March 11th, 2008

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The book is done -

When I finished reading through Breast Stroke again last night, I realized it is complete. 

Maybe that is all I need to say.   Complete!

Perhaps, a little more, as a brand-new stream offers momentum to trickle forth.   I remember now when I was young I wanted to know how a stream begins.  How does it start?  A friend's mother packed some sandwiches for my friend and me, and we climbed and climbed, and ate ham and cheese sandwiches on a rock in the middle of the stream, and when we reached the top of the mountain, we discovered the stream started out beneath a little rock, just popped out there, like a brand new sprout.  We stood on top of the mountain, amazed at how one begins and spreads. 

Jane and I both saw the reflection of the sun this morning and felt it was rich and golden in a way we had never before seen.   It comes up behind us, for both of us, when we look out and up from our computers, so we only see the change, and it was magnificent this morning.  It is always different, but that forward footprint of the sun was even more spectacular today than ever before,  and maybe that is part of the being done.

A book may finish, and the people writing it have to finish too, have to find their way to completion.

It becomes a task, a companion.  What are you doing?   Working on a book.  Of course, that can be broadly interpreted to mean you are working on the mood to work on the book, so you may have to visit the beach or see if the salmon are present or work in the yard, but you are working on a book.

Maybe I needed in some way to be working on a book, and then, this week, I didn't want to be working on a book.  I wanted a book to be done, and so it is.  

It is done.  I have no words for the strength of that relief.

calder mobile miniature

a little humor

This comes from my brother today.


If the automobile had followed the same development cycle as the computer, a Rolls-Royce would today cost $100, get a million miles per gallon, and explode once a year, killing everyone inside.


    Robert X. Cringely



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Sometimes I think I spend too much time online, and today, I receive two lovely gifts from friends I have not personally met, as in my hands physically touched theirs, but I have met through this relatively new world.   I do know them and care about them and worry about them and rejoice with them.   One spent a great deal of time last night and this morning with a problem I mentioned, and one gives me the best of my icons.  I'm not sure I can let the little bird go yet, but this world of flowers is his too.   Enjoy!

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Exchange -

I just walked down to the junction for provisions.  I put a $20.00 bill in my pocket and a credit card.  I usually take a five or ten, but it always seems to cost  more than I expect as I forget I am walking, and I buy too much, and I don't like to use a credit card for a small amount. 

I get there and realize I have lost the twenty.   I feel pretty upset about it, and try and visualize when I must have put my hand in my pocket and then flopped it carelessly back out.  I buy what I need with the credit card, glad that I have it, and then, walk carefully back, retracing my route.  I know the odds are against my finding it, but who knows?   Maybe it is caught somewhere.  If it isn't where it can be found, it is gone.  What is it to know you were once worthy of exchange, and now, you are a soft discard,  melting back into the elements?   I suppose we'll all find out.

What I notice is that I usually walk looking up at the sky and the tops of the trees.  Now, I am carrying a heavy load, and I am looking down and all around, like a mine sweeper trying to find the cash.  The good news is that I am focused, and I am aware of how many colors of green there are this time of  year, and browns, and daffodils, and I see that it is hard to walk, looking so hard, trying to find something.  How much better it was on Sunday when the blossoms blew into my uplifted face.   Oh, not better, necessarily, but more comfortable for my neck and shoulder. 

I don't find the money.   It is gone, or preferably found, and it was worth the lesson in attention, focus, the uselessness of trying, and letting go.

I'm glad it wasn't my only twenty.  The loss won't affect my quality of life, and yet, it did pull me along a different path, one spread with four magnolia petals and a more astute attention to what I pass.

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Heron Dance -

Here is Rod MacIver at Heron Dance with more insights.

Dear Heron Dancers,

C-Span held a panel discussion a couple of weeks ago during which people who had run major presidential campaigns discussed their outlook for the upcoming election. One topic they explored in detail was the effect of subconscious reasoning on the voting decision. One expert stated the belief that the decision was 80% subconscious, another that the decision was 98% subconscious. No one believed that people vote for the reasons that they think and say they do.

Most of our thought process is subconscious. Most of us make little or no effort to harness that vast reservoir. I remember reading that Einstein came up with most of his concepts through body sensations—a pre-verbal state. The theory of the benzene ring came to Kekule in a dream. Top athletes use guided imagery to achieve performances that they could not otherwise accomplish. Mozart reportedly heard his music in daydreams. Great art is sometimes appealing to the eye, or sometimes not, but it resonates with our emotions and deeper senses.

One can use a variety of techniques to access their inner resourcefulness. Toni Morrison says she gets up before dark each morning, makes coffee and watches the “light come.” She reports that the gradual light prompts contact with the mysterious. Most artists and authors who have done work that is widely recognized for its perceptiveness and its “below the surface” character engage in some regular practice that allows them to encounter and harness their subconscious. These practices almost always involve quiet. They often involve a sanctuary—a place where the physical surroundings prompt associations with their inward life. Others make contact during physical exercise—walking in the woods, gardening, bike riding—where their minds can freely wander.

After a few weeks of making time for a kind of relaxed but directed daydreaming, your internal reservoir will get used to being accessed and when you call on it, it will welcome an opportunity to be of use.

In celebration of the Great Dance of Life,

Rod MacIver

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Totem Salmon

I am reading a wonderful book called Totem Salmon, Life Lessons from Another Species.  It is by Freeman House.

It is about the damage that has been done to the salmon and the attempts to help them now.  It is staggering to read of the mismanagement  and mistreatment, and to realize that the salmon, this beautiful creature, may soon be gone.

One problem is ignorance like this.

    ""How can salmon be endangered when you can buy them in cans in supermarkets?" asked Idaho Congressional Representative Helen Chenowith as recently as 1996."

Enough said!

alexander calder

(no subject)


When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.


Jalaluddin Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks
We Are Three