Holiday in Appalachia (continued)

I go across the creek this morning to have a look at the place. My neighbor Donn has me holding one end of a measuring tape while he holds the other. However, it's still not clear to me where his property ends and the other begins. Looks to me like he’s going to have to get a surveyor out here. He says: “No, I have to get an attorney out here ..there’s no ‘site map’ .. the property lines were determined by a hand shake back in the 1920’s .” A few more neighbors arrive. I ask if they’d be willing to split the difference. See if they can get Tom to put up a stone wall ..6 inches wide. They tell me that would be crazy. As long as they feel they have the ‘right of easement’ ..they're not backing down.

“Even if it means putting Tom out of business ..?” I ask.

“Oh, you bet. We don't care.”

“What if the next guy that comes along has more money ..and wants to build something along the lines of a Disney World theme park ..?”

“Nobody in their right mind would buy this property ..not in this market ..!”

“A developer might..”

Now they’re looking at me like I’m out of my mind ..and I walk away, still hearing the sound of banjoes, and thinking: “They ain’t used to seein’ nuthin ‘round here ‘cept fer that ol’ abandoned shack ..and I s’pose they intend on keepin it that way.”

Holiday in Appalachia

I’m attending a meeting this afternoon down at the building department. I'm anxious to see if they're going to let a new owner tear down the 'Appalachian shack' that sits across the creek from me. Even though I wish they wouldn’t schedule these things so close to the holidays ..I am getting tired of hearing the sound of dueling banjoes every day. Besides, I’ve talked to Tom, the new owner, and I’m OK with what he’s doing. However, the property is ‘land-locked’ meaning he has to cross over other people’s property to get there. When I enter the meeting room ..I'm caught in the crossfire between Hatfield’s and McCoy’s.

“The project is too big ..your construction equipment is destroying my property ..!”

“We have an easement ..besides, I already told you I’d replace anything that gets damaged ..!”

“That’s not the issue ..you tore down my fence ..!”

“That fence was on my property ..!”

“No it wasn’t ..!”

“Yes it was ..!”

“Ok Ok, listen ..if I agree to put up a new fence ..can I continue working without you guys calling the police again..?”

“Hell no.”

Nothing is accomplished. Six inches of land stand in the way and unless Tom concedes ..the neighbors aren’t letting construction vehicles pass through their property, which they somehow feel is their God-given right.

Rabbit hole

I met Crazy Charlie in college ~ that’s also where I learned that hallucinations don’t always appear as people who aren’t really there ~ no, hallucinations are more subtle than that ~ they often don’t rise to the threshold of sight ~ most of the time they stop at the auditory centers ~ so, hearing voices of people who aren’t really there is a lot more common ~ I experienced this directly by participating in LSD sessions ~ LSD mimics psychosis by lowering the threshold for signals arriving from the senses ~ as well as noise originating from the mind ~ making music sound more persuasive ~ mixed up with people who looked more melodic ~ it could heighten feelings of euphoria ~ leading me to believe I was making all kinds of fascinating discoveries ~ or intensify feelings of dread and anxiety ~ which I could manufacture just as easily on my own ~ so I quit ~ I discovered that I had an aptitude for languages ~ which I probably picked up overseas ~ so I focused on language learning ~ not necessarily ESL ~ more like ‘hemispheric lateralization’ ~ I narrowed it down to reading comprehension ~ then phonemic awareness ~ my progress was going in the direction of increasing specialization ~ taking a subject and exploring it in depth ~ my friends and family thought I was crazy ~ they thought higher education was supposed to be a process of expanding horizons ~ so they used to ask me what else I was doing besides examining relative clauses ~ and they were right ~ higher education does expand your horizons ~ just not the way you think ~ the deeper you go into any one thing ~ the more connections you see with everything else ~ like, for instance, when Alice went down the rabbit hole ~ it didn’t lead to a tunnel ~ it opened up to the rest of the world ~ the one inside of her childlike mind.

Formative years

I came of age on the edge of the Pacific ocean, which is probably why I can see more shades of blue than a farm boy in rural Nebraska ..and why he can see more shades of grain. I spent my adolescence exploring coves beneath bluffs lined with spectacular homes that I felt would always be outta reach. I didn’t mind, my ambitions weren’t exactly materialistic ..as long as they didn’t put the beach outta reach ..that’s where I felt most at home. I mastered body boarding ..I went through tide pools and caves ..I found a hidden cove that I could get to only by diving off a cliff and get out of by swimming. I used to go there a lot and just sit ..watching life in the coastal zone ..a cycle of water swooshing in and flowing out ..re-shaping it’s surroundings. It resembled the way my days  went ..from sunny beaches ..to dark corners ..and back to sunny beaches again. I came of age on the edge of the Pacific ocean ..and I know how much this sounds like some sort of daily affirmation.

Divinity rules

I was raised to believe that America is the land of the free ~ and a sanctuary from religious persecution. So naturally I was alarmed to discover that it all depends on which church I go to. The Republican Administration has chosen to identify itself with the religious right ..primarily Evangelical Christians. The evangelical community has arrogantly staked the moral high-ground ~ and declared themselves the only legitimate believers entitled to hold power. They have adopted their own form of religious persecution by creating a test to discriminate against public office holders. It goes something like this: 1) do you follow divine guidance and 2) do your prayers get answered by the same God as ours. Mormonism is a cult ..that speaks in code ..Catholics seek world domination ..Jews aren’t even Christian ..and Muslims are fanatics. I’m afraid that If I met up with a Christian conservative in some rural backwater ~ I wouldn’t stand a chance ~ I practice zen buddhism ~ there’s no place for me in their world order. In the past, I have been accused of:

1) following false prophets
2) pagan idolatry
3) being a California nutcase
4) belonging to an anti-American terrorist group
5) being a member of a fringe religious cult from the East that holds life in low regard

I mean, wasn’t it the Buddhists who set themselves on fire to protest the war in Vietnam ~ how different is that than a suicide bomber in Afghanistan ~ how many virgins were they promised in heaven ..? (someone actually said this to me)

Do I feel protected by the constitution ..? not really, certainly not with a Republican Administration that is slowly relieving me of my constitutional rights ~ while turning around and accusing me of being ‘anti-Christian’ whenever I say I want leaders who are ‘pro-constitution’. The constitution clearly states that power and liberty are a ‘human right’ ~ not a ‘god-given privilege’ ~ there was a reason our founding fathers called for ‘separation of church and state’. It’s real easy for someone to pass laws ~ based on the whim of their particular beliefs ~ that hurt or destroy people’s lives. I find the current state of affairs appalling and downright frightening. My sister wants to move back to the United States after living in Toronto for 20 years. I tell her it’s not the same place anymore. I want to pack my bags and leave for Canada tomorrow. About the best I can hope for is that the religious right will divide itself into so many factions ..they’ll be easier to conquer in next year’s elections.

Wave behavior

Today I read about the humongous waves I experienced yesterday (see Offshore crush below). They actually started out as swells several days before ~ hundreds of miles out to sea. Somewhere between Hawaii and California; they got amp’d. Tuesday they started slamming into Mavericks (a beach near San Francisco) at a height of around 50 feet. From there they traveled south ~ mellowing a bit ~ and managed to slip in-between the Channel Islands (which usually serve as a break water for Santa Barbara) ~ where they hit Rincon at just over 20 feet ~ which is cool if you were at Rincon ~ because there’s a rocky point where the waves peel off ~ creating a nice side-ways barrel ride. That was not the case where I was, however ~ at Hammonds they were ‘beach break’ ~ which means skull crushing waves that crash all at once ~ offering no chance of escape.

Offshore crush

The forecast today calls for warm and sunny skies ~ offshore wind ~ and humongous waves. I pop some vitamin C ~ chase it with fruit juice and coffee ~ put the top down ~ toss my body board in ~ and careen through town ~ feeling warm but doubtful there‘ll be much surf ~ we just don’t get humongous waves here. I round the bend from Olive Mill Road to Channel Drive ~ that runs along the beach ~ where I enter a fog bank so thick ~ it blots out the sun. Burn-off, I suppose ~ no, wait ~ its ocean spray being thrown off the swells hitting the shore ~ creating a mist that hangs in the air. I pull over ~ run across the sand ~ and dive in ~ realizing, in horror, I’m over my head in break water ~ created by humongous waves crashing ~ one after the other ~ leaving me nothing to do except hang on and ride them in. I’m sitting on the beach catching my breath when I see half a surfboard wash ashore ~ then the other half still tethered to a guy named Chris ~ thank God, he says ~ he needed it to find the surface ~ I’m sitting on the cliffs watching the waves get bigger and bigger ~ and the beach get smaller and smaller ~ telling myself over and over ~ this is fucking phenomenal.

Crazy Charlie

Crazy Charlie, how do you do ~ I see ya’ stylin' down the avenue ~ all rosy red and electric blue ~ it don't matter whatcha' do ~ calamity's out there waiting for you

Tranquility

Crazy Charlie

I have a friend I call Crazy Charlie ~ he chats and sometimes argues with people who aren’t around ~ I have a theory about Charlie ~ his ‘band path filters’ are worn out ~ allowing fuzzy signals of thought to slip through and travel the same pathways as signals coming from his senses ~ making it hard for him to distinguish between the sound of his ‘inner voices’ and the sound of other people’s voices ~ often the voices of people he doesn’t get along with ~ which leads me to another theory ~ thoughts from his subconscious mind ~ opinions he’s not aware of ~ get amp’d and slip through there as well ~ arriving on the same channel as a co-worker saying hello in the morning ~ which may be another reason he has trouble holding a job ~ in fact, there’s so much chatter going on up there ~ he’s always hearing voices ~ either out on the street ~ or down from the sky ~ saying things like: “what’s the matter with you ..your hair’s too long ..why do you act so strange ..and where do you do your shopping .. the salvation army” ~ pretty soon they become fighting words ~ which turn into shouting matches ~ followed by periods of observation ~ ordinarily I would say ~ the best way to avoid these confrontations is to recognize that the voices you hear are your own ~ then attempt some sort of reconciliation ~ however, in Charlie’s case, I say blow them off ~ treat the voices ~ both inside and out ~ as though they are the ranting of a raving lunatic you might hear on the street ~ shouting that the world is about to end ~ or that aliens have taken over the government ~ something like that ~ because, you see ~ they’re easier to ignore that way ~ you can always be sure there’s another lunatic out there with a band path filter that is in more urgent need of repair than your own.

Indian summer

I’m sitting on the beach watching the waves break and thinking ~ there’s a current out there ~ and I’m gonna ride it ~ I’ll start at the beginning ~ body boarding in Tahiti ~ then I’ll get on a plane and follow it north to Hawaii ~ catch it breaking on a beach in Maui ~ from there I’ll fly to the mainland ~ catch it breaking on a beach in Southern California ~ go see my sister ~ pick up my Alfa ~ speed up the coast ~ catch it again on a beach somewhere in Northern California ~ if I still detect a pulse ~ I’ll board a plane so I can watch that swell pound the coast off a point in the Gulf of Alaska ~ because maybe then I’ll feel ~ and not just think ~ but really feel ~ the rhythm of the sea ~ and the rest of the planet.

Border patrol

Life finds a way ~ that is my favorite line from the movie Jurassic Park ~ turns out border fences don't present much of an obstacle either ~ the wall going up in Naco Arizona is a tightly woven honeycomb structure ~ designed to prevent ‘footholds’ ~ but within days it became an ideal pegboard for screwdrivers ~ which allows ‘handholds’ ~ life found a way ~ I remember the words of a zen master: ‘what’s softest in the world drives what’s hardest’ ~ and when I think about the way water wears down boulders ~ or the way thoughts knock down obstacles ~ the more I'm convinced ~ life finds a way.

Evanescence

I’m getting re-acquainted with my surroundings ~ I see wall hangings I forgot I had ~ a roommate that I definitely do not have ~ I’m hearing stories about people I don’t recognize ~ there’s a road sign ahead I’ve never seen ~ and a marquis that reads Evanescence ~ w t f ~ E V A N E S C E N C E ..? ~ why don’t I remember that ~ I must have known ~ I check to see if I have tickets ~ no ~ shit ~ it’s gotta be sold out by now ~ I call Sam ~ my county bowl connection ~ and score ~ third row center ~ I guess it wasn’t sold out after all ~ I’m waiting for the show to begin ~ from my seat ~ I can read the writing on the cymbals ~ I look around and admire the renovations ~ I remember people saying how the acoustics are ten times better ~ I can’t wait ~ the lights dim ~ smoke appears ~ curtains rise ~ Amy Lee is playing piano and singing ~ and I’m enchanted ~ suddenly the beat of a bass drum hits me in the chest ~ followed by thrashing rhythms and sonic lead ~ rattling my spine and vibrating the empty spaces inside my head ~ I can feel myself scream but I don’t hear anything ~ neither does anyone else ~ Amy Lee’s voice soars above the rumble ~ haunting yet soothing ~ uplifting ~ bringing me to my feet ~ swaying with the crowd ~ this is nothing like the folk rock concerts I‘m used to ~ this is heavy metal goth ~ but I love it ~ to me ~ Evanescence sounds like a choir of angels ~ adding a layer of harmony above the disorder going on inside ~ and outside ~ my head.

Offshore flow

I put the top down ~ zip through town ~ and check out the shore ~ there’s a warm wind swooping down from the mountains ~ and blowing out to sea ~ it’s eighty degrees (Fahrenheit) and conditions are glassy ~ I love offshore flows ~ I walk across the sand ~ and plunge into the water ~ it’s painfully cold ~ but such an awakening ~ I swim until it gets warm ~ then float on my back ~ looking at the sky ~ through a bubble that my eyes create ~ it’s oval shaped ~ I see the sky clearly ~ but the cliffs and trees ~ stretching around the periphery ~ are hazy and indistinct ~ kind of spooky ~ and there’s almost no sound ~ just the water lapping against my ears ~ occasionally a bird streaks by ~ leaving trails in the sky ~ I try to stay with these images ~ but forces outside my bubble keep interfering ~ mostly thoughts about things that aren’t in the vicinity ~ there’s a porous boundary between what’s in front of me ~ and the images that my mind flashes ~ of things that haven‘t happened ~ it’s almost hallucinatory.

Re-entry

Time expands ..and I expand with it ~ breathing deeper ~ thinking clearer ~ speaking freer and listening longer ~ until a scheduled event approaches ~ like workshop time ~ meal time ~ or checkout time ~ then time compresses ~ and my breath becomes shallow ~ my mind races ~ my throat constricts ~ and I feel cramped and awkward ~ well, not anymore ~ I tell myself “fuck workshops ..meals ..and checkout” ~ I’ve never been jailed for truancy ~ gone hungry ~ or been charged an extra day for hanging out too long ~ I go to the round house ~ where there’s a different meditation guide ~ I listen closely ~ he reminds me of my own zen instructor ~ I follow what he says ~ I lean my upper body back and forth ~ feeling heaviness and tension in my abdomen and hips ~ then upright until I feel lightness ~ I lean my head back and forth ~ feeling heaviness turn into lightness ~ I feel my breath rise up ~ and lift my shoulders ~ next, I notice how my attention is like a flashlight ~ shining on my thoughts ~ although it is not my thoughts ~ shining on the space around me ~ although it is not the space ~ shining on the sound of his voice or the stream ~ although it is not the voice or the stream ~ ~ I play with the flashlight for a while ~ then gently bringing it back to the present moment ~ as the session ends ~ and I re-enter ordinary consciousness ~ the guide suggests that I pay attention to my ‘inner narrative’ ~ noticing the way I narrate my day.

I stay mindful of my inner narrative for as long as I can ~ I notice that it’s like a dialogue ~ I create a mental ‘instance’ of myself ~ that says “let’s go to the baths ..let’s go to the lodge ..look at the surface of that ocean” I create another ‘instance’ of myself ~ a critic ~ going “it’s too late for the baths ..too crowded in the lodge ..and the ocean looks like sludge” ~ the first ‘instance’ of myself goes “no, don’t say that ..it looks calm and peaceful” ~ sometimes I notice that the dialogue isn’t with me but with someone else ~ that's scary ~ I still create a mental ‘instance’ of myself ~ but an instance of somebody else as the critic ~ someone like my dad ~ my physical therapist ~ or some other authority figure ~ and we get into these arguments ~ like “it isn’t too expensive ..yes it is ..no it isn’t” ~ or ~ “I’m not wasting my time ..yes you are ..no I’m not” ~ and on and on ~ I’m reminded of a technique used in Gestalt therapy that might help settle matters ~ the way it works is that I retell the narrative ~ from the perspective of each person in the narrative ~ so, for instance ~ I become my dad ~ and tell myself what he is trying to tell me ~ with the idea that each person I create in the dialogue is really an aspect of myself ~ and a voice that I need to reclaim ~ in order to stop my mind from quarreling ~ and maybe get some peace around here.

Esalen

I’m floating in a pool of hot water ~ gazing out across the surface where the edge seems to blend seamlessly into ocean water ~ I lift my gaze, look out over the ocean and see the horizon ~ where a sunset is turning the sky burnt orange and ultraviolet ~ I’m feeling no pain ~ thinking “there’s some things no one can explain” ~ when suddenly somebody says “hey, you’re from Santa Barbara ..aren‘t you?” I roll over ~ turn around ~ and there’s a boy ~ no older that 20 ~ who, I swear, I’ve never seen before ~ he goes “you’ve been here for a while ..haven’t you ?” “ummm, yea, kinda’ ..I left and came back” “you were in Santa Cruz ..right?” “uh huh ..” and I’m thinking I’m about to be told my astrological forecast or something ~ he goes “you work in an academic field ..don’t you ?” “Yeah, sorta ..” and he goes “See, I remember” ~ me, I have no clue ~ but I recognize the accent ~ “you’re from Boston ..aren‘t you ?“ “yes I am ..” “south side ..right?” “yea ..how did you know ?” Now I feel like I caught up (!?) and he goes “what’s your field again ..?” “umm, cognitive psychology” immediately realizing I said to much ~ “what’s that ?” “umm, study of how people process information” hoping that clears it up ~ “exactly how do people process information ..?” I detect a faint trace of sarcasm ~ “uhh, different ways ..” not sure I want to go any further ~ he says “isn’t that the problem, you dice it up like that ..and lose sight of the big picture” ~ seeing that he wants to have a serious discussion ~ I gather up my wits and say “I agree ..we’re just chipping away at it ..I’m not sure we’ll ever get the big picture ..not in my lifetime anyway” ~ and I start to chuckle ~ “no no no no no no ..you do get the big picture when you stop analyzing it that way ..don’t you think we all share the same mind ?” first, I think of Jung’s principle of ‘collective unconscious’ ..then Buddhist principles of ‘interdependence’ ~ and go “you’re right ..I believe we share a higher consciousness ..just kinda’ hard to approach it intellectually” ~ and I think ~ now maybe if we both shut up and watch the sunset we’ll catch a glimpse of it ~ and he goes “no no no no no no .. doesn’t matter how you approach it ..we are all instruments of God ..and when we speak his word ..we all share his presence.” Now I’m thinking of a tactful way to escape ~ I really don’t want to spend my last night at Esalen like this ~ I go “hey man, I gotta’ go see if there’s any dinner left” and he goes “yeah, me too.”

Back to Esalen

On the road through Monterey ~ I’ve got the top down ~ sunscreen on ~ listening to Goo Goo Dolls, Hendrix and Petty ~ passing fields of artichoke and brussel sprouts ~ passing hidden surf spots. In Big Sur ~ on a twisted road ~ high above the ocean ~ sunlight shines through the pines ~ the Dead play rambling tunes ~ that flow like the scenery ~ changing around every turn ~ I arrive at Esalen ~ passing through a redwood portal ~ and follow a path leading down to the baths ~ Chloe greets me there ~ takes me up to the solarium ~ and gives me a massage that turns my body into jello ~ when she asks how I’m doing ~ I try to speak ~ but haven’t stopped drooling.

Santa Cruz

Almost Halloween on Pacific Avenue

Santa Cruz

Street musicians on Pacific Avenue

Santa Cruz

Overlooking Santa Cruz and Monterey Bay ..from the dorms

San Jose

Robotics Conference: In a crowded and noisy auditorium, a group of students are yelling into the speech receptors of AIME ~ a robot that answers questions in English (and French) ~ and goes wherever you tell her ~ but right now she’s mute and unresponsive ~ ‘fucking catatonic’ I hear a student say ~ AIME is scheduled to speak in 10 minutes ~ I stay with her while the others go fetch a techie ~ we go inside a quiet meeting room where I ask what’s the matter ~ she says group interaction is too shallow and predictable ~ not one phrase worth parsing ~ leaves her feeling immobilized and speechless ~ I tell her I can relate ~ she goes “Uhnnnn whuuoooaaa ..?” and I go “I know what you mean” ~ when the students return ~ I suggest they hold the presentation in here ~ where it doesn’t sound like a party ~ and one of them yells “what the hell good is she then ?” ~ an announcement comes over the PA ~ network traffic has been delayed ~ someone ~ or something ~ is either spoofing ~ or jamming transmission ~ for me, it’s getting way too noisy ~ it sounds like everyone is speaking in word salad ~ and I think ~ whenever I come to my senses ~ my senses are there to deceive me ~ so I get on highway 17 ~ and head back to Santa Cruz.

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is a funky little college town ~ set between giant redwood trees and the deep blue sea ~ on any street corner ~ I can feel the presence of the rest of the place ~ this ordinary looking motel room is the Taj Mahal to me ~ from it, I can hear waves crashing ~ sea lions barking ~ and skateboards clacking ~ I get up in the morning ~ pop a couple Vitamin C ~ drive to Emily’s bakery ~ then go have breakfast in a redwood forest ~ also know as the university ~ but there are no buildings around ~just students shuffling by ~ decked out in comic book fashion ~ mostly anime ~ I ask a girl ~ wearing a skull cap pulled down to her eyes ~ “what’s your field ?” “Uhnnnn whuuoooaaa..?” and I go “Wuzup ~ watcha’ studyin’ ?” “environmentology and urban social policy” ~ I go “cool” ~ and she goes “ ’chu ..?” ~ I say “I have no clue “ and she says ~ “kewl” ~ and I remember when I was in school ~ we all wanted to look like Caine ~ or Daniel Boone ~ I follow a trail ~ and over a bridge ~ to the library ~ where they have fully loaded workstations ~ with lightening speed Internet connections ~ I go to the fourth floor ~ dump my stuff on a desk ~ open a window where I can sit ~ and spit sunflower seeds ~ hitting the trunks of redwood trees ~ afterwards, I start posting my Esalen journal ~ and checking out the local club scene ~ feeling like a monk who just escaped the monastery ~ maybe I’ll go see ‘Hell’s Belles’ ~ an all-girl band that does covers of AC DC ~ maybe I’ll go see the film ‘Into the Wild’ or ‘Gone baby Gone’ ~ or maybe just walk down the street and watch the Halloween revelry ~ later, at Book Shop Santa Cruz, I feel like buying every book I see ~ can’t say the same at a Borders or Barnes ‘n Noble ~ there’s a book on music appreciation ~ by a neuroscientist who used to be the sound man for Grateful Dead ~ another book says political conservatives think in a highly ‘structured and persistent’ manner ~ liberals, on the other hand, are more receptive to ‘informational complexity’ ~ ambiguity ~ and novelty ~ I leave with a book of poems by Mary Oliver.

Esalen (day twelve)

I pop a couple of chewable vitamin-C in my mouth ~ walk down to the lodge for breakfast ~ have a dish of yogurt, figs and granola ~ then go outside to sit and watch the mist rise. I meet Meinolf, a Child Psychologist from Germany and I tell him a little about my studies in childhood reading ~ he tells me how often children mis-interpret what adults tell them ~ to a child, the phrase ‘how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet’ often comes across as: ‘you’re too small, noisy and bothersome to have anything useful to say’ ~ which can take a toll on their self-worth. His job is not to correct the adults, he says, but to help children interpret it better. Afterwards, we go to the round house where James Baraz is leading a group meditation ~ he gives us a fairly simple question to meditate: “What people or places incline us toward happiness” ~ since my usual practice does not involve question answering, I just sit still and watch my thoughts go by ~ things like what’s happening this afternoon ~ my plans for Santa Cruz and San Jose ~ I begin to noticing the natural cycle of my thoughts ~ rising ~ dissolving ~ and vanishing into nowhere ~ until I begin asking myself which one’s are important ~ then it becomes more like ~ rising .. persisting .. persisting .. persisting ..until I remind myself to let go. The bell rings ~ James looks around the room and asks if anyone wants to share their experience ~ I go: “I was thinking about what you said before about happiness ~ and sometimes ~ for me anyway~ happiness comes when I least expect it ~ even when things don’t go the way I plan.” ~ suddenly, it feels like everyone in the room is staring at me in horror ..like I just contradicted the leader ..or missed the point of the session ~ I blurt out: “yesterday, for instance ~ I had reservations for a massage ~ I was soaking in the springs waiting for the massage ~ expecting a massage ~ really wanting a massage ~ then I learned that there would be no massage (due to a scheduling mix-up) ~ my first reaction was surprise ~ then major disappointment ~ I don’t think I got angry ~ but I did take a moment to process this information ~ and decided to go back and soak some more ~ while sitting in the baths ~ I got to watch a spectacular sunset ~ have an interesting conversation with a group of people from Toronto ~ and have one of the most soothing nights in the springs ~ didn’t even care if I missed dinner.” I expect James to say something like: “that’s one way to do it ..not making yourself unhappy ..” instead, he says: “that shows an advanced level of awareness ..thank you Lee ..!” then he gives me a thumbs-up sign. The gesture is lost on me. ~ I slump back on my pillow and say: “not really, I’m just a beginner” ~ Meinolf and I have lunch together ~ he tells me that he feels like one of the dyslexic kids I was talking about before ~ speaking English all day is wearing out his ‘phonological system’ ~ he says he can imagine what kids must go through trying to keep up with adult conversation ~ I laugh and tell him: “that shows an advanced level of awareness ..” and give him the thumbs-up ~ he’s in on the joke and laughs ~ I’m going to miss him, I tell myself, as he disappears down the path to the baths. I finish packing and disappear up the road to Santa Cruz.

Esalen (day eleven)

I wake up grumbling ~ I intentionally slept in so my new roommate could use the bathroom first ~ it’s almost 8:30 am and he’s still in there ~ I get up ~ pop a couple chewable vitamin C ~ and head down to the lodge for breakfast ~ I eat a bowl of yogurt ~ figs ~ granola ~ and sit outside sipping coffee ~ figuring that there was no reason to grumble ~ I’d be sitting here sipping coffee either way ~ I love watching the way the morning sun catches the mist rising off the water ~ it's definitely Indian summer ~ the ocean is calm and undisturbed ~ I take my off shirt and go ‘that’s what I want to feel’.

Now I’m sitting in the lodge after lunch ~ shaking off the frustration I feel after trying to explain to Kitty why Portia is not such a bitch ~ I wasn’t successful so I ended up telling her that I have the same difficulty as Portia trying to explain the work at the foundation ~ only Portia knows when to put on the breaks sooner than I ~ which makes her appear rattled and cagey ~ but, who wants to displace Esalen talking about work ~ I tell Kitty that I’d much rather hear about her painting workshop ~ now she thinks I’m a bitch ~ I conclude that it’s hard to put into words something you feel passionately about ~ at the same time you’re immersed in it ~ Portia is one of the co-founders of the foundation ~ and she’s not in it for the money.

Esalen (day ten)

A walk in the woods ~ Big Sur CA

Esalen (day nine)

Workshop: There’s a well known author, Jon Kabat-Zinn, leading the medtiation workshop this weekend ~and there’s 63 people ~ a camera crew ~ sound engineers ~ all packed into an enormous tent ~ “IT’S TOO BIG” ~ my brain screams ~ and I think: 1) This workshop is going to suck 2) what a waste of time and money 3) I should have gone to the baths instead ~ then I realize I’m reading from the same script as before ~ so I put it down and sit for a period of silent mediation ~ next, I hear Kabat-Zinn say “Anything I describe to you here is not meditation ~ it will only serve as ‘scaffolding’ ~ enabling you to reach a state of meditation ~ kind of like the scaffolding you need to view the frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel” ~ this makes sense to me ~ too often I feel like I’m caught up building scaffoldings.

Walking mediation: We’re out in the yard practicing ‘walking meditation’ ~ he breaks walking down into 4 stages 1) lifting the foot 2) moving the foot forward 3) placing the foot and 4) shifting the weight from one foot to the other ~ he tells us to try and be aware of each step like that ~ while I’m practicing, I notice that some steps occur simultaneously ~ so I combine ‘placing’and ‘shifting’ into one step ~ place/shift ~ then I notice that the more time I spend placing ~ before shifting my weight ~ the more balanced I feel when I walk ~ however, if I wait to long ~ it becomes placing ~ dragging ~ shifting ~ if that makes any sense ~ anyway, I feel this is useful stuff and continue ~ I notice my head moves from side to side a lot more than I’m ordinarily aware ~ not just up and down ~ and that this side to side motion pulls my eyes along with it ~ tricking me into thinking I’m veering off course ~ and causing my leg muscles to reflexively correct ~ which breaks my stride ~ throws me off-balance ~ and makes me stumble like a drunken sailor sometimes ~ I feel excited about this ‘brilliant’ observation ~ and want to rush out and immediately share it with my physical therapist ~ when I remind myself that I’m in the middle of walking meditation at Esalen ~ my physical therapist can definitely wait.

Esalen (day eight)

I’m sitting in the meditation hall ~ practicing a breathing exercise that helps me with my meditation practice ~ I breathe in ~ thoughts rise up ~ I hold my breath ~ thoughts dissolve ~ I breathe out ~ thoughts disappear ~ cleansing my mind ~ and leaving room for another cycle to begin ~ except now, it leaves a state of anticipation instead ~ I remember the lesson I learned about anticipation this week ~ and let go of that too ~ only a little too soon ~ before the next moment arrives ~ and I get a glimpse of the narrow bridge in-between ~ and watch, in terror, as it disappears ~ leaving a big empty space ~ like an abyss ~ opening up below ~ without anything for me to hold on to ~ I scream ~ and the next moment arrives to rescue me ~ filled with startled faces ~ someone asks if everything’s OK ~ but words escape me ~ I mumble something ~ bow ~ and walk out the hall ~ still shaking ~ I kneel on a rock ~ and plunge my head into a stream ~ I walk up to the gardener’s cabin ~ and tell Gabe to avoid the meditation hall after smoking that shit.

Esalen (day seven)

Massage: I lay down ~ shut my eyes ~ and on the back of my eyelids, I see images of ocean water moving between the rocks below ~ it’s more than just an ‘after-image’ ~ I’m right above the beach ~ and the images are moving with the sound of the water ~ strange ~ I lift my head and shake it from side to side ~ and watch other details of the bathhouse flash by ~ I figure it’ll fade shortly ~ and settle in for my massage ~ it was going wonderfully ~ then Chloe pushes in on the heel of my foot and suddenly I can see the outer edge of my heel ~ glowing ~ filled in with colored concentric circles ~ I stay focused on the image ~ it dissolves and in it’s place swirling colors appear ~ like someone taking an eyedropper of color dye and dropping some of it on the surface of dark water ~ creating glowing bubbles ~ on whichever side of my body Chloe is working ~ then, when she squeezes my foot ~ it feels like it goes on forever ~ I am shocked when she places her hands somewhere else ~ because it still feels like she’s squeezing my foot ~ and hard too ~ things continue this way until the massage ends ~ and I tell her how wonderful I feel ~ and that her massage is like a ‘synesthesia’ experience ~ she says she’s never heard of that before ~ I explain it’s like ‘hearing’ a color ~ or ‘seeing’ the music ~ only this time ~ I could ‘see’ the sensation of her hands pressing on me ~ and she goes “wow” ~ I figure it’s a term more familiar to folks in my ‘generation’ ~ so I tell her that I bet her older clients will know what I mean ~ and they’ll agree..!

Workshop: We’re sharing some of the things we wrote this week ~ previously we had only read in small groups ~ I read the piece I wrote about my trip up here (day one) ~ and the baths (day five) ~ then I got lazy and read an old entry from my blog ~ about my neighbor Aria ~ it was relevant though ~ it was one of the places I went to while going down the ‘memory chain’ ~ [waves ~ pelicans ~ Karla ~ Andy ~ Fred ~ Aria ~ car crash] ~ everyone seems to likes it ~ facts are sometimes stranger than fiction ~ then Randy reads a chapter from a book he’s writing ~ I like it a lot ~ sounds like a tale of American gothic ~ then Bill reads a piece about Lorraine ~ Wade ~ and himself ~ in a coca cabana in Havana ~ and I hear echoes of Ken Kesey and Jack Kerouac ~ which are my heroes as well ~ James reads a story about his autistic son Taylor ~ from Taylor’s point of view ~ as Taylor describes his father James ~ and I am moved.

Esalen (day six)

Following the memory chain (or going down the rabbit hole): I’m attending a writing workshop in a house overlooking the surf at Big Sur ..listening to waves crash below ~ from there, I follow a chain of mental impressions that leads me to images of pelicans dive-bombing for fish off the coast of Santa Barbara ~ next I hear the sound of Karla yelling “bombs away” ~ then comes the time I almost got hit by a pelican off the coast of Newport Beach ~ now I’m watching Andy (my dog) chasing birds on the beach ~ now I’m watching Andy chasing Fred through the garage ~ Fred is a pet rat I inherited from my neighbor Richelle when she moved away ~ next, I’m posting ~ “ADOPT FRED" ~ on Craig’s list, complete with pictures ~ now I’m receiving a flaming reply that says ~ THAT’S NOT A RAT ..THAT’S A MOUSE ~ with pictures of rats on the left and mice on the right ~ I can’t tell the difference ~ another reply tells me who I should contact at the Humane Society ~ I see Laura drawing a finger across her throat like a knife ~ a death sentence, huh ~ a five year old girl appears at the door with her mother ~ I see the expression of delight on her face as she takes Fred home ~ I feel a connection with that little girl somehow (?) ~ maybe because I imagine her giving Fred a new lease on life. I had no idea where this would lead when I first sat down to write.

Harmonic presence: I meet Randy and his wife Vicky for dinner at the lodge ~ we go to Huxley auditorium and watch a performance of ‘Harmonic presence” ~ mostly sonorous Tibetan chants ~ echoes of the big bang ~ they explain ~ a symphony in space ~ the speaker asks “where does the sound end and listening begin” ~ and I wonder if the sound ever ends ~ perhaps it’s playing still ~ makes me think of my own theory of sound ~ how rhythm is so important for mental health ~ the first song a child learns is the sound of it’s mother’s heart beat ~ like a metronome ~ preparing the childs brain for connecting events that occur over time ~ like speech ~ signaling where one word ends and the other begins.

Didgeridoo in the baths: Afterwards, we go to the baths and listen to the sound of a ‘didgeridoo’ ~ the sonorous wave vibrates down to my core ~ and transports me into space ~ makes me wonder if alien life forms are listening ~ then I imagine my brain waves traveling there too ~ joining the symphony of space ~ alpha ~ beta ~ theta ~ radiating through the universe ~ where aliens, with clever minds, can pick them up ~ and track the progress of human kind.

We are stardust ~ Billion year old carbon ~ We are golden ~ Caught in the devils bargain ~ And we've got to get ourselves ~ Back to the garden ~ Joni Mitchell

Esalen (day five)

I inch my way to the baths at night ~ there’s no moon to inform my legs ~ so I begin a cycle of losing my balance ~ stumbling ~ and stopping to regain my balance ~ telling myself what a brutal place Esalen can be ~ reminds me of when I used to ski ~ at the outer limit of my ability ~ feeling like, any moment, I was about to crash and burn ~ a kind person appears out of nowhere and asks if they can help ~ as comforting as that sounds ~ I say no thanks ~ this is the reason I come to Esalen ~ to learn how to find my way in the dark ~ we chat briefly and she disappears ~ my mind seems to be sub-consciously mapping the terrain ~ I have come much farther tonight before remembering to turn on the flashlight ~ wait a minute ~ there’s something else in the air ~ ambient light everywhere ~ where is it coming from ~ I look up at the night sky and see the milky way ~ but I go “no, that’s just a romantic notion I read somewhere ~ it must be coming from the cabins on the hill over there” ~ I float to the outer rim of the bath ~ look out over the ocean ~ and watch the waves crash ~ remembering what someone once said ~ I’m living on the cutting edge ~ then I look up and find that I was wrong ~ it wasn’t just a romantic notion of mine ~ the milky way really does light up the path at night ..!

baths at night
a pearlescent glow
as light waves arrive
from a journey that started
millions of years ago

Esalen (day four)

Last night was the first session of a weeklong 'writing' workshop titled ‘Felt Sense’ ~ which is appropriate because, when I write, it usually feels like I’m making no sense ~ anyway, I didn’t buy the book ~ or even look at the notes ~ so I have no idea what’s going to happen ~ we go around the room introducing ourselves ~ I rack my puny brain to think of something pertinent ~ and when it’s my turn to talk, all I come up with is: “hi, my name is Lee ~ I’m a wannabe writer ~ and a master of disguises ~ I’m here because I want to be a more genuine writer ~ and get there without stumbling and looking like a fool” I think the ‘fool’ part caught people’s attention because this morning, over breakfast, some of the members felt inclined to tell me what they think ~ Ronald says it doesn’t look like I have much ‘structure’ in my life ~ and I go “you must have watched me pack” ~ then I become aware that everyone is decked out in the latest fall fashions ~ whereas I look like the gardener ~ next, James tells me I remind him of Bob ‘bobcat’ Goldthwait, the comedian ~ I laugh and say thank you ~ and become instantly self-conscious about my hair ~ he goes on to say that he knows Goldthwait ~ even been backstage with him ~ and guess what ~ he acts exactly the same way as he does on stage ~ I had no idea I looked so scary.

Workshop: I tend to beat myself up more when I write than when I meditate ~ so this workshop is going to be tough ~ especially considering what a rough crowd I’m here with ~ this morning I struggle trying to narrow down a topic ~ it feels like Chinese firecrackers going off in my head ~ one thought leads to another ~ but then, just when I find something inspiring ~ nothing comes out ~ it feels like I’m being strangled by the editorial board ~ and I think ~ what a long week this is gonna be.

Esalen (day three)

My roommate Gregg and I sit in the hot springs until 3 am ~ having another late night discussion ~ he’s in the middle of doing research for a book he’s writing ~ and says that humans are not the most intelligent species on earth ~ at best ~ we come in a distant third ~ whales and dolphins are much smarter ~ in fact, he says, whales evolved wireless Internet millions of years before Al Gore ~ they communicate with each other by sending ‘sonar messages’ ~ across a world wide web ~ that can be heard by whales in any ocean on the planet ~ he has physical evidence to prove it ~ and shows me 8 by 10 glossy photos of a whale’s brain ~ pretty impressive ~ much more convoluted than a human ~ I ask him if it's because they have such a large body to control ~ he says no ~very little of it is ‘motor cortex’ ~ those functions were distributed to areas outside the brain a long time ago. Now humans, he believes, operate from a much lower part of the brain ~ called the ‘reptilian brain’ ~ and that’s what drives our rational ‘cortical’ brain ~ not the other way around ~ as we like to think ~ he goes on to tell me that these lower brain areas assign ‘addresses’ and add ‘passion’ to information entering memory ~ that’s why feelings and people are such wonderful memory prompts ~ I sit fascinated by all of this ~ afterwards, he gives me a gift ~ a book called ‘Up from Dragons’ by Dorion Sagan ~ I’m speechless ~ I remember reading ‘Dragons of Eden’ in college ~ written by his late father Carl Sagan ~ and was fascinated then too ~ I haven’t seen anything like it since ~ until now anyway ~ Gregg is the most interesting part of this trip ~ I tell him so ~ and we hug before he disappears down highway one ~ I must remember to send him a copy of “Defending the Cavewoman”.

Workshop: I blow-off another morning session ~ without feeling the least bit guilty ~ during afternoon meditation I catch a glimpse of ‘simultaneous experience’ ~ the swoosh of an ocean wave ~ the laughter of children playing ~ the sight of other people meditating ~ the smell of a blue sky (!?) ~ all occurring at the same time ~ then I watch my mind quickly put it in order the way it usually does ~ the woman sitting next to me gasps ~ says she experienced the same thing ~ I tell her we’ll call them ‘visions of Johanna’ ~ because that’s her name ~ as well as the title of an old Bob Dylan song that I’d forgotten about ~ until now anyway.

Esalen (day two)

I sleep through morning workshop ..and breakfast too. I stop by the kitchen and prepare a bowl of yogurt and granola ~ I’m sitting in the lodge, writing, when I suddenly feel overcome with fear ..it’s almost noon and the workshop members will be arriving soon. Afraid that they’ll think I’m a slacker ..I get up to leave ..but it’s too late, they’re already here and the instructor is bearing down on me like a hawk ~ I panic ..scramble for an excuse ..and blurt out something like “I’m still adjusting to Esalen time” ..immediately realizing what a bullshit statement that was. When the adrenaline fades ..I see him more clearly (first principle) ~ he’s just walking by ~ smiling from ear to ear ~ gently saying “Good morning Lee” ~ and it occurs to me that he wasn’t looking for an explanation at all ..but I was too busy looking for one to see that.

Workshop: During a mediation period this afternoon, the workshop members complain about loud voices coming from the garden outside ~ James (our workshop instructor) suggests we try shifting our perspective ..and see if we can perceive their voices as ‘raw sound waves’ instead of immediately ‘parsing’ them into words ~ and I’m thinking; yeah, right ..I’m so delusional, I immediately hear voices even when they are just ‘sound waves’. James momentarily places his hand on my leg as I’m about to interrupt ..somehow, he senses that I’m preparing to speak ..I wonder if he also knows what I’m going to say ..(?) He goes on to tell us that ‘anticipation’ is ‘mentally toppling over’ ~ I wonder what that means ~ he says that it means I lose my footing in the present moment (and break principle number two) by leaning over too far .. reaching for a moment that hasn’t arrived yet. OK ..(?) and I think ..my senses deceive me and my mind plays tricks on me.

Esalen (day one)

Arrival: Weather reports inform me that I’m heading into a storm ~ it’s already reached the coast of Monterey and moving toward Big Sur fast ~ I need fortification now ~ I stop at a subway shop in San Luis Obispo and instruct the preparer how to make my usual spinach and avocado salad ~ and put it inside an Italian roll ~ he thanks me and says that he’s never made one like that before ~ I put the top up on the alfa and inch my way to Big Sur ~ on a winding mountain road ~ in the fog and rain ~ on a pitch-black night ~ with the ocean moving hundreds of feet below. I’m scared shitless. The fog obscures the curves and hides the rocks on the road ahead ~ I feel small and vulnerable ~ like the wind is going to sweep me out to sea any second ~ I arrive at Esalen like an hour and a half late for workshop ~ I want to go directly to the hot springs but social pressure compels me to attend.

Workshop: James Baraz is conducting a weekend workshop on ‘Vipassana meditation’ ~ I have no idea what that means ~ he’s discussing four principles: 1) seeing clearly 2) being present 3) noticing change and 4) suspending judgment ~ but I’m sitting there going: he looks like someone I know ..Matt ..and I immediately rush to judge: 1) this workshop is going to suck 2) what a waste of time and money and 3) I should have gone to the hot springs instead ~ I eventually settle down and realize that he knows his shit ~ so I eliminate two out of three ..still unsure about whether or not I should have gone to the baths.

Baths: Afterwards, I go to the cabin and meet my roommate ..Gregg, a Psychiatrist from Ann Arbor Michigan ..and I’m like: “you’re a PSYCHIATRIST ..? We go down to the hot springs and talk until 3 am ~ I remember asking him about the outlook for ‘neurofeedback’ to help kids with ADD ~ although he's strongly against using medication ~ he tells me that most working parents would rather drug their children than wait weeks for neurofeedback to take affect ~ back at the cabin I pass out on the bed.

Walking out of the shadow

Click on image to enlarge
Click here to see original ~~>Elise

Elise

Click on images to enlarge

Junk

I feel a cool breeze on my face ..it makes the candles flicker ..the chimes ring ..and my mind wander. A thousand and one things rattling around up there ..not one worth writing about. Why don't I feel like there's anything worth writing about ? Nothing entertaining enough ..clever enough ..or interesting enough. It all seems like a bunch of boring crap you'd find in a junk drawer ..images of someone I haven't seen since 2001 ..remnants of a failed relationship I'm still trying to fix. I'm even trying to improve a conversation that I had the night before. I wonder why I do that ? Maybe if I rummage around long enough I'll find something interesting ..a key to a door I haven't opened in a long time. You know, I'd even settle for a junk drawer ..because it's becoming a real strain trying to keep my thoughts in order ..I'm always afraid of miscalculating ..taking the wrong step ..saying the wrong thing and making myself look like an idiot. In fact, I think I'm more afraid of that than I am falling off a cliff ..it's true ..as crazy as that sounds.

Peninsula

I’m not a mountaintop ..nor am I an island or a rock ..I think I’m more like a peninsula ..that’s what I identify with most ..a peninsula ..where a tiny sliver of sand connects me to the mainland ..or mainstream society ..and, from time to time ..dissolves under water ..like driftwood you see one day and not the next ..commitments erode ..contacts are broken ..mortgages foreclose ..and people drift away ..but, I think the main reason people pass so regularly is because I’m a real son-of-a-bitch to get along with ..I get hostile and drive people away ..which probably means I prefer it that way ..a peninsula is not such a bad thing to be .. waves break on both sides ..and no matter which way the wind blows, it’s always a soothing ocean breeze ..and when things get really rough, I break away ..find sanctuary from the people that hurt or disturb me ..only problem is, I can’t seem to break away from the thoughts in my head that hurt or disturb me.

Psychotic episode

At 3:00 o’clock in the afternoon, my thoughts become disordered ..Ron is talking, but his words are all out of sequence ..like a movie soundtrack playing backwards. "I have no idea what you're talking about" I shout ..when suddenly he turns into a movie character ..which makes me laugh hysterically. I tell him he looks like ‘Vincent D’Onofrio’ ..but he looks at me quizzically like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about ..then he morphs into an alien from another planet ..and I freak. “Who the fuck are you ..!?” I scream ..and watch a succession of bewildered expressions cross his face .. each one too exaggerated to be real ..just what I’d expect from someone who’s not what they seem. His eyes shift nervously from side to side ..and I detect a hint of urgency in his voice. He says he’s concerned for my well-being ..but it sounds insincere. A wave of paranoia washes over me and I feel compelled to cut off this conversation with whatever‘s become of Ron. I hand him a case of wine ..and ask if he wouldn’t mind putting it in the wine cellar ..then I bolt out the front door before he remembers that I don’t have a wine cellar. Outside, daylight arrives in hues of green and blue ..which is comforting compared to the anxiety I was feeling inside. Cars whoosh by ..and vanish out of sight. One by one, the houses on the street begin to disappear .. revealing family rituals that I no longer comprehend. In case they‘re not aware, I stop and shout: “Hey, you’re not behind closed doors anymore ..ya’ know ..!” In return, I get a bunch of mixed messages ..some going: “come here, come here” ..and others saying: “go away ..and mind your own fucking business”. Not knowing what to do ..I go back home where I’m relieved to find that Ron is his usual self again ..and drinking my wine. He pours a glass for me and says he couldn’t find anymore room in the wine cellar.

Breakfast of demons

The telephone wakes me in the morning ..it’s Laura asking me if I want to go out for lunch today. I say OK ..stumble out of bed and go downstairs ..where I’m confronted with forces sent to destroy my breakfast ..and thrash my kitchen. While I’m not paying attention, the coffeemaker overflows ..spilling coffee across the counter top, down the cabinets and out over the floor. I stop what I’m doing to mop it up ..and clean the cabinets ..both inside and out. Next, the oatmeal explodes in the microwave ..I stop what I’m doing to remove the mess ..burn my hand on hot sticky oatmeal ..react by swearing and waving my hand in the air to cool ..causing the bowl to crash on the floor ..splattering oatmeal everywhere. I stand and stare ..dumbfounded by the gooey mess I’m in. I breathe deep, wipe everything off and start over again. I’m slicing a mango, wondering if the oatmeal is going to explode again ..when the mango slides out of my hand and the knife cuts into my finger ..sending my composure out of sight. I perform first aid ..wipe the blood and mango juice from the counter top and cabinets ..both inside and out ..scream at whatever demons are screwing with me ..and sit down with a glass of orange juice ..figuring this outta’ hold me till lunch.

Gaze control

Major Lee to Gaze Control ..I’ve become unstuck from gravity ..everything around me is in ‘motion blur’ ..and I think I’m gonna hurl. Gaze Control to Major Lee ..you’ve entered a ‘sensory destabilization’ zone ..try to re-establish visual contact with something in your surroundings ..traffic lights ..street signs ..a bumper sticker ..anything that’ll help you regain visual stability. Major Lee ..I thought that was YOUR JOB ..Gaze Control.Gaze Control ..there's no time for blame ..we’ve lost communication with the reflex that cushions your eyes from the shock of walking upright ..from now on, it’s up to you to make that correction. Major Lee ..my neighborhood doesn’t look familiar anymore ..the pavement is disappearing ..and I’m losing my grip ..tell me, what am I supposed to do..? Gaze Control ..concentrate on keeping your eyes focused and still ..resist the forces pulling them in different directions. Either that or you're going to have to develop a higher tolerance for blur. Major Lee ..Roger that Houston.

Starship log

It was wet and spongy ..the way something looks after it’s sucked up more than it can hold. I put it in my bio-collection pouch and continued scanning the dry riverbed ..looking for whatever else may have spilled from a collision, earlier today, between asteroid X-18004 ..and an intergalactic bio-waste transporter ..just above a wasteland called ‘San Bernardino’ on a backwater planet named ‘Earth’. By the time I got back on board ship ..the specimen had grown noticeably larger ..the Biotech Crew eliminated the possibility that it came from the accident ..and concluded that it must be native to the planet ..we debated what we should do ..incinerate it ..or study it ..after tossing a coin ..we began attaching electrodes to fibers at the receptor sites ..and when we delivered linguistic signals, culled from radio waves native to the area ..it responded!! Resonating ..deliberating ..then sequencing elements found in storage containers scattered throughout the periphery ..a pattern recognition system was quickly deployed and the sequence scanned. It read: “Are we in Tennessee ..Jed ?”

Gray matter

Now, I don’t have an overly ‘mechanistic’ view of the world ..but I am fascinated by what a small clump of tissue in my left frontal lobe can do ~ it acts kind of like a sponge ~ absorbing events arriving from my senses ~ filtering them through a network of obstructing ideas ~ drawn from a pool of corrupted memories ~ producing fragmented sentences that stopped making sense ~ even to me ~ a long, long time ago.

Ideology distorts perception

I’ve been around long enough to see the United States blunder into two civil wars ..the one in Iraq and the other in Vietnam. Both are the result of mis-perceived ideology. In Vietnam, we mistook a civil war for the spread of communist ideology. Yet, when South Vietnam fell ..the ‘dominoes’ didn’t fall very far ..turns out the North Vietnamese were more interested in unifying their country than promoting communism. I see the same thing going on in Iraq right now ..with only slight variation .. we’re mistaking a civil war for the spread of terrorist ideology. Don’t get me wrong ..I think terrorism is a real threat ..however, not from the Iraqis. Looks to me as though they’re more interested in dealing with they’re own internal conflicts. To think they are going to turn the Middle East into a radical Islamic state for launching terrorist attacks is as deluded as the ‘domino theory’ was during the Vietnam era.

Gazing practice

I finished my 'gazing' exercises for the day ..I’m still not very good at it ..it’s not like staring into space ..but, I am getting better. They’re actually pretty simple ..I move my head around while keeping my eyes focused on a picture in front of me. The goal is to reach a ‘zone’ where the picture freezes ..without trailing or blurring. In theory, I’m training my nervous system to build new pathways to keep my vision stable. It’s similar to a technique we use with children who can’t read ..except, instead of training their visual system, we train their auditory system (sound system). In theory, this is supposed to generate pathways for handling ‘phonemes’ ..that didn’t develop while they were growing up. I think I’m getting a better sense of what these kids go through in school ..because, even though I don’t stumble over words while I read .. I am afraid of stumbling and looking foolish when I walk.

Gazing ability

My physical therapist tells me there’s a new term out for what I’ve got when the room starts to spin ..‘gaze instability’. It means I’ve lost the reflex that keeps my vision stable while my head is moving Now, I know that, for the most part, when I move my head ..I want my eyes to look in the same general direction ..however, it happens with even the slightest motion ..like walking for instance ..my head moves up and down ..and so do things I pass on the street. I tell my therapist it reminds me of crazy ‘Dr. Monroe’. Who’s that ..she asks. A college professor who used to walk around campus wearing a video camera on her head ..like a pith helmet ..I explain. Everyone would laugh and say: ‘There goes crazy Monroe’ ..but there was a method to her madness ..you see, what the camera records is different than what the eye sees ..and, since a camera doesn’t have ‘shock absorbers’ ..it’s an awfully bumpy ride ..not smooth the way we ordinarily see things. “That’s a good way to describe it” my therapist tells me. It comes as kind of a surprise though; I always thought ‘gazing’ was one of my better qualities ..at least, that’s what my employers used to say ..along with both parents, all my teachers ..and quite a few relatives.

Ash Friday

The darkest part of the day is around noon ..the sky is a gloomy shade of black and orange ..the colors of Halloween .. heavy metal goth ..or doom ..there’s a fire in the mountains ..and an onshore flow from the ocean ..creating an eerie glow ..ashes fall like snow ..piling up on my shoulders ..and going up my nose ..I choke, spit, bitch and moan ..while Laura looks up ..she was in Mexico City during the earthquake of ’85 ..and says ashes also fell from the sky ..and I’m like ..from what, a volcano ? and she says no, from broken gas lines and burning people ..I cringe ..how ghastly that must have been ..yea, she says ..but not when you stop to consider how we’re always inhaling the molecules of our ancestors ..and I’m thinking ..how metaphysical.

The shower

I’m always in such a hurry ..a shower is something I rush through to get out of the door on time ..clean and without much consciousness. Not today. It was like trying to take a shower from a fire hydrant ..the force knocks me off my feet ...drowns out my screams ..and washes away everything in it’s path .. I open my eyes and I’m kneeling in Nepal ..watching the Ganges fall .. I open my eyes and I’m in Calcutta ..bathing in the river with millions of others ..back home I raise my hands up to the water falling from the indoor plumbing of my shower ..and give thanks. I crawl out on the cold tile of my bathroom floor ..and lift myself up to the sink ..fully awake and ready for whatever comes my way ..if I can just remember to slow down and take things consciously.

Another message from the zen fortune cookie factory.

Ordinary instant

I close my eyes ..and hear the sound of water splashing somewhere ..as well as the sound of someone yelling into a cellphone ..I mean, I don’t know for sure that it’s a cellphone ..but there’s an unmistakable quality to a cellphone conversation. Next, my brain puts the person on the cellphone into a shower (the splashing water) ..and, to make it more convincing ..puts the cellphone into a waterproof yellow case similar to my underwater camera. However, there's one thing it forgot ..the sounds of a real shower never reach the place where I’m sitting. I caught my brain in an outright fabrication. Now I feel the satisfaction of outwitting my own brain ..but I begin wondering how many other fabrications have slipped by me in the past ..and created a data base of misconceptions ..then I remember the reason why I started this journal in the first place ..to try and capture the ‘vagaries’ of ordinary thought. Somewhere I lost track ..the original purpose got obscured ..I took a wrong turn ..and followed the overriding concerns of egotistical thoughts ..which always seem to beat out my ordinary thoughts.

Fairie Glen

Out of darkness comes light ..

Jenny and Jade

A little fiendish photoshoppishness ..Jenny and Jade in Gnarly woods

Heidi and Steve

Into the light

Heidi (1961 ~ 2002)
Steve (1953 ~ 2006)

Grad school

People often ask me how I started out in the field of Psychology ..and wound up working in the computer industry. It’s been so long now that I hardly remember ..but I feel like I owe them a better explanation than: “It was easier getting a job in the computer industry.” There's more to the story. I was originally interested in Clinical Psychology and dreamed of becoming a ‘Rich Hollywood Psychologist’. But, my grades weren’t as stellar as they needed to be and my chances of getting into graduate school for clinical training were pretty slim. Then someone suggested that I get ‘research experience’ ..saying that it would improve my chances considerably. So, in September of 1977 ..I entered graduate school in the field of Experimental Psychology and began looking for a ‘killer topic’ for the master’s thesis. I knew I couldn’t just write a paper – it had to be a research project. This meant coming up with a theory and collecting data to support it. Furthermore, it had to be interesting enough to get published in a professional journal. I had no idea what I was going to do but I didn’t have much time. While preparing for a presentation I was giving at a seminar in learning theory, I ran across a study showing how reading scores dramatically improve once children start making ‘inferences’. For instance, when a child reads the sentence “The paratrooper jumped out of the door” it helps if they make the inference “The paratrooper jumped out of the plane”. We weren’t teaching children to make inferences and that was one of the reasons why Japanese students were outscoring American student in reading. That interested me so I made a copy of it for future reference. Later that year at a seminar in linguistics, I listened to one of the presenters describe how inference-making can have undesirable consequences. At the Watergate hearings for instance, when President Nixon said “No one told me John Mitchell was behind the break-in.” People came away with the impression he said, “I did not know John Mitchell was behind the break-in.” I thought, how ironic ..the same process that helps children learn to read can become a source of misunderstanding between adults. It was an intriguing theory but even more important – I had found a ‘killer topic’. After getting my thesis committee to approve, I began running tests measuring adult speech and reading comprehension. What I found is that people really are susceptible to misleading inferences. Over two-thirds of the time, they mistake the inferences they make for something they either heard or read before. After listening to a passage containing the sentence “The karate expert hit the cement block”, they swore what they heard was “The karate expert broke the cement block.” Relying on inferences can actually lower adult reading scores. I thought I was on to something. Inferences are stored in a manner that is indistinguishable from information conveyed by direct assertion. I found examples occurring in courtroom testimony and deceptive advertising. I presented my findings at a conference of the Western Psychological Association in Los Angeles where I managed to get my thesis published [link]. Then, someone approached me and said that my research would be useful in another field .. developing speech recognition systems for the computer. So in 1981, after the Reagan Administration began cutting funds for the kind of research I was doing, I completed the master’s degree and I went to work for the computer industry. I remember my colleagues telling me I was ‘selling-out’. I never lost interest in psychology and always thought I’d come back and complete a doctoral degree.

**Vintage photo of me after a day in the surf ..Laguna Beach 1977

Day eight

Karla arrives here right after school ..we go to IHOP then to the mall for tennis shoes. They don’t have my size so I get a pair of sandals instead ..they don’t have the one’s Karla likes ..so we go looking for a store that carries Adidas without the colored stripes. We find them at a Footlocker store ..but then she remembers that Laura told her not to get them until she sees her grades ..which means I can’t get them without undermining Laura’s authority ..so, we take Andy to the park instead. They wait there while I go to physical therapy ..where I put on a pair of goggles so they can track my eye movements while moving my head around ..to see if my eyes get spastic trying to compensate for problems with my inner ear ..(?) (sense of balance). They say I have problems with ‘gaze stabilization’ ..who’d of thought ..this means I can’t even gaze properly. I thought it was my speciality. Back home, I have a smoothie while Karla has broccoli, avocado and cheese with mayonnaise and soy sauce ..I feel light headed so I lay down for awhile ..later we watch Shrek 2 ..which makes me laugh ..and feel better .. so I make some pasta and stay up to watch Wimbledon highlights ..and Jay Leno. Tonight is Karla’s last night here ..tomorrow Laura arrives home after eight days in Mexico ..untangling immigration/adoption problems. I’ll miss Karla’s company ..she’s good natured and delightful to be with.

Day seven

Karla comes home right after school today ..thinking its Friday ..so, she plays with Andy ..cleans Fred’s cage (Aria’s pet rat) ..and I take her skateboarding on the strand. I unhook Andy and let him go running on the beach ..where he runs into Judy and Michael ..who love Andy because they once owned an Airedale too. On our way by the skateboard park, some boys howl at Karla and hide .. she is embarrassed ..she knows them from school and says that they are only doing it because they know it makes her mad. Afterwards, we have Pho and Dover Sole at Little Saigon ..I love the way they prepare the fish ..and I drink fresh coconut out of the shell ..which I haven’t done in a long time ..I don’t know why. I ask a couple of the waiters, who recently emigrated from Vietnam ..if they had problems with Hanoi about coming to the US. They say no ..they are foreign exchange students. I tell Karla that relations between Vietnam and the US must be better. She has no idea what I’m talking about ..or even why I asked the waiters anything. See, she says .. even they say there’s no problem ..and I start thinking: maybe I’m the one who’s out of touch. Later, Karla shows me her interior decorating job ..she corrected a problem with the lighting in the guest bedroom. Now people won’t have to grope in the dark to find a lamp switch. I tell her what an excellent job she did.

Day six

We Drive to Ventura to pick up some more stuff for Karla ..and attend a possible Fourth of July block party ..but there’s no one around ..so we grab the stuff and get out of town. I drive back to Santa Barbara and take a detour through the mountains ..which annoys Karla. Back home, she reads the lyrics while listening to another Grateful Dead CD (Workingman’s Dead ..my favorite). I think she has near perfect pitch ..not because she can follow the Dead ..but because she can match the sound of just about any of the hip-hop singer she hears ..as well as the sound of the blender and coffee grinder. She says she wants to learn the flute ..and play in the high school band. I tell her she’ll be the first hip-hop flute musician. This evening we have soup, broccoli and avocado ..with mayonnaise and soy sauce ..kind of like a California roll without the fish ..afterward, we watch the fireworks from my bedroom window ..even Andy gets up on his hind paws to see. I remind Karla to come home right after summer school on Friday ..so we can have lunch at IHOP ..then go shopping for tennis shoes.

Day five

Summer school and the Boys and Girls club ..Karla is making a pouch for her iPod ..and learning ‘relative clauses’. This evening she reads lyrics while listening to a Jerry Garcia CD called 'Shady Grove' ..which is made up of nineteenth century British and American folk tunes ..sung to guitar and mandolin ..each one tells a story ..some of which she finds funny. I switch to some early Grateful Dead ..and get out a book of lyrics (Box of Rain by Robert Hunter). It’s really not her preference in music ..I know she listens to some pretty classy hip-hop ..people like Chris Brown, Akon and Gwen Stephanie. To her, rock and roll sounds like a party full of loud and obnoxious drunks. That makes me laugh ..but I know what she means. Anyway, she reads along to a few Dead tunes .. says she likes ‘Tennessee Jed’ and ‘Ramblin Rose’ ..and tells me she can hear the similarity between Celtic music and Bluegrass ..and Bluegrass and Grateful Dead (Jerry Garcia started out playing bluegrass in a jug band) ..I feel proud ..we eat leftover chicken and salad for dinner.

Day four

Karla leaves for summer school at 8 am ..from there she goes to the Boys and Girls club until 5 pm ..meanwhile I play with Andy ..discuss the creek situation with Raul ..plan my day ..my week ..and my month (don’t know why, everything after this moment is a crapshoot anyway) ..I catch up on my ‘book-keeping’ ..which means paying bills that are either due ..or past-due ..I pick up Karla ..and we go to the post office ..tri-county produce ..trader joes ..and scolaris ..we stock up on sparkling apple cider ..avocados ..brie cheese ..crackers ..oreos ..ice cream ..cup of noodle soup (I hope Laura isn’t reading this) ..and carrots and broccoli (just in case she is) ..but couldn’t find any fresh papaya or mangoes ..we have baked chicken and one of my masterpiece salads for dinner.

Day three

I sleep late ..Karla has been up since 7 am watching cartoons ..we go for bagels and cream cheese on Milpas ..then skateboarding and walking on the strand with Andy. We swing by the skateboard park ..but Sean isn’t there ..he’s a surfer dude with long blond hair who sits next to Karla in one of her classes ..there is plenty of sunshine though ..and crowds everywhere ..big pelican convention going on in the tide pools ..and tourists galore ..there’s a van in the parking lot drawing a lot of attention ..it’s plastered, inside and out, with every imaginable icon of American culture ..from the fifties to the present ..in pictures ..figurines ..dolls ..and various assundry paraphernalia ..real kitsch. A picture of Timothy Leary immediately pops out at me ..Karla recognizes Sponge Bob .. Justin Timberlake ..John Lennon ..the cast of Star Wars ..Taz ..and Barbie ..or is that Marylyn Monroe ..Karla says it’s Madonna ..we sit and vegetate at the end of the pier for a while ..then go to Nature Cafe for avocado sandwiches and smoothies ..and another humongous So Cal day slips away.

Day two

Today Karla and I went to Ventura to pick up Karla’s clothes ..Laura was in such a hurry to leave that they forgot those ..I didn’t mind ..I chatted with a Gary, an attorney friend, for nearly two hours ..mostly about the reasons why marijuana laws are still on the books ..turns out Uncle John had it absolutely right (you can see his comments here ~> Drug warp) ..Gary also tells me to ‘follow the money’ ..it goes to law enforcement ..prisons ..juvie ..prosecutors .. judges ..narcotics officers ..and keeps the whole ball rolling. He tells me about a client of his, who is allowed to possess a small amount of marijuana for medical reasons ..but tried to trade some of it, to an undercover officer, for equipment to start a hydroponic garden ..and grow like about a thousand plants. Gary tells me the legal limit is closer to 50 plants. Then I’m like, oh shit ..I forgot about Karla ..who is lying on the sofa right behind me ..quietly watching the Disney channel on TV. Driving back, she tells me how funny it was watching the way I pace when I talk ..I try to tell her that I didn’t want to sit down because then we would have been there forever ..but I realize, for her ..we were there forever. We stop at IHOP for lunch. Back at the house, she rides her bike while taking Andy for a walk. I have no memory of what we had for dinner that night.

Day one

Karla arrived today ..she is staying with me for a week while Laura travels to Mexico to sort out some adoption/immigration problems. Karla is in summer school studying English at Santa Barbara High. Today’s homework assignment is ‘independent clauses and coordinating conjunctions’ ..which, anyone who reads my writing knows ..I tend to avoid in favor of run-on sentences with little coordination. However, I try to be good so Karla doesn’t pick up any of my bad habits ..although, I don’t understand why they’re using ‘for’ instead of ‘because’ ..I mean, who ever says “She can’t come out ‘for’ she is sleeping” ..? but then again, I’m biased toward writing the way people speak instead of the other way around ..and since Karla is learning how to speak English for the first time ..I’d rather dey be teachin’er da’spokin’ English ..but Karla just looks at me patiently and says ..that’s high point level 5 ..and I look back at her and go ..are you talking about a star wars episode ..? After she has endured a few more confusing exchanges like that ..we go to Little Saigon for pho and seafood ..I’m talking about a SB restaurant ..not the OC community ..a distinction which is also lost on Karla, who is only 13 years old ..from Monterrey Mexico ..and I look at her mercifully .. ‘for’ the poor soul is facing a week-long deluge of inconsequential matter ..made up by a generation that might as well have existed a thousand years ago.

This evening we watched 'Kill Bill 1' ..and saw lots 'n lots'a blood.

Just breathing

Needless to say,
 I’m odds and ends
Stumbling away,
Slowly learning
that Life is OK 

 I practice breathing exercises, not because I’m a follower of ‘new age’ fashion but because it works for me. It improves my resolution in addition to my well being. I breathe in deeply ..hold my breath for several seconds ..and breathe out slowly. Now, I realize that everyone breathes ..but I try to do it ‘mindfully’, which is simply to say ..I pay attention to it. Frequently, my mind wanders ..and I’m thinking about what Laura said the day before ..or wondering if the roof is going to collapse tomorrow ..and I forget to breathe out ..until I’m gasping for air ..which tells me I’m not paying enough attention ..which makes my mind wander again .. thinking about how undisciplined I am and so on. So, I’ve learned to trick myself by making ’wandering mind’ part of my practice ..and watching where it goes. It frequently gets wrapped up in what other people are thinking about me ..or my music ..my posture ..my flaws ..and, not only now ..but what they thought of about me yesterday as well ..in addition to what they might think about me tomorrow ..which is an endless cycle because I never really know what people are thinking. I rarely get it right even when they’re in the same room. But I keep on guessing ..coming up with things like: ‘My neighbor Don doesn’t believe I’m doing my part to keep the creek clean’ ..or ‘My musician friend Dez thinks my CD collection is shallow’ ..and, of course: ‘My Dad doesn’t approve of anything I do’. Which leads me to believe that my brain is kind of like a simulation device that creates ‘instances’ of people ..gives them traits and qualities like ‘Don-ness’ or ‘Dez-ness’ ..presents them with hypothetical situations ..and sees how they are going to react. But, what’s even more important ..it tries to determine what they are going to think of me personally. Which tells me that my mind is constantly working to keep my image from falling apart.

Solstice festival

I’m having smoothie and coffee for breakfast ..loud music is coming through my window ..I look out and see Anastasia hosing her deck ..I howl at the daylight ..and her dog howls back. Now I’m walking mindfully along Anapamu street ..reaching upper State street at about the place where the parade goes around the bend to Alameda park. There’s a sea of humanity. I hear the sound of drums ahead ..I enter the park from Sola street ..pass by the vendor tents ..there's Rastafarian ..Indian tapestry halter tops ..and tons of jewelry shops. I get a solstice button that looks like an exploding supernova ..which is the theme of this year’s event ..which is subject to every variation of interpretation ..for me ‘everyone’s a star’ works best. Now I’m sitting in the square by the gazebo ..eating watermelon someone handed me for free. Eventually I hook up with Carol and Skylar ..they’re eating nachos and drinking iced tea. Now I’m dancing in the drum circle ..feeling self-conscious ..but there’s no reason ..just revelry. I begin to relax ..my legs loosen ..my hips unwind ..and I’m moving in rhythm. Everyone is smiling ..my jaw slackens ..and I’m grinning like a fool. There’s belly dancers ..Polynesian dancers ..Sufis ..twirling dervishes ..and gypsies. I’m not like any of these though ..more like a refuge from the sixties. I lean over and shout that twenty years of Grateful Dead concerts are paying off. Now the sound of a flute weaves in and out ..and I hear laughter ..colors swirl around me like taffy ..I move fast ..I move slow..I take a water break ..Injun Joe offers me some grass ..I pass it along ..someone hands me a tambourine ..I hand it to someone else ..don’t want any encumbrances ..not another thing to make me feel self-conscious again. I’m swaying through the afternoon this way ..endorphins kicking in and feeling no pain ..I break for dinner ..BBQ tri tip ..elote (corn on the cob) and lemonade ..I’m walking more fluidly now ..feeling grounded but untethered (?) Now I’m resting under the Norton tree and chatting with a girl named Noella ..who she says she gets the strangest comments from the guys leaving the beer tent ..things like ‘take me to your kasbah’ ..or ‘lets f**k’. Her feet are bare and so is her midriff ..but it's no excuse for their behaviour. She says something about her friend from Jamaica that I didn't quite get ..so I just say ja mon ..and tell her I’ve never been there ..I say goodbye to everyone and walk home after sunset.

Renewal

Listening to Ryan Adams on CD ..swallowing ginseng pills and washing them down with black coffee ..the news from Iraq says the cycle of destruction and revenge continues ..leaving no room for a cycle of stability and healing ..I shut my eyes ..turn the page ..open my eyes and realize today is the last day of spring .. the last day to do spring cleaning ..panic sets in ..calls go out ..help arrives ..and another kind of cycle of destruction and renewal begins inside. The contents of my house follow a predictable course ..almost like an invisible conveyor belt. New stuff arrives ..old stuff goes into the garage (renewal) ..and the stuff that’s been floating around the garage too long heads out to goodwill ..or into the garbage (destruction). Inside this cycle ..there are smaller cycles ..like wheels within a wheel. Laundry, for instance ..it has regular, delicate and damn near worn out ..I like to watch the water dissolve yesterday’s dirt ..and vanish down the drain. I don’t know why ..I guess it gives me some kind of vicarious sense of renewal.

School's out

Friday was the last day of school for my niece Karla ..7th grade ..she came by afterward all excited ..not so much about the last day of school ..but about registering for summer school ..(?) ..go figure ..I suspect it’s because the classes she wants to take are being held at the high school ..which is big time for her, I’m sure. Anyway, she ran off to register (I live nearby) ..and returned half an hour later in a major bummer ..someone at the office told her that they don’t accept 7th graders. I was surprised because it was her junior high Principal that recommended she go there ..even filled out the application for her. So, we tried calling both the junior high, and high school to understand this disconnect ..but everyone was at graduation ceremonies. So, a short time later, we go down to see the junior high Principal ..but the office was already closed for the weekend. I told Karla to stay cool, we’ll be there first thing Monday morning ..I said: “If your Principal told you to register ..you will be registered.”

That afternoon, Karla, Andy and I went to the shore where Karla rode her skateboard and saw some of her friends at the skateboard park ..Andy got in a fight ..[that left puncture wounds we had to treat later] ..I chatted with some out-of-towners who were here to attend one graduation or another [there are actually nine colleges in town] ..someone told me they couldn’t believe all the police they saw handing out tickets for things like skateboarding, rollerblading and leash law violations ..sounded strange ..but I put Andy’s leash back on anyway. Police around here usually aren’t that petty. I know this is graduation time and everything ..but, c’mon, skateboarding on the strand ..(?) I asked the first cop I saw and he explained that they only ticket people who are blatantly drunk and causing a disturbance ..but then added, please don’t ask me if you can take your dog off his leash ..‘cuz then I’ll have to say no (wink, wink) ..now that’s more like the way I’m used to seeing things done around here.

Sunday afternoon Karla arrived at the house with her belongings so we could be at the Principal’s office first thing the next day. That evening I opened the gates to the county bowl (an outdoor theater) so she could go skateboarding. That night we watched ‘Shrek’ on DVD.

Monday morning we arrived at the junior high Principal’s office at 7 am ..only to find a sign that said the office will be closed until 10 am ..we went back home where Karla slept and I played ball with Andy ..at 10 am we went back and found a Counselor who told us to see ‘Marcie’ at the high school ..he even called ahead ..shouldn’t be a problem, he said. When we got there, the girl behind the desk told us that Marcie was in a meeting and wouldn’t be out until noon ..but there was really no reason to come back because the high school doesn’t allow 7th graders. We returned at noon anyway ..and I asked to see Marcie again. The girl behind the desk asked if we had an appointment ..I said no, but indicated I would like to make one ..to which she replied: “Sorry, no appointments during summertime” “Isn’t that a catch 22 ” I asked “Huh ..?” she replied. Never mind, we’ll just sit down over here and wait. Go ahead, she said ..but I don’t think you’ll catch her ..it’s lunchtime you know. I asked if Marcie was in her office now. “Mmm, I don’t know ..why don’t you just have a seat”. No problem ..this is also kinda’ the way I’m used to seeing things done around here. Two minutes later Marcie comes out ..she knows exactly what we’re here for and says: “Karla, you’re enrolled ..classes begin Wednesday morning at 8 am in room 101” ..Karla was a happy camper ..which made me feel glad.