Images of Me

Me, Mira, Geri-Ann, Tina, Matthew

"Open that one," she said. While looking over my shoulder and spotting a folder labeled 'me.' Just a stash of photos from long ago, semi-recent, and middle not so long ago. "Those belong on your blog." So now, infrequently, I will share the past in pictures with you my friends.

This was and is Mira's home in San Francisco, circa 2010.

All Those Years Ago

My life changed 25 years ago today. Old friends from that time will know what I mean, some of them share the memory and the change. The event is not the point.

Change is.

How many times in your life has some event, some minor alteration, something completely happenstance or inevitably a person changed your life?

Sometimes it's immediate, Saul being struck from his stead. Other times, most of the time, there is just a slight nudge on your path. Often we miss it when it happens, but later, if we practice reflection, the ripples can be seen as a slowly rising tide that carried us away.

Think about it, no really think about it. In just a few moments I can think of 5 individuals who changed my life. More than just a great professor, an amazing lover or a challenge put to me; well, maybe the lover; but it's your life, do your own inspecting

Simple choices eventually altered my life forever.

The final play of the Stockbridge game.

A sixteen year old applying to just one college, because the high school counselor handed over just a single application.

A friend who signed me up for the real estate exam and then told me I had two weeks to study.

A woman I didn't love, who told me she loved me.

A catalog in an unread pile for over year, only to somehow appear a day before the deadline.

. . . and first, last and always -- the magical time that ended June 19, 1990.

Some Days

Today is bright and sunny around San Francisco. A light marine haze lays over the coastal strip but it is unseasonably warm. I know this type of day gives many people a mood lift. Rain does that for me, but sun seems to be the go-to mother nature stimulant for most.

I took a long, walk this morning, sticking to the sunny sides of the streets. I'm usually a shade guy myself. But today, I hoped to wash away a bit of shadow that lingers in my soul.

This morning a friend of over 50 years has gone away. She was ill, so very ill. Others will say that passing was a blessing. It may have been, only she can know that now. For me, it's another lost friend.

When you say you have known someone for 50 or 60 years, it leads inevitably to the place where you no longer have them around, even if they were only an email or facebook post away. Slowly they aren't there anymore.

We knew each other in high school, afterwards our paths didn't cross for twenty years. When they did, it was hit and miss for awhile and suddenly a short, intense time for both of us. Then it was back to holiday letters and infrequent contact. Somehow another 25 years passed.

So, today is sunny. Remember on your next bright, clear day that for some the light is a little dimmer, doesn't penetrate as deeply. We all pulse with the fullness then the emptiness of life. Share your light while you may.

Some days are not like all the others.

As Requested

Prior to hitting the road, several friends and regular blog readers requested that I include more photos from this trip. Including but not limited to the actual humans and near-humans I encounter along the way.

Today I begin to fulfill those requests. Above you will observe Midnight and I discussing keyboard access.

These humanoids are Gary & Cyndi Blevins, my friends who reside in Lake Shastina, California where I have spent the first two weeks of my journey in fire, glacial flaking and now heavenly rain. Here in California we never disparage precipitation.

Finally, from the wilds of Northern California the fourth member of the household, the latest creature to emerge from the wilds to adopt the Blevins -- meet Socks, the terror of local birds, bats and lizards.

The road trip heads East tomorrow with a small change in route, which will be explained at a future date.

An Artist Friend

These are just two examples of the art one of my friends produces from his fertile and slightly befouled mind. I encourage you to visit his website, which he claims is hundreds of scans behind his nearly daily production. He also comments on his art that "people stay away in droves." That may be true but I find his style speaks loudly if perhaps accented with a slightly less than PC voice.

See his work here.

And no, he does not have a penguin fetish.

That would be me in a previous incarnation.

Commiserating on Basic Functioning

A very close friend and poker buddy of many years has been having problems with both knees and back. I often give advice on dealing with these infirmities from my 50+ years of experience with a bad back.

An observation came up the other day about how the morning inventory of aches and pains has to start with the lower back and legs.

"You just can't do a lot of things without your legs working and your back being stable."

I had to agree. I've gone to work with colds and truly distracting ear aches, even migraines and for several months with a cast on my arm. But if my back isn't able to provide support, there are just so many daily activities you simply can't do.

For my poker friends, I offer a new metaphor from my friend that speaks precisely to this issue:

"You can't make it through a day without your knees and back. Just like you can't make a straight without a five or a ten."

Last Dance at Two Oaks

In 1991 I moved to San Francisco to attend grad school. Shortly after my arrival I met a man who has been my close friend to this day. He had just moved from the City up to a ranch in Sonoma County. I've trekked up to the ranch scores of time. Many, many changes have taken place there over these many years, the old rundown property littered with rusting machinery and overgrown fields has been transformed. Permanent structures have replaced decrepit ones, a new now decades mature pond was added. A garden and fruit trees have been planted, parts of the land have been returned to nature. But what always stood as the anchor to the scenery were two massive oak trees.

We've partied and dined under those trees; meditated and mediated. Stories have been told, philosophers have been derided. Several relationships have bloomed and a few have faded. But always the two sentinels stood watching.

Just two days ago we had a small gathering at the ranch. A delicious slab of salmon was grilled on the same hearth where beef and pork, chicken and turkey have crisped over the years. We spoke of how the space had once been canopied by the two surviving walnut trees, one now gone and other refusing to leaf out this spring in what will be its final season.

But always the pair of giant oaks towered above it all.

When they were last trimmed by the arborist, he said the far oak, the one that had lost the huge section about ten years ago, it was weak. It might last another hundred years in that condition. It did not.

I got a call only hours after I had returned to the City. A great crash in the night had claimed the towering beauty. The ranch and all inhabitants survived, there will be more gatherings in the future; but going forward they will be under a single oak.


Art: Landscape with Two Oaks by Jan van Goyen

For An Olde Dear Friend

Tina's Bedroom

Borobudur

Back in 1996, I traveled to Bali with a small group of like-minded individuals. It was truly a magical journey. After several weeks together, the travelers dispersed to their own private adventures, I hopped a plane to Java to visit the Buddhist temple at Borobudur. This photo snapped at dusk remains the enduring image of myself from all those years ago. Next year I plan to seek another iconic photo or two.

Tantra in the West

One of my good and treasured friends, Birrell Walsh, has become quite an author in the past few years. Besides a book of poetry and popularized version of his doctoral dissertation on prayer and healing, he has now produced four books in his series Tantra in the West. I want to recommend all or some of them to you.

Sister Clare's Lover was the first. This tale is set in San Francisco and follows the life and loves of a 'confused-by-life' priest.

"Father Matthew Shalgry, a priest who himself has been silenced for his writings, is asked by his archbishop to find Sister Clare, the mysterious author of *The Love of Christ.* It is a highly sexual poem and secretive devotional practice that is sweeping through the convents. He will find the practice, and lose his heart, in this encounter of Catholicism and ancient tantra." 

Next came Illuminating Four Cities: A Recipe for Catholic Tantra. If you have read The Years of Rice and Salt by another of my favorite authors Kim Stanley Robinson or if you enjoyed the film Cloud Atlas last year, I can strongly recommend the tale told in Four Cities.

"Father Shalgry has loved a woman honorably, and she is gone. Now he must find meaning for what has happened. His best friend, ex-Sister Marta Vasquez, owns a tavern. In one long night of storytelling at her bar, he recounts visions of other worlds and of his connections with his beloved there. Then, at a fire on the longest winter night, it is time to bring those visions into this world." 

The third book in the series takes an acute turn into Birrell's convex, concave, convoluted version of heaven and earth. In the weirdly titled Philanthropic Horse is Haunted by Gravity, we explore heaven, earth and other realms both far and near. 

"A visiting lama asks a young stallion if he wants to help. It means carrying the dead to the river of rebirth, climbing cloud mountains to a monastery of many species, raiding Hell itself, and joining a tantric circle headed by a tigress. On the last peaks, where the lightning strikes, he must face death to bring light to his lost love and the heavy, suffering earth." 

Last month the fourth book in the series appeared - Shepherd of Wolves. For the first time Birrell has taken on the motif of an international thriller. 

"Genocides who would destroy half the world with a GMO weapon plot in Scandinavia. Interpol thinks they put together the strange team to hunt them down - a Danish detective falling in love with an American doctor, a sad priest and a lesbian bar-owner from San Francisco, a Filipino cop from the mean streets of the Mission District, and an agent of Germany's shadowy watchdog agency. But the real team is stranger still, as ghosts and half-human guardians struggle to prevent the ghastly Cleanup Virus; and history itself shimmers and reshapes." 

When I read Shepherd the first time I had the same reaction I had when I picked up Sister Clare's Lover - I was shocked to find I had a friend who is an accomplished, professional writer. If you are a fan of intrigue or even if like me you aren't, I strongly recommend Shepherd of Wolves but I can't leave this suggestion without adding that reading Sister Clare's Lover first will make the experience even more enjoyable. Being introduced to the cast of characters in Sister Clare makes the story in Shepherd that much more satisfying. I mean who only sees only the fourth Harry Potter film?

"God made a big deal about the underwear . . ."

These words from an old friend I have not seen in nearly fifty years. Via Facebook we have in some small cyber way reconnected.

"God made a big deal about the underwear of the Old Testament priesthood. There were literally pounds and pounds of embroidery and precious materials...hats and ephods and robes and belts. But under all that decoration and symbolism was a pair of linen boxer shorts. And God said..."Make sure you wear those linen breeches...or else." We like the idea of being "God's man". Preachers like to stand up front and tell the folks what's what. But behind all that loud talking and finger pointing there are supposed to be some private and sacred responsibilities. While you're drawing lines for other people to toe don't forget to toe the line for yourself. Those "boxer shorts" in Exodus 28 have to do with that private and absolutely critical personal heart preparation. I've let that slip before. I've been up there with guilty conscience or an empty heart. I don't think anybody noticed...except me...and of course God."

Old Friends - Simon & Garfunkel

"They"

Two of my very best friends continue to make arguments that drive me just a bit crazy. The first was making an point about southern Nevada 'taking' more water from northern Nevada to fill the needs of Las Vegas.

Her argument was that "they are draining the northern basin of water needed for both animals and humans who live in that region." I wasn't really upset by the blatant prejudice she holds against Las Vegas, lots of people don't like Vegas. I do object to the use of "they" as some catch-all designation for doers of evil.

My other friend works in the educational system and has each and every year gone on and on about how "they are cutting another X dollars from the educational budget." Again, the use of the evil "they" to demonize a nefarious group of people.

Here is what bothers me. Those "theys" being referenced are us. We are the taxpayers who can't afford those educational funds, we are those thirsty people who want and need a glass of water when we are in the desert.

Now I am not saying that educational priorities shouldn't eclipse some of the other expenditures of state government, nor am I saying that building a tourist attraction in the middle of the desert was such a good idea. What I am saying is that there are no evil "theys" out there. As Pogo is often quoted as saying: "We have met the enemy and he is us."

What I want to say is - please stop the "theying" it only divides us and misses the point by a margin of at least one person.

[First known use of the phrase "we have met the enemy and he is us." Earth Day poster 1970 by Walt Kelly creator of Pogo.]

Nieces

Kristin & Robin


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For Matty

This is one of my favorite images I have ever posted on this blog. I don't know why exactly, I used it over four years ago. Only recently did I find an alternate image I like even more.

Question From A Friend

A good friend and careful reader of this blog asked last week how I was able to "get so riled up about issues enough to be articulate in a blog yet not have it ruin your day?" A good and timely question. My first answer was that perhaps getting it all out and into cyberspace was a way of working the venom out of my system. 

Upon further reflection I noticed that at least in the political realm this literary antidote may not be working as well as it once did. A recent post exposed a borderline defeatist attitude towards American politics and while I don't want to repudiate those feelings, I do feel there may be a more balanced course of action. 

Remember the slogan - "Think Globally, Act Locally". Well I am considering a similar motto for my own political participation - "Act Locally, Stop Reading the NYTimes." I'm not sure that's going to work but I do believe I may have to give it a try for awhile. Trying to turn the lumbering ship of state and encouraging others to do the same seems less and less like David vs. Goliath but more and more like - well see nuclear clown cloud up there - a bit like that.

In any case, tis nearly time to wash the politics out of the blog and get on to more uplifting and rewarding ponderings.

A Friend & Author

Given enough time the bits and pieces will converge.

First there was the cat. I've had that picture for well over three years but I was determined not to use it until it was integral to a story. Second, there are my friends. In this blog I use phrases like: "a friend told me" or "a good friend asked the other day" I do not identify anyone by name unless they have approved there public outing. This blog is about me and what emerges from my head, heart and other parts; I never seek to draft friends into meanderings that are uniquely my own. I figure everyone has the right to privacy and the absolute right to define their own limits of personal space, particularly in the unfettered world of cyberspace, social media and utterances like this blog.

Then today, while trolling one of those social media thingies I saw that one of my friends had publicly acknowledged a blog post about himself. At that moment all the pieces fell into place. The cat clearly was Birrell, though most folks will tell you he carries a dog persona. I have been wanting to write something about his most recent three books - I had the privilege of being the final editor on each. This means I got to read them just before they went to press - all commas corrected - it's like looking at the nearly birthed story but still able to suggest: "you know her eyes really should be green" or "I think you should change to dog to a ferret."

Here is the link to the original post about my friend, Dr. Birrell Walsh. You can find the links to Lulu, Amazon and Smashwords for all of his books in all sorts of formats. I really liked them all but I am prejudice towards my friend's writing. I do, however, want to highly recommend Sister Clare's Lover one of the strongest, tightly crafted stories I have read in a very long time. You can pick up a PDF copy for $5 or a Kindle version for $8. Even the $20 paperback is a steal for such fine writing and engrossing story telling.

To the rest of my friends - read Birrell and I promise not to mention you here by name.

Hawk Moon or Moonhawk

The Best Game Apps (website)

This little blog gets about 1,000 hits a day, not bad for the hodge podge of interests and topics that float around in my psyche. One small but virulently dedicated group are the gamers. Though I don't play often myself anymore, I have been involved with gaming and virtual reality since my days at Fujitsu (WorldsAway) in the 90s. Now one of my dear friends, Leigh, has started a new website that rates, raves and rants about the Best Game Apps.

The site features "reviews and walkthroughs of the best free games and paid apps for iPhone, iPad, Android and Kindle Fire. From puzzle games to zombie apps, we’re playing them all so you don’t have to waste your time and money looking for your next addictive app."

Remember what Karen Blixen said: "I had a farm in cyberspace..."

Good Luck Leigh.

The Beauty of Crying

Crying is a natural emotional response to certain feelings, usually sadness and hurt. But then people also cry under other circumstances and occasions, for instance, people cry in response to something of beauty. Stephen Sideroff

The place was the Los Angeles County Museum, the time was the fall of 1990. The exhibit was The Masters of Impressionism and Post-Impressionism: The Annenberg Collection. Jimmy, Audrey and I entered together but soon drifted in different directions. Nearly half an hour later I noticed Audrey at the far end of a small display hall, I was at the other end, inevitably we would meet near the group at the center of the room. As we got closer the group dispersed leaving Jimmy standing alone in front of a shimmering Monet. Reaching him at the same time, we noticed his tears. We embraced him, Audrey at his waist, I around his shoulders. "There's a word beyond beauty," he said.

Some time later Jimmy and I met in front of one of the early impressionistic works and were marveling at the techniques that were simply invented by those artists. We walked together into the next room and found Audrey standing alone in front of a huge Renoir. Tears streamed down her cheeks, followed by another embrace.

Late in the day, I was standing in front of a very pointillistic work by Camille Pissarro. I was transfixed by the movement created on flat surface and the shifting of light with just a infinitesimal movement from me. I remember the scene so clearly, the picture was on a short wall section next to the opening to the next gallery. At some point I looked just slightly to the right through that opening to see Jimmy and Audrey coming towards me. I had to blink the tears from my eyes to see their smiles.