Category Archives: Travel

Steady Heat Theory

Winter                                                                 Seed Catalog Moon

The stove’s thermostat got fixed today.  Now I can maintain a constant temperature without the highs and lows of previous days.  One of those things I always meant to get around to and now is done.

Returning to normal life, the daily flow of dogs and learning and writing and exercise. 10002012 05 01_4113That’s good.  Over the last few years I’ve noticed a gradual resistance to travel, partly to air travel in particular, but also to leaving home and its comforts.  Once I get away a lot of the old buzz comes back and I enjoy the new place, the differences in culture and the natural world.  The beds are never as good away.

Not sure I said anything about the fact that the Bronco’s won their game on Sunday. There were a lot of people excited about it.  At the rodeo the announcer (the scumbag) asked several times, “Are there any Bronco fans in here!”  When I took the rental car back to Enterprise, one of the check-in people, maybe their supervisor was shaking an orange pom-pom to guide us.  He was very enthusiastic with it, even jumping and down a couple of times.

When I got out, he asked me if I liked the pom-pom.  I said something like, “Uhhh.”  It’s sort of a weird thing to do since folks returning rental cars are almost always going to be from somewhere else.  And they, like me I imagine, aren’t Bronco fans.

 

In A Zen Place At DIA

Winter                                              Seed Catalog Moon

At DIA.  No, not dead in action, but Denver International Airport.  So is my cell-phone, unfortunately not with me.  How did I lose it?  No clue.  It’s like a disappearance, a disappeared cell-phone.  After just listening to one guy speak loudly on his, fo a long time, I can understand the motivation to steal them an destroy them.  But I want mine back.

I’ve also made a discovery today.  My flight out is at 3:44 pm. The Olsons are all back in school so I could have left earlier.  At first I bemoaned this lack of efficiency.  I’ve spent a traveling lifetime trying to shave hours, even minutes off connection times and getting in and out of places with just enough time.

Instead today I got up, ate a leisurely breakfast, packed, checked out, drove to the Enterprise rental car return around 11:15 am.  Got on the bus and made it to the airport around noon.  Got my boarding pass, navigated the walk bridge to Gate A security (much quicker), found the terminal associated with A34 and had lunch.  Then I lost my cell phone.

Here’s the learning.  I’ve not felt pressed, instead, even with the phone I’m relaxed.  Plenty of time.  So, in the future I will plan my travel for relaxed comings and goings, not the most efficient.  There’s no prize for most efficient traveler.  Is there?

Write About Baby Animals.

Winter                                           Seed Catalog Moon

Gabe, to whom I read some of my blog entry about our trip to the Children’s Museum, asked me, as we were walking away from the MLK Rodeo, “Grandpop, write about baby animals.  About how cute they are and how I love them.”  We’d just seen a Holstein and her calf bedded down for the night in a pen behind the Denver Coliseum.

This was our usually annual visit to the stock show.  (I missed last year with another round of doggy surgery and expense.)  We go walk through the exhibits, look at farm equipment, see livestock exhibitions, admire the Cinch cruel denim ads, the cowboy hats and boots for sale, the cattle stalls and leather vests.  One booth, Colorado Tanners, had hides  and pelts which could be made into anything you want.  Can’t forget the really big belt buckles, lots of’em.

It was busy this year because we came on MLK day.  In the past I’ve tried to hit weekdays when the crowds are smaller.  This time, though, I wanted to take the kids especially to the MLK rodeo with all African-American cowboys and cowgirls.  It was a good choice, as it turned out, but it meant the holiday crowds were there.

106 years old this is the largest stock in the world by number of animals involved.  It’s a big deal and people come from all over to participate.  I always see folks with Iowa State sweat-shirts, for example.

The rodeo announcer distinguished himself as a racist, saying, “There’s one thing about this crowd.  They’ve got rhythm.”  But worse, at another point, when a second announcer described a 24-year old cowgirl as looking 14, the announcer said, “But that never stopped you did it.”  This tarnished the event for me. Which is putting it mildly.

The events themselves though were good.  Calf-roping, considered a high art among the rodeo crowd, was good. (if you weren’t the calf.) So was the bronc-riding and the barrel racers.

When we got back to the hotel, Ruth grabbed me and said, “I don’t want you to go Grandpop.”  Gabe came around the car and gave me a big hug.  So did Jon and Jen.  It was family.  Three generations appreciating each other.  Wow.

DANK

Winter                                                               Seed Catalog Moon

Dank.  That’s the name of the place.  The medical dispensary that now has a retail recreational marijuana cash register, too.

This hidden store is in a setting of low warehouse and light manufacturing type buildings.  The brick exterior has no sign and the only evidence of its existence is a black and white piece of 8.5 by 11 taped to the window that says: Dank.  Keeping it kind.

Once inside the entry way there is a long hallway with office suites off to both sides.  Only at the far end of the hall, maybe 100 feet away is any human being evident..  Sure enough, DANK is the last office suite on the left.

A colorful sign advertising various forms of marijuana:  loose, baked, oil and kief (a product unfamiliar to me).

A guy in the required knit hat, ear buds and baggy sweater, a couple of days of growth says, “I have to check your I.D.”

As you might imagine, I gave him a look.  The gray-hair and wrinkles?  “Sorry, man.  The state requires it.  I know you’re more than 21.  But I have to check the expiration date.”  General laughter in the room.

Off to the right is a glass vitrine with three shelves holding hand blown pipes and bowls and bongs, artistic.  A roped walkway, ala security lines, held a dozen or so people, mostly young men in their twenties, but there was another older man like me and one woman.

At the end of the line were two cash registers flanking a glass display case with white chocolate with marijuana baked in, chocolate chip cookies, lighters, including a bic lighter, green and with DANK written over a marijuana leaf.  The cashiers served as marijuana sommeliers, answering questions about various strains like indica and sativa, prices per ounce.

To an old 60’s guy this was a scene resonant with memories of bags scored from furtive dealers, parties with just a hint of paranoia.  And here, in this state where my grandchildren live, and in a store not a mile from their home, people bought and sold grass.  Legally.

It was, as we might have said, a trip.

 

Bristling with Trailer Hitches

Winter                                                       Seed Catalog Moon

The parking lot here at the Best Western bristles with trailer hitches sticking out into the driving lanes from six wheel pickups.  The side streets have fifth wheel cattle and horse trailers lined up one after the other.  This is Stock Show time in Denver. Big belt buckles, boots and Stetson’s.

It’s also NFL title game weekend.  There are New England Patriot fans and their jerseys, Bronco fans and their orange.  Jon and Ruth took a couple of hours getting home from A-basin due to MLK holiday traffic.

Gabe’s stretched out on the bed watching a large fish and an absurd saggy breasted ballerina.  TV goes off at 9:00 pm.  Thank god.

Ruth and I will hit the Science Museum tomorrow morning and go to Steve’s Snapping Dogs for lunch.  I may miss most of the big game while I nap.

Tomorrow night we go to the Japanese restaurant, Domos.  This is a different Japanese experience, a country food menu.  Should be fun.

 

Oh. My.

Winter                                                                  Seed Catalog Moon

Discovered, thanks to my copy editor, Robert Klein, that I had named one of my characters in an unintentionally humorous way.  Two-arcas Merkin is a character who kills two arcas (bear-like creatures) and becomes known for it.  Turns out, you may know this but I didn’t, a merkin is a pubic wig.  First, I didn’t know there were such things.  Second, as a result, I didn’t know they had a name.  It’s the kind of thing I’m glad somebody caught.  Geez.

(Russian ambassador and President Merkin Muffley in Dr. Strangelove)

The weather outlook in Denver is consistent with what I’ve experienced several times over the Stock Show trips:  50’s, high 50’s.  Always seems weird, but northern moving Gulf air pressed east by the Rocky Mountains brings spring like temperatures to winter Denver often.  Jon likes it.  I don’t.  I like my seasons true to themselves.  Cold winters.  Warm, wet spring.  Hot summers.  Cool falls.

 

 

2013: Second Quarter

Winter                                                            Winter Moon

The first day of the second quarter, April 1st, is Stefan’s birthday and was a gathering of the Woolly’s at the Red Stag.  I made this note: “Here we are seen by each other.  Our deep existence comes with us, no need for the chit-chat and polite conversation of less intimate gatherings.  The who that I am within my own container and the who that I am in the outer world come the closest to congruence at Woolly meetings, a blessed way of being exceeded only in my relationship with Kate.”

The “doing work only I can do” thought kept returning, getting refined: “With writing, Latin and art I have activities that call meaning forward, bringing it into my life on a daily basis, and not only brought forward, but spun into new colors and patterns.” april 2 On the 13th this followed:  “Why is doing work only I can do important to me?  Mortality.  Coming at me now faster than ever.  Within this phase of my whole life for sure.  Individuation.  It’s taken a long time to get clear about who and what I’m for, what I’m good at and not good at.  Now’s the time to concentrate that learning, deepen it.”

The best bee year we’ve had started on April 16th with discovering the death of the colony I thought would survive.  While moving and cleaning the hive boxes, I wrenched back and the pain stayed with me.  That same day the Boston Marathon bombing happened.  In addition to other complicated feelings this simple one popped up:  “The most intense part of my initial reaction came when I realized what those feelings meant, the emptiness and the sadness and the vacuum.  They meant I am an American.  That this event was about us, was done to us.”

Another theme of this quarter would be my shoulder, perhaps a rotator cuff tear, perhaps nerve impingement caused by arthritis in my cervical vertebrae.  Maybe some post-polio misalignment.  But over the course of the quarter with a good physical therapist it healed nicely.

Kate went on a long trip to Denver, driving, at this time, for Gabe and Ruth’s birthdays. While she was out there teaching Ruth to sew, Ruth asked her, “Why did you become a doctor instead of a professional sewer?”  When Kate is gone, the medical intelligence of our house declines precipitously.  That means doggy events can be more serious.

Kona developed a very high fever and I had to take her to the emergency vet.  She had a nodule on her right shoulder which we identified as cancerous.  This meant she had to have it removed.  At this point I was moving her (a light dog at maybe 40 pounds) in and out of the Rav4 with some difficulty because of my back.

This was the low point of the year as Kona’s troubles and my back combined to create a CBE (1)dark inner world.  The day I picked Kona up from the Vet after her surgery was cold and icy, but my bees had come in and I had to go out to Stillwater to get them, then see my analyst, John Desteian.  That day was the nadir.  I was in pain and had to go through a lot of necessary tasks in sloppy slippery weather.  That week Mark Odegard sent me this photograph from a while ago Woolly Retreat.

By the end of the month though Kate was back and April 27th:  “Yes!  Planted under the planting moon…”

For a long time I had wanted to apply my training in exegesis and hermeneutics to art and in this time period I decided to do it.  In the course of researching this idea I found I was about 50 years late since the Frankfurt School philosophers, among them, Gadamer and Adorno, had done just that.  Still, I patted myself on the back for having thought along similar lines.

Over the last year Bill Schmidt, a Woolly, and I have had dinner before we play sheepshead in St. Paul.  His wife, Regina, died a year ago September.  “Bill continues to walk straight in his life after Regina’s death, acknowledging her absence and the profound effect it has had on his life, yet he reports gratitude as his constant companion.”

By April 29th the back had begun to fade as an issue: “Let me describe, before it gets away from me, submerged in the always been, how exciting and uplifting it was to realize I was walking across the floor at Carlson Toyota.  Just walking.”

Kate and I had fun at Jazz Noir, an original radio play performed live over KBEM.

In my Beltane post on May 1st I followed up my two sessions with John Desteian:  “John Desteian has challenged me to probe the essence of the numinous.  That is on my mind.  Here is part of that essence.  The seed in the ground, Beltane’s fiery embrace of the seed, the seed emerging, flourishing, producing its fruit, harvest.  Then, the true transubstantiation, the transformation of the bodies of these plants into the body and blood ourselves.”

Then on May 6th, 5 months into my sabbatical from the MIA:  “The third phase requires pruning.  Leaving a job or a career is an act of pruning.  A move to a smaller home is an act of pruning.  Deciding which volunteer activities promote life and which encumber can proceed an act of pruning.  Last year I set aside my political work with the Sierra Club.  Today I have set aside my work at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts.”  That ended 12 years of volunteer work.

“When you recover or discover something that nourishes your soul and brings joy, care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life.”

— Jean Shinoda Bolen 

It was also in May of this year that Minnesota finally passed the Gay marriage bill.  Gave me hope.

May 13 “Sort of like attending my own funeral.   All day today notes have come in from docent classmates responding to my resignation from the program.”  During this legislative session, I again became proud to be a Minnesotan.

As the growing season continued:  “If you want a moment of intense spirituality, go out in the morning, after a big rain, heat just beginning to soak into the soil, smell the odor of sanctity…”

On May 22nd the Woolly’s gathered to celebrate, with our brother Tom, the 35th year of his company, Crane Engineering.  The celebration had something to do with a crystal pyramid.  At least Stefan said so.

A cultural highlight for the year was the Guthrie’s Iliad, a one person bravura performance by veteran actor, Stephen Yoakam.

Friend and Woolly Bill Schmidt introduced me to High Brix gardens.  I decided to follow their program to create sustainable soils and did so over the course of the growing season. I got good results.

Our new acquaintance Javier Celis, who did a lot of gardening work for us over the year, also finished up our firepit and we had our first fire in it on June 7th.  It was not the last.

On June 12th Rigel came in with a small pink abrasion on her nose.  She had found and barked, barked, barked, barked at a snapping turtle.  Kate removed the turtle from our property.  The turtle came back, hunting I believe, for a small lake not far from us in which to lay her eggs.  The next time Rigel and Vega still barked, from a safe distance.

And on Father’s Day: “Is there anything that fills a parent’s heart faster than hearing a child light-hearted, laughing, excited?  Especially when that child is 31.”

During her visit her in late June grand-daughter Ruth went with me on a hive inspection: “She hung in there, saying a couple of times, “Now it’s making me really afraid.” but not moving away.”

My favorite technology story came on June 27th when NASA announced that one of the Voyager spacecrafts would soon leave the heliosphere, the furthest point in space where the gases of the sun influence matter.  This meant it would then be in interstellar space.

And, as Voyager entered the Oort cloud Tom and Roxann made their way Svalbard and the arctic circle.  Thus endeth the second quarter.

 

 

NoSnowBirds

Samhain                                                            Winter Moon

They leave.  This is the time.  Lois, our cleaning lady, poked her head in and said, “Good-bye.  See you in April.”  Mark and Elizabeth leave on the 29th for Grass Valley in California.  Many others are already gone to Florida or Arizona or New Mexico or Mexico.

We call them snowbirds, though it should be nosnowbirds, since they fly away at dropping temperatures and clouds of frozen moisture.  The reasons they go are diverse, I imagine, but cluster around icy roads, slick sidewalks, the uninviting nature of cold air for being outside.

It makes sense.  At a certain age, one I’ve reached, driving on roads and navigating sidewalks slick with ice and polished snow can be scary.  To get outside requires more thought in dress and more intention.  Just going out for a stroll can mean preparation. There is, too, the lure of a different place.  The beaches of Florida, the culture of the Southwest and Mexico.  A way to break up the year, give it a punctuation when work no longer provides it.

Still.  I love the snow, the cold, the quiet, the coming of the inside season.  The holiseason makes a good deal more intuitive sense with distinct seasonal changes, seasonal changes I find crucial to my own spiritual practice.  Putting the garden to bed, letting it rest for a season plus also feels right to me.  I would not want to continue my gardening season past the end of September, early October.

No.  We’ll stay.  Here.  In Andover.

East Meets West

Samhain                                                                Winter Moon

Another shooting in Colorado.  In a school.  In the Littleton School District, site of the 4-798D0E18-1629023-800Columbine shooting.  I was in Denver with Jon and Jen, both teachers in the Aurora School District, when the gunman shot up Batman theatergoers in Aurora.

(granddaughter Ruth at the Stock Show)

The culture of the West and the culture of the East collide with some visible force in Colorado and Denver is the epicenter.  Each January the Great Western Stock Show gathers cowboys and ranchers, rodeo queens and fancy riders, bulls and horses and cows and sheep into one place for a celebration of Denver’s central locale in the Old West.  This is a culture of hardy individualists, folks used to taking care of things on their own and not interested in citified ideas towards guns.

At the same time Denver is the business capitol of the region with shiny glass skyscrapers 4-CFBE0C9F-2317503-800and people in business suits hustling for a buck.  It’s also a major educational and health services center.  In addition thousands throng through the tented Denver Airport on their way to the ski slopes of the Rockies:  Aspen, Vail, Steamboat Springs, Breckenridge.  This is a culture more interested in public safety, clean streets and good medical care.

(Looking out from the Denver Museum of Art toward the State Capitol building)

It’s an uneasy conjunction, a mixing occurs, yes, but neither group comes away much changed from the interaction.

A Soul in Ruins

Samhain                                                           Winter Moon

It was nine years ago the first of November that I left for Southeast Asia, visiting Mary when George Bush again won the presidency.  Mary and I went to the American Club for brunch around 8 a.m. to watch the polls close and night-time punditry begin.

Later a Singapore taxi-driver, Chinese, explained how much he disliked Bush and how much an American election, 12 time zones and 12,500 miles away, affected him.  It was, he said, a strange and not a good feeling to have so much of your future tied up with a foreign land and its peculiar decision making about leadership.

Singapore has a distinctly pro-Western bent for all its declaiming about Asian values; it is capitalist and materialist to its fingernails.  Mary and I experienced Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights, saw firewalking in a Hindu temple and broke the Ramadan fast in Arabtown.

Bangkok came next, a $60 introductory rate flight by Tiger Air, a cut-rate airline beginning to service Southeast Asia.  Bangkok’s ChinaTown, my home base for the two weeks I spent there had sidewalk fold-up restaurants at night, vendors during the day and always people, lots of people and cars streaming by on Yaowarat.  The neon lights gave the after dark old main street of Bangkok a garish look, but also made it enticing.  Exotic.

After some time in Bangkok, I got on a Bangkok Air flight for Siem Reap, Cambodia.  We landed next to a plane from the Republic of Vietnam.  On the flight from Bangkok bomb craters had been easy to pick out in the fields below.  Taxiing up to a spot beside that plane, in Cambodia, brought back anti-war memories from the 60’s.

The highlight of this trip was still ahead.  Angkor.  Most people identify this complex with
the name Angkor Wat although all that means is Angkor Temple and there are many, many temples.  The temple widely known as Angkor Wat is closest to the small Cambodian city of Siem Reap.  It is huge and well preserved.  I spent a full morning climbing its ritual and mythic architecture, it recapitulates a sacred landscape, and took most of my time at the object that made me travel all this way:  the churning of the sea of milk.

(This bas relief, carved intricately at all points, runs round the bottom most walls of the temple, roughly 1/4 of a mile.  The panels are maybe 12 feet high.)

This sentence from the Unesco world heritage website will give you an idea of why Angkor Wat is just a taste of what’s in the area.  “(Angkor) extends over approximately 400 square kilometres and consists of scores of temples, hydraulic structures (basins, dykes, reservoirs, canals) as well as communication routes.”

This is not a week’s journey, not even a month’s.  Three months would be a good start, especially since early morning and late afternoon are the only times you can really visit since the temperatures are so intense in midday.  I had four days.

All my photographs are on an old hard drive and I haven’t retrieved them yet, a project ahead of me. There are a lot of photos: Bantay Serai, Ta Phrom, Bayon, Preah Khan.

Morning and night for four days I explored, dodging scorpions, nodding to saffron robed monks, amazed by the kapok tree roots reclaiming these 9th through 14th century sites.

A memory that stands out came on evening the third day.  I had clambered around the temple mountain of Bayon, the temple with the four-faced stone monuments you’ve probably seen in pictures.  Incense drifted over from a contemporary Buddhist temple across the dirt road, following the smoke was music from cymbals and gongs.

Sitting on tumbled down stones near Bayon’s west entrance, a reverie overcame me and I drifted back, back, back in time to the days of the Khmer and the god-kings who built these monuments to politics and divinity.  To a time when the Khmer carved living rock from quarries far-away and floated the carved rock down river to these sites, using an elaborate system of canals.

(Bayon’s west side.)

This was when I realized a strong part of me was a soul in ruins, captured by the past, most alive while picking my way through Ephesus, Angkor, the Forum, Delphi, Delos. Through ancient texts like the Metamorphoses and the Odyssey and the Iliad.  Learning the ancient Roman language.  That realization has shaped much of my work since then.