Liberty and justice for all

This story is a few weeks old but I only just encountered it this morning. Kids like Will and my nephews and no doubt others you know who are such incredibly smart, perceptive and compassionate people give me hope for the future of our country and the world. Hopefully the conditions causing Will's objection to the wording of the Pledge will be remedied. Hopefully we won't have to wait for him to be appointed to the United States Supreme Court first.

At seventeen, you learn the truth

This video makes me cry. Sometimes people are so terribly dear, hobbling valiantly along, while other people cheer and ring cowbells, for no logical reason, they're all just compelled to do it. Though I did just get back from a 17-mile training run, and a client recently told me that running makes your brain release its own personal stash of cannabinoids. Or something like that, he didn't really go into the neurochemistry of it. No wonder I have so many brilliant ideas while I'm running and can't remember them later. So it's possible that I'm high. But you still just have to love people to bits sometimes. My favorite is the older gent with the dark green shirt and light green shorts (or was it the other way around?) He's really booking along. At some point the person shooting the video says the runners going by are looking to finish in 4 hours. That made me cry too. That'll be me in LESS THAN FOUR WEEKS. Dude. What? I'm hungry.

A truth universally acknowledged

No better prequel to a month of novel writing than to be a great Character for Halloween. Thanks to "Time Traveler Costumes" here in town I was able to hire most of the key articles, but some were already in my possession. In the course of the Holiday weekend, I:

• gave flowers to an elegant Lady
• was delivered from peril by a young Scholar
• attended a Country Ball
• was asked if the Sideburns were "real or fake"
• became Famous somewhere in China
• wrote about 1300 Words
• ran 18 Miles (in two days)
  
• ate no small Quantity of Candy

In all, an excellent weekend.

eat and / or be eaten

This is a wonderful concept of broad application - nature and the food chain; a zombie attack; and if, say, Jonah of Biblical fame had enjoyed sushi. Unfortunately for the 'big fish' [NOT a whale, they always insisted in Sunday School, because as we all know, whales have TEENY TINY throat openings by which they filter their krill, so a whale could not have possibly swallowed Jonah, and it's very important to apply Occam's Razor-sharp rational thought processes to Bible stories because so many readers of the Bible have a seriously impaired grasp of metaphor. In fact, Jonah made his home in the abdomen of an Ichthyosaur like the 40-foot long fossil in Nevada, off I-50 - the "Loneliest Road in America." I've been wanting to go see for a long time. Oh - but that can't be, I just read on Wikipedia that the Ichthyosaurus was not actually a fish. If God had wanted the story to say that Jonah was gulped down whole by a giant marine reptile, that's what it would have said. Never mind.]

As I was saying, unfortunately for the big fish Jonah was indigestible and caused it acute gastric distress.

I still love this fish story though. I've acted it out now and again...the longer you avoid things you really have to do, the more your life conspires to make you do them, to a degree that can feel a little dark and cramped. I've evaded / avoided / excused myself from some work it seems I really need to do, for whatever reason. So now I find myself single with a social life consisting primarily of a dog, a cat, Facebook, some emails, and a phone call now and then, and I'm totally frigging broke, and the market for jobs that might help that problem is a bit...tight, let's say.

National Novel Writing Month begins in one week. I've never wanted so much to avoid doing something I so much want to do. Because because because because because. I have no narrative! I have no outline! I don't know who the people are! Don't you have to know these things? What if I manage to write every day for 30 days, and end up with random pieces of 30 different stories? What if I lose all control over the process and become really deranged, like Colonel Kurtz in "Apocalypse Now?" Or the guy from "The Wall" who smashes everything in the hotel room and spells words on the carpet with the fragments?

Okay, it probably won't be quite that bad. The worst I can imagine is that I might be driven to holler and cuss. This is the girl who, in high school, was too self-conscious even to yell during football games. I've come a long way. Trust me on that one.

"NaNoWriMo," if I manage to participate, will not fix anything, but it would be a reasonable use of the opportunities currently presented. I don't know about Jonah but I do love sushi. How do you eat a very big fish? One slice at a time, with wasabi. Doesn't get any fresher than this.

Greased Lightnin'

I decided to take Ripley on the 3-mile jogging loop this morning, so we could both get our exercise in. When Rip decides she wants to go in a particular direction, she can go very fast, but we don't always agree about the direction. When this happens it gives the appearance that I'm strangling my poor little dog by selfishly trying to run with her dragging behind when her stubby legs can't keep up with me. Ha. So with that in mind I don't generally expect our runs together to break any speed records. When I'm on the path in the park I tend to keep her on a leash because she hasn't quite learned to move aside for bicycles - actually she seems inclined to deliberately obstruct them, if it's up to her. For running I use a leash that clips to my waist, for better balance. And sometimes a pull into town.

This morning there was a little bit of disagreement, early in the run, due to some interesting activity happening on the path behind us. Ripley doesn't like having other dogs behind her, must be a herding thing. But then she decided that her interests lay ahead and took off. She was pulling me along at probably at least a 7:30 / mile clip for a good hundred yards or so, then we finally slowed down a little. Finished 3 miles in 26:53, averaging an 8:52 / mile pace. Not bad for a short dog!

That's right.

So many books, so much time

My Zen teacher / friend Lin Jensen is giving a talk and reading from his books next Saturday. It just occurred to me that although I'm familiar with selections from his books, because he shares from them occasionally in his weekly talks at the Chico Zen Sangha (which meets upstairs at Trinity United Methodist Church every Wednesday night, a true interfaith experience), I've not yet read any of them all the way through. I'm such a fan of Lin and his writing, and the Sangha has been so helpful for me, that this seems a rather glaring omission. I guess it's time to go pay my fines at the library and work on remedying this lapse. I have an old pattern of going to the library, getting very excited about several books that I'm sure will be utterly life-changing or will prop up my literary ego in some way, bringing them home, reading parts of some of them (maybe) and keeping them until they're all overdue. Still, it's much cheaper to do this at a library than at a bookstore. I think I owe the Butte County Library about $5.00 right now.

Audio books have helped a lot. I churn through those pretty fast. Our local library has a limited selection of books on CD, but when I discovered Audible.com it broadened the horizons enormously. Unfortunately Lin's books haven't made it to Audible yet.  I'll have to sit down and read, and not try to do two or three things at once. Psh. It's a buddhist conspiracy.

Payin' the cost to be the boss

I'm sitting on the couch at my friend Lisa's house with an ice pack on my knee(s) (sounds like a song, doesn't it?) but I just looked up the results from the "H.O.T. Half," (Hooker Oak Trail Half Marathon) that I ran this morning in Upper Bidwell Park - a gorgeous day, cool enough that I never got too uncomfortable in my long sleeve shirt. I say "ran," but that included some brisk hiking up steep parts of the trail, mincing down steep parts of the trail, and a lot of hopping around between rocks. There was also one point in the middle when I stopped for a few seconds because I felt like I was going to barf. I didn't. Just needed to stop for a second, apparently.

Anyway, I looked up the race results a little while ago only to discover that I took 1st in my division! I guess I should have stuck around for the awards ceremony. Good thing I'm still in my 30's, the competition among 40 - 49-year-olds was a little stiffer. Something to look forward to. I think somebody was taking official race photos so I hope there might be something to post later...it was so beautiful in the park, but it was no barefoot stroll. Knowing I'd be spending a few hours driving later in the day I took advantage of the free sports chiropractic / massage they offered after the race. I see that this (professional help) is something that needs to be a regular component of my training program. He fixed my sore lower back right up and showed me how to work on my very tight iliotibial (I.T.) bands with a foam roller. "Foam" implies something much softer than this felt. I did this for awhile, determined not to give up any more information than my name, rank and serial number.

The little Nike cartoon in the sidebar is reporting that my run was 14.6 miles, not 13.1. Maybe that's due to all the rock hopping and weaving around, and the hiking up and the tiny steps down. Or maybe it just gives me bonus points for trail running. So much more fun than the boring old road, so much more demanding of focus. I still had a soundtrack in my head though. Early in the run when I was feeling quite energized and hot to attack it was Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries...later it was the climactic passages of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, though I couldn't tell if I was feeling Russian or French. Later still it was Pink Floyd's "Run Like Hell." Maybe my brain thought singing songs from "The Wall" would help me avoid hitting it.

"She was the single artificer of the world in which she sang"

Yesterday was the birthday of Wallace Stevens, one of my all-time favorite poets, who happened to have been a lawyer, and subsequently vice-president of an insurance company, and whose life was "quiet and uneventful" according to poets.org. And to be fair, he does sound a bit like you'd expect an insurance lawyer to sound when he reads, but The Idea of Order at Key West is not something you can skim quickly and hope to get, so the pace is probably helpful. It has unfolded for me over a period of almost 20 years. There are still things in it that I can't quite get my head around - they make sense on a level that I don't know how to explain, and the language is stunning, as if events are happening in a world that resembles ours but isn't, quite. Maybe getting ones head around it is not so important.

I can't think of Wallace Stevens without feeling gratitude for the person who really introduced me to him and who gave me the volume I have of his collected works, probably circa 1991 or thereabouts...can't remember for sure. Thanks, Laurie.

Stream of consciousness be dammed

I was going to call it 'train of thought derailed' but it wasn't really a train, just a series of things going through my head as I walked Ripley this morning, which came to a screeching halt when I got stuck on not being able to remember the name "Elizabeth Taylor." The process of getting there was so odd, though, that I am compelled to write it down.

It began when I saw someone walking one of those Portuguese water dogs, or a dog that looked a lot like one of those dogs. That made me think of Bo, the Presidential dog. Bo Obama. That naturally led me to start singing "The Name Game" in my head, because obviously it's easier to say "Bobama" than Bo Obama. The Name Game lasted for quite awhile as I ran through everybody's name I could think of, including a few repeat rounds of Ripley Ripley Bo Bipley, Banana Fana Fo Fipley, Me My Mo Mipley, Ripley! Then I began speculating about whether my littler nephews (or even the not-so-little nephews) would find the name game quite entertaining and I imagined demonstrating it for them next time I see them. Then I imagined, for heightened nephew (and self) entertainment value, that it would be good to add a special dance that is danced for any particular person's name. I thought about some potentially very silly dances. Then I imagined telling them it would be "their own interpretive dance."

Then, naturally, the line "If I can't dance my own interpretive dance, I won't dance at all" came to mind, from the film "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" I thought about what a depressing movie that was, with the couple going down into the depths of mental cruelty to each other, and how I probably wouldn't want to ever watch it again. Then it happened: I couldn't remember the name of the lead actress. Despite running through several of her best known films, i.e. International Velvet, Cleopatra, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and so on. The name 'Elizabeth' was coming but the only last name that came up with it was Montgomery, and of course I knew that was definitely wrong -- "Bewitched" was my favorite of all the syndicated re-run shows though I was never able to grasp what Samantha saw in Darren - either of the Darrens. Anyway.

The other name that kept coming up was Joan Collins and I knew that was wrong too. Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Overdressed lady in a wheelchair, friend of Michael Jackson...a thing like this can drive you insane. It went on for at least five minutes. Then, suddenly, I got it. Taylor! HUGE sigh of relief. Stream free to flow again.

I'd better start doing more crossword puzzles, or something. It could be a long next 50 years. I can see myself parked in a hallway, singing the theme song to "Bewitched." Or perhaps playing the name game with everybody who walks by and dancing my own interpretive dance. Worse things could happen.

One more song...

loathsome earworms, karma, etc.

Who knows how or when these things get into our heads, but heading out for a run this morning my internal stereo was plagued by a certain perennial patriotic country/pop song I dare not name, for fear of infecting my readers' heads with it as well. I am happy to report that I was able to get rid of it by substitution with the classic, stirring, patriotic "Wasn't That a Time" - originally by the Weavers but I'm very fond of the PP&M version. No video but you can listen to it here. So - if you ever are suffering from the earworm to which I'm trying not to refer, know that there is a cure.

So I watched the BYU - Florida State game yesterday. It was on the Versus channel, my favorite cable channel EVER (and one of the few I get with basic cable). I have a little bit of ambivalence toward BYU but I really wanted them to win one for the Mountain West. Or at least not be smeared all over the field. Which they were, pretty much. Things might have gone better if they hadn't had such a spirit of generosity with the football. Reflecting on the game while running this morning, though, it occurred to me that the 'Noles are sort of like the Utes of Florida. That makes the crushing loss not seem so bad.

But oh, the glum faces in the stadium. Why did BYU lose so badly?

They were completely outplayed. But apart from that, the question raises a serious and pervasive spiritual fallacy. That suffering or loss is ever something inflicted by God as a punishment for sin (at worst), or as some kind of deliberate 'teaching moment' if you can't see why you / someone else would 'deserve' what happened. Conversely, that everything good and desirable that a person might want or enjoy is assigned as a reward for personal righteousness. Gain or loss is neither a blessing nor a curse, it is a situation arising from the continuous playing out of cause and effect. I'm a heretic (if you hadn't already noticed) but I just don't believe that God is the great Skinner Box operator in the sky, or a micromanager of the universe so as to interfere with the system of cause and effect, as much as we might sometimes wish for interference. But I do believe in the blessing of gratitude and acceptance. That is probably the only thing we ever really need and lack, and it's the only blessing I can think of that isn't a little bit mixed.

Mary Travers 1936 - 2009

"'It's not your duty to finish the task, it is your duty not to neglect it.' If war and hunger and racism were easy things to get rid of, I would assume we would have gotten rid of them already." - Mary Travers, 1993

Thanks

Having just a little trouble coming back mentally from happy-birthday-holiday-weekend-land so it's a good time to express gratefulness to my parents for providing me with 1) a birthday, 2) a world-class location in which to have celebrated it sharing the weekend with good friends, and 3) a brand new car!

Just kidding about #3. Ha ha.

I did get a parent-sponsored new fridge for my birthday though, which I very greatly appreciate, as I learned awhile back that fridges are more essential than cars. I already have a vehicle that runs perfectly well but my old fridge was circa 1990--doesn't seem like it should be that long ago, but it is, considering other events that took place that year. The gentlemen that came to pry it out and haul it down the stairs commented that it seemed the kitchen, and perhaps the entire building, had been constructed around it.

You can always decide to bike, walk, bus, or stay home, but there is really no alternative means of keeping ice cream frozen.

Speaking of my truck, my friends washed it for me as a surprise birthday treat (I'm going with that over the 'in pity and disgust' option). Thanks!

Also, Heather cooked the best veggie enchiladas ever and made sure there was cake and reminders every quarter hour on Sunday that it was my birthday. At my age one begins to need prompts, or so she said. Thanks!

Juniper Lake 2009

Arrived Wednesday afternoon and we got comfortable. Note that Ripley's whites are mostly still white.










Checking the park's website before this trip I learned that the trail to Lassen Peak was closed due to a terrible accident on July 30. A 9-year-old boy hiking with his family was sitting on a rock wall along upper part of the trail when it collapsed, and he was killed in the rock fall. I have thought a lot about that over the last few days, watching the sunset behind Lassen Peak.



Ripley voted on which bed she thought looked more comfortable. As the calm assertive pack leader, however, I have veto power. Sort of.




I borrowed a kayak from one of my coworkers and launched it onto the lake Thursday morning. The wind had already come up a little bit. First thing in the morning, Juniper is glassy-smooth.







I reminded myself that kayaking on a lake is supposed to be a relaxing, meditative activity while I was paddling for the opposite shore of the lake as fast as I could. Because it's easier to relax and meditate after you've worn yourself out in a frenzy of purposeless activity.



There is a lot of dust and dirt in the Juniper Lake campground but there is less than before we arrived, since my dog soaked up about half of it. Whites not so white any more.





Thursday afternoon after a little nap I hiked up to the latest in my collection of Lassen lakes - but this view is overlooking Juniper.




About 400' up and 3/4 of a mile from Juniper Lake Campground is lovely little Crystal Lake. I had a much needed swim - Ripley thought I smelled too bad and was threatening not to sleep in the tent if I didn't clean up. Hmm. Didn't play that one too well, did I? The swim was delightful, though, until I started thinking about Grendel and Lord of the Rings and what dreadful things that might live down at the bottoms of small mountain lakes. I laughed at myself for being so silly as I got out and my heart rate returned to normal. From the exercise.





This morning I took the kayak out on Juniper again, hoping to catch the earlier morning still water time. Didn't quite catch it - had a nice relaxing meditative hike with Ripley (dogs are good for that kind of thing, as is hiking while carrying a travel mug) - but close enough. The water is different colors in different spots on the lake, depending on depth, but here it was a sort of Caribbean tropical blue-green and I could see all the way to the bottom, maybe 20 - 30 feet.



I couldn't take a picture of this but last night I stood by the lake and could see stars reflected in it. That light traveled all that way just to bounce off some little lake in the mountains. At least I saw it. Another year when I camped there I talked to a guy who took his kayak out at night and said he saw the stars in the water, and it felt like he was drifting in space. I would like to try that some other time when I have a buddy along, preferably one who can yell 'Polo!' when I yell 'Marco!' Nothing against Ripley. [She claims she was just warming up my space for me, she never intended to sleep there - but then she fell asleep. I'll have to remember that one in case I ever need to use it.]

3:59 in '09: A New Hope

Emily (not shown in photo) is pleased to announce that she is coming out of retirement and intends to participate in the 2009 California International Marathon in Sacramento on December 6. The 2006 CIM was the last time I put myself through that - came close to my goal of a sub 4-hour race but didn't quite get there. Overran the first 13.1 miles and had a split time of 1:45 - burned up in the second half and finished in 4:03 . Three years, major knee surgery, and lots of bicycling later, not to mention some other pretty dramatic life changes, I think I'm ready for a do-over. Anyway, now I've signed up and active.com says they don't do refunds. I need to work on getting my right leg more flexible and aligned properly - it doesn't swing the same as the left. Maybe never did but now it's worse.

This presents endless opportunities for planning stuff on calendars. I will be posting updates of the week's plan to invite public accountability into the process (to the extent that anybody cares - they probably shouldn't).

Climbed a mountain and turned around

Start of the trail up Mt. Lassen
Wildflowers everywhere. And mobs? swarms? flocks? of butterflies, even up at 10,500'.

Pristine, icy Lake Helen far below. I touched the water there once on another trip and it felt colder than the snow from which it had melted. A swimming pool for a higher order of beings, perhaps.


Since this hat was the replacement for one that got stolen on an Amtrak to Salt Lake a few years ago, I was not about to risk it being blown away into the void. Chin strap - check.
There is always room at the top, if not solitude.

Near the crater at the top were a lot of these lumpy boulders that looked like they were warm when they landed, like great big cookies shot out of the oven (though the cookie-shooter is a hard to find optional feature on most kitchen ovens). To use the scientific terminology.
Mt. Shasta through the haze, over the rim of the Lassen crater. It looks like it's the only thing left in the world from this perspective.


The whole hike, including the pause at the top to send some text messages and update my Facebook status, took three hours. It's a steady climb up for 2.5 miles but not technical and all ages of people were moving up or down the trail. Sneaking off during the week sometime would likely offer more of a serene hiking experience, but on the other hand, one can't help but be glad that people are out showing their kids what the world looks like from the top of a mountain. And a volcano to boot.

Red River Valley

After about 20 years of playing the guitar without really knowing what notes were in the C or G or Dm7 or F# chords I was playing, as all along I've been playing by ear and using chord charts and reading tabs, I am at last learning to read standard notation for guitar. It's really not too hard so far to pick it up because I can read music, just never learned how to translate notes on a staff to places on guitar strings. I don't know why it took so long to get around to it. A client who plays classical guitar loaned me an old copy of "Mel Bay's Modern Guitar Method Grade 1" to get started and also recommended the "Carcassi Guitar Method" published by Carl Fischer, which I just ordered on Amazon. The latter looks like something that could take awhile to grow into. Meanwhile I can work on When the Saints Go Marchin' In and Aura Lee and 'From this val-ley you say you are lea-ving...'

Memory Bike Lane

I've been doing more thinking about riding than actually riding lately, though hoping that between the Tour de France (Go Levi!!) and what I hope will be a series of awesome photo-rich recaps of this year's NCAC (no pressure, Heather), I'll get motivated again. Highly recommend having a look at Heather's recap of Day 1 here or with the link over the sidebar...maybe you'll get motivated too.

Wagons East

My alarm is set for 4:30 a.m., can't say if that means I'll be waking up at exactly that time or not (could be earlier in the antici...pation, or could be later, but hopefully around that time) to finish loading up the truck, including the talented Miss Ripley, and head to UT for a couple days to visit my people. As I have not yet updated all of 'my people' as to this plan, some of you may read this and wonder if I'm trying to sneak in and out of the state without so much as a let's-have-lunch or other appropriate refreshments. My plans were a little wobbly until nearly the last minute but I hope we can meet up sometime during my 48-hour or so visit. And have appropriate refreshments. That aren't too hard to chew...the left side of my mouth is still full of stitches and plumber's putty. Feel free to call and entertain me while I'm driving tomorrow, if I don't call you first.

I probably really should be at work this week. But the highway and my hours and hours of Dickens' Bleak House on mp3 are calling. And my people.

First step, shut eye.