ins verderben (or, coin side dents)

no life without growth
no growth without change
no change without death


destruction is "one side of the coin".
All "coins" have at least two sides. A sphere viewed from the side looks like a coin, although a sphere has no sides in the way that we think of a coin.
I am learning to see and appreciate whole coins and unseen elephants.

Coins have many sides, and perhaps none.
Everything can be learned from.
Stories continue.


***************************

And I didn't tell you how the story continued, did I?


The captain sprang into action, commanding his crew to reverse direction, lighten the load, turn sails, row, row, row! as the sea and hollow wind compelled the ship towards the falls at the end of the world. But, it was too late - they were committed. The hound had gone, but its task was complete. The captain soon realized this and resigned himself to a new course of action: tie everything down, stow everything away. The only possible result of attempted escape was to be dragged backwards over the falls.

He ordered the ship turned and guided directly for the edge of the world. They would go over. The great ship swung, directed towards a nearer horizon than any had before sailed into. Their course set, the crew and captain scrambled to fasten themselves in Above the lip of falling water, great vapor clouds rose and wrapped in the chilling empty howl of wind. Carried on the roaring sea, the ship approached, and joined the falling waters through the empty air below.

When the captain awoke and pushed himself free, he stumbled out into a cavernous world. Slowly, he discovered more of his ship and his crew, in surprisingly good condition. The roar of the falls echoed in a constant atmosphere of sound. They had plunged into a deep lake far below the earth and washed onto a feature of twisted rock. He turned, surveying the environment and saw only rock, formed and molded like clay, rising on all sides around gaping tunnels.

If they intended to continue, and return home, they would have to find a way through the dark passages to the surface.

They had arrived in Hades.

(Here, I do not remember how the story continues. It involves exploring, daring, cleverness, and trickery. But they do return to the surface. And of course, even more story continues from there.)

(if any parts of this story sound familiar to anyone, I would really like to find this book again! It is not a novel. More of a picture-and-story book claiming to be Norse legends. I read it as a child, remember some, and am paraphrasing a LOT.)

Self-Contained

(Have you ever considered that your physical shape is the result of an incredible magnitude of gas molecules bouncing against you and holding you in your usual mold of air?)


A younger version of myself poked through my dad's old bookcases, reading snippets and stories of Greek myth and history. Milo, I read, was a man of immense strength and size. He would entirely conceal a pomegranate in one fist and dare others to retrieve it. No matter how many pushed or pried at his fingers, not only did they never extract the pomegranate, but after all had given up, Milo would unroll his fist and reveal the pomegranate, not even bruised.

Whether pushing or pulling, he met strength with equal strength and held his ground precisely.


I found and read Heart of Darkness sometime during my high school years because it was a book that everyone spoke highly and mysteriously of. It may have been a bit above my level, but, especially when I left for college, I took the image with me of one man, left to his own devices, in an environment with none of his familiar external controls or pressures. Embedded in an unfamiliar (or lack of) external structure, how does one choose to conduct oneself?

Not only what is chosen, but how?


Recently, I found a comic book in the MLLL called Mouse Guard. In a Winter issue, the most senior guard is talking with the newest guard recruit. He describes two of their fellow guardsmice (I think the names are Saxon and Kenzie), a great pair since in handling situations, Saxon's aggressive and impulsive nature is balanced by Kenzie's more wise and reserved intellectual assessment. This is not ideal, says the Old Guard, -- Saxon lets himself go since he trusts that Kenzie will delay or correct him if he acts too rashly. And, Kenzie dwells and deliberates too reservedly because he knows that Saxon will spur him on.

They each depend on the other, but, the Old Guard recommends, be self-contained, and cultivate balanced aspects within yourself.

Indoor Birdhouses

A continuation from "Unfinished Business":

I did a lot of set painting/design/management for plays in high school, often with very little time before the performance. I like making large walls look like something else and if someone gives me a wall, a general idea, and some paint, I can really take off from there.

I only get chances to work on this mural here and there when I go home on breaks.
There are still things to add, but ... it's getting there. My grandma keeps remarking how 'precious' the hummingbird is.

..If I could do this for a living...
well. I'd still want to do other stuff too. But, this wouldn't be bad at all.

I Had A Dream,

I say to you today dear friends, that in spite of my general inability to recall them,
that last night, I had a dream.

I had a dream,
that I returned to my homeland in Wisconsin to find the land covered in snow and the roads partially plowed.

I had a dream,
in which my family had, in my absence, acquired a system of transportation to suit the snowy weather. Ordinary bicycling was out of season.

Brothers and sisters,
I had a dream last night,
that the sensible alternative transportation was to adjust your bicycle by hitching a team of adorable sled kittens to the front fork. They were cuddly and soft. They work just like sled dogs, but they are much smaller.

It did not occur to me
until I had been awake for at least several minutes and was brushing my teeth in the bathroom, that a team of sled-kitties hitched to a bicycle is not a normal mode of transportation.

Llena de Estrellas

from 9/17



谢谢，郝鹿路






9/18/07

Tango is good for me

It all boils down to a single moment when you know exactly where you are in the universe,
and it's terrifying


These were the instructor's words as I walked into the already assembled Tango class.

Tango is close
You can hear them with your skin

Tango is about presence
Don't lose yourself in the crowd

and focus
Be completely aware of your partner


For someone who has always tried to stand on her own two feet, tried not to get in the way of others, tried to carry her own weight, tried not to impose herself,
it takes some getting used to.

Tango is playing a game of distance,
of pushing back
resistance
culminating in a most definitely shared motion. slide

It seemed to me like a walking game of team tai chi.

It most certainly takes two.
And this is what I want to learn:
how to take two separate, present, individual energies
and compose their distinct forces into an experience,
an achievement
unattainable by one alone.


It seems that this requires
sharing weight
imposing oneself
taking another's space (ask first)
and trusting that such actions will be received and returned.

It's a balance of both self and other that I cannot yet manage except in extremes.

I'm decent as an individual. Or as a nothing.
As part of a team?
I have a lot to learn.

Suspension

It's feeling like a summer night
and I was wanting to play outside in the yard until someone calls me in for the 3rd time to go to sleep.

Who can I play with? I consider whether I even can.



My present situation feeling too much
like a loose stack of sketches on transparent tracing paper,


I suspend some insanity
in a mixture of adrenaline and velocity

and afterwards, stretching beneath a tree,
I see the dark-bodied earthworms nudging their way above ground
like pointed tongues feeling out uncertain teeth

I lie down on my back in the grass
and realize that this is what I have wanted to do all week
If Tolstoy's right about how much land a man needs, I'll take this spot right here.

With my hands on my stomach, I watch the orange-shadowed clouds moving slowly through a starless sky.
And I mistake the bloom of a billion new leaf buds on overhead trees, catching the light from the lamppost, for stars.

The Question

There was a story I read as a child long ago, which was well-organized and well-illustrated, almost a little too well for my age to appreciate (I thought this at the time, and found the content a little creepy, but I would like to find that book again since I don't think it would scare me now).

It was a story of vikings, on a journey, with many 'legends' strewn and wrapped together, almost like an Odyssey for a Viking cast. I say 'legends' because I don't know enough about Norse myths and legends to tell if the author of this story made them up.

That was years, well over a decade ago, I'm sure. But images we find sometimes stay with us and return when we understand enough to make use of them.


One such image is the black dog:

Here is the story as best as I can remember to tell it:

There is a part of the story where the men re-enter their ship after some battle to find a black dog sitting on the deck, staring straight ahead. It is not theirs. Several men try to move it, but it is impossible. The dog effortlessly resists all attempts to push or pick it up, all the while staring straight ahead as if the men are of no consequence.

The leader of the Vikings tries to command it to leave. In response to this direct address, the dog answers, "There is one question I can answer, and that is not it." Enraged at this insolent uncooperativeness, the leader further insists that the dog depart the ship, asking why it is there. To everything the dog answers evenly, "There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

There is another main character on the ship, I don't recall his name, but he is the - what I like to call - Odysseus character. He is clever and observant. He sees the tricks, he sees the big pictures, he knows the stories. He is the twist at the end of the plot.

He comes to the leader as he tries to argue with the dog (the dog is beginning to growl and bristle) to tell him that he knows of tales of men who return to find a black dog rooted on their deck. It the black dog of fate. As long as the dog on board, the dog will steer the ship to one of two destinations. Eventually, the men will find either an island filled with treasure beyond their wildest dreams or the roaring falls at the end of the earth. There is no way to move the dog, and there is only one question it will answer.

"Where are you taking us?" The leader asks.
"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it," says the dog.
"What question is that?"
"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

This goes on for weeks.

They cannot move the dog. They cannot know whether it will bring them to glory or destruction. They are in unfamiliar waters and cannot chart their course.
They can only hope.
And think
of what the right question might be.
They try questions all the time, but none of them are the right question.

One day, the leader gets fed up.
He thinks of a question and goes to ask the dog.

"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

Finally, the leader loses his temper.
He goes off shouting at the dog to get off his ship - it's his ship, he's the captain, and he orders the dog to get off! Where are you taking us? Are you going to destroy us? Where are you taking us? How do we get rid of you?

To each the dog responds,
"There is one question I can answer, and that is not it."

but it is not a forgiving dog. As the leader rants, the dog's answer becomes a growl, then a snarl, then malicious barking, but the captain goes on. He tries to forcibly remove the dog from his ship at which point the dog picks him up and begins spinning him in the air above his head, about to hurl him off of the ship.

Just then, the Odysseus character runs up through the chaos and directly asks the dog, "Who is your master?"

The dog immediately stops and puts the captain down. His eyes oddly glazed, he sits back and, like a robot, says "There is one question I can answer, and that is it."
He sits and tips his head back where the Odysseus character can see the dog tags around his neck. The dog stays stock-still as they approach to read them and allows the men to inspect its tags.
I don't remember the name on the tags, but I believe it was one of the sea or wind gods. The captain calls out, commanding the dog to return to its master. The dog howls such to tear open the sky and rises up, disappearing into a tumultuous wind.

It is gone.

The men erupt into shouts and cheering, but amid their voices, another sound is growing and tugs at their attention.

"What's that noise?"

The dog had left their ship, but not before steering it well on the way to its fated destination. The noise, coming from the rim of the horizon, only grew louder. The dog had taken them to the falls at edge of the earth.

There was little time to prepare.


****

He who has ears to hear,
let him hear.

I kid you not

I decided to go biking in the Tideman-Johnson direction today (3.12.07),
for personal reasons.

I didn't go very far,
I just needed to go. There is a river
that moves near the trail.

When I came to the road, I turned to go back
and saw a small trail that might be difficult to bike on without sliding.
I decided to take it,
for crazy reasons.

I biked, and slid some, and came to a place where the river was framed with beautifully arranged stones - where I drew that picture.

****
I interrupt this story to bring you a previous narrative of how, when snowboarding at Mt. Hood, there was a trail through the forest that looked as though I must go very slowly and take care not to fall too close to trees. I decided to take it,
for crazy reasons.

I fell many times, very near trees.
One of these times, I stayed down - tired and uncertain of where it was safe to move. Then I looked up, and the sun was shining through the pine trees that towered over me, holding the sky on their pointed tops.

****
I interrupt this narrative to bring you the instant in which, no longer able to sit still, I needed to go do something involving expending large amounts of physical energy and velocity,
for personal crazy reasons.

I took my bike, and went south in the rain. It seemed as though the clouds were breaking up so I chose the route that would take me to the overpass, in case the sun came out. The rain kept coming in thin little streaks as the sky became lighter. And, as I turned into a curve, moving very quickly, the sidewalk framed on both sides by sleek pines, the sun brushed its mask of clouds aside and the world became a brilliant glare of silver and outlines.

The wet road lit up white with reflection, the white clouds filling the sky showered down gleaming glassy threads of rain, the pines standing tall on either side of me became as shining ice. As I turned the corner, before the sun again retreated, my world was one of glossy white and edges.
******

The pines held clumps of snow in their branches which the sun, melting it, caused to fall like rain around me and
I swear the sun had such an angle that every single drop hanging, falling from the branches shone like a diamond in a commercial.

What could I do but lean back into the snow and watch the drops fall from the tops of the pines in the brilliant sky
stopping short of my eyes, descending instead on my goggles?

It took me a long time to get back to the main path and the lift,
but the such a surprise was so worth it.
****

I watched the water run through the shape of the river
and the sun came in and out of hiding (as did the hummingbirds). It occurred to me to blur my eyes a bit and watch the river's patterns. The shape of the river does not change as the water hurtles through it like a bird through a banquet hall,
and down the small waterfall between nicely-walled and arched stones on either side.

I walked down a bit past the froth from the waterfall and,
I kid you not
the sun was sinking left and behind me, and as I looked back upriver,
it was as if the froth was laced with silver glitter.
****

With this in mind
I have decided
that the best path to take
is the crazy one
the one that you might slip or fall in, but invites a try.

But only if you keep your head up
and keep the sun in mind
otherwise, for all you'll learn, you might as well have taken the easy way home.

And today,
I wanted to climb a tree and sit in the top like a lotus

because of things like cherry blossoms
and rivers, and how the shapes of pain and joy and love and loss and life and death flow together

because today dying and falling in love seem like the same thing,
both mess with the sense of identity
There is too much river out there
and too little me to refuse either.

Because I've answered the question I've asked myself for years:

Given one of two options,
which would you choose?
1) To expend your life in search of truth with the foreknowledge that you would never find it,
2) To live comfortably and happy, never finding truth, but never searching either.

I am suspicious of people who choose option #1 too quickly. I wonder if they understand either of the choices.
It's been 2 years since the question was posed to me in this way.

Today my final answer is a solid #1.

RAW2K7

RAW is upon us for another few days.

I managed to be somewhat involved. It's not quite what I hoped for, but given other things and the fact that I wanted to sleep occasionally, not too bad.

samples:

C9H13O3N



My idea was to play with the images of the theme "Fight or Flight" and the different connotations available to symbolic representations. In example, in contrast to 'Fight', 'Flight' may refer to something like retreating ...or maybe flying. The dove is certainly flying, but is often a symbolic carrier of 'Peace' more than 'retreating' allowing 'Fight' to take on a more warlike connotation. However, when faced with all the many conflicts in the world, peace seems highly desirable (dove), but the individual response of needs to be one of rising to the challenge - not of personally retreating. The chemical symbol of the title is Adrenaline or Epinephrine, which triggers the body's 'fight or flight' response. The idea is, we have capabilities for either response.
So, .. what'll it be?






And then,
of course there is this stunning masterpiece:



I have an art historian friend who could probably expound at length the visual symbolism embedded here.

Tie Dye

(In which I develop a marketable skill...)


I like colors.

We did tie-dyeing in one of my high school art classes, and I used to make things for my friends.

At college,
I made these two shirts during freshman year for the Thanksgiving week Chemistry 'Lab'





The following year,
I missed attending the freshman lab due to other work or something like that and, wanting an excuse to tie-dye things, decided to follow through on my convictions that a bookstore such as ours ought to have tie-dye in it. So I emailed the bookstore and somehow convinced them that they should let me order quantities of dye through them and that they should pay me to do something I like: put colors on cloth.

The first batch of results:













That was last year.

And the bookstore managed to get rid of them and asked me to make replacements!

Here is this years' batch: