Drifters

I work for student services at a local college. Most of the kids that come in here have legitimate learning problems. However, we frequently get kids with problems that lay elsewhere. Those are the ones I see. For some of them, it may be their last contact with mainstream society. They talk about life on the road as if it were religion ..and then disappear. I understand the appeal ..I love the outdoors too ..but sleeping on solid ground for too many days can be rough ..not to mention city streets can be dangerous. However, talking to them, I get the impression that life on the road feels less threatening than an adult-life filled with obligations, sadistic bosses and debt-collectors. Periodically they try re-entry. Haley’s father wired her money so she could enroll in college courses. She tells me her problems started in high school. She felt so angry that she’d cut herself .. medicate herself ..and lash out at practically everyone in sight. She wasn’t making friends. At age 16, they diagnosed her with ‘borderline personality disorder’ ..whatever the fuck that means. However, she found a cure of her own: drop out of a school ..run away from home ..leave the pills behind ..hop a train for the west coast ..and don’t stop moving. She’s been riding trains since 2006. Now, I have a theory. We’re all born with a mixture of genes from our ancestral past (if you believe in that sort of thing). Some may get more genes from our ‘rooted’ ancestors (like farming tribes) while others get a higher proportion from our nomadic ancestors ..those whose survival depended on moving from place to place. For these kids, stability is threatening ..home feels like a cage ..and city streets make them feel claustrophobic. I’ve learned that there is no ‘talking cure’ ..no amount of reasoned-speech will overcome it and I cannot offer any recommendations for it. I think there will always be a segment of humanity that prefers a nomadic lifestyle. Some may work out an accommodation (like foreign service reps, traveling salesmen or covert polygamists) while others remain in perpetual orbit.

Noblesse Oblige Award

The recipient of this award is recognized for the following:

• The Blogger manifests exemplary attitude, respecting the nuances that pervade amongst different cultures and beliefs.
• Their Blog contents inspire; strives to encourage, and offers solutions.
• There is a clear purpose at the Blog; one that fosters a better understanding on Social, Political, Economic, the Arts, Cultures, Sciences and Beliefs.
• The Blog is refreshing and creative.
• The Blogger promotes friendship and positive thinking.

Bill Quinn presented me with the Noblesse Oblige award for journal writing. It’s an honor for me because I value Bill’s journal writing very highly. He writes from a place in his heart that resonates with the rest of us. Bill’s journal ~> Thought Sketches is like a book of poems that I keep by my bedside at night.

My own blog, Observation Deck, is a journal of ordinary events ..sometimes followed by my own half-baked ideas. What am I trying to achieve ..? A writing practice that will allow me to catch a glimpse of my own internal dialogue every once in a while. Hopefully others will hear something familiar.

In turn, I am passing this award to Amy Spain for her blog Cookiewonton. Amy can turn everyday occurrences into literature. Her style sounds natural ..like Faulkner. I especially enjoy reading stories about her children Noah and France. They are written with such clarity and humanity that I feel like I just spent a delightful afternoon with them ..makes me want to return as often as I can.

Thank you Amy ..!

Jesusita fire

In Santa Barbara we have what’s called a ‘sundowner wind’. It’s the same as a ‘Santa Ana wind’ in Orange County. However here, it’s a particularly loathsome creature. It only comes out at night, after a cool day, and howls through the canyons and passes, without warning, baking the shore in 100 degree heat until about one or two in the morning. Now, ordinarily, I like this cagey beast ..it allows me to lie on the deck in the evening, or go for a swim in the ocean at midnight. However, it also has the power to take a stray ember from a campfire and turn it into a blazing wildfire that blasts out of the mountains, and tears through town like a blowtorch without stopping until it reaches the shore. And then, just before dawn; it retreats back up into the mountains ..like the nocturnal predator that it is. Morning comes and everything is fine ..except for a few hundred acres of scorched earth and homes. No one knows when it’s coming and no one can stop it when it arrives. It’s like living next to a dragon. This afternoon is perfectly calm ..except for a high-voltage current circulating through my system. I tell my neighbor I think it’s coming back again tonight. He nods and looks up the canyon. Overhead, hawks are circling. “They’re looking for barbecued rats” he says. My nerves fray. We’ve been under evacuation orders for four days. This means that my car is packed and sitting outside the canyon. I defy the order and sit at home awake all night, listening to the drone of water-dropping helicopters rumbling overhead ..and waiting for either smoke ..sirens ..or flames ..to tell me when it’s time to leave ..or else hang around and risk being served as breakfast for hawks at sunrise.

Sunshine cleaners

My birthday came and went ..and I had a good time. First, we saw the movie ‘Sunshine Cleaners’ ..which I thought was hilarious. Afterwards, a few of us went to Aldos for pasta and wine ..and share our impressions of the movie. We're talking about the scene where a boy is pitching the ‘bionic properties’ of his grandfather’s popcorn to a girl in a candy store ..when the topic of marijuana dispensaries comes up. Oz says they carry so many different varieties now ..it’s hard to find people who can describe their ‘bionic properties’. We laugh ..but he says, seriously ..there’s a shortage of information. He tells us about a group of people promoting research on the subject. He suggests I go check it out. I tell him I think marijuana laws have kept us pretty much in the dark ages ..but medical marijuana is a step in the right direction. “..like the Renaissance” he says “..more like the Enlightenment” I say ..which brings us back to the discussion of ‘Sunshine Cleaners’.

Shiny happy faces

Karla and Laura

Quiet morning

It is so quiet this morning I’m afraid my usual wake-up music will sound too jarring. So, I listen to John Williams (the guitarist) instead. Sometimes I think that the flavor of coffee is enough to give me a buzz. A classical case of classical conditioning I suppose. I sit and read the economic news ..which somehow makes me feel smart (I think because I know what a ‘mortgage-backed security’ is). I also like reading stories about people who beat the odds. There’s one here about a woman who lost a big-time job as editor for a magazine ..at age 55. So now she’s trading what she knows for online skills at an Internet start-up. Reminds me of how adaptable people can be ..which gives me a perspective makeover when I’m feeling down, thinking my own petty-ass problems are, like ..major catastrophes or something

Saint Patrick

They close off State Street (main street) for farmers market and St. Patrick’s Day. By 2 pm the clubs are packed ..by 4 pm people are pouring into the street. I’m just passing through. There are a lot of people from out of town .. they out-number residents ..which can be interesting. I duck into Territory Ahead and buy some clothes for summer. Since it’s unseasonable warm today; I keep on one of the new shirts I bought. When I go outside ..it looks like aliens have landed. People are running around dressed in green .. totally green. I say ‘Hi’ to a group of elves ..and they point out that they’re not elves but leprechauns. One of them suggests knocking my lights out. I see a bunch of bikers, sitting outside O’Malley’s, glaring at me. A rough bunch of bikers ..and I realize, to my horror, that I’m no longer wearing green ..I changed into blue at the store. Memories of St. Patrick’s Days past leap to mind. I’ve had my hair cut ..shirt torn ..and buckets of Gatorade and green paint poured over me. They start to get up ..and I start to run. I rush passed strawberry ..artichoke ..and alfalfa sprout vendors. I dodge a moving cartload of tomatoes ..duck into a movie theater .. passed the ticket-taker ..and into ‘The Last House on the Left’. I crash and fall down the isle ..through the exit ..and into an alleyway full of consignment shops. I drop my bags behind the counter at Cominichi’s ..grab a denim vest ..and duck into a changing room. Before I leave I make sure I’m wearing something green ..and hope for the best.

Saint Teresa

Alpine sea

Laura and Jenny on the Bodensee
Lindau, Germany

Room with a view

Lindau, Germany

Hosanna

I’m watching Mickey shoot hoops with his cousin Hosanna. He shoots well for a nine year old. Mickey is benefiting from a long line of basketball players in his family. Last week he was shooting hoops with other cousin, Leslie ..who is Hosanna’s older sister. Leslie used to play varsity hoops at Santa Barbara High and now plays for the University. Hosanna is a high school freshman and was playing JV until she ran into a coach that didn’t like her older sister for some reason. Once the coach learned who she was ..Hosanna stopped seeing much play time ..which is required for advancing to varsity. If it happens again next year she plans to join a ‘traveling team’ outside of school. It saddens me when I hear coaches making decisions based on personal bias rather than merit. Even though it looks like it’s teaching Hosanna to be resourceful and explore other options ..I can tell it’s left a bitter taste in her mouth. I’m hoping she’ll have sufficient success with other coaches to overcome the setback she experienced at the hands of this one.

Thunder road

Slum guy

I walk to State Street where I meet Richelle and we go see the movie ‘Slumdog Millionaire’. For me it’s a little disturbing ..reminding me of how cruel people can be to one another. Afterwards, we sit and talk about ‘karma’ ..which I believe is closer to the law of cause and effect than it is to the notion of destiny or fate. No argument there. The next morning I send my sister an IM simply saying that I saw the movie. When I don’t get a reply before I have to leave ..I add: “don’t take it as an endorsement or anything.” She responds immediately asking: “why not ?” ..and says she’s planning to go see it this weekend with my niece. I know she doesn’t like to watch disturbing movies ..so, I tell her to brace herself. She asks me what I mean and I tell her it’s not like what you see on PBS ..it’s a different ‘slice of life’. She’s disappointed ..which makes me feel bad, so ..I tell her to go; it’s definitely worth seeing . She tells me she intends to ..and reminds me that I’ve lied to her about these things in the past. I know she pays close attention to the entertainment news, so, like a jerk, I add: “Ignore the critics who say it’s not a balanced portrait of India ..it may not be balanced ..but it sure is realistic” ..to which she replies: “Well, duh .. how else would they have time for all the romantic stuff” ..and I’m like: “That’s right” ..knowing full well that I’ve just chucked whatever credibility I had left out the window.

zen notes

I’m doing deep breathing exercises and noticing how the air meets resistance when I breathe in. So, I keep going until I feel the air flowing more freely. Now, I hear the swoosh of traffic coming through a small opening in the window ~ splashing water from a recent rain. I hear ringing in my ears ~ tinnitus from years of rock concerts. It doesn’t bother me; I still listen to music at high volume. When I pay attention, I notice how it masks the other sounds in the room. Then I think about how it interferes with voices on television ~ or conversations in a crowded room. I watch this train of thought flow until it vanishes. Next, I hear the sound of my internal editor going around in a crazy loop ..revising words on a paper I’m writing. When I pay closer attention, it gets self-conscious, picks up a notebook computer ..and goes into another room. I’m sitting here wondering what else is going to happen ..not anticipating anything specific.

Homing device

It smells good out here ..like incense. Kind of organic ..like rain-soaked earth. Although there’s an offshore flow, we are sheltered ..so the air is still and I feel warm on the beach. The ocean has a pungent aroma of it’s own ..like a living organism ..like the thousands or other living organisms it hosts. The sun illuminates ..the water evaporates ..and I take a deep breath. Makes me feel connected to everything out here. The sense of smell is the oldest and least understood ..but it has the most connections to other areas of the brain. On days like this it gives me a sense of belonging ..I hear my mother calling me ..the warmth of bread baking in the oven ..my grandmother’s gentle voice ..the one my dad inherited (thank goodness, my grandfather was a baritone) ..I feel enveloped by the elements ..like a cocoon ..like my mother’s womb ..I can see the sight of a smell ..and feel the warmth of it’s partnership with comforting memories of early childhood ..feels like home.

Observation deck

I’m sitting on the deck listening to a song by Small Faces (wicked messenger) ..I hear the distinctive sound of a Harley roaring by on the street below ..otherwise everything is quiet ..the music drowns out the swoosh of regular traffic ..and the voices in my head aren’t so loud ..the music drowns them out too. I take a sip of coffee and it scorches my tongue .. I spit it out in a spray ..followed by a couple mouthfuls of cold water ..and I laugh at myself ..which tells me I must be feeling better ..things aren’t bothering me ..I’m not shouting the usual string of obscenities. I can hear my plants talking; they’re parched and gasping for water ..I feel neglectful and tell them they’re first on my list. Makes me feel better knowing they’re taken care of. I enjoy the sound of a slide guitar. I’m reading ‘The Fountainhead’ by Ayn Rand ..I remember getting only halfway through her other book ‘Atlas Shrugged’ when I was in college ..but, the characters started speaking in sermons that went on for like five or six pages ..and the storytelling broke down ..it didn’t sound like real dialogue anymore. Fountainhead isn’t so bad ..it’s tells a good story ..except the characters don’t seem real ..it’s not the way people behave. I think it says more about the way the author wishes they’d behave ..a mixture of half-truths and schoolgirl fantasies ..where people never contradict themselves ..and follow ideals that never change. It was written in the 1940’s. I suppose life was simpler back then.

Stamp act

The first federal law in the U.S. prohibiting cannabis as an intoxicant was the Marijuana Tax Act of 1937. It was enacted primarily out of economic fears and immigration worries. During the depression, migrant workers from Mexico were no longer needed or welcome in the south and southwest states. People there were afraid that Mexican immigrants were undercutting American workers for jobs so they were trying to get them to return to Mexico. Since many of these immigrants smoked marijuana, it was thought that banning marijuana would help. So, in 1937 Congress passed The Marijuana Tax Stamp Act. The Act itself did not actually criminalize possession or use of marijuana, but required anyone doing so to pay roughly one dollar to receive the stamp. In the 1930’s, this would have been prohibitively expensive to migrant farm workers, however, it didn’t matter ..the government was only issuing them to doctors and dentists. This created a catch-22 for recreational users ..the penalty for not having the stamp was a fine of up to $2000 and five years’ imprisonment. This put recreational users at great risk, and for the Mexican immigrant, it meant certain deportation. In 1969, the case of Leary v. United States ruled that the Act was unconstitutional because it violated Fifth Amendment rights. Unless you were a doctor or dentist, applying for the tax stamp was an act of self-incrimination. In response, Congress repealed the 1937 marijuana stamp act and replaced it with the Title II of the Controlled Substances Act of 1970. This made it a felony to cultivate, possess or use marijuana for any reason ..including research. Although California law has lightened up and reduced some penalties to a misdemeanor, law enforcement agencies vigorously pursue cultivation in order to take advantage of property forfeiture and seizure laws.

Buddha road

Buddha’s observations on the nature of the mind come closer to modern-day neuroscience than any other philosophy I’ve read ..and his investigations did not end there ~ they had just begun. He saw how mental activity was mostly noise. A mixture of chatter ..imaginary offenses ..anticipatory dread ..feelings of betrayal and other fabrications. For six years he practiced watching this stream of debris flow by and vanish ..until he realized that there was nothing substantial or permanent about any of it ..and that believing so only created suffering. He continued down this road ..going past the conceptual ..through the neuro-sensory ..and beyond the phenomenal layers of consciousness. The further he went ..the freer he felt ..until he punched a hole through the ceiling and found an ever-expanding universe where all living beings are interconnected ..and he saw, first-hand, how the true nature of existence lay beyond the momentary vicissitudes of thought and feeling. He felt relief .. the fear of separation vanished. He chose to return and help others find the way out. We still hear the echo of his teachings resonating today. I do anyway.

Buddha mind

The properties of the mind that neuroscientists are deciphering today, were prefigured by Buddha over 2,500 years ago. He arrived at them through the practice of meditation. What he experienced was astonishing ..what he taught was revolutionary. The mind, he discovered, is not a reliable record of events ..it’s more like a second-hand storyteller. He saw impressions arriving, already interpreted by the act of observing ..then disappearing so quickly, all he had left was a feeling that something happened. He realized that he never got to see events as they actually occur ..and this was his great insight. The futher he looked ..the more he realized that nature was composed largely of energy ..and all he ever experienced were the fragments that his senses were tuned to receive ..followed by the re-creation his mind was pre-disposed to perform ..before everything got cleared away and a new cycle of impression-formation began. This doesn’t sound much different than the neuroscientist I hear describing the simple act of perception as a process of ‘active construction’ ..or claiming that concept-integration happens so quickly ..we rarely catch an ‘unaltered glimpse’ of reality.

The vedas

India and Indian scholars are bypassing the US in the field of biotechnology. They don’t have a history of division between the religious establishment and the scientific community. Indian religious culture has always been in harmony with scientific inquiry. Ancient Hindu texts (like the Vedas) prefigure modern-day cosmology by almost 3,000 years. Christianity, on the other hand, abhors developments in many fields of science ..especially biotech. The influence of evangelical Christians in this country has set medical science back decades. In the meantime, Indian researchers have developed non-toxic ways of battling cancer (using monoclonal antibodies) ..and safer methods for treating hemophilia (factor IX proteins). I wonder what else can be accomplished in a religious culture more in-tune with enlightenment and compassion ..than with ignorance and fear.

Drug war

While growing up in the sixties ..I regularly bought, sold and used drugs. Mostly marijuana and psychedelics. The experience taught me that drug laws don’t work ..and interdiction is a war that cannot be won. Newspaper reports confirm it daily. The US spends a half-billion dollars a year on anti-drug efforts in Mexico ..while trafficking operations have progressed all the way to the Canadian border. For one thing, laws don’t make a difference to the regular user; they take it or leave it for reasons of their own. Local drug dealers don’t worry much either ..if they’re discreet; they stay mostly below the radar. Trafficking, however, is another story. Trafficking is a high-risk venture, which, in turn, makes it a high-yield enterprise. It is so lucrative that contrabandistas can afford to outfit private militias ..and, using weapons purchased from the US, outgun local law-enforcement agencies. It’s gotten so brutal; twice as many civilians were killed in the crossfire last year than all American service men who have died in Iraq so far. I grieve. I have a friend who lives in Austin Texas and regularly crosses the border at Nuevo Laredo to visit family in Mexico. Nuevo Laredo is considered one of the most dangerous border towns ..second only to Juarez in number of civilian casualties. Now, if anything should happen to her ..I am going to be far more outraged at US lawmakers than Mexican drug cartels. I don’t believe the cartels would exist if their trade weren’t so lucrative. It’s not US demand that’s keeping them in business ..it’s the US war on drugs that’s doing it.

Khat tea

California just enacted a law making Khat tea a criminal offense. Thanks Joel (R-San Diego). I guess one person’s tea is another person’s poison. Kind of like mistaking a rope for a snake. Khat tea does have mild psychoactive properties ..it boosts alertness and feelings of well-being. That’s frightening. But then, so little is understood about the psyche that it’s probably best to keep it under the authority of the state rather than the sovereignty of the individual. Anyone who gets a heightened ‘sense of self’ deserves to be cut down at the knees anyhow.

neuro notes

I think my brain works like a paleontologist ..piecing together the world from tiny fragments of information that have been frozen, chipped away ..then passed through sensory pathways the size of nano-tubes. Not only am I dealing with an extremely small, and highly selective sample ..it doesn’t last that long, only about 125 milliseconds I am told. Then it’s time to refresh the system and let a new bit-stream through. When I consider the tremendous amount of information that’s out there ..I’m convinced that my senses must have relatively narrow bandwidth. The fact that I can recognize anything at all is due to the high-speed integration power of a fairly recent invention called the cerebral cortex. It’s a device that allows me to see the whole elephant ..while rubbing only part of it’s belly. Problem is ..I don’t always construct the docile animal that's there ..sometimes I build a ferocious wildebeast instead.

psych notes

Sometimes I ask myself ..is this what I want to write ..or what I think other people want me to write. Sometimes I feel rebellious and answer myself, shouting: “It’s my blog ..I’ll do what I want.” Either way, I’m struggling with something going on inside my head .. telling me what is and what isn’t appropriate to write about. I flash back to my schoolboy days ..listening to some instructor ask me if I have anything pertinent to say. Since I don’t see an instructor here at the moment ..and no one in particular comes to mind ..I must have created an internal instructor telling me what it thinks everyone else wants to hear. I tell myself that I’ve got to move on ..and not be bound by childhood experience ..I’m an adult for Christ sake. Nobody cares what I write anymore. But it persists ..especially when I’m telling myself to ignore it and move on. So, I see only one way out ..co-habitation. Learn to live with the beast of conditioned-existence. Make friends with it ..serve it tea ..or wine. Maybe then it’ll lower it’s guard and I’ll be able to see what exists on the other side more often.

zen notes

I sometimes refer to the ‘mediation session’ as an ‘observation period’. I think observation is a good English word for meditation. In western psychology they have what is know as the method of ‘naturalistic observation’. It helps researchers see what develops, in a natural setting, with as little interference as possible. I think this is a very good way to understand meditation. Interference, in the form of judgment and interpretation, happens so fast ..we rarely get a glimpse of things as they are. So, I find it helpful to meditate, look inside, and observe my own mental and emotional activity, without judgment or interference, for a few moments each day.

(There, I hope that doesn't sound too much like a Stuart Smalley affirmation)