Turn the Radio On and Listen to the Indy 500

62  bar falls 29.74 2mph NW dew-point 35 Beltane, Sunny

                      Full Hare Moon

Memorial Day is this weekend and we’re still stuck back in early April.  I can recall other chilly Memorial Days, but none with the degree of regular cool air this year has had.

Since it’s Memorial Day, that means it’s Indy 500 time.  I’ll watch again this year.  The race used to take a liesurely 3-4 hours to run, now it routinely finishes between 2-3.  Though I found growing up in Indiana a strange experience, it left two indelible marks on my character.  I’m still fascinated with those big guys bouncing the orange ball up and down a hardwood floor.  I’m also ready, every Memorial Day, to turn into race fan for a day.

I only went to the race once, with my Dad, in the early 60’s or late 50’s.  The Novi engine was a Dual Overhead Cam Supercharged V8 engine, a monster driven by Jim Hurtubise.  As it came out of the fourth curve, Hurtubise would hit the accelerator for the long main straightaway.  The supercharger would kick in and an internal combustion growl would echo off the seats and reverberate until the car was well past the starting line over half a mile away.  All of us who love the race, loved that engine.  It never won, not once, but it was thing of beauty. 

Most Memorial Days I would go out to the family car with crackers and cheese, comic books and a coke.  I would turn on the radio and settle in to listen.  For the month leading up to the race the Indianapolis Star carried detailed sports page coverage and I saved those pages, too, including them in my cache.  I especially liked the rainy days when I could sit in the car, sheltered from the weather and listen to the roar of the engines as the cars hurtled around the track.

China.  Burma.  A 7.9 earthquake.  A major cyclone with another brewing in the waters of the Indian Ocean.  Unimaginable suffering.  No.  Wait.  Katrina.  Iraq.  Not unimaginable, just far away.  Burma has Pagan, a city with 2,500 Buddhist temples.  It has Mandalay where the flying fishes play.  It has Rangoon, home of a gold topped stupa.  It also has a paranoid junta, more concerned with power than the people.  China’s Sichuan region, home to fiery foods and a unique brand of Chinese culture, mountains (the shan) and proximity to a collision between the Indian tectonic plate and the Pacific.  The folding creates the shan in China and the Himalayas.  It also slips, the enormous pressures of the earth’s mantle put out of joint and indescribable power releases, a spring in the expected stability of the ground on which we walk.

There are advantages to a spot near the center of the North American tectonic plate, far from either the Atlantic or the Pacific.

Another Outside Day

55 bar steady  29.78 4mph NNW  dew-point 31  Beltane, Sunny

                            Full Hare Moon

My Taoist studies have proceeded more slowly than I had hoped, but the regular appearance of material thanks to the online classes has kept me involved.  I’m on my last course now.

Another sunny day.  Work outside today, and perhaps tomorrow, too, then I have to devote some time to managing inside matters, get back to full-time writing. 

Later.

A Muse Fiction

50  bar rises 29.74  1mph NNW  dew-point 29  Beltane

                          Full Hare Moon

A lot of people considered my piece in the Muse a non-fiction account of a real tour.  Hmmm.  Wonder what I could have done to have made it a bit more obvious as fiction?  It’s nice to get reactions to it anyhow.  Allison did a creative job with the Muse this year, a lot of new and different, including the many mini-robes for a Weber send-off.   Thanks to her for publishing Inspired.

Jon doesn’t need help with the garden.  By the time the bris happens it will be all planted, but I will go out and help him level the yard for sod.

The trip down to Alabama will happen in mid-June, so June stacks up as a heavy travel month.  All of it in my little red Celica with 240,000 miles, if it holds together.  The last long trip in it required a day and a night in Pueblo, Colorado to fix an electrical hiccup that knocked out power while I drove along on the freeway toward Denver.  That was fun.

I can only guess, but the full hare moon probably got its name from visible bunnies in gardens, illuminated by a full late May, early June moon. 

Haven’t heard from Mark and Mary in a while.  They both have busy lives at this particular point in time.

Finding My Place among the 10,000 Things

59  bar steady  29.77  4mph NW  dew-point 37  Beltane  Sunny and cool

                                  Full Hare Moon

Want to say a bit more about mastery (or, as Stephan said, maybe it’s anti-mastery) as living into the Self.  It has become clearer and clearer to me that I offer more impediments to the Movement of Heaven through me than I do channels.  I’m not being modest here, only stating a not too  unusual fact.  This opening and emptying of the ego so that my Self can flow through me out into the world is the big task ahead for me.  Yet, it is an ironic task, a task that only be realized in the negation of tasks.  It is a goal that has as its objective, an empty vessel and, to compound the irony, an empty vessel that will be filled, but this time not by the culture’s values, but by the values of the movement of heaven.  I believe a Taoist might call this finding my place among the 10,000 things.

I prefer this approach because it negates the notion of mastery as an over and above phenomenon, something that effort can achieve, and opens the way to mastery of the ego by the Self, the larger you that participates in the archetypal realm.  Let go and let Self, perhaps.  I envision this as a congested field filled with objects of desire and presumed needs suddenly cleared so that the plants natural to the immediate ecosphere can flourish.  It is the garden filled with native plants who require no artifice to grow; rather, they rely on the soil that the past has created, the rain a season brings and the sunlight that can reach the soil.  Native plants do not care if it is hot or wet or cold and dry, they have developed a lifeway that follows the rhythms of the seasons where they bloom. 

How much simpler our life would be if we could open ourselves to the rhythms native  to our Self; then we would not have to worry about dignity, accomplishment, status or desire.   We, too, would not care whether it was hot or dry, cold or wet, yet we would act, and act effectively because our actions would shape themselves to the  movement of the Tao. 

That’s how I see right now.

Seeking Mastery Within

54  bar steady 29.78  1mph NW  dew-point 44  Beltane, sunny and cool

                                       Full Hare Moon

The weather remains cool.  This is not a long spring; it’s a long late March or early April.  The gardening upside has been longer lasting blooms on the tulips and the daffodils and the scylla.  This weather has also proved excellent for transplanting, reducing transplant shock to a minimum and resulting in little wilting after a move.  The downside has been slow germination (no germination?) for some vegetable seeds planted and slow growth for the ones that have sprouted.  From the humans who live here in Andover perspective it’s been a great season.  Cool weather to work outside and to further many landscaping projects.

Last night’s conversation about mastery at Tom’s lingers today.  At one point we asked each person to claim what mastery they found in themselves, then we offered evidence of mastery we found in them, too, from an outsider’s perspective.  Various Woolly’s were masters of soulfullness, love, living, listening, communicating, design, the big picture, and drawing others out to see the best in themselves. 

Tom and I were wrong in our assumption that individual Woollys would find it difficult to claim a sense of mastery.  And delighted to be wrong, too.  We affirmed what each Woolly saw as their area of mastery and added ones they hadn’t seen or chose to ignore, e.g. mastery of forensic engineering, computer skills and sheepshead, making the complex accessible, letting go, the body in motion.

In my case, for example, I admitted I couldn’t find anything to claim since I’ve lead such a curiousity driven life, often running full speed down divergent paths at the same time.  Then, I said, “Well, I guess I could claim being a master student.”  That got modified in the eyes of the group to seeker after essential, radical truth.  OK, I can see that.  “You’re a master teacher, too.”  Hadn’t occurred to me, but that’s become a theme in various areas of my life of late, so it must be there in spite of my opacity to it.     

Tom initiated a get together for designing the evening and having me as a co-facilitator, rather than a servant lackey.  He made the food simple, sandwiches and soup followed by a big, really big, cookie.  Others seemed to appreciate the act of co-operation in design of the evening.  Tom and I wanted to introduce better time managment, and we did; but, that was not appreciate by everyone.  “Felt forced.”  Well, yes.  But every time together has its limits and therefore its limits on contribution.

As we closed, Tom observed that the Woolly’s as a group are a master that each of us can turn to for guidance in life.  I nuanced that a bit by suggesting that as a group, over 20+ years together, we have mastered groupness.  We are a living community, best evidenced, as someone said, by the fact that we show up.

I have signed out for the summer at the Art Institute.  I need the break.  I’ll use the time for writing, family and our land.

Anne Looked Grand

43  bar steep rise 29.74  1mph NW  dew-point 41  Beltane

                                 Full Hare Moon

Whoa.   More socializing today than I get in a normal month.  AM Eric Kjerlling, curator of Oceanic art at the Met, gave an information packed lecture on this vast geographic region and its varied art forms.  He was funny, knowledgeable and deep.  An excellent introduction that I will want to revisit if I get the Asmat special exhibition year.  It was my number 2 choice after William Holman Hunt and the Pre-Raphaelites.  The Pre-Raphaelites are among my favorites in Western art and I hope I get that exhibition.

Saw several folks at the coffee on break during the lecture, but then retired to St. Paul, 1394 Lincoln, for a wonderful couple of hours seeing others from our docent class.  Careen Heggard’s house is appointed by an architect, Careen, and wonderfully casual  and elegant at the same time.  She has a small cottage on the grounds, a former gardner’s residence, which she uses a cabin to which she does not have to drive, tea-house, escape.  Looks an ohana dwelling like we see in Hawai’i.

Morry, Joy and I stood out in the rain by the fire discussing literature.  Joy had a great line, one I hadn’t heard before, “Oh, that.  It’s just my stigmata acting up.”

Anne Grand was there and looked great.  She also seemed sharp.  Quite a relief.  I had worried about her.  Bill Bomash showed up, too, on crutches and looking wan.  I had to leave just as he came so I didn’t get a chance to chat.

Home for a nap at 2:30.  The morning and the lunch tired me out, as socializing tends to do.  I got up from my nap, went out in the rain, dug siberian iris, bearded iris and hemerocallis for Yin.  Scott brought three big bags of  hosta.  I felt like a piker.  I assured him there were more plants.

Woolly meeting at Tom’s.  On mastery.  Ode was home and it was great to see  him.  His report on the exhibit he did for UNESCO, sex ed for Thai teens, inspired me.  The meeting was a good one, deep and funny.  More later.  Paul and Charlie H. couldn’t make it.  More on the content tomorrow.

Port-A-Potties A’Plenty

58  bar falls 29.65  4mph N  Dew-point 27  Beltane, cool

                       Full Hare Moon

Those tiny baby bunnies born under the Hare moon gotta shiver in their bunny nests.  This has been a cold spring.

Went to the State Capitol grounds for 2 hours of volunteer work for the Vote Yes campaign.  We’re pushing a constitutional amendment to dedicate funds for clean water in lakes, rivers and streams.  There is also a dedicated funding stream for the arts.

For a major sesqui-centennial event, this was kept secret.  Who knew about it?  Hardly anyone apparently.   They had port-a-potties for a large crowd, but they all had green on the go in tab.  # of porta potties is a good estimator for how many folks event organizers anticipated.  It was a cool, blustery day.  The crowd seemed hurried and the tents poorly organized.  Not an up day.

Kate made Omaha Steak Company steaks for supper, a gift from Annie.   Mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and a tenderloin–a regular heartland meal.  That is, its destination was heartland via my circulatory system.  If God hadn’t meant us to eat meat, why would she have made it so good?

Big Brown, Pulling Away

56  bar falls 29.73 4mph dew-point 29   Beltane, sunny and cool

                                Full Hare Moon

Cut down three blooming buckthorns before they could fruit.  This radically changes the seed distribution pattern. My goal is to get to each one just before it blooms and whack it down, paint it with brush-b-gone and monitor the site for the next 3-4 years.  Also finally cut down the rather large green ash that had long prevented the truck gate from opening all the way.  The tree came down more easily than I had imagined.  It had grown into the chain link and I thought I might only be able to cut part way through the base due to the imbedded chain link.  Not so.  It cracked and split, after I used the steel wedge to free my stuck chainsaw, leaving a clean stump inside the fence line and a fallen tree outside.  Progress.

Kate, meanwhile, has taken the pruning charge seriously. She’s whacked, sawed, pulled, torn and lopped limbs and canes off Amur maples, red twig and grey ossier dogwood.  When she gets going, get outta the way.  An impressive pile of branches have mounted over the fence line. They need to go to the Habitat for Furry Animals site.

A glorious Sunday. 

Watched Big Brown win Pimlico yesterday afternoon.  Amazing.  On the outside, running third at the final turn, I saw the jockey loose the reins a bit.  It was a signal for a downshift, then accleration that took him past the others by the beginning of the straightaway.  As Big Brown pulled away, the jockey rose up in the saddle and checked between his legs to see the rest of the field.  They were way behind.  Fun to watch run.

More Homes for the Small and Furry

51  bar steady  29.75 3mph N dew-point 31  Beltane, Sunny and cool

                                    Full Hare Moon 

“I am sufficiently proud of my knowing something to be modest about my not knowing everything.” – Vladimir Nabokov

Amen to that.

Another cool day.  Great gardening weather, not so great growing weather.  The cool temps have  kept germination slow, my carrots have not emerged at all and only a few stray beet and lettuce seeds have begun to push through, at least at close of growing day yesterday. 

We will see today.  Sometimes seeds all sprout at once, sometimes not at all.  Germination percentages vary with weather, timing of planting, quality of seed and amount of moisture.  We’ll get something.  We do not watch the soil with the same eagerness as pioneers, for example, whose lives may have depended on germination.  I can only imagine that then the progress of the seed received an attention bordering on pleading and prayer.

We have the grandkids playhouse in the truck, three very large boxes of a put-it-together by the numbers building we bought at Costco.  Today’s task is to unload it and cover it with a tarp until we can level the area now cleared by the Steve and Aimee’s assistance yesterday.  After that we move brush onto yet more homes for the small and furry.  Not sure what after that.

I’m signing out for the summer from the MIA.   In September 2006 I began the second year of the docent education process.  In summer 2007 I signed up for the Made in Scandinavia painting exhibition.  After labor day the school year touring got going.  I had a month off in February for Hawai’i, but other than nothing longer than a week since 2006.  It’s time for a break.  Besides, I need to get back to work on that novel.  And a children’s book or two, too.

It Will End as a Novel Ends

55  bar steep rise 0mph E dew-point 39  Beltane

           Waxing Gibbous Hare Moon

Kate cleared a bunch of dogwood canes, pulled up weeds, pruned out a juniper (yesterday), deadheaded the daffodils and generally worked herself into a stupor. (In Norwegian, this is a good thing.)  She’s been on vacation this week and has enjoyed herself immensely planting, pruning, carrying.  (Again, in Norwegian, this constitutes a vacation.)  I admire and appreciate her doggedness, but it doesn’t count as a vacation attitude in my Celtic/Germanic perspective.   Whatever turns your crank.

Battlestar Galactica is the most nuanced and unpredictable show on television, bar none.  It is a good science fiction novel brought to the screen and that is so rare as to be a marvel, a marvel that continues week after week.  There no good guys and bad guys, no bad robots and good robots.  No, there are humans and robots who, in some situations, act for the common good and, in other situations, act out of selfish or malicious motives. 

The Science Fiction channel will finish the Battlestar Galactica series this season, but it will not tail off into the land of unfinished television shows. It will end as a novel ends, with an ending that ties together various plotlines and provides a final surprise and aha.  How do I know?  Because that’s how good writing works, and this is good writing.  I would like to see this as a precedent for TV shows where the story has a trajectory, a climax and a denouement, not the eternal extension of the storyline in a cynical attempt to exploit viewer interest for every last drop of advertiser revenue.  Viewers will return if the fiction has characters with complex lives, difficult hurdles to overcome and a convincing fate.

More work outside tomorrow.  This may be the last big push for a while since Kate goes back to work on Tuesday and I have MIA and a docent class luncheon on Monday with Woolly’s in the evening.