Why is it a “murder” of crows?

Why is it a “murder” of crows? 

I put that question to Perplexity and the answer was murky, just saying it’s a colorful description from medieval times. 

Also, that a mass of crows can be referred to as a “conspiracy,” a “parliament,” an “unkindness,” a “mob,” a “horde,” and a dozen other words…

My favorite is a “quarrel.”

The crows fill the trees outside my place most evenings and they’re LOUD. More obnoxious than ominous. Sometimes I’ll follow them on my bike as they move from place to place, into downtown, then across the river.

The silhouettes are spooky on the bare branches, but they jabber un-seriously. They get chatty. They like to argue. I can relate. And they move together like a flock of cats, needing company but never synchronizing, each one dithering before they eventually head off in the same direction. 

They’re my Spirit Animal for unsettled thoughts. 

I should finish this with a clever remark about Crow Pose, probably? Eh, I’ve got nothin’.

Anyway… midwinter always finds me restless. Be well!

Is your figure less than Greek?

"My funny valentine,
Sweet comic valentine,
You make me smile with my heart.

Your looks are laughable,
Unphotographable,
Yet you're my favorite work of art.

Is your figure less than Greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak
Are you smart..?"

Maybe your Valentine's Day plans got messed up by the weather. Or maybe the weather's an affirmation that it was best to not have plans anyway...?

I always have "My Funny Valentine" playing in my head for the holiday. The first version I heard was sung by Nico, recorded years after she was with The Velvet Underground -- I didn't know any of that background at the time; I just picked up lots of records as a kid, that looked weird and interesting. 

She sang so poorly it was charming, and the song stuck with me. The lyrics matched her voice that way. Years later I finally heard the classic Chet Baker vocal. It's funny because they both sung with a flat affect -- it's likely each of them was strung out when they recorded.

I like that the song's focused on flaws & imperfections instead of a manic, idealized love. It's grounded and real. But it slips into something too despairing when I associate it too much with the biographies of doomed artists. 

It's one thing to be clear-eyed and honest and to still love anyway. But sometimes that perspective is the fuel for a cynicism that's not clear-eyed or honest after all. Doomed posturing, a rationale for shooting yourself up full of distraction to not have to deal with the world directly. 

"Tragically hip" is the phrase that comes to mind. A tedious variety of "cool." It's disappointing in art because the art should be OF the world but transformational. Instead, it's about how the artists' sensitivity makes them retreat from the world.

My take. You don't have to agree. I want to see more courage, less retreat.

I was walking through downtown yesterday. It was mostly empty, mostly closed. There wasn't that much snow but it doesn't take much for Portland to seize up. 

It wasn't even that cold. Hardly any ice, nothing too slippery. 

It was a little bit like wandering in the first weeks of the pandemic. Most the people I saw probably lived on the streets, scattered out from camps along the freeway or Old Town or abandoned buildings' lots and doorways. Either slumped, passed out, hunched over, or hyped up and darting from one spot to another.  

I talk about this too much but it's always in front of me.

City vehicles used to have the slogan "the city that works" painted on. And the city was quirky -- maybe overly utopian & precious -- but optimistic, and it seemed to function well. 

Haven't seen that slogan anywhere in a while. Seems like the optimism's evaporated or stagnated. Cloudy skies don't help.

"Keep Portland Weird" still applies, but there are a lot of varieties of "weird." It'd be better to be more discriminating. 

Still, it was beautiful downtown. Without people, I focused on the details of old buildings, the odd storefronts I'd never noticed, squares of purple glass embedded in the sidewalks, signs and stickers and murals and tags... 

The air was mostly still until I got closer to the river. The wind was cold. I stood in the park by the waterfront and watched some guy spin his Audi around an empty parking lot for 20 minutes, practicing his drift. 

As I got closer to home, this dude approached from the other end of the block and then passed by, headed to the Whole Foods. His hair was freshly faded. He was staring at his phone, tapping madly with his thumb. He wore a backpack over his chest, with a plastic bubble portal in the middle, his cat staring out at me. 

It was a good walk and it made for a cozy evening. 

Happy Valentine's Day!

So, did YOU see your shadow?

I almost forgot about Groundhog Day this year.

Good thing I'm on social media -- I had memes to remind me. Of course, one of them had the image of a screaming groundhog against a fiery background with the caption "Punxsutawney Phil sees The Future: Too traumatized to return to his burrow." 

It was pretty funny...

I ALWAYS think it's important to be able to laugh about things. Even if it's "wrong" or dark, though I have enough sense hold that inside out of politeness when I need to. Most of the time.

You ever feel like you're in a "holding pattern?" 

In the air traffic control sense, it's when there's no open runway for a plane to land. The plane can't park itself in the sky, so its holding pattern is to fly around above the airport until there's room. I got stuck circling on a flight like that for a few hours once, in San Francisco. It was drag.

More metaphorically, being in a holding pattern seems different from just getting stuck or being in a rut. Not quite as negative or depressive, it's "suspended progress." Maybe an extreme example of that would be something more like the Groundhog Day movie?

I get that sort of feeling about the future a lot lately, on a personal level and then more broadly when I talk to other people or scroll through the news.  

The future's never truly predictable, but there's a way of things that seems to work, and becomes routine, and keeps on working well enough. Until it doesn't. 

And maybe you see that coming but it's not clear what to do about it, so you keep doing what you've been doing, with some background tension creeping up as a heightened alertness. 

Maybe it's just me. I don't know what to do but pay attention, be willing to adapt when necessary and hope for the best.  

I came across a quote that I copied down from somewhere: "Reality is shy. It only reveals itself to those who do not wish it to be something else." That fits in here somewhere, I think.  

Anyway, the groundhog saw its shadow this time around, so we've still got another six weeks of winter...

Foggy, soggy, groggy (waking up with the doggy...)

It's a weird week, in between the holidays.

My sister's family is out of town, so I'm watching their dog. My days begin and end at the park. It's always raining.

I bounce a ball to turn on the LED inside & then whip it across the big muddy field. It glows bright, so I can watch the Red Dot land and then bob up and down in the dark when she picks it up and runs.

The dog's slightly retarded. While she's happy to chase & retrieve, she'll only return halfway back until she decides to stop and wait and see what I'll do next.

So I bounce another ball and walk toward her. Sometimes when I'm close enough, she'll drop the first ball to chase the second when I finally throw it.

Sometimes she chases the second ball with the first ball still in her mouth. Then I have to walk up while she's got them between her paws, trying to figure out how to get both in her mouth at the same time. She gets pretty excited about that and growls.

When I get bored of watching her, I put my foot in the middle of everything to try and kick one of the balls off to the side. Then I can throw something again and keep her running.

I'm spending a lot of time walking in the mud this week.


Chris

Giving, receiving, and keeping score.

It's always better to give than to receive, right? I knew what I was supposed to say, as a kid looking forward to Christmas. But I had my List.

Not a fool, I knew it was better to receive the Death Star Space Station that I wanted, than to give another painted rock or whatever I'd made in an art class. Definitely a lop-sided exchange.

I'd have been happy to give out a pile of painted rocks for the Death Star. Whatever hoop you've gotta jump through, right? 

I DID get the Death Star, after two years of wanting it, so there was a disappointing Christmas in the lead-up, where I learned that you definitely do not always get what you want. 

That's not exactly a tragedy, but it comes up when I think about all of the conflicting attitudes I've entertained toward Christmas and presents. 

Once I was in my teens, it seemed easiest to try and be above it all, repeating how the holiday is too commercialized, wasteful, blah blah blah. That was a very attractive attitude when I was young and broke. 

The opposite of "broke," -- is it "wealthy?" I used to think so. But once it occurred to me that I'd achieved "not broke," I realized that life was more complicated.

There were years of little money, but what seemed like lots of time. I'd make things, put a lot of work into gifts. Does that balance things out? After a while I became much too busy to continue like that, making unique things for each person. 

I don't have kids and it seems that kids anchor adults more solidly to the gift exchange. Some years, Christmas was just a bother, easy to ignore until the enforced day off. The holiday became more about spending time with a few people than anything else.

If I was rich I'd probably keep a stack of Amazon gift cards in my pocket and give them out to whoever for a week. Something like that. To someone who's not broke, it's a nice gesture. To someone who IS broke, it's an opportunity to indulge, or help with necessities. 

Of course that's hypothetical and my pockets are not full of gift cards.

If I have to take an honest accounting, I'm sure I've received far more than I've given. That's definitely true in terms of dollars spent.

Accounting assumes there should be some kind of "equity." A gift is owed or not owed. A gift is deserved or not deserved. Who's got the list? Who's checking it twice? Who's truly generous? Who's disappointed on Christmas morning?  Who's worthy of what they've unwrapped?

That's not really the Spirit of giving or receiving anymore. That's fuel for squabbling and quarreling and it's nothing to celebrate. 

Maybe I'm just rationalizing away the anxiety that I've never given enough? A little bit, but no, I don't think so. That's not my point. 

It's taken me a long time to see this But then there's an opportunity to connect, rather than binding or obligating. And then there's something to be thankful for. 

Merry Christmas (and Happy Holidays, etc....)


Chris

I don't THINK I'm injured...

I don’t THINK I’m injured…

…but my low back was super-tight by the beginning of October. It had been tense for a while, but after sleeping in the back of my van for a month, I couldn't ignore it anymore. 

Doesn't feel like nerve pain from a disc thing. And it's not how my low back used to spasm before I started doing yoga -- haven't felt anything like that in over 10 years. It's out to the sides, away from the spine and the erector muscles.

Mostly it'd make me feel weak every time I fold forward -- I do that THOUSANDS of times a year with all of the yoga classes, so that’s a hassle.

I’d get to about 20 degrees above horizontal and a deep tension would set in. It’d let go, just below halfway down. It took my breath away. I’d have to brace everything hard and bend my knees deep to get through. Same thing on the way back up.

My working hypothesis is that my “core strength” is out of balance. That's including all the muscles between the rib cage and pelvis as "core." I’m not weak -- my hip flexors and low back get worked plenty -- but I've never done a lot to target the abdomen. 

SO, I bought this used exercise bench thing for $40. I've tried out a couple dozen oddball exercises. Now I’m blasting the hell out of my midsection from a bunch of different angles. It's helped -- now I can hinge just fine.

Then again, the fact that I’m sore in a whole bunch of new places might just be distracting me from my original problem. Dunno for sure. Figure I'll keep this up, see how it goes after another 4-6 weeks.

It's much more satisfying than just resting and hoping things improve on their own. 

Anyway, this is NOT a serious problem, I know. But it's funny how a low-level, niggling thing can affect your life and your thinking.  It won't kill you, it won't break you, but it sure can consume a lot of mental energy as you go through your day.

How many little things have you resigned yourself to accepting? Persistent aches, pains, irritations, "eh, I'm getting old," etc.? It's so easy to let your body accumulate little insults that you never get around to addressing, little "rock in your shoe" problems. 

It feels more dignified to tough things out and not complain, at least. It's easy to be too busy to deal with little things. But when there IS a rock in your shoe, eventually you're going to want to sit down and figure how to get it out. 

I hope your persistent irritations are MINIMAL...

Mushy leaves and a "mimetic legend."

I won’t complain about the rain, even though going outside is SO much more of a hassle now. 

I’ve got my gore-tex shoes. I’ve got rain jackets. I only use the rain pants if I’m biking and it’s absolutely pouring. I never walk with an umbrella. 

I’m going to get sort-of-wet, not soaked. Not too chilled until I stop moving. 

It’s a lot easier to sit inside, be cozy and get things done when the weather’s like this. I make a point to at least walk up into the hills a bit when there’s nowhere I need to go. 

The views are spectacular late in the day. The rain pauses, the clouds are thick and black-blue, maybe a layer of white whisps hangs low. 

Sun slips light underneath and trees across the city blaze, in yellow and browning reds. The peaks in the distance are white and sharp. 

I pick persimmons off of people’s trees and munch as I move along. The ones I can reach are almost gone. Streets are slippery with mushed-up leaves. 

There’s a part of me that wants to just hibernate, eat soup and sleep, laze around online and feel like my mind’s in the larger world even if I don’t step outside.

There’s a bigger part of me that can’t relax until I’ve made myself uncomfortable enough or exhausted enough that I feel like I’ve earned it. 

That’s not most profound internal struggle to have, but it does remind of a parable (or “memetic legend,” as I saw it described online). Someone told me it was a Buddhist thing, someone else wrote that it’s a Native American story. Whichever: 

Inside you are two wolves, always fighting. 

One is made up of all the qualities you aspire to, to be the person you want to be, the person you think you should be, and the action it would take to make that real.

The other is made up of all the drives and impulses you want to indulge in and default to. It's not worried about "shoulds," or good vs. bad, or any vision of being "better."

The fight is constant, consuming, distracting. It can’t just go on forever, can it? One of them must be stronger. One will have to win, or win more often than not. Which one?

The one you FEED...

I hope you’re able to dry off after things get wet. I hope you’re able to warm up after you’ve been chilled. 

Miserable or magical?

So, how's your week been?

Mine was all right overall. Got a bit distracted for a couple days. Maybe you did too.

Ended up with this Duran Duran song in my head, which was annoying, but it ended up being a kind of "palate cleanser" for the mind. It helped that the past couple of days were unexpectedly sunny. 

I've been listening to "Election Day." It's not political, so don't sweat that.

I'm pretty sure it's about getting laid, but the lyrics don't make a whole lot of sense now that I've taken the time to look them over.

It's not actually a Duran Duran song either, but it's the same dude singing. There's horns in the background. Grace Jones snarls a few lines. A very 1980s mix of ridiculousness.

I know a lot of people are walking around with strong opinions & feelings. I'm not trying to make light of that, but I do think lightness is important to maintain. I pay attention, I've got opinions, but I keep all of that at arm's length.

It's good to remember that much of the present is going to look ridiculous, probably not too long from now. It keeps my feet on the ground and gets me out of my own head. 

That attitude doesn't suit everyone, I know. That's fine...

Anyway, we've had a couple of sunny, beautiful, almost-warm-enough days. On Thursday I pulled my paddleboard out of the closet and headed to Scappoose Bay as soon as I could. Probably my last opportunity to get on the water without bundling up in neoprene this year. 

Half of the surrounding trees were bare, the other half were full of glowing yellowed leaves. The water was glassy, almost no wind or current. I was careful to avoid the mud flats, the broken logs just beneath the surface, the exposed pilings that were pounded into the river bed 100 years or so ago. 

Twice, there were barges loaded up and pushed past me. Eagles circling, a whole mess of long-necked birds that looked like loons (?) -- I'm not sure about that.

A few sturgeon lightly breached the surface near my board. It was enough to see their weird spiny backs and make me think it's not such a stretch to believe in something like a Loch Ness Monster.

I was almost out too long, paddling hard to get back to the marina. Huge fish were jumping everywhere as the sun sank behind the hills and the chill set in. My bare toes were numb as I carried everything to the parking lot.

My mind wanders constantly. I spend lots of time with my head stuck in "virtual spaces." My imagination's full of places I may never go, people I may never meet. Its logic twists and fluctuates and its reality is held together by probabilities and persuasion.

I balance that out by shivering and sweating and getting damp and dirty for at least a little while every day. 

Gotta take time to remind yourself that life is short. Your mind can make things miserable or magical, but you DO get to choose.

Bats are the Butterflies of Halloween.

...but are Birds of Paradise, birds of prey?

That's probably a dumb question. I don't know that there ARE any "birds" of paradise, but I like how it sounds so I'm NOT going to google an answer.

I'm doing the mental calisthenics of adjusting my attitude to autumn. No bitching about the cold. The leaves are pretty. 

I don't have any Halloween plans or a costume, but the mind's full of images of bare branches and bones and dead things.

I heard there's no organized Witches' Paddle on the Willamette this year. It's just as well. It's kind of a slog when the water's cold and the wind's blowing in your face. I hope someone still goes out in costume anyway, without needing a few hundred other people for moral support.

I've been out on my board a few times despite the clouds and chilly temperatures, when the wind lets up. Not sure I'll be on the water again before spring. It's kind of a drag to have to bundle up, and it's hard to avoid getting wet and taking on a terminal chill. 

I was gliding back to a boat landing, on a cloudy afternoon. It was chilly and tiring but the water was still, near one of the big clusters of house boats. 

A little bit spacey after paddling for a while, I thought it started snowing. But it wasn't THAT cold. 

Then I realized that I was watching feathers drift down all around me. I looked up and at the top of one of the pilings was an eagle ripping its lunch apart. 

Kind of a grim image, but it's holiday-appropriate, "cycle of life," etc.

Summer's over. Contrast is everything.

It's a good time to get cozy, drink something warm, and just roll with it while the darkness sets in and the mind mulls over morbid things. 

Boo.

I busted one of those handheld massagers the other day...

It was cheap, worked well enough for a couple of years. But when I was laying on my couch, digging into this spot on my back just below the ribcage, something plastic popped. 

I started dismantling the thing, but then it became clear that my time would be better spent ordering another one on Amazon.

Probably wise to get something more durable next time.  

Anyway, it feels like a long time since I was out of town, except for a lot of weird lingering tightness from sleeping in my van for a month. I spend a lot of time thinking up odd positions and exercises to get little muscles to let go of tension. It's more annoying than debilitating, but getting out of bed and moving in the mornings has been something of a project.

It's kind of a "Whack-A-Mole" thing. I get one part of my torso to relax and then there's some minor spasm or knot that pops up in another spot again and again. It's taken three weeks to feel like I'm winning the game. 

So it goes. The days are getting shorter and colder. I'm working on my attitude, trying to appreciate the colors and let go of my hunger for sunlight.

I hope your eyes are adjusting to the darkness, and that you're ready for the season of creaky joints and heavy layers...

Retreat & Advance

Returning to Portland has been strange. I feel like I should’ve played up a better yoga persona, told people that I’d wandered into the wilderness to spend time alone. Contemplative and silent.

“Now that I’m back, you’re welcome to bask in the glow of My Further Enlightenment. Namaste.”

I know a few people who’ve done those silent meditation retreats. The silent part is fine, I could do that, but the ones where you’re just supposed to SIT...?

…and just “be”…?

Eh. 

I’ve always been conflicted about the sort of ethos that surrounds yoga, never talking much about the spirituality. I’ve always kept that mix of Hinduism and Buddhism at arm’s length. My understanding is superficial, but I get stuck on two ideas: 

1 — That the world around you is just “maya” or illusion. 
2 — That desire and attachment are the root of suffering and need to be let go.

I don’t necessarily disagree. But it seems to lead people in a direction where disengagement from the world is somehow a “higher” level of being. “The physical” is base and maybe vulgar. You sit and peel back the illusion of what’s around you to see… what, exactly? Who’s going to confirm that I haven’t just changed the channel for another immersive illusion? 

The Wise Guru still has to sleep, still gets hungry, still uses the bathroom just like I do.

Desire and attachment can be a burden, can be poorly directed or destructive. But if I let them go, why do anything at all? 

Is the point of “living” to transcend the world around you, or to be a part of it? I don’t have good answers, but I have my biases. 

So yeah, didn’t spend my time meditating. I did a lot of laundry.

I loaded and emptied machines. Folded clothes over and over and over. Stuffed things into plastic bags and taped numbers on, to track them. Got up early to turn on the generator and the pump. Closed the door to the van after dark and fell asleep exhausted. 

I’d wake up in the middle of night, put my shoes on, walk out to the port-a-john and look up at the stars. They were so bright. 

My brain was marinated in podcasts, much of the time. The selection was pretty random, the more eccentric and unedited the better, like a stream of narrated cartoons that seem a lot more ridiculous when I'm spending my time in the woods. 

Some days I’d just load up on more caffeine and skip the nap midday. I’d drive on the dirt switchbacks and hope no one shot around the corner, oncoming. There were old forests, stands of trees burnt halfway up their trunks, slopes almost entirely cleared except for stumps. 

There were drifters parked in rickety campers and vans. There were random hikers. There was smoke everywhere until the wind whipped up and brought a couple days of rain. 

There was beautiful bleached dead wood over the mountains. Clear lakes. Rough rivers and streams with threatening currents. I’d park and hike and return with found bones. The heat spiked up again, the last week I was there. I followed a river to stay cool. Found an abandoned campground next to a waterfall, walked down to the bottom. There was a sheltered pool, so I stripped down and swam. The water was freezing. I sat on a rock and dried out in the sun. 

Since I got back, I’ve done a lot of cleaning and purging of junk I’d stuffed all over my place. There’s still a lot left, but I’ve made a big dent, cleared a lot of space. 

I looked up the opposite of “retreat” and came up with “advance.” Not quite the same context, but that’s OK: “to move forward in a purposeful way.” 

I’m always still working that one out.


Be well, 

Chris

"The Light in Me" seems to be a mess of pixels.

EVERYTHING's filtered.

I was listening to someone complain about how SO much of life is online these days. I agreed and disagreed.

Then it was something about how much is lost over Zoom -- nonverbal cues, body language, unconscious behaviors that are a part of "experiencing" another person. Ouch. That's half my life right now.

Then I thought, "yeah, BUT..."

I don't know that I always want to be experiencing everybody in their Full Manifested Glory all the time.

Besides, how alert were YOU, before the pandemic as you went through your day? Did you really give people your undivided attention? Were you always open to everyone's radiant selves when you met people at work, in stores, at school, on the sidewalk?

All the time? Now and then? Not-quite-never but not-too-often?

I'll bet you were mostly focused on your own thing, your own life. You filtered out everything else if it wasn't important to you.

There used to be this #nofilter tag that people would emphasize on Instagram. Years ago, before people complained about "the algorithm." Before the feeds got jammed with ads & it became hard to find the people you thought you were following.

The app had just a few preset filters. Each one would give your photo a distinct retro look. Like snapshots you'd pick up from a photo booth, developed from rolls of film you'd left in some junk drawer for months.

The #nofilter tag got kinda snobby, mostly showing off the fact that SOME people had great shots from the newest phone with the nicest camera -- improvements were dramatic and fast, especially with each new iPhone model.

#nofilter pretends that the camera itself isn't a filter, like it just takes the "real" shot. Everything not captured "as is," is artifice.

I started posting on IG to advertise a handstand workshop. It's still weird for me to mess around and post images of myself all the time. It's basically an art project, following some character who's always with me: I wonder why his hands are always twitchy, why he's always chewing gum, why he doesn't just get a haircut since it's not that big a deal to just make an appointment and DO IT already.

I think of the sorts of images and situations that I would never post publicly. I also think about things that maybe I shouldn't have posted.

One of the weirder things about Zoom is seeing yourself on the call, with everyone else. You've got your own character to follow and direct. That's your "avatar," right? Like from hinduism, your soul or whatever released into another form and manifested online. How many people even knew that word or where it came from, 20 years ago?

So, there's been a loss of physical contact and closeness, that's true. There's also been a shedding of physical obstacles and limitations. I want to see you at a time that works for me, I want you to see me at my best. Connecting with people physically is powerful. And sometimes it's so much trouble.

Now it's normal for us to present these fragments of ourselves online, streaming or recorded. There's something awesome about that, and something missing. It's so much better than nothing, no contact, but at the same time it can't be everything.

I hope you're stepping out a bit more, now that it's FINALLY warming up.

Daylight Spending

Did you remember to reset your clock before bed?

Did it matter? Would you have slept in anyway? Maybe you went to the Shamrock Run this morning, finishing in the rain with beer for breakfast? Maybe you're on spring break, somewhere sunny...

I was up and I felt kinda cheated, honestly. I got over it. I kept busy. Wrapped up the day by rewiring my overhead fixtures with daylight LEDs for better video. The small achievement here is that I didn't get tired & annoyed, leaving a minor multi-day disaster area to trip over.

Gotta celebrate the small victories. Hope you're doing well!

A Quick Squeeze...

...is all you've got time for, some days.

I'll bet you're feeling a little bit tense lately. Squeeze your eyes shut and count to 5.

Want more? Squeeze your fists until your arms shake and count to 10.

Need more? Curl your knees to your chest and squeeze as hard as you can until you have to let go.

Feel better? A little more relaxed? I'll bet you do...


Stay steady. Be well.

Fluid Dynamics

I lost my left earbud in the river the other day.

It was still in the little case. I only had the right one in, doing handstands on this concrete pier, in between Zoom calls. The pile of stuff I'd unloaded from my pockets was stacked on top of my backpack and I knocked it all over, watched something shiny skip off the edge and into the water.

When I got back to my place, I put the right earbud back into the case and realized the left one was missing.

Not a big deal -- I found a replacement on Ebay.

It was so BRIGHT out. Kinda chilly. Not as cold as today.

How are your days this winter, anyway? A year ago, everything in town was frozen and the branches were snapping off the trees and a lot of people's power got knocked out. This year's different.

EVERY year's different, but that seems like a heavier thought now. I wonder about how things are different in ways that I'm not seeing.

It's too much, to worry that from day to day. But I think about it when I go down to the river, especially after it's been raining and the water's murky and the tree trunks and branches get swept along.

You can't really "go with the flow" 'cause you wonder where the flow is going. There are swirls and eddies. There's churn .

Currents are strong. Swimming against them is just tiring.

I dunno. I suppose I'm trying to keep a "dorm-room zen" about things. -- "Que sera, sera, Dude... <<cough, cough>>"

Anyway, wherever things are rushing toward, you stay afloat. You do what you can to help others keep their heads above water.

You're doing OK, right? I hope all's well.

New & improved...!

Or just Different. And insisting it's in a glass-half-full kinda way...

I read this thing online about how people's personalities have changed since the beginning of the pandemic. This dude was saying that people basically just became MORE of whatever they were already.

It's one of those statements that you can stretch to fit any example you want to offer. For me? Well, I'm pretty much doing about as much yoga as I was before all of this started, anyway...

I met someone, a stranger that I just happened to talk to in a park last summer. It was awkward and I realized that it'd been a long time since I'd introduced myself to someone new, face-to-face. It was like walking in shoes that didn't fit, messing up my stride.

Do you feel like you might have become more of YOU than you realize? That's hard to say, if you've found yourself on your own more than you used to be.

Life's been restricted in so many ways, but it seems like the external restrictions are fading and shifting again. Maybe I'm wrong, but it'll happen sooner or later.

I wonder more about the internal restrictions, the gap between being tolerant or averse to risk, being skeptical of or reliant on authority figures, being isolated versus connecting with others.

Those are "felt" differences and they won't be settled cleanly. Negotiation will be messy.

I imagine some of this will feel like a world full of awkward kids, going back to to a crowded junior high after summer's over. They have to figure out the new pecking order. They're just starting to get self-conscious again about their braces, pimples, maybe the odd fit of the clothes their mothers bought them.

I don't think I navigated that kind of thing so well as a kid. But then, hopefully we've all grown up a bit...

Hope you're staying warm & getting at least a little bit of the light this winter.

Chris

Maintaining

Y’know, it’s funny how the sorts of things that are so physically difficult can be so basic — putting weight on your hands, standing on your toes with your heels lifted, standing one one foot & pulling a knee up to your chest, crossing your legs, squatting low, getting up & down from the ground without too much of a struggle...

Little things like that aren’t impressive or flashy. They’re just details, easy to ignore, easy to neglect like old toys you think you’ve outgrown.

But when you have to live in your body, outside the sheltering illusions of your mind, suddenly you feel your limitations. They’re judging and unforgiving. They tell you what you’re missing, what mistakes you’ve made, the cost of thousands of tiny decisions you’ve made.

So what do you do? Do you resign yourself to entropy, decay, compounding decrepitude? Or do you stop and assess, open up to the truths your body tells, and insist on claiming some of the grace it’s capable of?

Happy New Year...

...and I won't repeat the more pessimistic "2020-too" jokes I've seen floating around online.

Are you making resolutions for the new year? I don't really make a big deal out of that for the sake of the holiday, but then again, I make "mini-resolutions" all the time.

It's mostly just little things, though.

It's interesting to see what happens when you do something different or new for a week, a month, a year...

It can seem pointless to look at little things, but they can drive you nuts -- a pebble in your shoe, a slow leak in a tire, a password you always forget and have to reset again and again.

Little things can smooth out your day without life having to be perfect. It's why I oil my bike chain regularly, so that I don't feel the grit or hear the squeaking when I pedal.

I remember when I was a bike messenger in San Francisco (...whoa... that was like 25 years ago...), feeling so put-upon by the world after the first couple months of work. I was pretty clueless and young, probably dirtier and smellier than I realized at the time.

I used to average something like 50 pick-ups and deliveries every day. The work was all on commission, per delivery, and I was broke. The city was expensive. People were constantly rude in all the fancy offices I was running in and out of -- security guards, receptionists, court clerks, cops on the street, bus drivers...

People always seemed so short and sharp with me, and I just wanted to throw it all back at them. It ate at me. I was always angry. It was exhausting.

There was probably something I read, I'm not sure, but it occurred to me to just try and be pleasant and polite all day long, like in a DETERMINED way. I decided to stick to it for a few days, a week maybe.

Does this sound stupid or ridiculous? I'm kind of laughing to myself as I write this...

Anyway, the results kind of shocked me, especially with the security guards and court clerks. They had been particularly rude and dismissive, but if I could keep myself together, stay pleasant and polite regardless of the response, it was like I could "break" the bad attitude. Things would suddenly feel neutral and reasonable. Sometimes even friendly.

Even when people were still rude, it didn't piss me off anymore. I'd walk away feeling like I'd won a competition, for who could be the better person in the moment.

Does this sound cheesy? Or just obvious? I'm still laughing at myself -- I remember, it felt like I'd discovered a super power.

Anyway, when I hear people talk about New Year's resolutions, it's usually sarcastic, a running joke. There are all of the things you "should" be doing that you're not. There are all the things that you WANT to be different, that don't ever seem to change. You'll start something and drop it by February, right?

I know how that is. I want so many things sometimes.

Something else I read, that I check myself with: it doesn't matter what you "want" to change -- "wanting" evaporates and you just wonder where the motivation went. You have to DECIDE to change, and the decision is only real if you demonstrate it, act on it, even with the smallest of consistent actions.

Of course, you're always deciding, right? I mean, not making a conscious decision just moves you further along to wherever you're already headed, by your existing habits and routines...

That ended up sounding more ominous than I intended. Don't mind me; I just gotta remind myself to stay on track sometimes.

I hope you decide to keep yourself on track this year...

Pause and appreciate the Half-Full glass...

Subjectively speaking, I mean.

It's a sort of cheesy-sounding self-help thing, to sit and write about gratitude. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I actually do this most mornings, writing down a few things that I'm thankful for.

Most of the time the list is kinda stupid -- I'm thankful for the dirty fleece pants that I walk around in every morning because they're warm and comfy. Or for the fact that the car didn't stall out with an empty tank before I glided into the gas station on fumes. Or for some dumb song that I'm going to play on repeat a few hundred times before I get sick of it by the end of the week.

There are bigger things to be thankful for, of course. But sometimes you don't want to dwell on the heavy stuff.

Anyway, it's a funny little practice, to write this stuff down. It's kind of like setting a rudder in the water and adjusting to see that your attitude's headed in the right direction.

Enjoy the holiday. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! I appreciate your time and attention.

Be well.

Happy Accidents

-- NO accidents to report, actually. But I during a conversation the other week I realized I was kinda hazy about the definition of "serendipity," so I looked it up and since then I've had happy accidents on my mind. They make for interesting art, for one thing.

It's a good way to rationalize tripping over my own clutter, for another. Maybe.

Mostly, it makes me think of this description for "how to fly," that I think I read in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy when I was a teenager.

It was something like this:
1 -- Make yourself trip & stumble.
2 -- As you're falling, forget that you're falling & forget that you've stumbled.
3 -- Also, let go of any worry about hitting the ground.
4 -- Now you're flying. Enjoy yourself.

It's hard to get past Step 2, though, huh?

I thought about that a lot when I was first trying to figure out handstands, actually. And these days, I balance better when I'm talking and teaching upside down, as opposed to just being quiet and focusing on what I'm doing.

Anyway, I don't have a point to make here. The week's halfway over, I've got a whole bunch of stuff to do.

I wish you only the happiest of accidents...