Bicycles & Beansprouts

Tim Tam Slam...or meditation on a cookie

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 06:37:00 +0000

For best results, start the video below and let it completely buffer before you start reading. If things of an erotic nature disturb you, please close this tab/window now. While probably completely safe for most work environments, some may find the content of this post objectionable. My apologies, but I've given fair warning. Forewarned is fore-armed. With love and daisies. For those of you still here, start the video when it's buffered. It will probably end before you finish reading. Yeah...I tried to pare it back, but the words wouldn't stop and wouldn't be edited out.
I turn off the lights and light a single scented candle, the one that is reminiscent of a burning fireplace. Cuppa hot tea? Check. Tim Tam biscuit (cookie)? Check. The good headphones instead of the earbuds that won't stay in my itsy-bitsy ears? Check. E.S Posthumus' "Aris e" (from their new Makara album) cued and ready to go? Check. I think I'm ready. I click play.

I slide off my socks and stretch my bare feet, wiggling my toes. Ooooh, that does feel nice. I sit back in the papasan nest, carefully holding the cup in one hand as it warms my cool fingertips and a bickie (cookie; yes, my vocabulary is eclectic, culturally diverse, and sometimes, even, very made up, like my world) in the other hand. Stretching out my legs feels good; I rest them on a pillow on the ancient steamer trunk I use as a desk/table/storage for subversive civil disobedience fliers for a peace protest (just making sure you're paying attention). As my eyes trace my candle-shadowed surroundings and I begin to well and truly groove with the magical, celestial music, I sink into the chair, very relaxed and comfortable. Am I ready to turn One?

I take the wee smallest nibble of an upper corner of my Tim Tam biscuit. Chocolate-covered chocolate biscuit with...{unexpected anticipatory pause with fancy brackets}...creamy chocolate filling. Mmm...this is tasty. Then, I flip it top to bottom and bite off the diagonal corner. Nice, if not delectable. I have the attention of my taste buds, which are beginning to ping and spark, wondering if mayhaps there's more coming, and mayhaps it's even better stuff. Ya never know, it's happened before.

Slowly, carefully, I raise my cup to meet my bickie, and use it as a straw. I suck the tea slowly and steadily into my mouth until I begin to feel the bickie begin to cave and give in under the pressure of the gentle grasp of my thumb and fingers. At this point, I lower my cup and shove the whole Tim Tam into my eagerly-waiting mouth. As soon as I slide my lips closed around this concoction that is ever-so-quickly having its molecules melted, it literally just explodes. It instantly transforms from the solid it was into these gooey, triple-chocolatey waves that just kind of swell and roll around in my mouth, teasing my tongue and caressing my palate. Simultaneously, the music also swells into this magnificently tense pause before going orgasmic, turning mercuric, finding even the hidden-away hidey-holes of my Being. There are fireworks shooting almost violently into a sky so dark, even with the brightest-ever stars twinkling my wonder. I am melting into this sweet pool of stickiness. My taste buds are now changing the frequency of their vibration and are indistinguishable from the atoms, those nearly-empty containers of g*d, with whoom they are dancing and mingling and intertwining and becoming yummily and foreverly quantumly entangled. I am spinning and twirling, grooving and celebrating my divine Amness, naked and true.

And now these tastes and sounds and feelings and sensations swirl and dance around and into me before gobbling me up and swallowing me and separating my soul from my body while its toes begin to curl, its fingers clutch tightly the quilt on the papasan, and its back lightly arches.

I'm gone. I don't exist. There's no chocolate. There's no Tim Tam. There's no music. There's no tea. There's no sleepy, purring cat curled up next to me. There are no thoughts from me. There is no me. There is only this One perception of everything being so completely perfect at this moment that it truly doesn't matter what happened in the last moment nor what may happen in the next because this moment is perfect and why the hell would I want to go anywhere else? This is all there is. This perfect nothingness that contains an empty everything.

Singularity. In this very moment, I am One.

I am abandonedly lost and lost with abandon and time does not exist and I believe that because my bicycle buddy, Einstein, said so, so there is no time and nothing is wrong and I want this to last forever. Wait..."I want"? Who said that? And who is thinking "How long is forever?" The height of the orgasmic musical note decreases, and I hear the next note so gently whisper into the room to try and sustain me here just an iota longer. But the next musical notes are already on the stage, gently playing me back into my empty body lying down there in the papasan.

All of a sudden, I am gently aware of my curled toes and fingers and of my heart beating and my chest moving as I breathe. The shadowed surroundings come into focus again and I hear the almost-liturgical strains of the next track, "Saint Matthew Passionate". No wonder it sounds monk-tested and giant cathedral-approved. But passionate? Oooh...ladles and jellyspoons, you have no idea. Methinks Matthew was peeking through the window.

Oh.My.g*d.That.Was.So.Awesome.I.Almost.Want.A.Cigarette.And.Now.I.Need.A.Snuggle.

Cloudy with a chance of altered reality

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 03:16:00 +0000

Suddenly, I was caught in a downpour of twisted perception...

...and a sudden gust of skewed perspective blew me away.

Happy Un-turkey day

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 11:56:00 +0000

May all beings have happiness and its causes.
May all beings be free from suffering and its causes.
May all beings never be separated from the happiness which is free from suffering.
May all beings abide in equanimity, free from both attachment and detachment.

Namaste'.

Blog Action Day ~ Climate Change

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 04:41:00 +0000

Today, October 15, is officially "Blog Action Day", and the topic is "Climate Change".

I don't have a lot to say on the subject. That's not to say I don't feel strongly about it, but I've never written in-depth about it. Why? Where do I start? With those drilling for oil and blowing the tops off of mountains to obtain coal? With factories ignoring loosely-regulated and loophole-ridden tomes of governmental laws?

I think I'll start closer to home than those faceless names, companies, corporations, governments, etc. In fact, let's start at home. What if everyday people stopped buying new things they didn't need? Things they could either do without or could buy in a resale establishment (thrift shops, yard sales, etc.)? What if they stopped driving huge SUVs the half-mile to the store for a gallon of milk that comes from an unknown dairy, salad ingredients from Chile, and a pound of hamburger that was raised on a factory farm 1,500 miles away? What if they consistently used reusable bags to carry home these goods? What if they made a conscious effort not only to reuse things as many times as possible, but possibly repurpose them once these things outlive their natural life?

Our lives are uber convenient due to the torrent of products we buy as a suggestion, subtle or otherwise, of corporate ads by which we're bombarded. You've bought many of the products being pushed...how long did your happy factor last? Are you reminded of it every time you use that brand new gadget (iPhone with the Happiness app installed excluded)? How many times have we all heard ourselves utter, "It's the simple things that matter."? If we know this, then why are our lives so complicated and cluttered...why are we in debt and envious of those who have more than we do? Why do we feel the need to replace items before they're well and truly obsolete, and why do we behave as sheep, buying into these ad campaigns? What happened to making do because it was the logical thing to do? When did it become okay to be so wasteful? And let's not forget careless! When you buy these new pretty-pretties, where do the old ones go? Do you think about what happens to them after the garbage truck has swallowed and crunched them beyond recognition?

Anyone can write a post with suggestions on how to reduce their carbon footprint. My blog post, ultimately, is just to ask you the hard question, instead. What are you willing to give up for the health of the planet? This applies only to those who believe there is a climate change...I continue to be flabbergasted by those who say it's a made-up phenomenon; that our actions really don't have the consequences claimed by "eco-liberals". Or worse, that these consequences are so far away in the grand scheme of things that it's okay to continue on our path for now. Hogwash.

Climate change? It's all around. Polar bears clinging to vestiges of icebergs who will soon die from drowning because they're too weak to swim to the next iceberg that is too far away. Extreme weather. The disappearance of glaciers. More and more children who suffer from asthma and other environmental health issues. Where will it end?

It won't. Not unless we end it. Ask yourself the hard questions, then look for the right answers. The easy way is rarely the best way...and it often keeps us from the path that offers the roses that we're supposed to stop and smell along the way. Better smell 'em now...they may not grow tomorrow.

There...one "Blog Action Day" post, one minute before midnight. I may edit it later. I may not. Namaste'.

A couple of lessons about gratitude from me and my pal, Rumi

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 09:58:00 +0000

I have thrombophlebitis in my arm, which is a very painful, inflamed, swollen blood vein. It's plainly visible by looking at it; the skin is red and blue and purple, and raised, and to touch the skin, it feels as if there's a tiny bungee cord under there, taut and rubbery. And hot. And so painful that even visualizing touching it makes it hurt. Okay, enough with the symptoms, because it sounds pathetic and whiny, and I've had my pity party already and moved on.

Sometimes caused as a result of clotting, sometimes of injuries (not unlike the injuries I sustained on Monday by putting my heavy bicycle on the bus and falling over it whilst loading it into and unloading it from the estranger's van). I would estimate this to to be the fifth time I've had phlebitis in this same place alone, not to mention many single-phlebitis incidents (plebe-itis? *groan*) in a few other spots.

I called to make a doctor's appointment; the fact that I had the embolism in April and am not currently being treated with coumadin because my doctor insisted I see a rheumatologist, a gastroenterologist, and a pulmonolgist before he would continue to treat me with blood-thinners would be cause to see me sooner, I would think, but so far, so good. I understand where he's coming from...I know he would probably feel partially responsible if something beside a clot gets me. But he doesn't seem to understand that I will sign whatever I have to sign to keep him free of liability, completely and of my own free will, because I don't want to be treated for all the other stuff...treated to death. I vowed to treat the clots, but I will not fall down another rabbit hole, chasing empty promises and experiments that have only served to make my body more tired or fighting yet another symptom caused by a medication. I know what mild medications I need. If this doctor won't treat me respecting my wishes, I'll make an appointment to the only other doctor, who practices inb the same building and whom I haven't seen. My doctor plans to retire in the very near future, so this would be inevitable if my doctor doesn't have a replacement. And this could very much be "Cicely, Alaska" as easily as it couldn't be "Mayberry, RFD". We have some quirky residents, and I've experienced an energy in the air that you might expect to watch on "Northern Exposure". And I am practically in Canada, which is almost in Alaska and I can see Russia from there. [pardon me while I get a mint for my fingers; they have a bad taste in their mouth after typing that].

Give me my bicycle and get out of my way or ride along with me. I may not go far, but in the shape I'm in, it doesn't take much to get an aerobic workout, and I have fun watching the moment go by...go by...go by. Eating healthy, being active, having a positive attitude, and making the changes to better the quality of my life...these things will do more to improve my health than the majority of medications prescribed. Add to the mix mmeditation (of all types) and taking natural, trusted, proven remedies for what ails ya whenever possible; the quality of life improves. And it's like discovering Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance all over again; the search for Quality, what exactly is it, and why do we want it so damn badly? Are we chasing something better than what we can even experience outside of this moment, perfect in its abundancy no matter where we are or what economic class we're in? What anchors are we dragging, what decisions are we avoiding, what things, real or imagined, are pulling us from our prospective paths? Compassion enables us to forgive, even if the benefactors are unaware. "The voice inside your head that always tells the truth" (thank you, Late Night with TV's Craig Ferguson for that term; I hope you're reading) tells us that it doesn't matter...things can only matter if we let them. Learning this has bought me time more than once. Indeed, the things I've learned have even reversed some of the effects of the past. Mikki and I were talking about burning karma during his recent visit; I assume I was owning and resolving my past so fully as to negate any further karma I would receive as a result of doing who-knows-what, who-knows-when...but sometimes, you are connected to people who know who and when...and why...just as easily as you see the same in them. That's a mad rush. And that, along with the thing or person or experience that gave me such a gift, are things to which I am eternally grateful, even if they don't last. Perhaps especially because they don't last.

There is no angel so sublime, He whispered. Who can be granted for one moment what is granted you forever. And I hung my head, astounded. ~Rumi

Be grateful for what you've got and take better care of it because you may need it some day. ~Tee

Undressing (get your heads out of the gutter)

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 20:35:00 +0000

No blog today, but instead, a poem by Rumi, a 13th-century Persian poet. He, along with Hafiz, never fails to inspire me; his words ring true and I often see them precisely when I need to. I have learned this lesson, but I have loved ones...friends and family alike, who have yet to know this truth. I hope that Rumi's words will light their path as brightly as they have mine. Namaste'.

Undressing

Learn the alchemy true human beings know; the moment you accept what troubles you've been given, the door will open.

Welcome difficulty as a familiar comrade. Joke with torment brought by the Friend.

Sorrows are the rags of old clothes and jackets that serve to cover, then are taken off. That undressing, and the naked body underneath, is the sweetness that comes after grief.

Why I am a vegetarian

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 08:46:00 +0000

I posted a rather icky picture on Facebook last night. My bicycle ride earlier took me to a cornfield next to the eagle tree (see my earlier posts about bald eagles) where I happened to find a little, dead mouse, not so much decomposed as half-missing by being eaten. By wasps. I'm sure other creatures have had their feast, as well. I was first taken aback by the rather horrid image of it all, especially because I am very drawn to rodents and have had many as pets. Unfortunately, my allergies to them over the years have grown to the point where keeping them is impossible. In any case, I saw a photo opportunity that young boys will find "Coooool!", curmudgeons will think, "Good riddance!" and the squeamish won't even look at a second time after glancing and squealing, "Ewwwwww!"

My sadness for this wee thing very quickly turned to blessings for its little life, sending it whatever energy its consciousness needed in case it was hanging around, confused. You know, his soul, his energy. Not his wasp-ravaged body. And I took pictures, because I saw the beauty in this mouse's body offering sustenance to who-knows how many other creatures. I saw it as a very compassionate, Buddhist thing to do, whatever that means. I'm not a Buddhist, but I dig the philosophy on a subatomic level. Seriously. It's all quantum, but that's another blog for another time. And one of these days, I'm going to owe my humble group of readers an an awful lot of posts; I keep mentioning that there are important tangents to my stories.

After posting the image, I received a private message from one of my friends. I've decided to post it here to explain why I'm a vegetarian.

Good day to you! I want to ask you a question about vegetarianism, in relation to your picture of the wasps feeding on the dead mouse. I don't criticize your choice not to eat meat. But how do you reconcile your view of the mouse as 'serving' while the wasps feed on its flesh? Is it the fact that the mouse was not raised expressly for slaughter, but instead ended up where it did through a natural chain of events? I'm curious.

I think it is a powerful picture, in that it shows a side of nature that more squeamish folks would like to pretend don't exist. It's not beautiful as in "oh what a pretty sunset", but it shows the essence of one of life's many cycles, and how life feeds on life. There's lots of people who don't get that aspect.

What's funny is that those squeamish folks hold what I call the "Disney" view of nature: All the animals live in harmony, talking squirrels, cuddly runnybabbits, etc. But then Disney goes and makes "The Lion King" in which Mufasa explains to Simba that the gazelles eat the grass, the lions eat the gazelles, and when they die, they eventually come back as grass and feed the gazelles. Kind of simplified, but there it is in a nutshell.

Like I said, I'm just curious what your take on it was. Thanks for getting my brain stimulated first thing in the morning. Well, that and the coffee I just poured down my throat. That, too.

This was my reply.

I have choices; I can sprout my beans and eat them. I can grow my own food. I can take my money and go to the store and buy food. If I really *had* to, I could beg for food (or the money to buy it) on the streets. Or, I could buy a hamburger, but because there are so many other foods that don't involve the cessation of life before its natural course played out, I choose not to eat meat. I don't believe that raising meat on a factory farm is a natural course, and even the act of raising the animals can cause more harm than good to the entire planet.

My ways of acquiring sustenance are numerous and diverse because my intellect is more evolved than that of the wasps or the mouse or Mufasa. I choose not to be a part of that particular circle of life, although I do hope that, if there's anything left of me to feed on after I'm cremated and scattered, that I can serve that purpose.

And yes, the mouse was not raised expressly as food...to be mistreated (or even treated well) and led blindly through a life that will end at the hands of someone who isn't even thinking about what its life may have meant or could have been. The animal that killed the mouse probably wasn't able to make that choice. I say probably because, if the mouse was killed as sport alone, there will be a different karma for the one doing the slaying than if the mouse had been killed because the predator was hungry...and/or had hungry baby mouths to fill at home. I can think above that and find ways to feed my body without harming a life, something my truth tells me is not right for me.

This does not mean I condemn those who choose to eat meat. It's not my place to do so, so if you want some of the smoked Boston Butt [the estranger] is serving today after smoking it all day yesterday at his place, be there for dinner. He eats late. Very late. You might actually have time to get there while there's some left. As with everything else, our current choices are very, very different. His don't fit me, but they're right for him. I can only be responsible for what I do, and that includes being sure I don't make the rules and laws regarding what is and isn't right for anyone else. You can visit my place for dessert or a proper cuppa afterward. ;)

Only a small percentage of my Facebook friends know how attached I am to meeses, so I'm sure you can probably imagine how difficult it was for me to take those pics. I can see exactly in them what I described in the caption, but what I didn't say is that I still feel sadness for the fear, panic, and pain the mouse may have experienced before it died, no matter whether it died by teeth or disease or being stomped on by something much bigger. But, I know that this is the way things go; to find beauty in such a scene yesterday *was* a powerfully moving experience. There is a Buddhist teaching that has students dwell on real human corpses in various degrees of decomposition. I really never "got" that until yesterday. I don't wholly understand it, but I got a glimpse into how valuable it is to see both sides of the coin, the dark and the light, what happens right after our bodies stop being a living thing. Being sad for the body is a human trait, though I also believe it also belongs to some animals who authentically mourn the death or absence of a loved one. I certainly don't want to be responsible for the death of a creature with such sentience, and I don't believe any of us can make the call as to which animals or even which species have that "knowing".

I hope this helps. It's refreshing when people will ask me these questions rather than tell me that there is absolutely NO freakin' way that there's any difference between the wasps eating that mouse and having Boston Butt for dinner. I feel the difference, and that is enough. Thank you for taking the time to ask, Jason. Namaste'.

Calling all readers! Calling all readers!

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 05:21:00 +0000

I would like to know the answer to a question to which, if you choose, you must be honest. Perhaps not brutally so, as I am a sensitive soul...

I'm sure there's a way to add an anonymous poll on here, but since I don't see one and am not presently inclined to go looking for code with which to tinker...(damn OCD; the spelling and grammar will be impeccable while the punctuation shows the creative license because I try to address my readers as if I were speaking; my punctuation reflects that). Now, how's that for OCD? < /stream of consciousness>

Back to my question. Would you be comfortable answering a question about me? I realize that I probably come across as a real Moonbeam or Earth Mother, as some would call me, a real hippie. Others might say I'm a whack job and think that, truly, there must be something wrong with me. The way I see myself, or at least my perception of myself, is a free spirit, liberated and semi-enlightened, happy because, even if I can't explain the answers, I know the answers.

Please tell me...what is your perception of me? Off the wall crazy? Stoned off my arse (a real possibility when the ischemia is screamia-ing), Connected to All in the most groovy way? Way past ripe for the funny farmer's market? Hey, I just made that up as I was typing it. Pretty clever, eh? Now that's multitasking. However comma, I digress. Be honest, but remember, I have a tender ~~heart~~ ~~soul~~ consciousness. How do you percieve me? I would ask how you see me, but that's another kettle of fish-shaped crackers (I'm a vegetarian) for another time. If you don't feel you know me well enough to have an opinion, read back through several posts...watch the videos. If that's not me, I don't know who else could possibly be having this much fun. Base your answer on that.

This post brought to you courtesy of the accidental students I encountered this evening and experienced a divine connection as a result. A Bodhisattva (in any belief [I do not mean religion]) must first learn to teach before she can teach to learn. Namaste'.

Choose to be happy

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:37:00 +0000

Just a little stream-of-consciousness video inspired by the gratitude for a cheap yard sale find and the illumination it gave me. Have a blissful day.

Burning Man or bust...

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 09:24:00 +0000

I don't know why it hasn't occurred to me until just now...just an hour or so ago...that I need to go to Burning Man. I mean, I really want to go. I dig it. I get the burning of the false self, the falling away of ego. I've been there, and strive to stay there. I do an admirable job, I think. Certainly enough to know that happiness is a choice, and that by making decisions based on what my compassion says is the best outcome for all, I continue to walk towards that happiness. I know that the only steps that amount to anything are the ones I take right now; I'd best be awake and aware and present enough in the moment to make them count. Like everything, they're only as permanent as a footprint on a windy Nevada playa in August/September.

They have community bicycles. And I can bring my own bean sprouts and live on them for pennies. How many thumbs up can we give that?

Today, I shall ride.

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 19:04:00 +0000

It's time to get this blog back to bicycles. Today, I shall ride. There are wild blackberries to pick, if my timing is accurate; I can pick some now and freeze them until my parents are able to make a visit; my papa loves wild blackberries. I have a geocache to check on. But mostly, my soul has been clamoring to take a ride, begging my body to rest only just enough to have the energy to pedal fast enough to blow my "Life is Good" cap right off of my head.

My health hasn't been what it should be lately, and finding the energy to ride isn't always easy. However comma...I find that, when I break past that fatigue the ego is telling me is insurmountable, and get on my bicycle, while I'm not overcoming the issues, I'm temporarily putting them on the shelf, allowing my spirit to be free to enjoy the moment of wind rushing by.

I subscribe to a lot of sites dedicated to cycling. While most of these focus on speed and sport, I ride for different reasons (I did not follow the Tour de France). For the awakened experience, first and foremost. I see so much more riding 10-15 miles per hour than I do in a speeding vehicle encasing me and obscuring my view. And let's face it, there are some spectacular views here. I have learned to live my daily life in the same manner as I see the world from my bicycle; unrushed, present, blissful, and full of possibilities. And my body appreciates the gentle workout. Without the repeated impact of compromised leg bones meeting the ground, my gams don't argue with me [much] and when they do, I don't listen. Not while I'm on my bicycle. I'm too busy adjusting my attitude and sending blessings to the cows and eagles and bugs I pass.

Today, I shall ride. Namaste'.

All I want for Christmas...

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 09:41:00 +0000

"It is not by appearances that you are fettered but by craving." ~Tilopa, instructing his student, Naropa (both are historic figures in Buddhist texts)

There was a time when, because of my appearance, I was quite reluctant to go out in public; even confrontation with someone friendly was enough to make me want to cover my mouth and leave without saying a word. Not because of anything they'd said or done, mind you, but because my teeth are a mess. They always have been, but because I've been to SO many dentists to [attempt to] fix the problems that started when I was a wee young thing, I'm mortally terrified of dentists and I'm done going. Unless it's a dire emergency, like the time I had to dig out a permanent filling by myself with a needle after the dentist completed work on a tooth. It was either that or find a gun and a bullet. Luckily, I got the filling out, the pressure was released, and I never went back to that dentist (but I never got my $750 back, either). I do not have success with anyone in any dental office. I know they can smell my fear; it's hard to miss when it's a thick, heavy fog of pokey tools, atrocious odors, and sounds of mechanical devices so torturous that I can't even begin to describe them (and my stomach is churning, just typing this).

Because I've spent thousands of dollars on teeth I no longer have (pulled weeks after a root canal because it didn't take, etc.), I'm not comfortable with my appearance. And who would be? What are two top features others notice first about people? What do they find attractive? Their eyes and their smile. I'm often told I have nice eyes...is this because people are too embarrassed for me to comment to the negative on my mouth? "Dude...what happened to your teeth? Meth?" I don't think I look the meth addict, but I do know they often have very bad teeth, as well. Mayhaps it would be better if someone were to be that direct. At least then, I'd have the opportunity to explain that, through no action or fault of my own or any other, my teeth are mine to accept. Whether or not anyone else can isn't and shouldn't be of any concern to me.

So, what do my teeth (or the lack thereof; I can't wear dentures) have to do with Tilopa's lesson? In the past, because I didn't look "acceptable" by having a nice, shiny, straight, white smile like the majority, I was ashamed to meet anyone. I craved this appearance so badly, thinking it just wasn't fair for so many others to have it when I never would. I'm a 46-year-old woman, and I've never once in my life worn lipstick because I don't want to draw attention to my mouth, where my teeth live. In the past, I didn't go out of my way to meet and talk with new people. I wanted so badly to look differently, but because I didn't, I let it affect my life. I hermited myself away, with precious little contact with anyone but my immediate family and one friend. My craving for a better appearance kept me hidden, not my appearance itself.

One of the first lessons I learned in Buddhism (I'm teaching myself since I'm not close to a dharma hall; a text here, a video there, etc.) is acceptance. Acceptance is liberation. Acceptance of situations you can't change. Things you can't have. Stuff you don't want. Things you're afraid of. To be able to accept those facts (except, it seems, dentists) and be happy...or at least content and unruffled about it...well, that was life-altering in a quite surprising and fortuitous way. For example, I have pain in my bones from too many surgeries and in my organs from more surgeries and a disease that has not been kind to them. Accepting that once, over two years ago, didn't make it a magic cure-all, however. Acceptance must happen repeatedly, in every moment. I take a step, I notice the pain, I accept it as being something I can't change, release any attachment to it, and move on to the next step. I look in the mirror, don't like what I see, then acknowledge that this is my lot in life, with no bias or contempt (and surprisingly, sometimes with compassion and love) to affect my reflection. My appearance isn't pleasant, I know this, but I'm not my appearance any more than I am my unsteady gait. Because I no longer crave better leg bones or healthy teeth, my life has a lot more room for bliss. And joy. And talking with people. Making friends. And riding a bicycle. Even singing karaoke with a friend in front of a much larger crowd in which I'm usually much less comfortable, with people taking pictures, no less.

The craving for a pretty appearance used to keep me from making friends or talking to strangers. The fact that I can go out now with the same appearance as before and talk to people is a taste of freedom. It's like my report card, grading my progress on how far down my chosen path I've come. Sure, it would be nice, I imagine, to have a winning smile, but I believe my happy spirit is a more than adequate trade.

Another Buddhist lesson I learned early on is that our bodies are merely our vehicles. I drive a lemon. I'm okay with that...are you?

"There's a common misunderstanding that the best way to live is to avoid pain and just try to get comfortable." ~Pema Chodron

The Feeling of Words

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 21:13:00 +0000

Like most establishments, Goodwill Thrift Stores play music over its loudspeakers to keep its shoppers happy and boppin' down the aisles, looking for vintage textiles, retro styles, and ankle weights and garden sprinklers (okay, maybe that last one is just me). My estranged husband and I were there browsing (you can't go in a place like that and not look at a bit of everything). We were both enjoying the music (and indeed, he was whistling along, something I can't do) but long after it had been played, we still couldn't remember who sang, "Take on Me". The only thing that kept coming back to me was "Wham!" but I knew that was wrong, even if it "felt" right.

I liken this phenomenon, this feeling of words that are similar in meaning or action, to synesthesia, which is "a neurologically based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway", according to Wikipedia. Some synesthites taste various flavors when hearing certain sounds. Others see words as having different colors and shapes. I can't always describe the almost physical sensation I get when something like this happens (it happens a lot) but I use the "ability" for lots of things. To visualize in my mind the size or weight of something...some words just weigh heavier and look bigger than others. Or appear more bold or dainty. I can often also recall words that won't come to me because a particular letter will stand out; if I'm with someone and we're both in this predicament (like trying to remember who sang "Take on Me"), I'll let them know clues I'm getting. "I see a prominent R", because I will, almost as sure as if it had stepped forward from a line-up, put its knuckles on its hips, puffed out its chest and announced, "I am Here." And often, the word will put itself together that way until I can see it and exclaim, "a-ha!", as I did when I called my estranged husband this morning. No, really..."a-ha" is the name of the band who sand the song "Take on Me". If I say "Wham!" and "a-ha" even now, I get the strong sense of the short burst of power behind it more than I do the word, which is what I was experiencing yesterday.

've told people for years that I'm wired funny. Add this phenomenon to the physical body of someone who is a supertaster, someone who refuses to let most foods mix because the flavors (or colors, textures, etc.) simply aren't compatible. Sweet AND sour together? *retch* And when you offer me your "little bit spicy" hotsauce, don't be surprised when I turn it down as the fire-starter that it is for me. When everything I experience is rolled into a ball and displayed, it amounts to creating a fairly flaky individual, eccentric, exact in her tastes and dislikes, with a goofy, exuberant enthusiasm for her pet causes. Because I am compelled not only by words, but by the sensations these words present, I'm more likely to see the deeper meaning in things. Music just might be bigger to me...at least certain types. I hear the most blissful piece of music ever performed, in my opinion, "Oraanu Pi" by E.S. Posthumus, and see and feel and can almost touch the flights of fancy, glimmers of light and flashes of glitter, swimming around and dive-bombing me. This is just an peek into my world, how I see the living of life...my reality will vary so differently than yours that, by now, you're probably shaking your head and thinking, "What a fruitcake".

Is synesthesia present in everyone, but laten in most, unfortunately? I say unfortunately because once I embraced and decided to actually see these bouncing letters, beams of dancing, colored lights, and weighted words, my life bloomed like a tropical garden, full and lush and alive with scent, movement, color, light...Life. Ya know, I don't think five or six senses are enough. Grow your own if you can. I did.

Is it just a coincidence that "Take on Me" brings a character caught in a 2D world to life in our dimension? Eh...I'm not going to make the connection. Just shut up and enjoy the videos.

Ah Ha - Take On Me

And, for future reference, will you guys please remember that, when my time comes, I want my ashes to be scattered somewhere around Mt. Baker while "Oraanu Pi" is playing. Loudly. And blissfully. Namaste'.

You're So Vein

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Wed, 06 May 2009 21:55:00 +0000

I have several blog sites all over the interwebal universe. A post here, one there, and then they all would sit in cyberspace, gathering cosmic dust, waiting for me to come back and attack the keys of my computer in my erratic yet zippy hunt-and-peck method. This is the one...the blog with which I'll continue recounting my life experiences. And, geeminy, have there have been plenty of experiences since last I posted. In February. Where does the time go?

Let's start with a post about the crappy stuff and get it out of the way. You know...like getting the bad news first so the good news is even better. And then I'll be able to post later on the more positive, happy things going on around me after I get this out of my system.

The award for Major Suckiness goes to the pulmonary embolism that landed me in the hospital very recently. Just when you think things are stable and that you own your health, WHAM! And I ignored the silly thing. For three days, I had the most awful stitch-like pain on inhaling even a tiny breath. We've all had them...temporary "catches" of something inside us around our air bags (lungs) that break free quickly. Except this wasn't going away. I would lie in my bed at night and try to get comfortable, try to find a position in which I could lie where I could just breathe. You simply can't appreciate a single, deep, cleansing breath...like the ones you use in meditation (you can imagine how that went) until you can't take one. And I'd panic. And cry. I was all alone (by choice), except for my cat who did everything in her power to comfort me, bless her. I'd think about calling someone to chat with, to try and distract my mind from the vice around my lung, but who wants their phone to ring at three o'clock in the morning? Eventually, I'd find I could curl up tightly and kind of rock myself to sleep for an hour or so. And I'd get up and try to live my life normally, accepting that I had this pain and trying to let it go. Trouble is, it wouldn't let go of me.

Ya see, I had this feeling that I was having an allergic reaction to a new medication my doctor prescribed for migraines and when it wasn't helping, he doubled the dose. When I began having the pain, I googled this "wonder drug", and sure enough...it contains a small amount of sulfa. I attributed the pain to what isn't a real allergic reaction to sulfa, but a severe and serious side effect that literally burns my muscles and makes them contract involuntarily. It knocked me out of commission once for six months. I figured that, because I stopped taking it, the pain would eventually decrease.

Try riding a bike to the post office or grocery store. I did. I lived my life and did my thing and still went to watch the eagles down the road. I ignored the pain that refused to go away until...well...I just couldn't ignore it anymore. I asked my wonderful blessing of a neighbor if she would be willing to take me to the emergency room. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long to be treated. Once I informed the intake person that I'd had a PE in the past, it wasn't long before I was on a gurney hooked up to an IV. Ahhh...sweet relief of morphine and valium rushing through my veins, finally giving me a break from the panic and pain of not being able to get that deep breath. Then came all those tests: EKG, Doppler ultrasound, X-Rays, MRIs. Then came the diagnosis...yep, it was an embolism. I started to cry. I have tried so hard for so long to stay out of this medical loop. One doctor sending me to another, and then to another, and before I know it, I'm following all these directions and taking all these pills, and just getting lost in all of it. I broke that cycle when I left South Carolina and began my metamorphosis.

No, I don't believe I'm immortal or invincible. I realize that my health is still sorely compromised by lupus and the ravages it's inflicted on my organs and circulatory system. But I learned not to let it turn me into...a patient, a sick woman, a fragile, frail being. That's not who I am! For a very long time, though, it was. And that's why this hit me so hard. It took me completely by surprise at a time in my life when I was enjoying another metamorphosis separate from my own, the arrival of spring after a very long and difficult winter, physically and financially, that just went on and on and on. Now the rhodies are blooming, the cherry blossoms are showering their petals everywhere, and bees are already finding those apple blossoms and doing their map dance to show their fellow bees where a plethora of pollen can be found. The smell of lilacs is in the air, everywhere. The snow is retreating from the not-so-distant hills; the trees, having shrugged off the winter, are twirling in the shadow and light that you can't see when the snow blankets those hills. I was ramping up to ride my bike for miles and miles so I could accomplish my goal of being able to ride 20 miles in a day by the end of the summer. And now, I'm "allowed" to ride short distances as long as I don't exert myself.

Believe it or not, Little Miss Pollyanna Me even sees the blessing here. For years, I've been on and off (mostly off) coumadin, a blood thinner used in rat poison (they die of internal bleeding...how sad is that?). I've been on doses so high that it required me to wear a MedicAlert bracelet to announce to one and all that I'm a clotty little bugger. This was a true wake-up call, with bells and whistles and gongs telling me that, damn it, I KNOW I have things to do. I finally know who I am and I'm learning what life is truly all about, and I'm gonna blow it if I don't continue to take rat poison for the rest of my life. Okay, I get it. I surrender. Ooh...since I'm in the Stream-of-Consciousness zone, I can say that, when I typed those words, "I surrender", I got a giddy little goosebumply feeling. I give in. I accept. And then I go on. I gather myself up and try to play catch up to where I felt I was supposed to be by now. However, I know it's going to take a little while to get there. The Something has spoken, telling me to slow down, that perhaps I was going just a little faster than I should.
And once again, I'll have a collection of medicine bottles of various doses of pretty little colored pills lined up on a shelf. I concede to having blood drawn two or three times a week because the vitamin K in the bean sprouts and broccoli I consume in mass quantities alters the efficacy and daily dosage of the coumadin. Being a vegetarian creates all kinds of additional problems for those with clotting disorders. My doctor asked me while I was in the hospital, "How devoted to your being a vegetarian are you?" My neighbor bought me a spider catcher so I can catch those creepy little monsters that scare the begeebers out of me and let them go outside of my flat, my space. I have no right to take a life deliberately, with intention, whether by smacking a fly on the wall or eating a hamburger. All life is sacred. And in that vein (pun intended), not taking my medication is akin to taking my own life slowly. Or suddenly. The clots are still there, though a bit smaller. If I'd waited one more day to be seen, to start treatment to reduce the size of the clots damaging my lung and leg, and possibly veins in other places, I wouldn't be here to type this stream-of-consciousness tome. I suppose I could have just written, "I haven't posted in a while. I had a blood clot in my lung that scared me into taking medicine so I can continue riding my bike and enjoying the beauty of this world and typing long blog posts."

Nah. That's not my style.

An Experiment in Reality

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 05:24:00 +0000

I was sitting in a very old chair that has traveled with me all over the world (I plan to write a post about it soon), feeling grateful for its ever-present presence in my life. And then I realized I was in a sunbeam. And then I noticed the dust specks whirling about. Already blissed out by an experience of abundance and peace after sitting in meditation, I picked up my camera and began to ramble stream-of-consciously about the nature of our reality. It's all about perception; how do we choose to view our life, and what do we wish to see?

I'm a bit blissed now, pharmaceutically-free, but wanted to share this insight of my life with my friends and family. Regardless of the situation, I'm finding that I can still find peace, even if it currently presents itself in intermittent showers. Or little flecks of dust. Namaste'.

p.s. Please pardon the mess; my flat usually isn't so crowded and cluttered, but I recently received a delivery of things that I love dearly, which contributes to my feeling of gratitude for all that is. My flat is small enough that it requires some creative arrangement which is, at the moment, a bit difficult for reasons I won't go into right now. It might be a story for another time...

...and the rains came

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 12:15:00 +0000

And came, and came, and kept coming, on top of previous, substantial snowfalls. All that water has to go somewhere...or not. Long story short, on January 8, 2009, my flat was a virtual island, surrounded by water as deep as my knees in places. I feel extremely thankful that the water didn't inundate my apartment building, but it was close; the floor got cold because of the water in the crawl space beneath the floors.This is a panoramic view of one of the streets next to my apartment;the one that runs the other direction was just as bad.

No, one wasn't at risk of drowning or being swept away by the current if one left the building, but it was still a damage-causing nuisance. When a driver would pilot their vehicle through, they either did so with caution and trepidation, often deciding against it and backing out, or they would drive through at breakneck speed, creating not only fantails but also a "wake" that would lap against houses, creating even more damage. I asked that the city close the affected roads to not only potentially save the autos that dared to drive through the knee-deep water, but to prevent any more damage from being inflicted on the houses that were already greatly compromised by the rising waters. The city took a very lackadaisical stance and did nothing save place a single sign. And, oh, the irony...especially when this sign went floating away after a wake was created by a truck out for a joy ride through the flooding.

This was my first experience with flooding, and while I personally didn't lose property, the sense of approaching dread was overwhelming as the waters rose. I can't even begin to imagine how it must feel to have to toss a lifetime of sentimental belongings. There were residences in town that were forced to do just that; sump pumps failed and sandbagging just wasn't adequate in battling the rising waters of nearby creeks, streams, and rivers.

Because my blog is primarily about my experiences of riding my bicycle and the things I see while doing so, I'd be remiss in posting this video. I needed a few groceries and so, the only practical way to remedy this was to ride my bicycle through the deep water. I don't own a pair of boots and was reluctant to possibly ruin my beloved Tevas; I donned my thrift shop Nike all-terrain sandals (great in the water), rolled up my pants legs and rode through frigid, "take your breath away" water that had been chilled by copious amounts of snow.

Still, the waters did add a whole new dimension to things, especially at night. It was almost like living in a houseboat...or, at the very least, like having lakefront property. Those affected by the flooding (specifically two areas harder hit than the rest of town, including where I live) were fortunate not to lose power, which meant that the lights at night created an almost magical scene when their echoes reflected in the water. Close enough to the winter holidays, many residents still had their Christmas lights up. One neighbor turned them on, which created a surreal scene which was embellished further by the presence of a shining star above the abode which was reflected in the water. A sight to behold, still I can't help but think that the homeowner was happy to see the waters recede.

And they did, even if it took some time. A week later, I rode my bicycle to the outlying areas and snapped photos of trumpeter swans swimming in what are normally cornfields. Unfortunately, I also saw a literal pile of dead calves, perhaps drowned in the flooding, apparently pending disposal. Tears were shed for the loss of their young lives. I was disheartened to see that they were in plain view of passing school buses. Perhaps this was one of those "necessary" lessons learned by children raised on farms, but it made me very sad to see them just discarded like so much wet carpet or ruined drywall piled in a yard.While I consider this another experience to add to my rich life, I can honestly say that I hope never to experience a flood this closely again. While I count my blessings that it wasn't any worse, my compassion is great for those who have lost their belongings (or worse, the lives of their loved ones and/or entire homes) in a flood. It's amazing to me how easily Mother Nature reminds us that, regardless of humankind's best efforts to prove that this earth belongs to them, there are far greater forces at work than man will ever be capable of replicating.

In January, it's so nice while slipping on the sliding ice...

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 08:01:00 +0000

Bonus points for identifying the source of the title of this entry. Just a bit of what I've been up against lately...

I apologize if I'm difficult to understand in either video, but it was cold out there, and I'd been out for a while; I was trying to avoid shivering and chattering teeth. Oh, how lovely is a nice, hot cuppa after coming in from a ride in the snow and ice! As I type, the snow continues to fall, but I think it's supposed to turn to rain with slightly warmer temperatures. Oh, won't that be fun in which to ride a bicycle.

'Twas the snow before Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 07:43:00 +0000

I'll let the beauty of the snowflakes speak for itself for the majority of this entry, and save my readers from the normal flakiness found here. The following pictures were taken on December 24, 2008, when Sumas, Washington was blessed with a foot and a half of snow by the time the snow stopped falling. If you'd like a bigger, better quality version of these images, please, just say the word.

I hope you had a wonderful and blessed Christmas. My day was quiet and rather uneventful. I opened my few presents from friends and family in the morning, and later, my neighbor and I enjoyed a holiday meal together. She had salad and the turkey she had prepared, and I had a concoction of rice, peppers, onion, and Yves Meatless Ground that was quite yummy, if not your traditional holiday fare. Then I watched my cat, Tetley, play with the prezzie that Sandy Claws brought her, and gave thanks for having her in my life. She's a wonderful companion.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. I plan to ring it in by myself (by choice), surrounded by candles while sitting in meditation. Instead of focusing on a world torn apart by escalating violence, suffering, pain, and sorrow, I choose, instead, to see the earth blanketed by healing compassion, abundance of all that is good and necessary, and peace. I can make personal resolutions later, but as Buddha said, "What we think, we become."

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. I plan to ring it in by myself (by choice), surrounded by candles while sitting in meditation. Instead of focusing on a world torn apart by escalating violence, suffering, pain, and sorrow, I choose, instead, to see the earth blanketed by healing compassion, abundance of all that is good and necessary, and peace. I can make personal resolutions later, but as Buddha said, "What we think, we become."

Snow Business

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 05:51:00 +0000

I've been in Washington state now just shy of two years. I moved here on my own from the deep south but that's a tale I've told before (though not here), and will tell again when the time comes. It rarely snows in the south, and on the odd occasion that it does, it either doesn't stick, or doesn't stay around long. As someone who grew up loving the snow, I missed it immensely. It has a way that seems to purify everything; it's the great equalizer, the concealer that makes the less-than-beautiful simply exquisite, sparkling, and brand new. It absorbs the harsh sounds of man but amplifies the calls of the birds and whispering of the wind.

I didn't know how much snow I'd get this winter; I moved to my flat here in the valley of the Sumas Prairie in August. My neighbors insisted that we would see some snow, but not much. A few inches might fall and be gone in a few days. I was ready for that, even though my former residence got quite a bit more than it seemed I would see here. Then again, since my arrival in the Pacific Northwest, there has been more snow than normal for some inexplicable reason. My former landlord/friend/roommate (heretofore referred to as The Froomlord) thinks I have a pretty effective snow call.

December 17 brought the first real snow of 2008 to TinyTown...three or four inches, just as the locals told me to expect. I was thrilled. It doesn't matter that I have no one to go sledding with, or to build snowpeople with, or to help me create a peaceful army of snow angels. I bundled up against very cold temperatures, put my camera in my pocket, and wheeled my bicycle out of my flat and into the pristine landscape. I'm sure I must have attempted to ride my bike in the snow as a child, but I can't imagine that I was any more successful back then as I was now. It doesn't take much snow to create enough friction to make it difficult to ride a bike. With the roads plowed.... perhaps "scraped" would be more accurate...I quickly discovered that there was still enough snow that I had to ride in the tracks made by the few cars that had traversed the side roads of this tiny town.

Does your town have a local eccentric, someone who is often seen exhibiting peculiar behavior? Like, say...riding a bicyle in the snow while laughing out loud at the exercise in futility? I'm fairly certain that that's how the residents see me, the woman who rides her bicycle everywhere instead of walking or driving, who stops every 50 yards to take a picture of something. I'd just about get going well when I'd hit a slippery patch or deeper snow and have to slide to a stop. And giggle.

Though there wasn't a blizzard, there was plenty of snow to cover everything, so I had to take photographs of everything just because it wasn't the same. The house across the street became the subject of a Norman Rockwell setting, a Christmas postcard. My bicycle, its burgundy and pinkness electrified against the whiteness, became my ATV, albeit with a lot of help from me. I took well over 100 pictures of my feet in the snow and the tracks they made, park benches, trees, and snowflakes unable to escape a spider's web. I don't think I've ever been as impressed by the way normally harsh and angular structures were softened by a blanket of forgiveness. The fuzzy edges of everything made the whole world feel insulated and protected. A kinder, gentler place to just be. And I was being...being the only one outside playing and taking pictures and just enjoying the wonder of this event, knowing that, like everything, it would not last. Its permanence would be even more fleeting than the moments of every day because it's not every day it snows like this.

And I was certainly the only person I saw on a bicycle. The people at the post office seemed amazed that I'd ridden my bike at all. When I say amazed, I mean that they looked at me like I'm just not quite altogether there. But it occurs to me...they couldn't be more wrong. For the first time in my middle-aged years, I feel like I'm completely here. Present. What has wrought this change in me; what part of me embraces riding a bicycle even in the snow, and why? That's rhetorical, of course...I don't need an answer. I welcome the opportunity to fully experience events like this, to truly taste and feel and see and smell what life gives us. And what better way to do that than to completely immerse yourself...to jump in with both feet?

Join me next time when I tell you about the Christmas Eve snow, with more pics (and video!) to accompany my verbosity. My favorite irascible curmudgeon has asked me to stop doing my snow dance; he seems to think I have it down to a science. Personally, I think it's a fine art.

Fatten the people and entertain them.

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 09:47:00 +0000

Not able to sleep, I'm playing Bubblet, mindlessly clicking on colored spheres; this is a nightly routine to help me gear down in preparation for sleep. I have the tv on, listening to the "Gladiators: Blood Sport" episode of Cities of the Underworld on the History Channel. It appears that the ancient politicians of Rome, in an effort to keep revolt of the people to a minimum, would appease its citizens by offering not only the bloody "entertainment" in venues such as the Coliseum, but also gave away free wheat. An archaeologist explained to the show's host that this served to propitiate the people of Rome, to keep them in control. She spoke a phrase, then translated it as, "Fatten the people and keep them entertained."

Some things never change. For quite some time now, I've been sorely disillusioned by the overabundance of insipid banality on tv. We're offered titillating tales of Paris Hilton's love life and the tragic train wreck of a life as lived by Britney Spears. On how many channels and numerous times of day are we able to watch "Deal or No Deal", with all the pretty lights and captivating sounds, Howie Mandel as big as life and as gregarious as any family member from the wall-to-wall tv screens in Fahrenheit 451? Naughty housewives and schemes for dirty, sexy money. Should the fact that we're smarter than a fifth-grader make us feel good about ourselves? It just all feels like such a smoke screen to me, a magician's sleight of hand to keep our attention from what's really going on. The war. Global warming and a planet in peril. Politicians who have never been a loyal servant of a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

While we're watching such quality programming...would you like fries with that? And why stop at one burger when you can get another for only 39 cents more? Try the super combo meal. You can always work it off by playing tennis or 18 holes of golf on the Wii in your living room. Whatever happened to going outside to play, even as an adult? Technology is a wonderful thing, but it's no substitute for biking or hiking a trail through a forest...or even the perimeter of a local park. Did you know that P.E. has disappeared in many educational institutions? But that's okay, because I've seen commercials for the "minimally invasive" bands that surgeons can place around your stomach...we don't need to be responsible for our weight because we now have doctors who can do that for us.

Maybe I'm nostalgic for the time when an American education was something to be proud of. For the day when kids were safe (and more fit) on the local playground. For a time when we didn't have to work 16 hours a day to earn a living, leaving time only for a fast food meal vice one that is healthy and less expensive, cooked at home. For an age where PSAs ran on tv urging us to "Keep America Beautiful", and reminding us that "It's nice to share" (it truly ooly ooly is). Nostalgic for the era when we weren't being led down the path to "Fat, dumb, and happy". How have we, as a nation, allowed this to happen? And why? Have we been that blind, or have The Powers That Be just been so subtle at fattening and entertaining us that we just haven't noticed the changes until we've become like the humanoids in Wall-E, spoiled by our superstores, megameals, and media that does all of our thinking for us, so we don't have to?

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." ~George Santayana

"I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forego their use." ~Galileo Galilei

"Go outside and play. Or read a book. And, no, you can't have another cookie...you'll ruin your dinner. " ~Mom

The eagle has landed

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 01:31:00 +0000

From my last post, "The first man in the moon" to "The eagle has landed". Last night, I was able to capture detail of the moon with my new camera for the first time ever. Today, I was exceedingly fortunate to capture the catalyst for ordering my new camera. I'll get there, but first...

It never did snow yesterday but the forecasted winter storm finally blew in with a vengeance, bringing plummeting temperatures and powerful winds, resulting in a wind chill factor of below 20 degrees. I almost didn't go out today...I almost let the ego with its toes under a heating pad and a fuzzy blanket wrapped 'round its shoulders talk me into staying home. I won't quote the conversation here, but rest assured, it wasn't an easy battle. Once again, I'm enigmatically happy that I have to go and get my own mail since it's not delivered; it gives me a reason to get out, even [especially] when staying in would be the easy thing to do.

After bundling up warmly, feeling not unlike Ralph's little uber-layered brother in A Christmas Story, I headed toward the post office, camera in my pocket. Whoa, was it ever cold out there! Bitter cold...there's a reason they call it that. Granted, I'm just not used to that kind of cold, living in a surprisingly temperate climate with few weather extremes. It hadn't occured to me that, as easy as it was getting to the post office, it would be that much more difficult facing the wind that was initially at my back.

Sometimes, living in the moment can possess one to do peculiar things. Like going for a bicycle ride, looking for eagles, even in frigid temperatures and howling winds. The lump in my coat pocket reminded me that I had a new camera, and having a new camera reminded me of why I'd bought it...because I hadn't been very successful at taking photographs of the eagles in a nearby nest. While my ego sat at home, nice and toasty warm (relatively speaking) and drinking a lovely cup of tea, I made my way the mile or so to the eagles' nest. Against the wind. It proved to be as difficult for me as riding up hills; I had to stop frequently because I'd run out of pedal power. And my eyes were watering from the wind. And my nose, hidden beneath my scarf, threatened to undo my efforts of sniffling its runny contents back into my sinuses. I'd stop, rest for a few minutes, take care of my orifices, then carry on. Side note: the contents of a tissue freezes extremely rapidly on days like today.

Whew...I finally made it to the spot where I take most of my pictures, thanks to both the anticipation that I just might see an eagle or two and to the lack of common sense. From this particular spot, on a clear day, I can see Mt. Baker and the surrounding hills. This is also where the two bald eagles' nests are. It's a pretty spot...let me show you.From this perspective, Mt. Baker is to the right, the mountain range in Canada is to the left, and the two eagles' nests are behind me at, say, seven and five o'clock.

The wind was whipping me around, preventing me from holding my camera steady, which was a good test for its shake-reducing feature. I perservered, with some of my shots coming out better than the others, depending on the gusts of wind that were coming at me from between 15 and 35 miles per hour. And then...then it was time to focus on the nest. One is more new and more active than the other; this is the one where I only just missed the eagles flying when I was here last.

I approached the grove of trees where the nest sits high above the ground. The trees were swaying, making me a bit dizzy to look up. I was in the process of snapping photos of the nest in between stronger gusts of wind when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. Looking away from my camera, I saw him! The male eagle of the pair was trying fervently to get to the nest, but was experiencing much technical difficulty with the cross winds blowing him to and fro. It was an amazing show to watch him maneuver, get close, then fall back because a gust would send him off course. Even though I could see him in the viewfinder, it was so windy that my focus kept losing its course, as well. Luckily, I was able to snap a few captures of his approach...and then it happened.

The wind died just enough to allow him to fly right over the top of the nest, into easy view of my camera. I held my breath, made a wish, said a prayer, and pressed the button. At that instant, I saw that he was looking down. At his nest? At the crazy interloper who was watching his air show? I can't tell, but I'm elated that I got the shot. No, it's not professional quality, but as I stated in my last post, it's not about the picture or the equipment. It's about the experience, of being there to appreciate all that was necessary to make the events of that very moment possible. My brisk venturing and roaming in weather not fit for man nor beast (save the eagles), fighting the wind and runny nose and achy bones from the cold ceased to matter. What mattered was being here, right now, to watch this noble creature battle the elements to return safely to his home.

Brace yourselves, here comes the lesson. And isn't there always a lesson?

If I'd have stayed home, where I would have been relatively warm and comfortable, I'd have missed this. Not just the shot, but the experience of watching the eagle's triumph against a force greater than the both of us. Had I stayed home, I would never have known that I missed the shot. Yes, there are times to be still, but not just because it's easier than going out into the cold. Have a good, hard think the next time it occurs to you to ride your bike, or take a walk, or just get out and move. Do you make excuses to avoid it, or do you follow through? The easy way rarely affords one the majestic view, the journey that makes all the difference and the spirit-lifting experience of doing what isn't necessarily easy. Who knew that Nike's slogan of "Just do it" actually has the potential to create new neural pathways, to change our lives for the better, if we keep following the calling to get off of our arses and open our eyes...to do the right thing instead of the easy thing.

The goal doesn't have to be grandiose. I merely set out to attempt to accomplish one of the goals I'd set for myself, taking amateur photographs of eagles. I could have done that tomorrow, but I did it today. And because it was a hard thing to do, I think I appreciate what it took for both me and the eagle to be at the right place at the right time. My ego missed that opportunity, but my consciousness was awestruck.

The First Man in the Moon

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 00:03:00 +0000

I knew my camera was on the familiar brown truck the night before last, and I was giddy with anticipation of receiving it. With snow in the forecast, I was anxious to start taking pictures, knowing that I'd actually be able to see my subjects in the viewfinder. I freakin' LOVE the snow, and love to take pictures of it. When the buzzer sounded informing me that someone was at the common door to my apartment building, I almost stepped on my cat in my hurry to press the button and let them in.

In less than five minutes, I was taking pictures. I could read the manual later (and have done since). Tetley, the aforementioned cat, was my first subject. Not totally willing, it didn't take her long to realize that this bloody contraption flashes in her face just like the other one. I managed to capture a few nice shots, even in the dim lighting of my flat.

The next day, I was at it again, pointing and shooting. With the promise of afternoon snow, I occupied myself indoors until the flakes began to fall. Sadly, there were but a few snowflakes that showed up to waltz amongst the cold raindrops that fell all day. I went for a ride on my bike, but the rain hitting my face was like tiny needles; needless to say, I didn't ride far. After coming home and warming up with a nice cup of tea, Tetley seemed a bit more willing to sit for a few portraits.

While I'm impressed with the quality of the images, I recently learned of a technique using Gimp, free photo-imaging software, to enhance photographs, allowing the user to enrich the color and add a soft Gaussian blur to accentuate the subject. I think the photo of my little Namaste' cat is probably one of the best pictures I've ever taken. Call me biased, I understand. I'll even agree.

I took pics of the quirky things I have here in my little abode. A whimsical PVC Buddha sitting atop a miniature mountain. Origami cranes my brother made for me sitting atop miniature mountains. A beaded ornament my mother made for me. One of two of my Hello Kitty alarm clocks. The giraffes who live on my living room window sill. And then, when I realized that the rain had stopped, I took my camera outside in the very chilly nightime dark. Except, it wasn't very dark. The moon was extraordinary, appearing 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than normal, according to Yahoo News. 'Twas worth the cold and discomfort to look upon such a sight. I've never had any success photographing the moon. Sure, I get a round, glowing circle, but I've never been able to capture any detail with the amateur equipment I can afford. Still, hands shaking in the cold, I kept pushing that shutter button, mesmerized by the magical light in the sky and hoping a little magic might appear in my computer when I transferred the images from my camera.

Glowing circle, circle, oblong circle, glowing circle, streak of fuzzy light, circle, glowing circle, man in the moon, circle, glo...wait! Go back...did I see what I thought I seed? Wahooo! One small step for man, a giant leap for amateur photographers who just want a moon pic with even a wee bit of detail visible. It probably won't mean much to anyone else, but it will remind me of the night right after I got my new camera and stood shivering in the freezing temperatures, snapping photos of the most majestic moon I've seen in a very long time. And these are the things that are more precious to me than anything material, including a new camera. Sure, the camera is a wonderful thing to have, especially when it paints these amazing memories of moments when I have been aware of just how miraculous the things in and of this universe truly are. But it's the experience itself that is special; of knowing that this moment will never, ever happen again. A camera just can't capture that profound feeling of being a part of it all, of being connected on a quantum level to that which is on the other side of the lens.

However comma...that doesn't mean I'll stop trying.

More on pictures and thousands of words, etc.

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 03:28:00 +0000

As I said down there somewhere, things will work out; they always do. And just like that, they have. There's a reason the former name of my blog was "Synchronicity". I won't go into details, but just know that the new camera, never much of a worry to begin with, became another indication that whatever I'm doing, I'm doing it right. I'm constantly made aware of fortuitous happenstances that are just too wildly connected to be coincidences. Have you received your daily recommended dose of magic? Have you looked for it?

Picture, thousand words, 99 bucks, revisited. Or, proof that Tee needs a new camera.

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 23:32:00 +0000

I went for a ride today in the drear. Regardless of the weather, I have a daily reason to ride; the town has an ordinance which states that no dwelling within a half mile of the post office is allowed a mailbox and residents must collect their mail at the post office. If I want my mail every day, I have to trek the quarter mile to get it. When I first moved here, I thought that would be a nuisance, an annoyance, a real inconvenience. The opposite is proving to be true. Even on days when I don't particularly feel like getting out of bed, let alone my apartment, if I want my mail, I get on my bike and go. Somedays, that half-mile round trip is as far as I'm able to go.

I thought that today might be one of those days. After I picked up the mail for myself (I got prezzies from Japan, via Canada!) and a neighbor (I'm happy to make mail runs for my friends), I decided I hadn't adequately moved my bones. So, I rode another mile or so to where I know the eagles are. I'd only been there a few moments when one came flying by, circled, then landed in the newer of two nests not far from one another. I grabbed my camera, switched it to video mode, and made a funny chirping noise that I hoped would entice the eagle to pop his head up so I could see him. He did more than that; he flew from his nest while I was filming. I was hoping...hoping I had him in frame, hoping he wouldn't be mad at me for disturbing him, and hoping I hadn't made him think twice about moving into that particular neighborhood...nosy neighbors!

One of the border patrol guards came driving by as I was putting down my camera and asked if I'd got the shot. I explained to him that I wouldn't know until I got home because of my camera's foibles. He wished me luck and drove away. I saw Mr. Eagle flying back and began filming again.

As you can see, I managed to film him. Not in the first video; all you can see in that are trees and sky whizzing by, and there's not an eagle in sight. The second video captured his regal eagleness, however. Not very well, and not for very long, but he's there. And after he landed, I saw Mrs. Eagle pop up her head. I can safely say that I believe there will be fledgling eagles in this nest. I consider myself so very fortunate for being given the opportunity to watch them today. Such majestic creatures.

So much for drear, eh? There's always a reason to ride my bike. Always. Namaste'.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, one thousand words are worth...99 dollars.

noreply@blogger.com (Tee) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 08:04:00 +0000

I take a lot of pictures. I mean, a lot of pictures. There are two reasons for that. The first is that, since I started a journey on a spiritual path that includes meditation, I've become much more aware of my surroundings. As a result, it seems as if I'm always seeing something in a new light that strikes my fancy. A single blue hydrangea among November's flowers otherwise void of vivid color. A lonely dandy lion. A field full of cheery, yellow dandy lions. A woolly worm racing down a country road. Things I might never have noticed in a previous life not as rich as this one I'm now living have a life of their own, drawing my attention, and my camera lens, to them.

The second reason that I take so many pictures, an average of 75 on a day when I may only ride my bike a mile, is because my camera's LCD screen is broke and it doesn't have an optical viewfinder. I can tell neither that a shot is framed properly nor the setting at which I'm using to take the picture is appropriate. To be safe, I try and capture five shots: high, low, left, right, and centered. This way, I figure I'm bound to get a decent image. There have been days when I've been out on an extraordinarily beautiful day, snapping photos right and left, appreciating all that I see and enjoying myself immensely while also looking forward to being home later, having a lovely cuppa and going through my pics of the day.

And then, if I were the type to allow disappointment to set in, it probably would; I'm often lucky to get a couple of decent images out of the 75 I take. I'm not a professional photographer, and don't even have "the eye for photography" that some do. I realize, too, that no photo can capture the beauty one sees through one's peepers. However comma...when I only get half of a beautiful German Shepherd (even if the shot looks intentional) or an image of absolutely nothing but blue, cloudless sky (may as well be a wall painted robin's-egg blue), or the fuzzy white cone of what I think is a mountain, or half a mountain...well, it's a bit disheartening, especially when I look forward to sharing my day with my sons, my friends, my family. Not in a "Nanny nanny boo boo" way...but to show them how much meaning life has for me now. How precious every day has become to me.

What to do, what to do? The bald eagles have made their nests, but I can't get a decent shot of those, let alone the eagles which will soon be in the area in droves. And the snowline is falling, meaning those first snowflakes will be dancing my way very soon. And there's my lovely girly-pink bicycle, my flaky OCD cat, Tetley, and the birds that have decided they like the restaurant right outside my window, all posing for portraits that I keep missing.

I needed a new camera. And, while I really can't afford one, I bought one today with plastic money. I know that things will work out...they always do. I believe it's because I try to follow the Noble Eightfold Path in the Buddhist philosophy: right understanding, right thoughts, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration. By staying on my path, I've been able to shelf the worry that used to plague me, like, where is the money going to come from? My finances look pretty bleak right now; the "old" me would be wringing her hands, crying "woe is me". That me certainly wouldn't buy a new camera.

This new me, however, worries about very little, actually. It's an insightful feeling to know that worrying about the outcome of a situation accomplishes absolutely nothing other than compound the negativity one is already feeling. Just keep on, keeping on, doing the right thing, and things fall into place like a jigsaw puzzle solving itself. It was in that frame of mind that the new me found a great deal on a very nice camera. TopChoiceDigital.com is selling the Canon A590 for $99.00, averaging a cool $30 less than many stores, both online and brick-and-mortar. This is the camera I've been looking at for a few months now, primarily because it's one of the few models of digital cameras that still has an optical viewfinder. With my current camera, a Nikon Coolpix L11, the LCD screen is the viewfinder, and the menu options can only be seen on the screen. I haven't been able to change the flash, macro, or any exposure settings since the screen broke. The A590 has a manual dial for its settings, too, which means that, even if the LCD screen bites the dust, I'll still have a camera I can use. A camera I can capture some of the magic and majesty I see while out and about on my bicycle.

A hundred dollars may not sound like much to some of you (Hello? Is there anybody out there?) but for someone who shops at resale establishments out of necessity (though I love the treasure hunting feeling of the experience, too), a hundred bucks is a great deal of money. But, ya know what? 'Tis the season...Merry Christmas to me. Why, thank you! It's just what I wanted!