Still Useful, How Many Do I Need, and As Is

July 10, 2019
Wednesday, 11:36 am
Rogue Valley Roasting Co. 
Ashland, OR
Patio, partly sunny and 78 degrees

(Photo is from later in the afternoon, and has nothing to do with the "how many do I need" portion of the essay's title :))

Yesterday, in the process of organizing after our trip to Houston two weeks ago and our trip to the Smith River and camping this past weekend, I had brief moments of clarity. It's similar to what happens when I'm driving. The focus on something else, and the movement somehow, seem to distract me from myself and a gap opens and I notice some particularly clear thoughts arising. If I could have a running recorder at my side at all times I might have a trove of useful thoughts and realizations to fall back on. Absent said recorder, and not wanting to forget, I hastily jotted a couple notes on the nearest scratch paper.

The first note: Still Useful.

I have a problem—or maybe it's less of a problem and more of a solution, somehow, that has been dogging me for years in the “What Am I To Do?” department?—with throwing out things that still have use left in them. If it still exists? Then, I believe, it still has use that can be wrung out of it and appreciated. This also applies to people, I think as I write. If I can't find a home for something, I usually keep it until I can find a home for it. But this practice admittedly eats up a lot of my time and energy.

Reflecting on my note this morning, I thought about my resistance to throwing things away (though I've never been perfect at this, and still have a lot to learn and a long way to go), and wondered if it might've been born back in the days when my dad would let me help “drive” us to the dump. That is what we called it then. The Dump. Versus the more polite and-let's-not-think-about-what-we-are-really-doing “landfill” (filling the land?) and “transfer station” (transfer to where?) of our current nomenclature. While my dad raked out the back of the truck, I was free (sorry Mom) to poke around the garbage below and see what others had deemed No Longer Useful. I was surprised at what people would throw away, but figured I was just too young to understand why people did it. I was surprised years later, but wasn't as afraid to question why, when I met Bruce's dad, who supported his family for many years as a sanitation worker, at the many things he had salvaged from “the dump” that others had deemed No Longer Useful.

Perhaps it was these experiences that lead, years later, to my idea of opening a Free Store, an idea I've never yet actually pursued but which has nevertheless dogged me for years. I even had an actual dream about a Re-Store a few years ago but then Habitat for Humanity took that idea! We do have the Free Box at our local recycling center, but you can only drop clothes and shoes. And now it's only one day a week. Where can I take the rest of my shitstuff that's still useful? I thought about it all again the past two days, and how I want to blog, to communicate, and how I would love to sit there and write daily about the things I see that are . . . Still Useful.

But I also want to write about everything else. Instead of a blog and/or website dedicated solely to climate change, a necessary focus and one which I focused on for many hours earlier this year, I realized I need to be writing about whatever comes up that moves me. Maybe I do have Attention Deficit Disorder. And maybe that's not a bad thing. 

While walking here today, and thinking about traditional newspapers, it occurred to me that most people probably wouldn't want to open to just one topic. They want to read about a variety of things. Like Yes! Magazine for example, which was co-founded by Sarah van Gelder. I really enjoyed reading more of her book The Revolution Where You Live last night.

I think it's my favorite chapter so far. “The Detroiters Who Are Redefining Prosperity.” I was especially inspired by the story of Grace Lee and Jimmy Boggs.

No single venture alone was transformative, but together, they showed that people working creatively and persistently, against powerful odds, were creating the city and the world they wanted to live in.

This broad-based leadership—the willingness to step up and make change, and to make it celebratory change—is, in no small part, a result of the influence of James and Grace Lee Boggs. . . . The two of them engaged the city's African American community in a deep reflection on the state of the world, the character of the times, and the most effective ways of making change. Their insistence that we not only resist harmful institutions and practices but also envision and build the world we want has influenced generations of leaders.

Van Gelder says that any trip she takes to Detroit includes a stop at the Boggs Center, which carries on the tradition of deep conversations and working for change.

Yesterday's second note on a write topic: How Many Do I Need? Of Anything? Pencils, pens, scissors, plastic bottles, first-aid stuff, recipes and cookbooks, hair clips and bobby pins, mini lotion bottles, stuff bags, eyeglass cases . . . the list goes on and on and on; these were just the things I happened to be dealing with in my immediate sphere.

As I mentioned last week, one of the things I really enjoyed about our trip to Houston was that I had only one carry-on "stuff"  bag and my one "personal item" laptop backpack (which had my purse inside). I had only what I needed (mostly) and I knew exactly where it was. But at home? I've been working on it, even more than usual the past few months, but we still have so much. For example, I had been looking for 3.4 ounce plastic bottles (why did the TSA not just pick an even number, such as two ounces or four ounces?) for our trip to Houston. Yesterday I found some in the car backpack. Bruce recently bought a new pack of razors, but there's a whole bunch of new razors in the bathroom bin in the hall closet. We do it all the time. We already have it, but don't know where it is so we buy more (and end up creating more and more waste along the way).

Yeah, I know I've been going roundy round about this for a long while. But it takes a long long time to simplify your life after complicating it with so much stuff. It seems that this one thing, more than any other aside from child-rearing, has taken up the bulk of my life's energy. Dealing with my stuff. First trying to acquire it, and then all the energy taking care of it, and then the energy involved in deciding when, where, and how to part with it. And that's a sad sad statement on my life right there. To date anyway.

Lying in bed last night, hoping I'm not dying and that all this increased sorting and organizing this year isn't some weird pre-death nesting instinct, I vowed to myself that I need to live another 54.5 years so that I can make the second half of my life more what I would have wanted the first half to be about. People and relationships and taking care of each other, and doing my best to make a positive impact on this earth we share.

Just had a lovely chat with Riley's friend Nate. He is struggling a bit right now with being back in town and trying to meet people. He invited me to an event he got going, Cribbage for a Cause, here at the Roasting Co next Friday. I hope to make it. After we talked, and I entered the above passage from van Gelder's book about deep conversations, I thought about how it might be nice, despite our difference in ages, to work with him somehow to create more community here. He did say that he wanted his thing to be non-political. The first Cribbage for a Cause is to support the animal shelter. He figures if you don't like pets you shouldn't be here. But if he did Cribbage for Dems then that wouldn't appeal to Bob who is a Republican. And I agree. I do like specific causes, like paying attention to the climate crisis, or the current border crisis, but I also feel we really need to work to build community, where we live, that welcomes all viewpoints (to a degree that remains respectful) so that we begin to see how truly connected we all are, opening the way for us to then come together to work on the issues that affect us all, regardless of political viewpoints and affiliations. I'm often reminded, as I've noted numerous times before, of what Julia Butterfly Hill said when she was here so many years ago, something to the effect of: you have to make change fun. I thought the same when I read last night, and then highlighted above, the words Celebratory Change.

That was another thing I enjoyed reading last night, about Growing Power, an urban farm, food stand, and youth training center in Chicago [nts: check it out online and maybe in person].Van Gelder ties up the chapter by saying, “Food does much more than nourish our bodies. It connects us to our families—children who eat with their family regularly do better on all sorts of measures. It is at the center of celebrations and cultural events, so it connects us to our identity. And food connects us to place, to the soil and waters of where we live.”

I'd like to take the time here to type out some of the other things I've found especially inspiring or meaningful in this book so far, as I feel it is helping me clarify my own way forward.

In Danny Glover's forward to SvG's book, he shares a timely quote from a speech MLK Jr gave in April 1967:

We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history there is such a thing as being too late [I hope this doesn't apply to my stated hope of living another 54.5 years]. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked and dejected with a lost opportunity. . . . This may well be mankind's last chance to choose between chaos or community.

In SvG's prologue:

• I especially wanted to find out if the places at the margins of society might have answers, and if those answers were early signs of a new society.
• The climate crisis is jeopardizing our future, and opportunistic politicians are whipping up racism and hate to win over voters angry about being locked out of the prosperity that others seem to enjoy.
• In difficult times, strong-man leaders often arise who offer an outlet for anger, and fear disguises as nationalism.

From the chapter “We the People Love This Place.”

• At the root of these issues, I think, is a system of beliefs and a power structure that allow big corporations and their enablers in government to extract wealth from our natural world and our communities.
• To tolerate this, we learn to numb ourselves, binge watching television series, taking drugs, or overeating. We separate ourselves emotionally from our communities, from the natural world, even from ourselves. Schools teach us this, as does advertising.
• We learn to leave family or community to chase down a better job, to leave our children in sterile child-care centers because we have to earn a few dollars working a low-wage job. We learn form watching nonstop images of violence in the media that other people are not trustworthy.
• And we learn to use stuff to fill the hole left by isolation and to disassociate from our deepest values.
• I'm not sure why we allow all this. I think it must be because we are exhausted by trying to get by—many people are deep in debt and work multiple jobs to pay the rent. And we are mesmerized by corporate media. And we are isolated.
• When we lose our connections to each other, we lose our power.
• Akaya wasn't about to answer these questions. Instead, she asked another question. “If the universe could deploy the one small person that is you, what would it have you do?”
• What I said next surprised me as much as it surprised her, “I'd go out traveling and see for myself.”
• I would avoid the power centers on the two coasts, and the progressive enclaves, visit places I don't usually go, and learn what people care about and what they are doing about it.
• As I prepared for my travels, I honed the questions I would be asking on my trip, and I narrowed them to these three: Is anti-racism work best done in communities? Climate change: Is local activism the way to both stop the extraction and transition to a sustainable future? Can we build a new economy, rooted in our communities, that can support us and protect the natural world? [I wrote in the margins, “Gives me goosebumps,” and, “What would my questions be?”]
• I named the truck Caracol (“snail shell” in Spanish), because I would be carrying my home on my back. The snail also represented slow journalism [which I highlighted]. I would slow down enough to be with people and hear their story on their terms, and let them tell me what was important to them. [Reminds me of what I envisioned on my train trip with Nancy. I just got so into listening that I didn't do much documenting!]
• The people whose strategies were most powerful—that energized people and resulted in real change—do some combination of the following [abbreviated]:
  • They build bridges among people who have been separated.
  • They reconnect to their ecological home.
  • They rebuild the economy.
  • They take power.
  • They carve out spaces for healing, creativity, and spirit.
• Those who are most effective distance themselves from the consumptive mindset that is part of corporate media.

From the chapter “Resisting the Otter Creek Mine.”

• “I'm a grandmother, and I'm going to be a great-grandmother soon. What would I tell my grandkids if they said, 'Grandma, what did you do to stop this? What did you do to help save our water and our land and our air' They might ask me that, and I'll be able to say, 'Here are the records and the articles. Here—I spoke up for you.'”
• [I entered a quote in the margin: “Only when it's dark enough can you see the stars.” MLK Jr.]
• “We're all in the same battle; we're all looking at a holocaust if we don't stand up.”

From the chapter “No Fracking Way Turtle Mountain.”

[NTS: check out Cedar Gillette's “No Fracking Way Turtle Mountain” Facebook page]

• where she posts not only about her reservation but also about others around the world resisting fossil fuel extraction.

• When people have a chance to study, discuss, and decide on options, they favor this sustainable path.

From the New Era Windows [a worker owed manufacturing cooperative] chapter.

• “It's kind of fun, because at the end of the day it's for the benefit of everyone.”

• New Era's worker-ownership model offers something else: it's based on “enough.”
• This cooperative has created a model for abundance and shared prosperity.
• [I wrote in margin: “Enough! A good title or name ...”]

Back to the chapter on Detroit:

• Incite Focus, a fabrication laboratory (fab lab). Its goals are . . . to “work and spend less, create and connect more.”
• Incite Focus is also designing and building net zero-energy homes that produce their own solar energy and grow their own food, and the group hopes to cluster eight to ten of them into intentional communities.
• The aim of the lab is more about channeling creativity and about learning how to meet your needs and those of family and friends. Making you less reliant on a job frees up time and the psychic space to create the sort of life—and the sort of world—that works for you and your neighbors.

I appreciated the bit in this chapter about the Avalon Bakery. “When they first opened, they were advised to keep windows small and covered with bars because of the area's high crime rate. They did the opposite. The bakery has enormous windows that reach nearly to the high ceilings, inside and outside tables, and an entrance that invites all comers.” Reading this reminded me of Sugar Mill on Tortola, and their open bar and gift shop, where you just needed to write down what you had taken. I've long wanted to include that in a write about trusting vs fearing...

2:52 pm

Still on the patio, and after reading back through I'm wondering if this entry is something I could actually post. It is my favorite sort of writing--and a nod to another idea I've had for a book or blog: As Is. And I did overhear a woman say earlier that writers shouldn't worry if they are writing the right thing or the right way, they should just be themselves and write. I've wondered all this before but then I went and spent so much time trying to edit that I had to move on and never posted. Multiple times x many times. Plus, and anyway, I need to have a blog that I've created. Of course, I do have one over at blogspot (what is it again?), but I'd rather have a website that I use. Or? Whatever the current “best” way is and all. Jeez. And so my ADD kicks in and I decide that I'll distract myself with checking out Growing Power online, and that No Fracking Way page on FB. And then I'll probably get lost again and have to leave in a couple hours and that'll be that till this time next week (hopefully at least that) forgetting everything I'd gotten clear about up to this point this week.

Update on Growing Power. According to a great piece at Civil Eats, the original location in Milwaukee, started by Will Allen in 1993, went out of business in 2017 after inspiring many in the food justice and urban farming movements here and abroad. Later that same year, his daughter Erika, who was running the Chicago location, joined with Laurell Sims and renamed the entity Urban Growers Collective and are now focused more on food access (employing re-purposed city buses in the Fresh Moves Mobile Market food delivery program) and training.

One thing I love about Allen's approach was his emphasis on composting. “It's all about the soil.” I don't know what the percentages are, but we throw away far too much that, instead of contributing to greenhouse gasses, could be turned, in a closed-loop system, into soil to grow food.

Just did an internet search—“composting and closed-loop systems”—and returned this piece from Green Biz that was published this past February. In addition to learning how sexy composting can be, I found the data I was looking for just a few minutes ago: “A 2014 estimate by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency reports that 38.4 million tons of food scraps are generated in the United States each year, with only 5.1 percent recovered and recycled.”

Nuff said. Post this shit, says me to myself. You want to communicate and connect? Then communicate and connect! You can worry, if you must, about editing another day. (Or year, as I just noticed, egad, that I put the “e” before “i” in my “Finding My Lost Yoda” essay back in 2016.)

Soup of Bounty

A few days ago I came to the lovely home I’m housesitting at with a cooler full of food, and a few pantry items, that I didn’t want to go to waste back at home. I arrived to a refrigerator full of most of the same food in my cooler (and a note that I was welcome to it) that I also didn’t want to go to waste here. So I immediately set out to make a pot, a large pot, of soup. I was so pleased with the outcome that I felt moved to share. Use it only as a guide or for inspiration. The main idea is to create your own Soup of Bounty based on what you have that needs to be used before going bad and what you have on hand to add to it to make a complete, nutritious, and delicious meal! (Some disturbing food waste facts can be found online, and here's one place to start.) 

This recipe makes a very large pot of soup. I froze some for the people I’m housesitting for, I had it for dinner, lunch, and then dinner again, and there are still several more servings left. Pairs well with a garden salad, fresh baguette, and a bottle of wine! Enjoy!

Onion—1 or 2 large, chopped

Garlic—several cloves or more, minced

Cabbage—two heads, chopped. I used both purple and Napa.

Celery—half a bunch or more, sliced

Carrots—3 or more large, sliced

Tomatoes—two or more large, diced. I used only one large and a handful of cherry and then added in ketchup for more tomato flavor.

Adzuki Beans—mine were cooked leftovers. If raw, pre-soak overnight or do the quick boil/soak method before adding to soup. These wonderful small beans are higher in nutrition, including protein and fiber as many of the other beans we use more traditionally. Look ‘em up!   

Sprouted Lentils—I used TruRoots sprouted green lentils. (Regular lentils would work fine.)

Red Quinoa—I used Alter Eco organic royal red quinoa. Quinoa is also high in nutrition, & cooks quickly.

Potato—one to two large, peeled (if Russet) and diced

Bouillon—I used Better Than Bouillon organic vegetable base. Very flavorful and zero fat. I also highly recommend Rapunzel Vegetable Bouillon. These two bases are all I use for soups and broths. Much less waste than cans and aseptic packaging.  

Balsamic—splash (I used a splash of the lovely fig balsamic on hand here)

Seasonings—Aside from the garlic, and fresh ground pepper, I used Slap Ya Mama Cajun seasoning that was in the spice cupboard here. It’s a dandy! I then topped it all off with some fresh chopped parsley.

Directions: You can sauté the onions and garlic in a little olive oil, and then add the celery and carrots. Once that has all softened a bit you can add water and your bouillon and then add the rest of the items. (I didn’t add my adzuki beans till the end, as they were already cooked enough, or the quinoa as it doesn’t require much time and I wanted it to retain its somewhat meaty texture.) And then let everything simmer on the stove until it is the consistency you like, adding more water as necessary. I like to simmer it until I can’t spot the cabbage anymore. Not because I don’t like cabbage, but I really like the consistency the soup comes to when you boil it down. Then, if you like, you can puree a couple cups and then add back to the soup. Top with some grated romano or parmesan and top with fresh parsley!

Nearly fat free alternative: The only fat in the above recipe is in the olive oil and scant amounts in the beans and grain. But you can make this a nearly fat free soup by skipping the oil and sautéing and just adding the water and bouillon first and then everything else and bringing to simmer and letting it all cook down for an hour or two. I’ve done it with a similar soup with gratifying results!

Next up I need to figure out what to do with all the plums! 

Finding My Lost Yoda

November 30, 2016

It's been years since I’ve been here at Noble Coffee Roasting but the place hasn’t changed one bit, other than a glittering display table full of stuff for sale inside the front door. Still the same tasty, to their credit, coffee. And still the same, Noble please hear me now, lame policy regarding not filling a mug to the top.

"Yes, we still only make 12 ounce coffees," the smiling barista replied in response to my question.

Even though I have an 18 ounce mug and would be very happy to pay for it to be filled to the top!

“It's so that you get the full flavor,” they say.

I ranted about this "it's what the customer wants" thing years ago and I'm fairly certain there are more important things to discuss today than ounces of coffee and how many of them I want. Like how I forgot to ask for decaf because I was so flustered by the inane quality vs. quantity policy that I’m gonna pay even more for later with more intense tinnitus and difficulty getting to sleep. But I digress. 

Walked here from home today. A good walk in the crisp, late fall, air. Before popping in here I stopped in at the shop across the street, catching up on personal stuff and chatting current politics for half an hour with the proprietor, a long-time acquaintance. I told her that I keep thinking I'll wake up and 2016 will all have been some crazy dream, and that it'd be a good book except that it's been so fucking absurd and bizarre that no one would even believe it.

I've been contemplating writing a piece about how the things that have happened this year, both to me and also in my family, have seemed bad at the outset but in retrospect we have been able to see how they were actually perfect. And I consider drawing a parallel to the current political scene that seems so bad to many of us: what if things are going perfectly (as per my daily morning mantra) even though they don't appear to be at the moment? Maybe there is a bigger picture that we aren't seeing, and when we look back we will better understand why this went down the way it did? I know many of my friends on the left would consider this a bit loony, but it's a thesis I'd like to play around with a little bit...

I'm not sure how this grand thesis will turn out--there is so much going on right now that seems so incredibly wrong--but one part of it involves getting to know the "other side" a little bit better. I am certain that I will find more in common with the folks in the "Fly Over States" than I am lead to believe by those who would seek to divide and control me and my thinking. And I intend to write about this as I roll across this great country of ours by rail a couple of short weeks from now.

Riley has been bugging me the past few minutes to watch a video. “Even tho it’s a commercial,” she texted, “still pretty neat! Funny tho cuz I think trump owns Amazon? Anyway...”

“Trump owns amazon? I don’t think so! If so I’m dumping!! I’ll check video out later when I’m not in the coffee shop!” I replied.

A few minutes later another text, “Watch video with no sound. You don’t need it.”

So I watched the video. “A priest and an imam meet for tea.” It is going viral as I write.

Yes, it might be an ad. But it’s a meaningful one. Thank you Amazon and Jeff Bezos (no, Trump does not own Amazon) for this response to the hate and divisiveness.

Small things like this go viral because they are big things. They move us. They speak what we sometimes don’t know how to say in a-picture-speaks-a-thousand-words sort of way.

Looking for more information on the ad I ran into this at Vagabomb.com. Al Jazeera had tracked down the two who were in the ad. They were not "just" actors, they were a real priest and a real imam who first met on the set and are now friends. In the link above, the two talk together and take questions. The priest shared, "Really big change in the world starts from small changes. And we have made friends and that’s a friendship that will never die.”

I think more people would choose coming together than not. But we aren’t encouraged to see things that way. We are encouraged, by our media and political establishment, to see everyone else as our enemy. We are encouraged to be and remain divided. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it until it’s no longer true: keeping us divided is the best way to keep us controlled.

One of the things the acquaintance across the street and I discussed, and not necessarily with mutual agreement, was dialoguing with those we differ with. She balked a bit after I said I agree that we need to collectively resist but I’m also concerned that doing so may alienate further the very ones we need to be dialoguing with. She said two things in reply. One that the Repubs have been pushing through an agenda for years by lying and cheating. And that the Dems (as if they don’t have their own liars and cheaters, I might add) have been responding with, “We need to talk.” Her insinuation, if I understand it correctly, was that the time for dialogue is over. She also said, “You can’t change someone’s mind.”

I respectfully disagree. Our minds change all the time. Especially when we feel our concerns have been heard. Then we can more easily move from a defensive posture to a listening one. Dialogue—compassionate communication with a large dose of listening and attempting to understand each others' concerns instead of just labeling each other as morons—is exactly the thing that changes minds, and exactly the thing that could turn our current situation around.

Yes, resistance may be necessary right now. Fascism, and all its attendant ills, is not just a distant problem faced by a far off country anymore. We are now forced to confront it ourselves. We are also forced to acknowledge that hate still exists. I've been surprised (perhaps I'm too naive) to see the rise of so much hate. But maybe it is Hate's last gasp? Whatever it is, we must not allow fear of what may be to consume us. As Yoda so wisely said, "Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." We must not return hate for hate. This just makes hate win. Let us choose love over hate, especially when in the face of the latter.

Each person standing up for and fighting for what they believe is right may be where we are at. Especially now, in such an extraordinary time when all that we each believe in so strongly is being brought to the crucible. But I believe that finding ways to bring people together, to come to consensus on where we are at together, may be more effective in the bigger picture of who we are as humans. And it is this ideal that I believe is possible, this ideal that I have as my mantra each morning of every new day that I am granted, this ideal that I commit myself to.

November 20, 2016

I needed to get in a hike today so I took off and did the over the hill and through the woods and along the creek and through the park thing on my way here to Louie’s House. As I exited Lithia Park there was a guy behind the sign with a gal in front taking a picture of him. He and I made eye contact and we spoke simultaneously: “Can you…?”, “Would you like me…?” 

A nice young couple from Portland. They thought I might be a tourist as well, walking around with a backpack and all. He said I was a Professional Amateur. “Hmm?” I asked? “You’re a professional who notices people want a picture taken.” I laughed, but then while snapping a few photos said, “I could be a professional photographer though!” His gal pal laughed and agreed.

While walking, I realized what I should write about today. But while scrolling through this journal [on my laptop] to get to today’s blank page, I happened to stop on my May 22 entry. And of course that distracted me from getting to today's write. I really like that entry, which was the day before I was let go from Caldera. Another Sunday where I stopped to take a photo of a couple before heading to write about what I should be doing with my life. Coincidences? Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe I’m just stuck in a loop. Sure feels that way sometimes.

There was another small coincidence earlier. We’ve got all these tomatoes we need to do something with so I pulled out one of my favorite cookbooks, Crescent Dragonwagon's "Passionate Vegetarian" and moved to open to the index. But instead I opened to “Slow-Baked Caramelized Tomatoes.” It’s not like the page is dog-eared (like the page the corn chowder recipe is on in my New Basics Cookbook), I’ve never made this, nor recall looking at it before, but it was exactly the thing I wanted to make. Easy, tasty, versatile use of a counter full of overflowing end-of-harvest tomatoes. I was surprised enough by the “coincidence” (this is an 1110 page tome after all) that it occurred to me, for the first time in a while, that maybe something (even if this "something" is just myself) is trying to get me to hear something.

I have definitely been forgetting to listen lately. I’ve been WAY too distracted by all the presidential election shit going on. And I’m pretty sure it’s numbed my eardrums to that still quiet voice who speaks a more evolved language.

As I was walking through the woods today, my head and hearing feeling numbed by tinnitus, congestion, and all the aforementioned garbage, I stopped to just listen as best I could. I was reminded of Charles Nelson Reilley’s appearance on Johnny Carson’s “The Tonight Show” in 1977, which I watched last night, nearly 40 years after it was first broadcast. (Scrolling through the guide I’d noticed Mark Hamill was a guest and this was the year Star Wars came out. “Nothing else on, might as well watch this,” I told myself.)

Dolly Parton was the scheduled guest but she couldn’t make it so Reilley agreed to appear in her place. He walked out carrying Dolly's new album, “Here You Come Again." 

Interestingly, looking up Reilley today I see that he was often asked to fill in for missing guests on the Tonight Show, appearing on the show more than 100 times, because he only lived blocks away from the studios in Burbank. Here you come again, indeed.

While cleaning up the kitchen, waiting for Hamill’s appearance, I heard Reilley mention something about not being able to see very well when he was a kid. “I just thought that’s what things looked like. How could I know?” And then an eye doctor gave him some glasses to try out. His world changed.

I thought about that today while I was walking through the woods wondering what sounds I wasn’t hearing while assuming I was hearing everything.

And that’s pretty much where we are collectively, politically. And probably otherwise.

Is it sad that the only historical facts I immediately recall about 1977 was that "Star Wars" debuted and Bruce graduated from high school? And that it was the year, at 12 years old, I started secretly reading Judy Blume’s “Forever,” and feeling my sexuality beginning to bloom?

I'm pretty sure there are many other things that happened in 1977 that I'm missing—Ya think?!? The series "Roots," the beginning of the Carter years, the space shuttle program, the Wow! signal received from outer space... Just to name a few of the fascinating historical events from 1977 that I see here.

                                                                                                                                                                             
May 22, 2016

I decided early this morning that I needed some writing time today. When I make this decision, which has been all too rare of late, I usually make the mistake of first trying to figure out WHAT I should be writing about. Even though I’ve long since learned that my absolute favorite writing (because it best opens me to what I'm actually thinking) is the kind that takes place when I just start writing and put one finger in front of the other. Julia Cameron’s "Morning Pages" style. No stopping to let the editor tell me what I think, no stopping to worry about spelling, grammar, punctuation, or "correct" writing style. Just writing what comes. It's a surprisingly simple, and effective, tool for getting at what Cameron (and others) call, "First Thoughts." IE., what I really think versus what everyone else tells me I should think. Cameron recommends doing this practice in the morning (hence "Morning Pages") upon waking because the internal PC Police/Editor isn't as alert to our intentions as they are after we are fully awake. And I do love doing this practice in the morning, but, for a variety of reasons, they are usually Afternoon or Evening Pages for me.

And I am always marveled by what proceeds.Yet, here I am thinking too hard about how to best put that sentence! 

Ahah. I meant to type “haha” but I’ll not correct my flying fingers! And once I reminded myself  here that I very rarely need to “figure out” what I will write before I start writing, I experienced a little jump of inner joy and excitement. Which reminds me now as I write, just putting one finger in front of the other here, of one of the tweets I ran across this morning under the morning’s trending hashtag: #thingsiponderatnight: “When butterflies find their mate do they feel the fluttering of humans inside?”

Another tweet was about how tweets are immortal so it’s a way to make yourself so. Weird theory. But I felt suddenly curious when this particular tweet thread originated, and from whom. So I started scrolling. And scrolling. And scrolling some more. When did twitter begin anyway? Apparently before 3/9/2010 at least, which was when Andrea Wulf first invented the aforementioned tweet. And I’d thought this thread was maybe new today and that’s why it was trending. More likely someone in the Twitter Control Room decided to bring it back as a trend for some reason. Really, I don’t see that tweets have much to do with what is really trending as who decides what will be trending, thereby controlling our behavior.  I don’t know this for sure, but it is definitely a strong suspicion—especially considering, understatement ahead, how easily we succumb to being controlled.

I just googled Andrea Wulf, author of the hashtag #thingsiponderatnight, and there is more than one. Andrea Wulf who wrote the original tag appears to be a joyful new mother. Andrea Wulf, who first appeared after my google, happens to be a writer currently in the news for her NYT bestseller, “The Invention of Nature..Alexander von Humboldt’s New World.” Compelling stuff, to pursue another day perhaps, about the interconnectedness of all things…. Hello?!

Walking along today I took special note of all the beautiful porches we have here in Ashland. And landscapes with beautifully planned and manicured flora. “But it all takes so much time,” I thought. “Wouldn’t it be nice if people just opened their porches and yards for others to enjoy with them from time to time?"

("Would that be parks?” I also ask myself. “But parks are one thing and porches with breaking bread are another more intimate and communal thing," I counter.)

I continued the conversation in my head, "Instead of all this time people spend creating an atmosphere that I see so few actually enjoying themselves, and great front porches that I never see anyone on, why not share it with others?” And that’s when the thought, “Share The Porch Day” occurred. With a hashtag of course. And continued, one thought in front of the other like, “what an amazing way this would be to bring our country together!” Opening our porches to the community, and sharing a refreshing beverage and breaking some bread together, and gradually getting to know our neighbors and their fears and most deeply held hopes. (Stop and fix this paragraph says me, but keep the hand moving says Julia.)

Bruce and I watched Michael Moore’s Where To Invade Next last night. I’d seen an interview with him about it a couple weeks ago when it was just released on DVD and streaming video. Each country he goes to, “invading to take back to America what is valuable,” could be a movie unto itself. The overwhelming and disturbing takeaway of value though, for me, is this: In our constant pursuit of all things material, we here in America are truly missing out on a more richly-lived life.

Why don’t we take better care of each other? Why don’t we commune more? Why don't we care to treat our neighbors as ourselves more often, and actually get to know them and what is important to them? And how did we get this way? Was it our pursuit of rugged individualism and freedom to do as we please? (Not a bad trait on its own except that it came—another huge understatement ahead—on the pained backs of other humans who also had the same rights and desires.)

I want to give all of this some more thought, and figure out how I can bring my life better in line with what I value.

Recently my family told me, quite directly: "You’ve lost your Yoda."And I have. I've let work get in the way of who I am. Oh, I've been able to make some positive contributions at Caldera that I'm proud of, but the place is eating me alive and I need to make some changes. I need to find my Yoda. And that's what I plan on working through the next write--unless I'm distracted of course!--but it’s 4:50, the Stone’s “don’t make a grown man cry" lyrics are on overhead here at The Black Sheep, and I need to get home.