Costa Rica bound

Not to the haze . . . which I would more than welcome.

Returning. Returning differently.

To meet and observe and learn all that I can in four days time.

Orbits

"He watched it spin in it's own orbit, the awesome spectacle of a brain remembering . . . everything."

The Greatest Game Ever Played

Harry Vardon: [to Lord Northcliff] Let me tell you something. I came here to win a trophy. And on the face of it Ted Ray or I should carry it off. Not for you, not for England, but for sheer bloody pride at being the best, *that's* why we do this. And if Mr. Ouimet wins tomorrow, it's because he's the best, because of who he is. Not who his father was, not how much money he's got, because of who he bloody is! And I'll thank you to remember that. And I'll thank you to show the respect a gentleman gives as a matter of course.

Opposite ends

Radicals and laissez-faire capitalists. Opposite ends of the spectrum. Yet, when they meet. The passion for ideas, the intensity. Perspective...the means to the end...not reconciliable...but the conversations fantastic. And words that are universal--

"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh and bones. Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof."

"This may be the most important moment of your life. Commit to it. "

Moving forward

Lewis: Why would his motto be "Keep moving forward?"
Wilbur: It's what he does.
Lewis: What does that mean?
Wilbur: That is an excellent question.


Around here, however, we don't look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things... and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths. - Walt Disney

Dance in the rain

“There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.

"Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today?" So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head."H-M-M," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today?" So she did and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that she had only one hair on her head. "Well," she said, "today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head. "YEA!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"

Attitude is everything. Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly....

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass--it's about learning to dance in the rain.”

(Many thanks to the person who provided this. It's simple and brilliant and right!)

Hearing

It is an incredible experience to share the sound of laughter. When the opportunity presents, when surrounded by people in a common space, when the laughter of many in unison begins...close your eyes...absorb it. It's wonderful. Music.

I watched someone yesterday who has stayed with me. Something very simple brought extraordinary happiness...actually just the sight of something. That wide-eyed wonder, full engagement and a broad smile. I don't know if this particular individual realized how much she impacted those around her. But for those of us who were in close proximity, each of us felt her exuberance--how she was living in that moment. If I had to give an example of what might be more universal...it was that look of amazement when a child unwraps that one gift that wasn't expected or wished for but is absolutely perfect. That moment. That intense happiness--that depth of living fully right now.

A "thank you" is not appropriate in the literal "thank you" form. But hopefully, as we move forward, each of us will have that same lightness, genuine appreciation, joy that will penetrate another.

Incredibly tired..."On the verge of everything."...and moments like the above--pure fuel.

the faculty of wonder...

"The most subversive people are those who ask questions. Giving answers is not nearly as threatening. Any one question can be more explosive than a thousand answers."

"...going part of the way is not the same as going the wrong way..."

Conversations. People. Again the distant world out there. I am not measuring words today. I am simply listening. Some ideas seem to bounce off me...like those bouncy balls--the quick intersection of the ball to body and then the amusement in watching it travel. Others linger. Ideas so different from my own. Each of us teaching some thing? Has the lesson been lost? Or is the lesson the discipline in remaining, in hearing, in recognizing, "not as I am"? A lesson in some form. In some way.

I want to ask questions. I want to debate. To challenge. To understand. Only, I've not the talent of putting others at ease. This knowledge of my intensity when delivering a question keeps me from asking. A mental note. Wondering. "Real philosophers don't trample on rosebeds." Fitting. True. And not so true. Politeness is...well...is uhm...is.

My eyes do the talking. We wander back.
"What do you think?"
"I think there is something more."
"More?"
"More than what is being said."
"Has anything been said?"
"Much more was said in what was not said."

Laughter.

It will be this way for some time to come.

average

The world is based on the average...people forget this. The slow, perhaps imperceptible, shake of one's head. A pause in speech and the penetrating silence. The conversation becomes dull. Is dull the right word? Or am I simply unimpressed. Unknown. I found myself disengaged, withdrawn. Nothing to add and nothing to take away. And a question in the forefront of my mind, "Will it matter to you...will this thing that makes you exceptional...do you embrace it and let it shine...or will you continue to pound us with words that cannot replace action?"

Conversations. Sipping tea. Switching to coffee. An edge of sorts needed. (Or an escape for a minute or two?) There is a point when it is just noise when one listens. No discernment of words, no translation, no processing of what the words mean...just noise. My eyes drift outward to what lies beyond the windows. Every now and again laughter comes through--distinct, happy and the edges of my mouth respond. Or the mother scolding her child--that too comes through...and as he swings about I can't help to think, "but this is a jungle gym" an adult jungle of misperceptions, assertions, holier than thou. The child has it right. One should never take this intellectual playground too seriously. But he listens to his mother. Tamed. Hmmm. In thirty years he will be sitting where I am? Listening to a noise that is just the clucking of tongues in a specific fashion finding himself only to wonder if it was better to think this better a jungle gym and nothing more?

"Earth to Zane, earth to Zane."
I smile. "Yep, yep."
"How were your travels?"
"Comforting. How is it here?"
We laugh.
"I wish I was where you were."
"I think it is always best to be where you are."
"Amazing talents you have being two places at once."
More laughter.

And this is why I am here, no? Because in some way it resonates. This sharing of space, this thinking thoughts beyond what is being processed by the receptors in one's ears. There is something that clings, and reaches for, and values the immediate.

"More coffee?"
"Sounds good."
"I thought it would be better."
"It's average."

Steve's Tokyo run

supercallifragilisticexpialidocious

Caught the cold thing going about and now I am chillin with Mary Poppins. I like Mary Poppins as she, "never explains anything."

and she can fly

From another

a blog titled, Terribly Sane

the last line posted in 2003,

"Lightly moving forward."

Another read of The Book of Lights underway... the pensiveness tenfold.

Survivors

"...an answer based on the writings of many survivors, including those of Viktor Frankl and Brune Bettelheim, who have reflected on sources of strength under extreme adversity. He concludes that the most important trait of survivors is a 'non-selfconcscious individualism,'; or a strongly directed purpose that is not self-seeking. People who have that quality are bent on doing their best in all circumstances, yet they are not concerned primarily with advancing their own interests. Because they are instrinsically motivated in their actions, they are not easily disturbed by external threats. With enough psychic energy free to observe and analyze their surroundings objectively, they have a better chance of discovering in them new opportunities for action."

Life

is lived in the details

is lived in one's actions

is lived in every moment

is lived consciously and sometimes not

Flashback

I miss the haze.

Absence that is present.

Hours of sipping coffee overlooking the jungle.

Walking in Pacific Grove

window shopping

a sign

"It's never too late to live happily ever after."

i said, i want that for my front door.

you smiled

we nodded that nod of

that's just simply awesome

Presence

Simple presence.

It's 4 months later.

And yet.

Small treasures, great gratitude

I lingered as I sometimes do in front of the book cases. Old spines...the oldest born in 1688 to newer ones on average just a 130yrs old. Isn't that something?

I looked at Goyo--we've named the bird Goyo. And the sculpture so like a Rodin that the three of us fell in love with (of all places we found her in Vegas and she didn't stay in Vegas). And turn of the century microscopes, knick knacks from about the world and a child's bracelet that jingles now and again all on it's own.

Many things in one room all with a history and a life--a history before they arrived here with us. Things that endure...persevere...and the pause that says, "thank you" to nothing in particular or maybe...perhaps...it's an internal thank you for recognizing how lucky I am for having about me things with lives far older than my own. Perhaps I am luckier than I have ever imagined--we gain years by seeing, by feeling the depth of life (good and bad) and in that act it makes these old "friends" of mine speak volumes of silent mysterious stories...the awesome kind that leaves one in wonderment...that grant me hours of peace just being in their presence.

beginnings and ends

Written on the front and back page of my notebook:

"Do not underestimate your own courage. You are part of an elite. Not of power, position and wealth, but an elite of the sensitive, the considerate and the tenacious....They represent a tradition of struggle against cruelty and unrelenting chaos."

We are in each interaction, with each choice, with each gesture teaching one another *some* thing. Our character in action, on display, making it's mark on another. We choose to hear or not. We choose to seek understanding or prove the other in the image of what suits our internal machinations best. Each choice can be a kindness or an assault. Each word an opportunity to reconcile or attack. Each facial expression a communication of embracing what is or recoiling to a distance.

Moments. Opportunities. A second of one's life. Well spent?

The anger, the injustice, the angst, the fear, the insecurity, the cynicism, the bitterness, the cruelty...well spent?

Moments are like pennies. You receive a penny and either think, "It's worthless and a nuissance" or you think "I can save it and add it to something or I can give it away to someone who needs it more." Moments are like this. An opportunity to not deal or an opportunity to add to a bigger picture. How we spend those moments...how we view each second?

And when the "moment" isn't just today or just this week or just this month or just this year...when the "moment" is a time when one looks back on their life.... Those who are faced with the knowledge that their entire being fought to be heard and if they had only listened, stepped back and listened, how different--how much more a life they would have lived.

The firing range is about the shooter not the one looking down the barrel.
One sees a moment in time.
The other sees a lifetime.

"...against cruelty and unrelenting chaos."

Thems and Thoses

"The them-s’ and the those-s’.

The this-s’ and that-s’."

Just smile....

Sub 24hrs

100 miles in 23:45!

Uber crazy. And awesome. And happy.

Sights

Steve is running his second 100 mile race...about this time in hour 20 he is most probably just getting past an agonizing period and pushing through it. "Just smile when those insane words come out of your mouth." He laughed. "Yah, THE why in the heck am I doing this!!!!" Laughter. "I will" he said. And I am certain he is.

My plan for the day was to visit Mission San Jose. I have lived in Fremont for 10 years (uhg...giggling) and pass it almost daily. I decided on Wednesday I should finally go then then grab a coffee and read at Freddie's favorite lunch place. Plans are never good. Plans are never followed.

I ended up, very fortunately, going to the Tech Museum to see the Body Worlds exhibit. Steve and I saw a different run of this in Las Vegas and found ourselves quiet...amazed...thinking there is life after death. A different kind of life perhaps--but one of teaching and meaning and awe. The exhibit leaves you--how does one explain--leaves you wanting to venture through your own body in a minuscule capsule on some great adventure (the name escapes me of the sci-fi movie from the 60s that had this premise). The exhibit also leaves one pensive, introspective, silent.

I wonder how many people will carry with them the death of a stranger that taught and showed them so much.

Heard about

6 year old in New York receives graffiti citation from NYPD. She was drawing on the sidewalk with chalk.

Overheard in 7-11 (ages of participants ~10-13)...how do they know you are getting a refill? Like we could get arrested if they dont know we
were here before.

Public transportation...I am either incredibly luck (I am) or the bay area has a great transportation system. SJ Caltrain to bus to Metro Ctr...5 minute handshake. Fremont bus to Bart to Hayward to transbay bus to Metro Ctr...5-10 minute handshakes. The freedom of driving in traffic...overrated?

Thank yous...can never be said enough to those most deserving--share your happiness.

Age of Silence

"The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people's hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.

During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life. The labor of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less and expression than making the sign for I love you or I feel serious. When a hand was used to shield one’s face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone else had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one’s lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it to be the gesture, not at all dissimilar, for Now I realize I was wrong to love you. These mistakes were heartbreaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn’t go around with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they’d understood correctly.

Sometimes these misunderstandings were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose. Of course I know I’ve always been right to love you. Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking forgiveness evolved into the simplest form. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me.

If at large gatherings or parties, or around people with whom you feel distant, your hands sometimes hand awkwardly at the ends of your arms—if you find yourself at a loss for what to do with them, overcome with sadness that comes when you recognize the foreignness of your own body—it’s because your hands remember a time when the division between mind and body, brain and heart, what’s inside and what’s outside, was so much less.”

Reunions

My three closest friends in the universe (perhaps more accurately--the three people who know me best) with whom I share extraordinarily long absences...good news...we will all meet again in one space and it wont be for a funeral.

Celebrations, reminders, your being...

"The world has grown a little unlovely, dont you think?"

Unloveliness is temporary.

Acute observations.

Perhaps not "the world", perhaps "one's world" is the only relevant reference.

I have experienced only one other thing that has been more physically painful (pain that lingers, pain that requires one to admit how small and weak and human they are...when one's stomach wretches and there is nothing but this screaming static in one's mind). Temporary. Fixable. A lesson of sorts.

A memorable 5th anniversary that will leave us laughing for years to come. The 4:00am unloveliness...temporary. The loveliness of your being--constant.

Shortcuts

"There is no such thing as instant pudding."

Heroes Season 1 Finale

Where does it come from...this quest...this need to solve life’s mysteries from the simplest of questions can never be answered.

Why are we here?

What is the soul?

Why do we dream?

Half the people are not looking at all. Not delving, not yearning. But that's not human nature--not the human heart. That is not why we are here.

Yet still we struggle to make a difference.

To change the world.

To dream of hope.

Never knowing for certain who we will meet along the way.

Who among the world of strangers will hold our hand?

Touch our hearts?

And share the pain of trying?

Back to school night

We walked Freddie's schedule last night. Some teachers inspiring, intellectually challenging. Others sort of trying to find that merge--where their vision intersects with the constitution of the school and subject. And then...the odd one--the one who believes in dialogue and that an explanation of Cotton Mather's writing (contextually) isn't as important as as his feelings on the 'dead guy'. Hmmm. We like debate at home but given the format of the class if we are convincing enough Freddie will be perceived as carrying the 'party line' of the 'machine'. Of course the above is derived from 10 minute sessions with each teacher...I could writing about the marvels of this same teacher tomorrow or next week or a year from now.

One of the greatest benefits of single sex education (from this parents perspective) is the total dedication to one physical mode of being. Dynamic, diverse, individually different--but from a 'societal' viewpoint all those fears of growing into manhood...those insecurities, needs, wants, hopes, wishes are addressed on a daily basis. There isn't a distraction, a tearing at his core being--he is to be exactly what he is with no attacks, no challenge to his physical body, no political agenda reaching out and touching him on the shoulder...turning his head to a floating question mark--one that questions unconscious biological processes. His responsibility is to be as he is and journey onward from there using his mind to the best of its ability and his resulting evaluations to shine brightly regardless of the circumstances.

This should be an intellectually interesting year. 15 year old angst and anger, the moving through frustration and knowing one is doing so (huge step) and developing that appreciation for patience.

Perhaps most importantly is continuing just plain old laughter about everything and nothing. Laughter that fills in the awkward, the speechless...the fragile gaps.

visiting my memory

What would it be to wake, breathe and sleep here?

I have wondered for a longtime.

North coast

Exceptional.

Seaside

Away for the weekend . . . reading and thinking norcal style.

From my latest read,

"With the windows flung open to the streets of Genoa I float in the lotus pond of my bedspread. A stone tablet rests across my belly, covered in flowers. Reaching to pluck a morsel, I'm enamoured to find that my fingers have narrowed into slender amber talons, I hook a blossom and lower it to my lips, marvelling as a lover--sweet mustiness honeycombs across my tongue. After flavor shoots around my mouth and my whole body reverberates. I gulp down great mouthfuls of pond water that taste more exquisite than anything I could have imagined. These sensations have continued beyond that waking dream. My mouth has developed an intelligence of its own--everything has savor, not just herbs and spices, but even this evening's pasta imparted to me the history of its birthplace in the wheat fields of Sicily."

North

seaside

stars

quiet

north--

Justin -

Point of reference...Justin lived with us while in the 10th grade. House full of boys, lots of crazy energy and laughs. He is now in the US Navy and learning a lot about himself--what he is capable of and in that military way--what true independence, discipline and self-confidence are. We're very proud of him!

The Unknown Citizen

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for he time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

-- W. H. Auden

Life

"From the start--apparently--he had found the center from which all other work was to find its only possible 'measure'. But 'measure'--not in a sense of ranking but in the sense of realizing almost year by year the feeling of being alive--within the face and hands largely--to register the penetrations of the life lived and living.... What moves us--and will always move the living--is the weird exactitude by which he shows us--makes us see--that we are hopelessly, helplessly mortal...yet that somewhere--at core--heart's intelligence--there is the light that being alive persists in extending.

His obduracy and courage, his candor and the verity of it, are witnessed in the most unswerving hand. And his work, his life, brings home to us what we must still most learn: that there is no artist except the artist of life, that there is no life without the art to realize and share it."

Inevitably

One may love a river as soon as one sets eyes upon it; it may have certain features that fit instantly with one's conception of beauty, or it may recall the qualities of some other river, well known and deeply loved. One may feel in the same way an instant affinity for a man or a woman and know that here is pleasure and warmth and foundation of deep friendship. In either case the full riches of the discovery are not immediately released--they cannot be; only knowledge and close experience can release them. Rivers, I suppose, are not at all like human beings, but it is still possible to make apt comparisons, and this is one: understanding, whether instinctive and immediate or developing naturally through time or grown by conscious effort, is a necessary preliminary to love. Understanding of another human being can never be complete, but as it grows toward completeness, it becomes love almost inevitably.

Cracker Jack prizes

DON'T YOU JUST LOVE IT?

LOVE WHAT?

TIFFANY'S.

ISN'T IT WONDERFUL? SEE WHAT I MEAN, HOW NOTHING BAD COULD HAPPEN TO YOU IN A PLACE LIKE THIS? IT ISN'T THAT I GIVE A HOOT ABOUT JEWELRY, EXCEPT DIAMONDS, OF COURSE.

LIKE THAT. WHAT DO YOU THINK?

WELL...PERSONALLY, I THINK IT WOULD BE TACKY TO WEAR DIAMONDS BEFORE I'M 40.

WELL, YOU'RE RIGHT, BUT MEANTIME, YOU SHOULD HAVE SOMETHING.

I'LL WAIT.

NO. I'M GOING TO BUY YOU A PRESENT. YOU BOUGHT ME A TYPEWRITER RIBBON, AND IT BROUGHT LUCK.

BUT TIFFANY'S CAN BE PRETTY EXPENSIVE.

I'VE GOT MY CHECK AND $10.

I WOULDN'T LET YOU CASH YOUR CHECK, BUT A PRESENT FOR $10 OR UNDER, THAT I'LL ACCEPT. OF COURSE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'LL FIND HERE FOR $10.

MAY I HELP YOU?

PERHAPS.

WE'RE LOOKING FOR A PRESENT FOR THE LADY.

CERTAINLY, SIR.

IS THERE SOMETHING SPECIAL YOU HAD IN MIND?

WELL, WE HAD CONSIDERED DIAMONDS, AND I DON'T WANT TO OFFEND YOU, BUT THE LADY FEELS THAT DIAMONDS ARE TACKY FOR HER.

OH, I THINK THEY'RE DIVINE ON OLDER WOMEN, BUT THEY'RE NOT RIGHT FOR ME, YOU UNDERSTAND.

CERTAINLY.

IN FAIRNESS, I OUGHT TO EXPLAIN THERE'S ALSO A SECONDARY PROBLEM, ONE OF FINANCE. WE CAN ONLY AFFORD TO SPEND...A LIMITED AMOUNT.

MAY I ASK HOW LIMITED?

$10.

$10.

THAT WAS THE OUTSIDE FIGURE, YES.

I SEE.

DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING FOR $10?

FRANKLY, MADAM, WITHIN THAT PRICE RANGE, THE VARIETY OF MERCHANDISE IS RATHER LIMITED. HOWEVER, I DO THINK WE MIGHT HAVE--LET'S SEE... STRICTLY AS A NOVELTY, YOU UNDERSTAND, FOR THE LADY AND GENTLEMAN WHO HAS EVERYTHING, A STERLING SILVER TELEPHONE DIALER. THAT'S 6.75, INCLUDING TAX.

A STERLING SILVER TELEPHONE DIALER.

YES, SIR. THAT'S 6.75, INCLUDING FEDERAL TAX.

WELL, THE PRICE IS RIGHT, BUT I MUST SAY, I'D RATHER HOPED FOR SOMETHING SLIGHTLY MORE--HOW SHALL I SAY IT—ROMANTIC IN FEELING.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

A STERLING SILVER TELEPHONE DIALER--I CERTAINLY THINK
IT'S HANDSOME, BUT, WELL, YOU DO UNDERSTAND.

WELL, WE TRIED, BUT--WE COULD HAVE SOMETHING ENGRAVED, COULDN'T WE?

YES, I SUPPOSE SO. YES, INDEED. THE ONLY PROBLEM IS, YOU'D HAVE TO BUY SOMETHING FIRST IN ORDER TO HAVE SOME OBJECT UPON WHICH TO PLACE THE ENGRAVING. YOU SEE THE DIFFICULTY?

WELL, WE COULD HAVE THIS ENGRAVED, COULDN'T WE? I THINK IT WOULD BE VERY SMART.

THIS, I TAKE IT, WAS NOT PURCHASED AT TIFFANY'S?

NO.

ACTUALLY, IT WAS PURCHASED CONCURRENT WITH--WELL, ACTUALLY, IT CAME INSIDE A...WELL, A BOX OF CRACKER JACK.

I SEE. DO THEY STILL REALLY HAVE PRIZES IN CRACKER JACK BOXES?

OH, YES.

THAT'S NICE TO KNOW. IT GIVES ONE A FEELING OF SOLIDARITY, ALMOST OF CONTINUITY WITH THE PAST, THAT SORT OF THING.

WOULD TIFFANY'S REALLY ENGRAVE IT FOR US? THEY WOULDN'T FEEL IT BENEATH THEM OR ANYTHING?

WELL, IT IS RATHER UNUSUAL, MADAM, BUT I THINK YOU'LL FIND THAT TIFFANY'S IS VERY UNDERSTANDING.

Beauty Tips

Below is a wonderful poem Audrey Hepburn wrote when asked to share her "Beauty Tips." Years later, it was read at her funeral.

For attractive lips,
speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes,
seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure,
share your food with the hungry.

For beautiful hair,
let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.

For poise,
walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

People, even more than things,
have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed,
and redeemed; never throw out anyone.

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand,
you will find one at the end of each of your arms.

As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands;
one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others.

No go . . .

The entire ship is "waitlisted".

Back to surfing the web for ideas.

What's next

Looked at Morocco, Spain, Portugal--closed.
Thailand...maybe.
Jordan, Syria, Egypt...can't get the visa in time.
Transatlantic crossing...maybe.
Tunisia, Libya--dates don't work.
Libya--visa and dates no good.
Onward to Kenya, Tanzania, Zanzibar--closed.
Just Zanzibar? 3 day flight each way...outside the date range.
Transatlantic crossing....
Vietnam, Cambodia--visas.
Alaska cruise...not digging it...but in the back of my head.
Look through off the track Europe trips--not feeling it.
Transatlantic crossing....
Canadian Rockies rail trip--no.
South Africa cruising the coast--the ships are in Europe.
South Africa gardens or falls or wine country--err.
Transatlantic crossing.

Transatlantic crossing. QM2.

Good question

"How hard can it be to be kind?"

100 miles in 26:58:52

He did it!

100 miles

Steve has just left for Marin. His first 100 mile race tomorrow. He showed me an article he wrote while I was in Costa Rica. It was posted to the forums to inform others of the differences in the course from another well known trail run. The race organizers asked to publish it on their main site...and so his passion for running is beyond just the motion of his body and the mental discipline. It's a small door that has opened and eventually he will be able to solely focus on what he most passionately loves.

Freddie and Jefferson gave him long hard hugs. Jefferson, "There is no quit.{laughing}. It's not like you have a choice--you'd have to walk back." And we all laughed. He should be able to finish within 25-26hrs if all goes well. And if it doesn't go well (they have all gone exceedingly well), then he is still doing what he loves.

This is how he ended a long blog entry: Maybe it doesn't sound like I'm "gettin' ready" as much as I should be, but in my head I think I have it all together. In fact, I can see the Sunday morning finish line like its right in front of me.

Well wishes--
z: To the journey
s: To the finish line and everything in between

Going back...

"This is my broken heart
This is my bleeding start
This is the way I've come to know you

This is my winding road
This is my way back home
This is the narrow door you know that I will walk through"

The song on repeat...waiting on the platform, walking forth and back, stopping the wind blowing, temperature cold, hills golden waiting to be hiked...commuters and their rush to board the train...BART ride to the city...and clear knowledge that I have absolutely no desire to be going to my destination...Embarcaderro station and the walk up the steps,the sounds of the 'Jazz Man' for 15 seconds--his sax soft, unimposing, a graceful secular prayer to start one's day...and then the escalator to street level. This has always ranked up there with photographs I wish I had taken (or ought to take)...looking skyward--the rise of buildings, underground tunnels to a world of light. Starbucks...venti coffee...and the walk toward 201 Mission.

Arrive on the floor...the faces. "How was Costa Rica?" again and again. A quiet response of "Incredible, wonderful, not yet back." And those faces--the ones I don't know well...some of which I will over time and others that will stay as they are in my memory. It was good to see them--all of them. So many possibilities--do they know it? Are they moving forward? Will it remain a passive resignation to be carried forward? I wonder. And I don't. I know only bits and pieces for the most part with an exception of chunks of others. Like arriving on the floor...will we arrive elsewhere together by choice? Or will it always be taking a step backward to move forward? Thoughts about motion...I'd rather not go backward...glimpses of the here and now.

Spoke with one of my favorite people for I don't know how long...was good to see them...and their lightness. I miss the energy, the theories, the perspective. A perspective so different from my own but such a joy to listen to--an active intelligence, a willing mind that tests and retests itself--one that listens and fights. Fights passionately.

Lunch with friends. Walking, one did that thing with his hands while talking--explains a ridiculous event--pauses and visually takes us in--holds his palms horizontally to the sky--shakes his head--soft laughter. A signature of his. And in the other, a fierce intelligence always processing--even when his chin is in his hand--even when he is stating, "Just water." After sitting down, miscellaneous work conversation and quietness. Three sets of eyes looking in the distance--it's rare to find people who get this, who are not insulted by sharing immediate physical space but allow for some moments of immense distance. When we all looked back at one another--one set of eyes brilliant blue twinkling and the others a deep brown--intense--but smiling. Knowing...it's not about this--as others make it. We walked afterward along the Embarcaderro...freezing...laughing about tourists who wear shorts here thinking it to be warm...but September will be wonderful and perfect and embracing. And maybe that is the easiest way to explain their presence in my life: they are like September.

The error messages were completely new and different. The attributes on the database were now Read Only and the history data was not available. The exercised is now different. I realize I need to run the original to understand the causes--the back-up has been redated...dig through files at home.

Coffee with another...a reader of common books and the most genuine person I have met in a long time. No topic is an embarrassment or off limits--it is what it is...and always receptive ears. I could say anything and would feel no judgment, no wall going up, no shock, eyes that say, 'Just Zane.' There is nothing better than just being able to be as you are without the expectations of others pressing on you. The only thing I am expected to be is exactly what I am. Is there anything better? No.

kids, cars, soft laughter - just smile

Jefferson and cars...bad combination. He was to head back to Tucson today but last evening he ended up with serious damage to his back bumper...his own fault, this morning saying, "I'm an idiot", "Jesse told me I should never drive again after the last thing."

When he called, "Zane I can't even tell you this..."
And the starts and stops came, the voice lingering, phrases of sorts.
The only question, "Are you okay?"
A quick response of, "Yeah, but I can't believe...I can't, I mean...HOT (translation, 'all bad')...."

Brief explanation then followed.

Anger? No.
Disappointment? Yes/No.
Being 19? Yes.

And life goes on. Just smile.

Meanderings

Watched the "Age of Innocence" this morning...the ballroom scene...and Archer's facial expressions...rewind, begin again...rewind, begin again. There is a pausing point in the story where we see the open page within, "The House of Life"...


Supreme Surrender by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

To all the spirits of Love that wander by
Along his love-sown harvest-field of sleep
My lady lies apparent; and the deep
Calls to the deep; and no man sees but I.
The bliss so long afar, at length so nigh,
Rests there attained. Methinks proud Love must weep
When Fate's control doth from his harvest reap
The sacred hour for which the years did sigh.
First touched, the hand now warm around my neck
Taught memory long to mock desire: and lo!
Across my breast the abandoned hair doth flow,
Where one shorn tress long stirred the longing ache:
And next the heart that trembled for its sake
Lies the queen-heart in sovereign overthrow.

There is a book I fell in love with during college titled, "The Brotherhood of Letters". Snippets and phrases that sang to me. My closest friend in the universe photocopied the book and I have carried it through every move. Re-read it now and again in full and reference its existence in my head when I look through the bookshelves. Holmes, Churchill (not the Winston--the other Winston), Marvel, Landor and a few others...Rees would be at home with these others...someday he shall come.

"...spent a certain evening together, discoursing on subjects of mutual interest, and what scope we have for conjecture as to how their hidden souls leaped out to meet each other. The freed imagination lingers over such a meeting for days and seasons. We live again for ourselves, the hours they this lived, or should have lived, during that interview; we hear again the words they spoke, or should have spoken; and these help to make for us a life, nay, a world, sacred and personal and secluded."

"...something of hero-worship felt by Thackeray when he said: 'I should like to have been Shakespeare's shoe-black, just to have worshipped him, to have run on his errands, and seen that sweet serene face.' . . . It does not matter how much superior to the worshipper the hero may be: the man who worships cannot fail to feel himself, in a certain sense, of kin to the object of his adoration. The mere act of worship has in itself and uplifting and refining influence of no mean extent."

"In the centre of all, and object of all, stands the Human Being, towards whose heroic and spiritual evolution poems and everything directly or indirectly tends."

"At one end of the table sat Longfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced--a most agreeable rather than a brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always pleasant to look--whose silence was better than many another man's conversations."

Still in the haze

z: ...Still in the haze...costa rican haze--vegas haze....

n: ...i bet you are in a haze. good luck getting "back"

z: yes...goodluck needed to getting back....

n: decompression is *the worst*

z: have decompressed from reality...now need to compress for reality...how weird.

n: yeah, weird and kinda sad...probably a little painful too, huh?

z: very

Repose - Gaylord Ho

The Vegas purchase...his work is amazing.

Blue and Gold Macaw - Chuck Quinlan

The bird.
The adventure of oversized carry on parcels.
Rainforest to suburbia.
Flying “home”?

Double x-rays.
Unpacking and repacking.
Again in Miami, unpacking and repacking
and nods of disapproval.

Arriving home
…last unpacking.
The colors as vibrant
Staring.

The way home

5:00am, On the way to airport, Jorge says, "...differente pantaloons" (you look different in pants). I laughed. I know few words but have learnt some. "Chico?" (look like a boy). Jorge laughs. "Si." He says the word for cold, sounds like "frio San Francisco?" I say hugging my shoulders, "Si."

And back to reality.

~~~~Later~~~~

child on the plane

bilingual. fluent.

loud, questioning, observant

living out loud.

untamed

and of course, for us adults, he was

tiring
annoying
self-centered
unaware
smart
creative

and he left us

angry
smiling
conscious of what it is to have that air of freedom
conscious of how much we wanted to sleep

and his bouncing in his seat
causing ours to rattle

his energy level so high
and us winding down for the six hour flight

i thought, but when do we become tamed?
when we still exude and exert all the exploratory energy on learning
but somehow repress it so deep

i thought, why is the taming so full and complete
why do we not tame to become attuned to others
to be aware that we share a space
to be aware that the love of life can be shown
but quietly, softly, tenderly, intensely, passionately

why is the taming so complete
why do we tame our children to oblivion

Last Morning

It's been incredible, wonderful, a very dreamy reality.

Jorge, Doris and Aferni came last evening late. Very tired, needing rest. This morning I woke around 4:45...the rooster were early...and watched as the sky grew brighter. The mountains in the distance, the ocean at Quepos visible, the low clouds thin almost transparent.

Aferni who is just two is wandering--calling--reaching--words not yet formed totally. I watch as Jorge feeds him...Jorge's enthusiasm life giving and Aferni smiling. It's a fitting end to have a child run about the house and give it that sort of life force that is so rich in the rainforest, in the motion of all sorts of things outside the windows and doors of this house.

We will go and pick-up the picture and head toward a National Park on the way to San Jose. Like Steve's first day...sitting back...letting the world pass or rather letting soak in to the core.

Wonderful holiday!

Morning

One wakes with the sun and the local roosters in Costa Rica. Sunrise is generally cloud soaked with a band of orange and grows lighter. Morning here is filled with animals...this morning a family of monkeys. Seven of them. In the tree, then to the fence and back into the trees. They are attuned to their environment--all watching me watching them from the terrace. Two smaller ones flying at one another superman style...chasing, playing...took a different route through the trees. Their backs and flight available only for a few seconds now and again.

The birds in the morning are bright chested reds and yellows. Sitting outside while sippling coffee, one flew to a spot a few feet away. Looked at me with one eye--then the other--then off he went.

It's a pensive morning...my mother would have loved it here--surrounded by sounds of nature, the rainforest, animals passing by on their route to where ever, the ocean in the distance. She would have picked up painting again...she would have embraced the experience--and it might have given her the fuel she so needed--the wonder, the ability to see and soak it up--a sense of being "at home with oneself".

Grey and raining but it will clear eventually...the color outside appropriate--the brightness of intermittent moments (when the birds touchdown nearby) amplifying the sense that there is a certain peace in being able to sit and do nothing, of letting one's mind wander.

Time - One year later

Time - Alan Parsons Project

Time, flowing like a river
Time, beckoning me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river
To the sea

Goodbye my love, Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love, The tide waits for me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it's gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Goodbye my friends, Maybe forever
Goodbye my friends, The stars wait for me
Who knows where we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea

Till it's gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

The real deal

Amazing, wonderful, incredible!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA

Thank you Steve

Watching the rain

as simple as that.

Yesterday we went rafting and it was a blast. A lot of laughing, all smiles, very enjoyable. It brought back a rush of happy memories from way back when which just made it that much more enjoyable.



Not sure what the next few days will bring...maybe repelling down waterfalls--theme keeps coming around or heading back to the galleries in Quepos.

Just the beach

We did nothing but sit on the beach...chill, chill, chill. Riva loves it here too.

My little sister Kirsten is in Germany with her boyfriend and some other school friends. First pic to be posted...she doesn't look too happy but evidently is having a great time per the blogs.

A3's family

Marcella & Allison



Daneth & A3

No where in particular

I have finished four books this past week and have enjoyed them all. But still…how lucky to have been born and brought up in the States…how fortunate not to have a sense of “duty” that binds one’s life--that holds oneself hostage against one's will.

“interpreter of maladies” by Jhumpa Lahiri
“The Space Between Us” Thrity Umrigar
“Arranged Marriage” by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
“Malgudi Days” by R.K. Narayan

Vid tells me I am missing (at least) half the story if my thoughts are constantly along the lines of one betraying their core being, of a life given to misery by outward compliance and internal chaos, of…. I try to put it out of mind but it is always there in the forefront. I have never known a life where things are to be different from what you choose to make them.

Both of my parents very much believed and stated repeatedly, “The only one you can embarrass is yourself.” In their actions they supported our varied interests, weird friends and my crazy notions of how the world really worked (I think my brother gets the free pass on this one as he identified the “system” at a very young age). They were right and in them I think we had learnt that this life is what you make it. Perhaps their own doubts, fears, failures are the things that drove them to this type of guidance. Maybe it was their errors in knowledge that they did not wish us to repeat. Or maybe, just maybe, it is better to learn from a distance what it is you can become (a sort of false deserted island of oneself) than to embrace and reproduce what has always been.

In reading the above books, although some of the content is universal…even if one has to abstract a bit, other things are concrete and do not translate. And this is what Vid tells me I should focus on, recognize and embrace. “As an American you culturally skim over that as if it doesn’t matter—but it’s all that matters.” We disagree. But her point is wander the details instead of label them. Imagine a world where it is the reality—(because it is)—and then maybe you will see it. We disagree. “You have no idea how to balance two worlds. Zane it doesn’t even occur to you that there are two worlds to balance.” She’s right--it doesn’t (balance two worlds is akin to a split personality--no?), and so we disagree.

I have enjoyed all of the books and looking forward to the discussions, the coffee, the walks along the water. It is not the content of the books themselves but what someone’s eyes say and the emotions they display while trying to find the correct words for the ideas. The intensity, the depth, the need to explain in the most simplistic way the essence of a difference and communicate it in a way that both speaker and listener find themselves staring not at the distance while processing but at each other. That moment—that look, that understanding makes it all worth it.

When I return there is another stack of books on the “list” awaiting me. I look forward to the conversations--the many ups and downs in the dialogue and the moment of resonance that often leaves us silent and walking to no where in particular.

Later...the facts

Jefferson is fine. Sleepy 15 year olds fill in the gaps. The car did not flip--some damage but nothing like the images going through my head.

As we will always say...we can replace things--we can't replace people.

Reality slapping us in the face

6 calls rom Jefferson at 5:30am. We spoke to Frederick...it appears Jefferson flipped his new car in San Diego sometime early this morning. No confirmation of facts other than it seems he is okay. Although we don't actually know--but he called leaving no messages but spoke with a very sleep-dazed Frederick.

We have emailed his myspace friends. We have spoken with some other friends.

As a parent you just want to know your child is safe. You want to rush home, you want to see that they are in tact. Nothing else matters.

We're edgy, anxious, worried.

Waiting for a phone call. Waiting for an email.

Waiting.

For all it's splendor, grace and beauty I would rather see my son and know he is okay than to have ever experienced any of this wonder in Costa Rica.

Lazy without guilt

Add to the definition of paradise:
the ability to be lazy and have no guilt.
We have done absolutely nothing today that is worth telling.
And maybe this is the point.

Staring out to space.
Not a thought worth remembering.
Clothing unecessary.
The sun hot, penetrating, embracing.

Swim forth and back.
One decisive conscious moment--
I'd rather be stretched out under the sun.
Lounging...on fire...burning.

Long nap indoors.
Hours pass.
Steve makes iced coffee--it's incredible, the taste, the texture.
It's just coffee but it brings us out of the haze.

We play online Family Feud laughing at ourselves.
It grows dark outside.
We should eat...the words echo.
We should eat.

Cabbage, lentils, rice, onion, garlic and miscellaneous spices.
Simple. Easy. Thrown together. Delicious.
Wine...always too much.
The haze wandering back.

We'll watch the lightning from our bed.
Feel the thunder move through us.
Dream perfect dreams.
Wake to another day in paradise.

Dripping

Steve returned from his run around 7:00am...huge grin on his face and dripping wet. It's not raining--just the humidity. He stripped off his shirt and rung it out...the perspiration splashing to the ground.

All proud he marched to the outdoor shower rinsed off then jumped in the pool.

The smile never disappearing from his face.

The definition of paradise broadens--or maybe these are just the concrete examples.

Life in the tropics

You know life is good when a little lizard scurries across the wall and lives behind the clock.

And your only thought is, "But don't his little ears hurt from the tick-tock?"

defintely "pura vida"

Costa Rica - San Jose

In San Jose now just chilling at my brother's house. I spent about an hour in front of the computer with a woman who works in the house using the translator. She speaks only Spanish and I only English...thus the translator. It worked pretty well and it allowed us to laugh a lot. Also, lunch is now possible beyond potatoes and rice.

The vacation rental for Manuel Antonio:
http://www.manuelantoniotravel.com/

I just looked at it again.... Steve arrives tomorrow morning. We are going to head straight there from the airport and I hope the drive will allow us to see some of the country. Steve has no plans other than to decompress as well, and maybe, "Take a surfing lesson and run the trails in the park." He also is going to snorkel...bringing his gear to leisurely flutter about. I look forward to waking in the morning, finding him fully rested after a long run and serving him coffee...the smile on his face in receiving his first cup of coffee for the day is priceless and makes me totally cheese.

I was tempted to buy a travel scrabble set in Dallas...I think I ought to have, but as we're so freakin competitive this might not be good unless we change the rules and add in slang. If slang is allowed he will probably win as he has his running lingo and I...just the corporate lingo which he is fluent in.

Steve leaves on the fourth and Riva arrives on the fifth. We know we want to go to the volcano and maybe some other destinations. She is looking to just relax as well for the most part. Riva is staying for a week...and then heads back. Some other friends are still debating and trying to coordinate...and though it would be good to see them...the quietude will be amazing just the same.

The only thing I want to achieve on this trip is the ability to stare out into space and be in the moment. How long will it take to do that?

Stories

Sometime between 3:00-4:00am in transit from SFO to Dallas I read a story by Jhumpa Lahiri from her first book, "interpreter of maladies". It's about the breaking point...where there is no longer a "try", where opting out is the answer although with exiting with the most direct honesty possible--with the symbolism fluid in darkness to light.

What does it convey when one finds death in light? I can't help to think this is a cultural difference...retain the full context and the entire meaning changes. Focus on only that which is common and the undertone--the relevancy--the words hold something entirely different.

3 days

Passport received yesterday. The rest is still to be done. Already in a different mode. What will be will be.

So much to do. Not sure why one has to do it. Security? Somehow sure knowledge to make the next three weeks perfect? Or is the lesson in just throwing some basics together and going. Just go. Stop thinking. And let go.

Haven't a clue.

But I'll try.

7 years shredded

I have just breezed through the last 7 years of work notebooks...daily notes...projects...deliverables...open items...observations of people, the environment, doodles and a few quotes now and again.

The final act--all of those concrete references now being shredded.

Strange feeling...but welcome.

Costa Rica in less than week...hoping the stars are brilliant at night.

Costa Rica

Three weeks of . . . reading, writing, observing.

No expectations.

No plans other than a place to stay.

No mayhem.

No chaos.

Just sun or rain and peace.

Music

Tyron Carter, "Ne Me Dis Pas"
M. Pokora, "Pas Sans Toi"
Amel Bent, "Ma Philosophie", "Ne Retiens Pas Tes Larmes", ... numerous
Shy'm, ""Victoire", "Femme De Couleur", ... numerous
Gregory Lemarchal, ... numerous
Faf Larage, "Pas Le Temps"
Diam
Lemar, "Time to Grou (J'ai Plus De Mots)"
Vitaa, "A Fleur De Toi"
Leslie, "Accord-moi Featuring Bobby Valentino"
MC Solar, "Cinquieme As: Fifth Ace"
Nadiya, "16/9, Tous Ces Mots"
Kyo, "Kyo"
Rohff, "La Puissance"
La Fouine, "Unite"
Natasha St Pier, "Un Ange Frappe A Ma Porte", "Alors On Se Raccroche"

To know--

"She smiled, grasping the answer: it was the security of being first, with full sight and full knowledge of one's course--not the blind sense of being pulled into the unknown by some unknown power ahead. It was the greatest sensation of existence: not to trust, but to know."

Shoulders up then down....

Doesn't feel like a grand adventure...
Nor does it feel like winning.
More like catching your breath or hearing the sound as you exhale.

Shrugging.
Quitting.

And I am not certain I have ever quit anything that has meant the world to me.

But I can't help to think I am gaining myself back.

Enduring silence

"Will you be alright?"

"Yes."

"Time."

"One never stops mourning."

"Of course you do."

"Then one has failed to learn the lesson."

Gatherings

"The heart sees, the heart hears, the heart speaks,

the heart walks, the heart falls, the heart rejoices,

the heart cries out, the heart comforts, the heart suffers,

the heart surrenders, the heart errs, the heart trembles,

the heart awakens..."

--The Midrash

Never underestimate the influence of an authentic soul.

A week later

"We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, our ravages. Our task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to transform them in ourselves and others."

...wondrous and absurd...

"There is something both wondrous and absurd about exalted religious edifices that commemorate humble, profound insights: vast cathedrals to remind us the kingdom of heaven is within us; soaring monuments to the truth that's right under our noses; ornate memorials to those who reminded us the present alone is life transforming."

Birthdays

A birthday a year later. A birthday not to be experienced...alone. A birthday that was never wanted. A birthday which passes silently.

From memory...from reading:
"...I don't want to be 40..."
"...I don't want to be 50..."
And then on the verge of 59,
"...will you come to NY..."

And my turning to you after that last phone call, "This is it."

And it was.

A world like Tiffany's

"My life is drawing to a close. Why do I say this? I say this because it means that I ponder matters in the light of death in a way that most of you do not. And I feel like a traveler descended from Mars, astounded by what I see.

We hate one another. We are the victims of irrational fear. You might think that this is a small trial in a small place. Well, it isn't. Every once in a while, somewhere in the world, humanity goes on trial."

"It takes a rare thing, a turning point, to free oneself from any obsession. Be it prejudice or hate, or, even love."

"For someone who was never meant for this world, I must confess I'm suddenly having a hard time leaving it. Of course, they say every atom in our bodies was once part of a star. Maybe I'm not leaving... maybe I'm going home. "

"I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free. "

"I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice."

"...the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name! "

Depth & Height

"I have always been a seeker of depth, not height."

Roxy the dog

I'm in love!

But having four cats makes it impossible.

17 years

17 years later...10 times around the block. Giggle.

The only thing I remember from our first meeting...seriously...is the J. Crew rugby and no smile.

Lexington...uhg...hehe....

The thing that stays...the nights out dancing.

Reverberate

Dinner conversation.

Translation, “I don’t think about my life being finite.”

Learn to say nothing.

Is this the common denominator?

The battlefield

"The battlefield is a perfect backdrop, but the subject is the war within, the struggle for self-mastery that every human being must wage if he or she is to emerge from life victorious."

"emerge from" . . . phrasing is odd . . . and perhaps implies something, given the full context, I would very much disagree with. . . but perhaps not . . . on the surface I am there.

Pondering

"Were the fire a fire
Only when it burns
How could you light this fire?"

"If your mind is not clouded with unnecessary things,
No season is too much for you."

"Chance is a word void of sense
Nothing can exist without a cause"

"I know well enough
Cherry blossoms will
Return to dust, but I
Find it hard to leave
The trees in full bloom."

"Walk with me . . . "

And I did.

Through a cold rain.

A long silent walk,

that said more than any words could.

"Walk with me . . . ."

Freddie's reminder

Freddie reminded me...or actually he began to recite:

"Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it.

Impossible is not a fact, it’s an opinion.

Impossible is not a declaration.

It’s a dare.

Impossible is potential.

Impossible is temporary.

IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING."

תשובה

I was supposed to say, "You don't have to be strong with me."

Why didn't I own that?

I continue to walk her writing. The returning to the same place each new day. As if every morning someone said, "Return to the beginning. Live all the horrors again." It's not the idea of teshuva (תשובה, returning), but something far different.

In our conversations she would say, "I need to learn to forgive and I just can't."

What does it mean to hold as a primary, "I just can't"?

I was supposed to know better, do better, be better . . . "I expect you to know better..." And when it counted most, that "I expect you to know better..." was a lesson I had not learnt. To know the unstated need and to do.

I told myself, "I can't."

...stubborn rationalizations. so absolutely right...and so so ridiculously stupid.

I was supposed to say, "I'm strong enough for both of us. Me, you and your favorite kitty are taking a one way road trip to California."

That's all she wanted.

. . . I am left with the concept of teshuva. And it's the mirror that I am seeking forgiveness from.

"Why are you this way?"

It's a strange question.

Even if you could explain who and what you are, would it answer the question?

Each experience building, forming, shaping...making us who we are.

My response is simple and a let down for most.

"I am this way because of the choices I have made."

For 99% there is the immediate rebuttal, "Yeah, but what exactly. And what about your childhood...and what about...and what about...."

Silence.

Merging

I remember visiting her a couple of years ago.

A knock on the door. A pounding eventually. A calling out. Calling out for 20 minutes. Leaving a note.

I returned the next day. Two notes on the door. Again the calling out. Again the pounding on the door. And then the fear. A sense of ... something is not right.

I broke into the house. Through a window. And the small trickles of blood as I entered.

No one downstairs. The house the same. No change. No progress.

Upstairs.

And as I approached, the voice, "Suzy?".

And my heart sank. The anger. The questions. Wondering to myself, "Will I always have to find a way in?"

I remember the position. How she was lying there. Pale, lifeless and the thought, "She is waiting to die."

And this memory merged with the summer events.

The same position. Different location. But the same. Only this time lifeless.

Boys

Vegas

Who comes back from Vegas with no stories?

This scenario either makes you suspect or boring.

And 'boring' just isn't interesting.

ESPN

Freddy found himself on ESPN in the 2010 rankings. Seeing his name there was a little different from seeing his name on Hoop Scoop or various other write-ups...in a sense a wake-up call that this is very real for a lot of people so make it real for yourself. "...projected to go D1." My hope is that he will remind himself everyday that his responsibility is look in the mirror and be real with that image before him...am I working towards my dream that everyone is telling me is a very probably reality if I work for it.

Steve is in Vegas...returns today...gadget-speak on the way. But he has this wonderful way about him after the conferences. The food, the women, the gadgets...adult Disneyland. Looking forward to hearing all the stories.

Jefferson made it back to school. Said San Diego to Tuscon was avery long drive...longer still because his few hours spent in SD turned into many hours (and based on the background noise it was probably a bar of somekind), but it sounded like it was well worth it. I'm glad he made it safely there.

Had dinner with an old friend last evening in from NY. Everyone is turning that corner; the "I am ok as I am." It's good to see the peace.

$1.00

BK value meal
McDonald's value meal
Taco Bell value meal

Cost of a call from Seattle to San Francisco.

Payphones like a great number of other things that have been deferred due to their taxing nature offer a great deal of value...Sustenance for the mind. The conversation four phones down, "...yeah, I went to the jail and they told me he had a no visitors list. I don't know. I came all the way from Alaska...guess we'll sleep here and try again tomorrow....probation officer doesn't understand either--he called me. We're gonna talk tomorrow."

Dinner conversation in San Fran, "...after NYU...summer house in Puget Sound...7 poisonous spiders--never going there, and the snakes...the plane was so nice, he didn't want to get off...amazing, you can now walk around the cabin and it's ok...5 million in that portfolio...yes the Caymans...." And the waiter..."opulence"...his word on the wine, very tall and uhm, trying to be mellow but just not his way. A while back I visited friends in Cinci...John had a caniption because the waiter was far too casual--wanting to be a part of the conversation, "waiters should just take your order, fill your glass, intuit your needs and be invisible"...reeks of...my father always instructed, "Genuinely ask about their life and family and you will absolutely get the best service you have ever had." And he was right, and we had extraordinary service multiple times a week.

Simple, easy, drop the pretensions. Whether a buck or $100 appreciate the value...just be...and engage in conversation that lends laughter and peace.

Provocation

"First of all you have to say there is provocation, and the guilty one is the one who does the provoking. The response is to always punish the reaction, but if I react, something has happened... There is provocation, demanding a crushing response."

"humanitas: not humanitarianism, but rather the higher, uniquely "human" faculties of the mind and character..."

"Neurons that fire together wire together." (and some times cause mass explosions?)

"...'Disciple Generation'...There is a tyranny over the hearts and minds of this generation...It is time for our own secular Great Awakening...."

"Pride and self-regard colored judgment, and no one truly saw what he was looking at, because no one dared look closely. . . . But what of the foxes that desired blindly and wildly, and so were folled? Should not they too learn a moral from such a story?"

Smiling

I woke up to the alarm light flashing...about an hour beyond what I originally planned.

My first thought was of you dancing--I can't remember to what song, but that you and denise looked wonderful out there.

Mr. Squiggily Wiggily -- it was wonderful to watch you so light, so in the moment -- a celebration of one's own.

xo,
z

SeaTac

Last trip...ice on the wings...delayed two hours.

This trip..two hour delay in Oakland...an additional 1.5hrs waiting for my bag. Unbelievable site...hundreds of people waiting for their bags...bags lined up the walls, between the carousels...bags everywhere. It's a fallacy that the black bags look alike...they don't, it's subtle but I think we know the scars our bags have.

"Seattle is the worst around this time of year."
"Fly United."
"Alaska...I can't even go there."

hehe...it's life in all it's pleasantries...the lesson...as always...is...patience.

"Howard Roark laughed..."

My son Jefferson is downstairs reading...he rarely reads.

Yet, one of my best memories of Jefferson before we became a family was his sitting on the stairs outside reading a book on Babe Ruth when he was 9. Steve and I looked at Jefferson reading and smiled. Jefferson looked up, his hand holding his chin and smiled back. {Side note about the Babe Ruth book: he would write a book report a year and up through his freshman year of high school, the book report was always on the same Babe Ruth book. As parents this flustered us...now it's a 'classic' Jefferson story.}

"Howard Roark laughed...."

Steve came running through the door, "Jefferson is downstairs reading. Guess what he is reading?" Huge grin on his face.

My first guess was the first published work by Barak Obama. Amin was asking to borrow it during xmas dinner while we sort of roamed through the book shelves...mostly in front the book case with African American related books of which he pulled one volume after another off the shelf settling on a Shelby Steele as Barak was elsewhere...it turned up a number of days later only to be lingering from the commons to the kitchen to the stairs back to the kitchen.

Barak seemed a logical and good choice for Jefferson...another person who has learnt to balance two worlds--where is home--who am I--I am neither this nor that...but both. Jefferson would enjoy Barak's voice. Agree with some of it, perhaps all of it or maybe just a sentence here or there that speaks to his own experience of growing up in white America but still seen with all of the sterotypes associated with African Americans. Maybe Jefferson will read this as well...but not tonight.

Steve said, "No, go wilder than Barak" (Barak is not a wild but logical choice--'wild' is applicable to Jefferson in the act of reading.) And I said, "A Rand book." Steve bright eyed--so much hope, "The Fountainhead."

We just sort of stared at one another. I said, "Someone at school has gotten to him." Steve said, "I don't know." And we both smiled because it doesn't matter.

We have a lot of Ayn Rand...a lot. Numerous copies of the same book to hand to those who seem as if the words would sink in or want a different perspective or just enjoy a good read. Jefferson and Freddie have made fun of us for years, "Who has a library in their house? And why does our library have like enough copies of books where our entire neighborhood could check out the book and we'd still have a copy?" Atlas Shrugged is in this class and a number of other Rand books.

Whatever the reason he chose The Fountainhead, this particular book--there are few coincidences with Jefferson, we're glad he has reached out his arm to remove it from the shelf. Hopefully he finds his way to the end of it and takes up Atlas Shrugged next. If not...in time it will come.

"Howard Roark laughed...."