville…hang-out…catch-up on 13 years absence…
drive to Wyoming…pull over—amazing stars…sleep for a few hours…
onward to Fremont…home for a couple of days….
get on a plane to Orlando…watch basketball games…
drive to Captiva…swim, collect shells, remember…
drive back to Orlando…
get on a plane to Seattle…work for a few days…
back to Fremont.

I was supposed to be driving Jefferson to Tuscon tomorrow and then from Tuscon was supposed to meet friends in Vegas.

To quote, “Who does this?”

Aura color

Your Aura is Blue

Spiritual and calm, you tend to live a quiet but enriching life. You are very giving of yourself. And it's hard for you to let go of relationships. The purpose of your life: showing love to other people Famous blues include: Angelina Jolie, the Dali Lama, Oprah Careers for you to try: Psychic, Peace Corps Volunteer, Counselor

What Color Is Your Aura?

Flower type

You Are a Blue Flower

A blue flower tends to represent peace, openness, and balance. At times, you are very delicate like a cornflower. And at other times, you are wise like an iris. And more than you wish, you're a little cold, like a blue hydrangea.

What Color Flower Are You?

Looking forward

...to returning home, to familiar things and to attending to some of the more basic things one should.

"Steady-state" and I wonder if such a thing exists. It is a highly adopted phrase here and yet I am not certain it has been achieved in even a minor way. Directionally it does seem like within a few weeks, the pace and focus will differ.

All things in time.

Seattle

Tired.

Game 3 & 4

Game 3...32 turnovers...lost.
Game 4...pretty much like Game 3...mentally not there...lost.

They are playing Game 5 right now and hopefully the outcome will be better. If not, the consequences aren't too bad...2 days at Disney instead of one....But I know they would prefer to win.

After the game yesterday Steve and I drove to Captiva. Was incredible to revisit South Seas...to sort of soak up and revisit a place I spent very happy memories with my mother. I walked the beach and picked up shells...my mother always searched for the "perfect shell" and never found it. I think I found one yesterday...but I imagine it was perfect because something was still very much alive inside. I tossed it into the water and continued to wander. It was a great day.





In Seattle now...exhausted...but looking forward to wandering through the galleries.

Game 2

Second win...this one by 30. The game this afternoon is the last of pool play and should prove to be most difficult. We play a team in the Bay Area that has a similar style to this St. Louis team and we should be able to prevail with a bit of offensive discipline and very strong defense. It's a toss-up...not sure of what the outcome will be.

Game 1

Freddie's team won their first game and they all seemed very proud of their effort. Some of the teams are huge, kids who are 14 and 6'8". Other teams are small but have a lot of fight to them. I wish I was in the state of mind that could retain a focus on the finer qualities of being 14...sort of transport myself back to that time and know hierarchically what is most important. I often feeling like I am missing some of the little things that may have great importance. They play a team today that may give them some trouble, but I think with diligence they will come out on top.

The resort is great...seven swimming pools and near the parks. I have no desire to go to Disney anything or Sea World or Universal. The lines, the masses of people, maybe the memories from childhood...unknown. Just no energy to deal with it. I still want to head to Captiva...and hopefully can do so on Friday or Saturday although I wonder if it's too soon.

I'm short on patience. Cocooning for a lack of a better term. Angry, distant, needy and laughing at my self analysis...but I guess it's somewhat normal...and maybe not. It's difficult to just "be", to just sit here with this mix of emotions...and yet it is what it is. "Move through it, move through it." Err...months of this??? And I don't think there is a way to reduce the cycle time in this kind of thing.

Off to the EC

Steve finished his Ultra in the time he wanted and Nik finished the SF marathon (his first)--rock on!

We're off to AAU Nationals for Freddie this evening and very excited about the memories to be made. Jefferson heads back to school on Monday...we did our last meal thingy and we'll see him in September. He is happy to be heading "home".

Going to take the opportunity while in Florida to head to Captiva and sail a little. I used to take my mother sailing there during the school Winter Break. Happy memories...great memories.

Looking forward to Disney, the water parks and sailing in the gulf.

"Off to Flahrida...." Charters, hopefully I don't run into Shelly nor is it 'mahbbed'. **Giggles**

Sort of settling back in

Finished the notification letters...putting together a DVD of photos, achievements and poems she loved. I dont think this will be completed before the end of September...a lot of negatives to develop, organizing the flow, piecing together the timeline.

The last thing you can leave another with--it should represent who you were. I worry about this...the need to ensure she would like it--would smile on it.

Finding my way....

Charters was kind enough to make me copies of some CDs she had that contained songs from college. One CD in particular is on repeat in my head. One song in particular resonates…a Kate Bush song that when parsed, rings loudly:

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking

Of all the things we should've said,
That were never said.
All the things we should've done,
That we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should've given,
But I didn't.

The words that linger in my head bring tears to my eyes. A sort of allowance in beginning to feel the depth of my sadness…a doorway walked through that for a few a minutes doesn’t bring torrent of tears, but a pensive stream.

In a letter my mother had written, years prior and left for me, she stated that things would be difficult in the next few months, but will return to normal in a year.

...the lives we carry with us along our individual journeys...the impacts they have had...and my hope is that I will honor her along the way.

Spookyville

I laugh to myself as I say 'Spookyville' because it totally doesnt have the weight of being scared--just the opposite which seems fitting for this entire ordeal.

I made it to Charters in Louisville and we're catching up on the last 13 years.

Learning to breathe just a bit deeper.

Looking forward to seeing my family.

Strangeville

And this is life...

We never made it past the first night...park ranger stopped by telling us to call home. And everything went from a normal trip to dealing with the things you don't want to. We drove to upstate NY...met with the State Trooper, did an initial sweep of the house looking for documents, drove to Long Island, coordinated thoughts--wants and wishes.

I remember a friend telling me what it was like to deal with her mothers death...you just sort of deal--you pull yourself together, you deal with the details and then at some point in the future it hits you. Nothing has sort of hit me yet. Funeral arrangements are done. Next steps...pack everything up, talk to locksmiths and realtors, say good-bye and head back to California.

A long drive, but perhaps a long drive is needed. Open space, one direction miles and miles of asphalt...ocean to ocean...Taggart transcontinental...and a scene in the book that while aboard and in motion--one can think.

Strangeville...and this is life.

Normalville

So maybe this is why one should always do their own investigation as to where they are going. We are going to a place called Ohiopyle State Park for four days of backpacking. That name sounded a little off--but it's just unusual in the regular unusual kind of way...never heard of Ohiopyle. But this, this place we're going to for the first night take us through "Normalville"...seriously, there is a place called Normalville, PA.

Hmmm. What does it mean to have to travel through Normalville...and does it throw everything you consider normal out the window?

Flying home

someday this too will be possible. home in a blink, in a flash, in a new york minute.

for now the train and drive will have to do.

Missing the turn

It happens. Everything is explained to you, read from a book and you think you have it. But you don’t.

We hiked in Briones (in Orinda)…and San Pablo Reservoir recreation area…and well what Nicole told me is El Hambra road into Martinez. Actually, Steve did Briones and I—I sort of traveled onward in one direction never looping back, not staying contained, just onward.

There are signs—very clear signs when you miss the turn. At first, whether the daydream, the beauty of the place or just some other thing within leads you to think, “Hmm, but no matter.” And onward you go. The thought crosses your mind—the trail name has changed three times…but the signs look the same. I don’t remember him saying that I would go through a recreation area just that there was one. That thing back eight miles…maybe that was the dam.... And onward, with each step—the thoughts, the circling back.

In the end being lost is totally underrated. Set plans, a destination, “getting there”…maybe it’s just not who Zane Clausen is. Or maybe it is. But yesterday was different.

I don't know how far I wandered. Only that the number of deer along the way was wonderful, and the sounds of the birds—their colors magnificent, and the size of the butterflies who appeared by my side now and again—incredible.

Lake Chabot on Sunday, 12 miles through a hilly varied landscape. Nice views of the bay from Castro Valley and one absolutely beautiful trail called the Columbine Trail…very peaceful and empty. The weekend before 9 miles on Saturday and 12 on Sunday doing the peaks and surrounding trails in San Diego.

Preparation for the Allegheny’s…sort of. It will be humid and wet in PA, but the distances the same. And the sense of self…wandering, not lost in the traditional sense, but still out of time—out of place from the norm. Looking forward to trudging through the muck, thinking perhaps, “I could have been in Bermuda” and then by day four arriving out of the woods extraordinarily dirty, but my mind far clearer for the experience.

There is a theme of doing the thing you don’t want to because it does push you out of the comfort zone, it demands something more—not beyond your reach, but just into unfamiliar territory. That thing is a sense of heightened awareness—of taking it all in, that nothing is dismissed without consideration. Maybe this is the key to people who enjoy hiking…a time of allowable focus on moving through space, of having touched places less frequented…to not leave your mark—but to feel as if the mark has been left on you.

Solnit quotes

“There are people for whom there is only one sun in the sky or darkness, and there are those who live in a night filled with stars…”

“She seemed to take pleasure in everything, to have a diffuse sensuality spread throughout the tangible world, in marked contrast to the protagonists chasing a conventional notion of satisfaction forever postponed.”

“Perhaps it’s that you can’t go back in time, but you can return to the scenes of a love, of a crime, of happiness, and of a fatal decision; the places are what remain, are what you can possess, are what is immortal. They become the tangible landscape of memory, the places that made you, and in some way you too become them. They are what you can possess and what in the end possesses you.

“In a similar way a runner’s every step is a leap, so that for a moment he or she is entirely off the ground. For those brief instants, shadows no longer spill out from their feet, like leaks, but hover below them like doubles, as they do with birds, whose shadows crawl below them, caressing the surface of the earth, growing and shrinking as their markers move nearer or farther from the surface. For my friends who run long distances, these tiny fragments of levitation add up to something considerable; by their own power they hover above the earth for many minutes, perhaps some significant portion of an hour or perhaps far more for the hundred-mile races. We fly; we dream in darkness; we devour heaven in bites too small to be measured.”

Flashback to the 90s

Miles of pavement

So finally posting this...and wishing you well on your journey back home. This is life and it's yours...glad you found the peace and strength within.

In the stretch between Richmond to Louisville...if it happens to be pitch black out and clear. Pull off the highway. Step out of the truck. Look skyward.

Sometimes the best thing about solitary long drives is that one stop, the stretch of the neck upward and the sight of a million stars looking back at you.

Amazing--our lives--aren't they?

xo

Big Wheels

A friend at work sent me a set of pictures or adults riding Big Wheels down Lombard St. Incredible! Incredible! Incredible! Like walking around Toys-R-Us and getting on a tricycle…or just watching a five year old race around the store…the memories come flooding in—and the grin on one’s face is from a deeply held conviction that joy is one’s fuel. To retain that joyous wonder of childhood…of self-propelling yourself through aisle ways, avoiding the glares of people who should never enter toy stores (because…they just don’t get the value of it!!!)…that sense of being—of being in the here and now—light and alive…wonderful. If I had known such a race existed I would have entered Frederick into it-- he is Mr. Big Wheel.

We met Freddie while he was riding his Big Wheel around the complex. Not a “Hello”, but a “Watch me, watch me” and he would pedal as hard as he could with a huge smile on his face and zoom around and around the complex. There was nothing more exciting—nothing better than Frederick riding his Big Wheel…I wish he still had it to hang from the ceiling of his bedroom…a reminder that in one should never lose that exuberance in living.

That was his favorite activity when he was four and Steve and I have looked every year for an adult sized big wheel to buy him. We found one this year…but too late for Xmas. I found the following web pages related to the race…and the sheer sense of joy…the willingness to put yourself out there decades later to experience all over again that thing that brought such happiness to your world…this is what life is about.

http://laughingsquid.com/2006/04/13/big-wheel-race-down-lombard-street/
http://www.jonbrumit.com/byobw.html
http://www.recursiveirony.com/byobw/
http://www.geekentertainment.tv/2006/04/19/bring-your-own-big-wheels/
http://snarkmarket.com/blog/snarkives/gleeful_miscellany/big_wheelin/

This race takes place each Easter…you just show-up and participate. I’m not sure if a 6’6” 220lb (probably how big he will be in a little under a year) kid can fit on a Big Wheel…but we’ll figure it out.

Adult sized Big Wheel sites:
http://www.bigwheelrally.com/store/adult.htm
http://www.uncrate.com/men/gear/toys/adult-big-wheel-000652.php

Being 18

We have an ongoing debate in our house around the definition of "independence", "respect" and the usual terms that parents and children disagree on.

I can't remember what I was like at 18. I remained at college for the summer taking three classes. One in maths, history, a survey lit class where we read Gulliver's Travels in three days...I think I am the only one who actually read the book and supporting critiques and the other class was history. The summer itself was uneventful beyond work and school. I lived cheaply...roamed through the few used bookstores in Lexington and often would read into the deep hours of the night. Few friends if any...almost certain there was just one person I hung out with.

What independence meant to me, although still dependent on my parents for rent...working and going to school--being productive. It meant eliminate my 'wants' from their life and not to impact them. That is what it meant. I continued to impact them with the need for money...but I don't think I made demands for anything beyond what they offered to provide. I think this is the turning point to adulthood--when you realize you need to find a way to stand on your own feet.

And I think this is the debate we have within our house. That "independence" today is, "my parents should totally support me because I am school, plus I should get clothing, a car, spending money to hang out with friends and have a girlfriend." This is all predicated on a certain somebody, "being in school and doing what I am supposed to do". Very different reference points – goals --  reasoning.

Steve reminded me that he did landscaping at Davis his first summer--it's incredibly hot in the valley--a physically demanding job. He also did janitorial work and when he had the opportunity helped some field researchers on the Delta when the opportunity was available. Much more so than my office filing job--this showed initiative and drive to be independent...to be able to stand alone no matter what it took to do so.

And although I am genuinely happy to see the boys wander around our house...my fears and worries plague my mind. What if he doesn't reach the turning point? What if he chooses to continue to not "hear" people? When will he realize his "niceness" doesn't fool everybody? When will the chip on the shoulder begin to be a weight that he recognizes as a main roadblock to getting along in the world? When will he realize security and happiness are from within and not external...? This is the process of being a parent...of waiting...and hoping. That this child you have been so invested in begins to see the greatness in their being.

I look forward to a few years from now...when the embrace of just being who you are becomes fluid.

Books...

I have been reading a book titled, "A Field Guide to Getting Lost". I picked it up at the library about a week ago with a couple of others...not expecting to find myself reading a few sentences and then staring off out the window pondering the meaning. It's rare to find a book that is so engaging...a book that asks those very simple questions and you can feel the deep gaze into your eyes from the black & white text...as if, perhaps, me--the reader might have the answer. That is the kind of book it is--a statement of the obvious, of answers to questions we do not have yet cling to their presence in our life and build myths to feed our urgent need to know. I am enjoying it. Revisiting the mighty men who spoke a millennium ago and more recently just a century or so in the past. The voices that linger, the words that tap you on the shoulder...only to find yourself facing a different direction as if the pivot of one's head would change the path those impulses will travel along the synaptic pathways. As if this alone would trigger the change in awareness...in how one lives.

It is time to head home...and here are some of the passages that will occupy the attention of my brain on the way to the 'burbs:

"Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That's where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go....How will you go about finding that thing the nature of which is totally unknown to you?....The question struck me as the basic tactical question in life. The things we want are transformative, and we don't know or only think we know what is on the other side of that transformation. Love, wisdom, grace, inspiration--how do you go about finding these things that are in some ways about extending the boundaries of the self into unknown territory, about evolving into the someone you want to be?"

quotes along the way...
1.) "live always a the 'edge of mystery'--the boundary of the unknown."
2.) "All experiences, in matters of philosophical discovery, teaches us that, in such discovery, it is the unforeseen which we must calculate most largely."
3.) "Not to find one's way in a city may well be uninteresting and banal. It requires ignorance--nothing more. But to lose oneself in a city--as one loses oneself in a forest--that calls for quite a different schooling."

culminates in a glimpse at understanding...
"To lose yourself: a voluptuous surrender, lost in your arms, lost to the world, utterly immersed in what is present so that its surroundings fade away. To be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery."

Life IS like this!

Believing in what can be...

Unwritten

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Long and short of it

Written on BART…7:15am…
Weekends go by quickly and slowly. Inevitably I sleep terribly on Sunday evenings. Not sure why this is…wrestling with the number of “To Dos” to be done…the tasks not finished, the ideas half-baked but due…Sunday is generally a horrible night for sleeping. I wake often and randomly. Sometimes a clip of a dream in my head, generally a flashback to something I have done over the weekend.

We have decided baseball is **the** most boring sport on the face of the earth. Not sure if it is this age group, the beating down of the sun or it really is just moves so slowly that you lose interest. Max, Jordan, Crag and Bob all came to see Freddie play…for the first four innings this helped in passing time. It was good to have them there…it was good to see that Freddie’s friendships are a bit more dynamic and not one dimensional. They won yesterday, but lost their game on Saturday. Puts them somewhere in the middle of the pack as far as placement. Although Freddie is enjoying his time on the field, he enjoys the dugout as well. Just chatting, joking, relaxing and being a kid.

Saturday Steve ended up doing a middle length run on the shorter side. I tagged along to the area…and walked 6.4 miles. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy just wandering aimlessly…not exactly without a goal…go one way for an hour and then head back to the parking lot…but just the ability to be in a place right now for the moment and fully…that is what I enjoy about hiking.

I was thinking on the train this morning it has all three things I crave 1) solitude 2) mental machinations 3) physical challenge. I’d like to do the Ohlone trail. Backpack overnight. Pack light. Focus on just one foot in front of the other. And some time alone. Physically I am not ready for this…but we’ll see in a week if I can get a Mission Peak hike in this week…then maybe.

Busy week ahead.

Heading home…9:00pm…
Long day, but a little closer to the goal. Finished most of the deck of slides and will complete them in the morning. I was asked an interesting question by an interesting individual in my interesting department. Along the lines of new projects—opportunities. I enjoy research, I enjoy looking into the new and different. I don’t mind the grunt work related to understanding a thing…I relish it. That sense that some are confident with “thinking they know” and it’s enough…I’d rather just dive in and know…see it, run the numbers, know it—live it—breathe it.

I love SF at night. This is the first time I am seeing the city in the evening at dark from my office. It’s the first night I have stayed late since we have moved. Makes me miss NY. The hum of the city, the low roar of constant motion.

"At the edge of everything..."

I travel the lines of books soaking up a phrase here and there and then letting it float outside the text...does it still resonate--does it still ring true?

I've read a few books in the last month...and have played more arcade video games in my leisure time than I think I have in years. Escapism. Lesser of two unproductive habits...the meaningless novel or puzzle games...hmm.

I was thinking about the photograph of three of my closest friends. A snapshot of them on Castro Street while we were shopping in the mid-90s. Seems forever ago and I can remember little from the day itself (although I think two others of the group would have no problem recreating the entire day from memory). Three people who know me best, could finish my sentences, could comfort my pain and make me laugh louder than I thought possible.

What are they like now...I converse now and again, I catch-up but I take in the e-mails without surprise. Two of them have suffered terribly in the last year, the third I can only imagine the daily horror of working in pediatrics...the suppressed outrage at the preventable and then having to repress the enormity of a condition in the here and now when a child doesn't have chance. And yet, they have all found themselves a little further along the road...the experience is not killing their spirit...they are truly living.

...distance...and I wonder if this is age/time/the self evolving...I wonder if we all sat down to coffee if we could just be...be engaged in hearing each other...genuinely interested in where the last ten years have gone. If I snapped a picture in the here and now...would the faces be light, whimsical, aloof, wondering?

~~~~~~
"My theory," Simon said, "is that you measure your arrival in New York by when you stop looking at other people and start assuming they're looking at you."
~
"...Meaning bad isn't the issue. Meaning you do what you do. Not without consequences for other people, of course, sometimes very grave ones. But it's not very helpful to regard your choices as a series of right or wrong moves. They don't define you as much as you define them."
~
"She met my glance, then peered at the photograph. 'The complacency of extreme beauty,' she said. with a little sniff.
I laughed. 'I was thinking she looked complicated and mysterious.'
She shook her head. 'That's what they want you to think, but she's like a Matisse odalisque or something, blissed out on self-approval.' She stood there for a moment, then turned around and studied the shelves behind me, where a little wooden shingle hanging into the aisle read PHILOSOPHY and RELIGION.

I turned back to the book, disappointed she hadn't said more. It was another New York moment, like at the photography show with Simon: a stranger delivering up an inscrutable, glittering sentence--pretentious, maybe, but also unforgettable--and then moving on. Maybe that's what New York would end up being to me, a collection of such moments that would accumulate into life."
~
"Oh, he was kindness itself, he was compassion, understanding, but it was all coming away from him and there wasn't a single way in."
~
"New Yorkers were different. Old or young, crazy or brilliant, plain or gorgeous--they didn't just walk outside, they made a presentation, they presented themselves. They said, This is who I am, today I'm someone wearing these boots, I'm walking with this look on my face, I'm having this intense and troublesome discussion with this difficult but beloved friend."
~
"...one person's 'Just Do It' is another person's Mount Everest."
~

The sun is setting, the rays glistening off the buildings outside my office. The clattering of the machines pounding away...another building...progress. Off to home...to the train...then the drive...hitting the repeat button on the CD player.

Conference: Day 2 & 3

Day 2 was very interesting and has generated a lot of analysis ideas. Day 3 was a bit of let down...but enforced those same themes and delved into more of the practical issues around implementation and the pains associated with it.

We saw La Reve last evening and it was incredible. In the same discipline as a Cirque show...totally enjoyable.

Conference Day 1

Vegas. The energy this week is very different from the tournament. I am located at the exact opposite end of the strip near the airport. The view currently is the airport which I enjoy in the darkness of the evening. I have never ceased to be awed by mans ability to fly. The muted roar of a plane on take-off, the rise diagonally toward 35,000 ft and the lives aboard carried to their next destination…another step in the journey. The downward glance brings my eyes to the numerous pools here including a “beach” that includes waves. It is a wonderful sight…in the desert, in the distance the rocks, directly below 30 floors pristine blue and palm trees.

The conference is interesting. A bit of a sales pitch on the first day, but immediately the little that was covered actually addressed some basic questions regarding what is possible. As a workflow tool for this space, the existing corporate application can be utilized…now just the means to the end…the synergy of divergent groups focused and committed to the same vision. This is the far more difficult task at hand…not the development, not the funding, not even actual ownership…but something far different that actually doesn’t guarantee success for anyone although one might think it ought to. The idea of ownership is weighs far higher on the scale of competencies than results. This is a legacy attribute of the organization that also is a driver from the other business lines. In place of seeing the business processes holistically there is a very linear perspective—a start and stop of ownership with a behavior. Imagine the consequences of approaching one’s life this way.

The underlying personal theme: Stop taking snapshots of events and gluing them together…bridge the events based on the framework, evaluate and build the vision. Patience and perseverance…this is key.

Site watch: www.fatmanwalking.com