Ocean-Moonshine

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February 28, 2005

Franconia, NH. rock hops

Posted by Ocean at 02:48 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

rock hop

.....a short piece of writing by Dean Potter, a rockclimber:

***Cold air from the valley drifts upwards. It's predawn and I've been moving on the north Nose of El Cap through the night, focused on the rock in front of me in the faint light of my headlamp. Suddenly, I think of how tired and exposed I am, alone, ropeless, far past any point of retreat. A surge of panic courses through me. I try to think of the summit but that thought, too, is dangerous.

An image floats into my mind. I'm following my father in the early through a pasture in the White Mountains in New Hampshire. He strides towards Moosebrook, his favorite fishing spot. I'm not even half his height, and the frosty grass brushes all the way up to my waist.
We reach the river. My Dad skips from rock to rock, downstream to the first hole, and looks back for me. The water is freezing, and the rocks are covered in slime. I'm afraid to follow. I burrow painfully through the thickets of pricker bushes, swamp, and blackflies as my father calls for me. The bugs chase me back to the river's edge. and I timidly wade in and try to catch up. Tense and anxious, I lose my footing, and fall into the river. I gasp for breath in the icy water, but manage to scramble onto a rock where I bawl until my father comes back. "I don't like fishing. I want to go home".

My father shakes his head at me, and his eyes sparkle. "Dean, put everything else aside. There's nothing to be afraid of, except a little cold water. Just focus on the next step you are taking. I feel so happy running down the river, the sun reflecting off the water, my body naturally going where it's supposed to. I almost don't think at all. I just respond to what's in front of me."
He stops talking and heads downstream again. We slowly pick our way across the rocks, catching rainbows and brook trout. The day passes quickly and my confidence rises. Soon, I'm playing and racing down the rapids with eyes wide and senses alert, not knowing I've just recieved my first lesson in Zen.

The air drifts over my body. I grasp the immediate. I reach for the next hold.****

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I remember being about 6 or 7 and visiting my Grandma in upstate NY. There was a gully with a stream rushing through it, complete with rocks at all angles, slippery moss, and icy water. This story struck a chord in me. I used to love hiking in that stream as a kid. It was beautiful. Fairly quickly, I learned the art of sprinting from rock to rock, without any distractions. As you pushed of with your right foot, your body already knew where your left foot was going to land, and how much angle you should land on to prevent slipping and to send you in the direction of the next "pre-selected" rock. And it was all so effortless. It exhilerated and calmed me at the same time. I guess my addiction to "Flow" started here. I never would have remembered if not for that article. In winter, I progressed to "Don't Break the Ice", using frozen spots to step on, the trick being to move very quickly over the ice without breaking it. (Its amazing how warm you can stay when you are exercising after your mom bundles you up for outdoor winter play, and you are soaked from the waist down.)

When I experience Flow, I experience Being. In the moment, at peace and harmony, in complete concentration without effort, feeling like you are more than you are...but also less of a self, being part of a system (like becoming one with the stream - I know ..cliche) When you experience this, there is a deep joy, a smile on your face for days. You have tapped into a great state of conciousness that is not always easy to do.

Ok, so enough rambling... Go back and read the artical again. Instead of reading about climbing and rock-hopping, read it as a metaphor for life ...

Posted by Ocean at 02:29 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

February 27, 2005

Dipping...

I remember, a long time ago, a special night. It was a very clear night in August. We were hanging out next to a bonfire on this beautiful sand beach at a lake in Maine. We were young, having just a few beers, talking to some of the locals who we were very friendly with. The air smelled like pine with a occasional wood fire scent. ( Ok..the air smelled like smoke, with an occasional pine scent..) The sky looked unnatural for me...like being in a planetarium. Millions of stars. About twenty feet away was the lake. The crystal clear water, clean enough to drink, was like a mirror. It could not have been calmer, and you could see the stars reflected in it. With no waves, the only sounds came from the crackling fire, the frogs in the nearby bog (they hadn't learned "Bud" yet), and our own voices. The conversation got really cool... the wonders of the universe, the wonders of life... lots of personal beliefs being discussed and explored. After a while, we let the fire die down. We all lay down on the sand and stared up at the sky. We saw planets, constellations, lots of satellites, and a shooting star at least every two minutes. I was cuddled up with this special girl, thinking life does'nt get much better than this. Then the sky started to change. I thought it was my endorphins overloading. The sky started moving in glowing greens and blues, kinda pulsating like a giant phosphorescent jelly fish had made a dome over the sky. It was the first time I saw the arora borealis, the northern lights. It was one of the best nights of my life. I was right, life didn't get much better than that. I felt so alive. For some reason, I get this feeling a lot when I go to Maine. Maybe its because I'm usually on vacation, but it is a special place.

I love the ocean. It is beautiful even here in NY. I can stare out over the ocean for hours, gazing at the horizon. The horizon is where the ocean meets the sky. And the night sky always reminds me of Maine.

...That and skinny dipping...

Posted by Ocean at 02:25 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

February 26, 2005

Gravity

old...105 degrees, the day jfk jr. crashed...

Did you ever have a really bad week, where you figured "If I went skydiving, and the shoot didn't open, ..oh well, who cares?"

So I jumped out of a plane at 10,000 feet today. It was a tandem jump, which means you got a guy strapped to your back who knows what he is doing. This allows you to freefall for 45 seconds or so, and do some little tricks. Endorphins are pretty good for depression.

Ofcourse, I'm now on crutches - hours before the jump, I twisted my ankle in a hole in the grass while running. I have never seen my ankle so swollen. This is not swell. Like I said, shitty week.

Its also hotter than a witch's burning broom stick again.

Anyway, I must really have my head up my ass, because I didn't even get nervous. The whole thing was so surreal. When you are freefalling, there is no sense of the ground rushing up to splat you. It was one of those "different" basically alive feelings that you just gotta experience. (The experience cannot be accurately be described - ya gotta do it!).

So whats bugging me? Sometimes I blame it all on money. Sometimes I blame it all on woman. Sometimes I blame it all on me. Its currently all of the above. I guess this to will pass.
Anyway, if you ever have the opportunity to skydive, go for it. Big smile.

Put me on ice.

Posted by Ocean at 02:20 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

February 25, 2005

training wheels

I think problems with trust are just part of the human condition. Everyone has a problem or a potential problem with trust. Think back to before you had (*HURT*). Think back to high school or maybe junior high. Anyone remember getting dumped for someone else? Someone pulls the rug out from under your feet and you land on you ass. You feel crushed. Betrayed. Lost. Your heart just got ripped out, and you feel unworthy. Your self esteem may plummet. If you got hurt, you may have a problem with trust. But just before the break-up, did you really become less desireable, worthy, decent? I doubt it.

(I'm leaving parents et al out of this post.)

What did you do after you got burned? You met someone else. Maybe this person was more trustworthy, and the trust problem diminished. Maybe the next person made the first look like a saint. Your trust problem got worse. But you met someone else.

(*Hurt*) can definetely amplify the problem, but it is not THE problem. Anyone who was ever rejected in any way and emotionally hurt, does not want to risk more rejection and pain. They don't want to open up and expose their vulnerability... to allow someone to see inside to evaluate their worthiness.

...Actually, I think people do *want* to expose their vulnerability...more than anything. Its a chance to be accepted at the deepest, most honest level. Its the risk that's the hard part. The risk that instead of acceptance, you will be rejected again.

But that leap of faith, that laying it all on the line, can lead to trust, emotional intimacy, a total acceptance, and a nice surge in self esteem.

Ofcourse it can also lead to rejection and pain. As a kid, you were resilient. Thats how you learned to ride a bicycle. Crash. Ouch. Mistrust bike. OK, try again. Crash. And on, and on. Until you learned how to ride it.

To err is human. Even trustworthy people will let you down sometimes. When you try to trust someone, dont expect them to be God. Expect them to be human. But dont be to surprised if they are godly.

Don't label yourself as inadequate, because of other people's actions. Their actions are probably more due to their reasons, not yours. Be resilient. Be a kid. Don't expect miracles. At the same time, dont rule them out.

(*Hurt*) makes life difficult if you were burned badly by it and by making you more vulnerable. (*Hurt*) is also a tool, a magnifying glass, which can focus the abstract vulnerabilities of your soul into a simple CONFESSION of the innermost you. Its a tool which can be used to build solid relationship foundations. Once you have this magical foundation, Everyday can be a risk. Anyday, you can lose this complete acceptance. It could last a day or a lifetime. So take it one day at a time with appreciation. Trust may follow.

Brandon all wet

My nephew now swims like a fish.

Posted by Ocean at 06:07 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

woman

A pretty face, sparkling eyes, and easy smile, relecting a smart mind, connected to an in shape torso which flows into a piece of art at the hips, butt, and legs. All women are like art. I guess men have different tastes in art. I'm not a big breast guy. I like the whole thing to be flowing with delight, a symmetry kind of thing with the body, and with the body and its animation through the mind and face. Hard to descibe. There is a certain "it" that does it for me. Its a pleasing body shape run by an interesting mind and spark. Make any sense?

~~~~~

An interesting mind varies with different men, depending on their individual interests, but all interesting minds are smart, enthusiastic about something, can think for themselves, without knowing "everything", and can allow themselves to be "alive" and enjoy themselves once in a while.

Spark is that life spark - you can see their life force - you see them glow. Not always, but they have the ability to beam from within themselves.

~~~~~

...just an inner radiance that comes out frequently. Doesnt have to be a lasar, a lighthouse, a candle, or a sunrise... What is better than seeing that glow?

~~~~~

...Its very real, from very deep, and its unmistakable. Part of it may be a simple joy that wells up to the surface. And it is certainly something people can bring out in each other as well.

Posted by Ocean at 04:02 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

NYC

Its a cold world sometimes
Icey wind howling down the avenue
People out walking for warmth
They can run and find none
Step into a bar but you can't feel enough company
Cab driver gets a tip for no fare, but for shining a light
Settle in, the night warms
Stars shine bright flickering warm light
Everyone is a star
The cold fades by the fireplace
People burn bright
A moment in time
Shines a light
And the cold recedes
And I smile
My heart warms
Despite my effort, I love people
They are sparks of life
Blazing in front of your eyes
Sometimes its hard to see them and yourself
But sparks shed revealing light
And that light is life.
The good life
Its not dark yet
Not with the glow of it all.

Posted by Ocean at 03:59 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Kiss

The right kiss... A delicate dance of tongues and lips, exploring, communicating with a person in a way that words fall short, connecting in a place that words can't reach, focused in on sensation, texture, emotion, synchronized movement and wavelength in a very connecting way, to satisfy the disappointment of the impermeability of mass of physical bodies, in an attempt to become one, with the rest of the world receding into non-existance.

Then there is the soft, moist, lingering lips kissing her forhead, her head and hair in your hands.

Posted by Ocean at 02:47 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Three Flow

Head, heart, gut...

Posted by Ocean at 02:31 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

chisle

They come in the hour before dawn. Heavy, heavy footsteps, stun guns, a cattle prod. Three nights in row now. They try to wake me.

I sleep.

Strong glimpes of freedom. A complete lack of restraint. Soaring flights of fancy - Eluding captors, clearing their reach, winning their game. Beautiful smiling woman effortlessly and completely connected the way it should be. Friends reading my mind with a smile. Soaring like a great bird over oceans, fiords, and deltas. Escaping from a dungeon of alien society. Free flowing, nothing blocked. So light, effortless. The feel is so strong - I know this feel. It is the ideal alive. Such a strong pull.

I wake, the rising sun shining in through rusted steel bars, casting shadows on my walls. The feel fades. I get coffee, and dream of freedom. But thats not the way it works. Time to chisle away the stone. That is the key.

Stardust falling in one shoe, rockdust in the other.

Posted by Ocean at 01:09 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

FOG

took a stroll in the fog
aimless
I have targets
they're there, but obscured
though I can't see them
I sense them
I can't take off the safety
can't point and shoot
at clouds...
I'm loaded and ready
...my finger won't trigger
my desire
and my want fades into mist
no one sees through heavy cloud cover
where i hide
no one has a map
into my myst
I drown in evaporation
I need condensation
a raincoat
a lifeboat
and a hand
to hold
as I torch a brighter vapor trail
on the selves we've sold
and what we could flame
under warm firelight
but its always the same
another frame...
under-exposed.

Posted by Ocean at 12:03 PM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Haze

(Olympic NP, Washington.)

...The fog has turned to haze. Forcast calls for brighter haze, with increasing visability.

Posted by Ocean at 11:51 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

fightend

fightend
Inspiration from jase's thread. I was reflecting on my own "martial art" which is not a martial art at all, but is how I instinctively "fight". Basically I fight by not fighting, yet I win.

In most cases, I can protect myself and friends, by going into this weird zone, where I talk myself out of the confrontation, while making the other guy look like an idiot who just lost the fight. (Its a "Now" thing). But, sometimes thats just not an option.

There were 8 of us hanging out one nght, while a HS dance was going on across a busy street. A gang of 10 were hanging out on the other side. These were the "tough" kids, and they started yelling insults, which we returned, only to be greeted with rocks being thrown at us. So we throw them back, and of course, it was all escalation, so they came charging. All my friends but one, ran for cover leaving the two of us, which seemed for a strange reason to be a good position to be in. Adopting a non-aggressive stance, I basically stood waiting as if I couldn't care less. All the big bad guys instinctively passed me going after the running prey. Only one guy, same size as me, picked me as his target. He charged me at full speed as I patiently waited in a seemingly passive stance. I let him run his neck into the inside of my elbow and into a headlock, and somehow changed his forward momentum staight down, while spinning him just slightly. (..dont know how I did that - as in I had nothing planned - it was just reaction). Anyway, he pleaded mercy, so I said I was gonna release him and that he was going to walk away, and that was that, not a punch. Then I went down the street trying to find and help my friends.

I was seeing this girl, soon to be divorced and separated from her husband. We were at a happy hour, and he had been tracking me. She went to the bathroom. Suddenly, I knew something was about to happen. I turned around, and his face was 6 inches from mine and he wasn't looking to happy. I impercptively moved one foot back and one forward for balance, but left my arms down, almost behind me, very passive. He had two huge goons behind him, and the whole scene was probably already geting the bouncers attention. So, ok, ...time to act. I launched my attack - I stared into his eyes and got calm. "Ya like fucking my wife?". Staring more intensly, "She's not your wife". He asked again, looking for a different reply, got the same. Hands still at my sides, I knew it was coming, but my stare mixed with my open posture had him befuddled. He didnt know whether to punch or push at this point, and wound up trying both at once, which was kinda useless, and the bouncers swamped him. I took a sip of my beer which I never put down, although I never would have used it against him, after all, technically I was fucking his wife. I just didnt want to waste the beer.

When I can't avoid a fight, I don't think there is anyone I can't tackle before they realize I got them, then wrap'em up, get off and repeat as necessary.

So I really have never had a fight. (well except for one, but that was with a good friend and we just beat the crap out of each other).

Posted by Ocean at 10:34 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

turkey

The best thing since sliced turkey.

Had'nt been out of the house for several days. Ran out of food, so off to supermarket I went. It was a warm sunny day, and for some reason the dreadfull chaos of shopping cart madness put me in a playful mood. I was travelling down the narrow rows of "food" (?) rather briskly, making funny smiley noises at little kids, pretending to crash into old ladies carts, averting near collisions with a smile that had them laughing.

So being pre-occupied with playing, I lost some focus on shopping. Saw a pre-packaged package of pre-packaged and processed sliced turkey - lean and oven roasted! Sounded good. Had'nt bought this stuff in years.

Got home, and started eating. Ehhhh. Ok, I admit, it did remotely remind me of turkey. (...and baloney). So I figured while my taste buds were pondering reality, I'd read the label.

Ten very thin slices have a gram of salt. No wonder I'm bloated. I'm gonna have stretch marks.

"Not a significant source of" ... well - anything, ...I'll spare you what its not.

Turkey - so far so good. Thats what I thought I bought!

Water - OK, water is good. I like water. We are mostly water anyway.

Salt - ehhh, surprised that wasn't listed before the turkey.

"Less than 2% of autolyzed yeast extract" - ...um ???

"Flavorings" - what flavorings? Whats wrong with turkey flavor?

"Turkey Stock" - WTF is "stock"? Nevermind, I don't think I wanna know.

"Dextrose, Brown Sugar, Honey" - sweet geezus, I didn't want dessert.

"Calcium reduced dried skim milk" - Brilliant!, now I got my daily intake of dairy. Was the bird raised on a dairy farm? At least they reduced the calcium.

"Modified corn starch" - modified? What the hell does "modified" actually mean?

"Maltodextrin" - ? I think I'm catching a buzz.

"Sodium phosphates, Sodium erythorbate, Sodium Nitrate" - cool, I think I can do laundry and blow up the neighborhood with this shit.

In big bold letters - "NO MSG ADDED". Is that supposed to be a selling point?

And in related news - the water birds in the canal are covered with oil.

Posted by Ocean at 07:00 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

water~bird~color

North Carolina art. I can't remember her name... bad scan.

Posted by Ocean at 06:23 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Three sheets

'3' - sheets...

The wind hit at dawn like a cold slap in the face. The plastic rain bucket had been filling in the grey drizzle, and I drank it in. I trimmed the sails, and set a coarse for due west, tacking towards the sun's setting line. People always say "Go west, young man!". And so I did. I can sail this boat better than anyone. With a bit of determination, she should take me quite far in a week.

Her black hull is slicing through the dark blue-black troughs and white foam crests, like sharpened skates smoothing broken ice. The spray of the bow, and the brightening shards of new but still hazy light, turn the hull to a reflective silver. I'm shining again. The sea is opaque in its tossed frenzy. The tan sails are full, bloated, pushing me on. Right on point, now. Keep my eyes straight ahead, keep the sails trimmed. Maybe just a moment for some hot instant coffee. I can still remember the aroma, sweet fresh-brewed hazelnut hot coffee, following me into a new day, long ago. No, no time now. Just enough to mix some cold instant crystals in a tin cup, grab a piece of fish jerky, and maybe a second to dry the spray out of my eyes. There'll be time for hot coffee sooner or later.

I'm running fast now, the backing wind almost astern. I'm pushing it. The cold metallic mast is shivering, groaning from the strain. Behind me, the sky darkens with violent energy. The diffuse foggy greys have grown into walls of ominous black, bearing down in chase. Its coming on fast. I trim the winds again, and pick up a knot or two. She's bucking, but she'll hold together. When the hell did this happen? I am still on course, dead on. I won't loose her again. I can still make out the sun, and I'm staring it down. I can make it, I can do this, I can reach the sun. A little faster, a little faster. Just stay on track.

That nagging feeling comes again like the approaching gale. That damn nagging. It turns me around. Fuck, its got me, I cannot out run it. The sails are soaked to deep dark brown, the hull is blackened in the malestrom. Even the whipping white froth is darkened. I can't tell ship from sea. Where the hell am I? No choice. Listen. Listen to her screaming. Listen to her rage. The sea is telling me to hove to, rest the bow into the wind. I pull in a few reefs - too much sail out. Batten the hatches. Throw the storm anchor to slow the slides. Strap in the safety harness.

Follow the compass. Stay out of my way. I'm the captain. Let's ride.

Posted by Ocean at 06:09 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Slack Tide

Low tide can be highly rejuvenating if it avoids stagnation. As the waters recede, the inter-tidal zone is exposed, revealing a different perspective of the life there. The roots of the warm-green marsh emerge, crabs and snails stroll about, clams spit at your presense by clamping down tight. The marsh is a hidden realm of nutritive resource. Eggrets, herons, gulls, terns, all swoop in to steal their share aloft and spread the richness. The smell of low tide is alive with the aroma of fecundity.

As the water pulls out, many of the bait-fish, worms, and crustations are swept out with the current, no longer in the luxurious security of the marsh grass. They are funneled down channels to the hungry fish lurking below. The fish feed in swirls of delight and frustration, but they stay in the deep, dark recesses of holes and larger channels. They hug the bottom and wait. Digest and wait for the return.

Areas of deep mud can get you in trouble. If you hit bottom, there is no pushing out. As the tide drops, you are stuck in seemingly higher and higher degrees. Once at dead low, the water doesn't return quickly. It reaches a gravitational equilibrium and there you are in slack tide. Stuck. At the mercy of green flies, gnats, diving birds, and all things annoying. And it seems all you can do is wait. Like a beached whale sufficating under its own weight, you wait in unrest. You could walk out through the mud, but its too much of a slog. Slack tide can last for what seems like eternity. Stagnant. Lifeless.

...And then, what you were waiting for, suddenly returns, unexpectantly. A small minnow swims back to the marsh.

(marsh Great South Bay, Long Island)

Posted by Ocean at 05:17 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Dead Calm

~~~

Four hundred and 30 miles out when the gale had started blowing. The small sloop was blown off course, out past the gulf. The blow was too strong for too long, I couldn't hold her. Sitting here now, I miss that struggle. She sits, black hull in still flat waters. Her tan sails hang limp, useless except for visual relief from the endless blue of sea and sky. Dead calm.

Fresh water is very low. I succumbed to a cup of sea water yesterday. Not delerious yet, but I must resist at all cost. It may seem to quench thirst, but its the wrong way to replenish. Each morning's dew is barely sustaining. But the stillness of the blue is so inviting.

This boat becomes very small very quickly when out on the ocean alone. When you are trapped in dead calm, sooner or later, rain clouds will come blowing their wet breath over the horizon. But in the waiting, the sloop becomes a prison cell, cramped in by endless unreachable horizon. And the blue calm becomes more inviting, as if it could quench my dry thirst.

Perhaps the flesh and blood of a fresh fish might help rejuvenate. But, no, it takes a whole school captured as One, to really replenish me. I have no need for net or crucifix. Besides, it seems like there haven't been fish out here for thousands of years now. Man's doing. Perhaps there still are schools, out of sight, down a bit deeper than the sun's rays penetrate. Maybe there is sustenance there in the depths. Maybe the key is behind my own blue eyes. Again the blue invites me.

This old rope hammock is a good way to past the time, swaying myself in the cool shade of the drooping mainsail. The creaking cry from the rope keeps a slow rythm, lulling me. Its comfortable without the constant pitching from the waves and the salt water spray that burns your eyes. Thats not true, I'm withering away out here. My sea-legs are getting wobbily, in desparate need of movement, exercise. My heart needs to beat this thick blood. I should swim. But I know there are some big black-grey shadows swirling around down there. They seem to follow the boat. And I don't want to move. The listless canvas sail is my straight jacket. Something so inviting, yet so full of resistance.

Where is the wind? Just a gentle breeze to fill the canvas. A brush stroke pointing home. Too much damn time out here. Too much time.

I know I have a mask and a spear somwhere under the berth. I can dive in and look around a bit. Maybe find some fish. Grab the rudder to stay close to the boat and kick, get some blood into my legs while gazing into the deep invitation.

Tomorrow. Tonight I will listen to the unknown sounds that sing to me from below, that echo off the wooden planks, and send my mind reverberating promises of refreshing rain. Let it wash away the encrusted salt, so I can see clearly back into blue, and sail on again, with a fresh wind, to distant, destined shores where I was born. Tomorrow...

~~~

Posted by Ocean at 04:11 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

~~~

Why the hell do people come to me with their problems when their shit is hitting the fan???

Posted by Ocean at 02:02 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

half-assed old song

You could sail across the ocean
to get away from me
I could climb a great tall mountain
So youre too small to see.
You can swim throughout the desert
with time's red rocks bleeding
I can crawl the bars of city streets
To drown my needing.

I could stare into a mirrored sea
with patched eyes and wooden leg
You could cast your gaze at purple peaks
see a wall of ice instead
I could chip away at fossils
in the desert heat of the past
You can look into the prism
of spirits and fused glass

(I could be swimming in a blue lagoon
palm trees a sunrise so nice
You could be hiking on a purple peak
or a cliff of melted ice)

Rivers link sky to shore
Though the water seem to change
It keeps on flowing on
We're a river with no name
We can look in all dry corners
of a world that been stripped bare
But dont look too far deep down inside
I know you wouldn't dare
Don't look too far down deep inside
You might find someone in there.

Posted by Ocean at 01:00 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

RIP

It was a good day considering it revolved around death.

For some reason I always look for little coincidental signs when heading to the cemetary. I remember when my grandfather died, I was sitting in the back of a limo following the hearse. As we pulled onto the expressway, the first car that passed was a catallac - the same model and color as my grandfather's. Its liscence plate was "2 LIFE".

Today we gathered at a church for a mass for frankie. At the end, when we were filing out, frank sr. (frankie's dad), met an old friend who was pretty shaken up. This guy, who never bought the newspaper, had just by chance bought one for the hell of it. He opened it up straight to the obituaries. He read frankie's obit, and recognized the names. He lives two blocks from the church, so he showed up, kind of on a whim. Turns out, at one time, he was frank sr's best friend and 1st business partner. The business fell apart in 1964, and they had somehow lost touch and had not spoken since. It was an emotional reunion.

From there, we went to the cemetary. I drove my friend's mini-van with his family, since they were shaken up too, and my friend had to make some phone calls. (In keeping with the tread, his cesspool backed up, so he needed to get it pumped out while we were doing the funeral thing, so everyone could meet up there afterwards).

Driving home from the cemetary, it was sleeting and snowing. For some reason that we can't figure out, the defroster stopped working. It was still blowing hot air on the windshield, but it would'nt unfog. We tried hot air, cold air, open windows - nothing worked except for napkins as we continuously, furiously wiped the inside of the windshield non-stop in order to see the road. During this time, "Highway to Hell" came on the radio. We started singing to break the tension. As the song was ending, I joked "Hey, its only frankie fucking with us!". As if on cue, the DJ let out a weird laugh and said, "Ain't that the truth!". We all were laughing our asses off.

We got back to my friend's house, the cesspool was taken care of, food was cooked, beer and drinks were bought, and there was a full house. Everyone kind of opened up and let go. I had a great conversation with frank sr, talking about my perspective on frankie. He really opened up, and told me a lot of what frankie had gone through. Everyone was really opening up. Frankie was a bad-boy rebel, so we were all telling stories of the bad things we did as teenagers. Frank sr. learned a few things he didn't know about us "kids", but he seemed to love it. After, the bad stories, the current kids started coming upstairs, and seemed very curious and comforted and warmed by the atmosphere - just great vibes. They got a sense that despite frankie's death, life was really still good.

Then after a while, it turned into an "Irish" funeral. Loud, loaded, relief. I didn't drink much, but others did. I stole my room mate's keys from his car that was warming up outside, since he and his GF were drunk, and he was about to drive his kids home. He looked like he was gonna get pissed for a minute, then just went with the flow. The minor non-incident passed, and everyone continued with the good vibes. Talking, telling jokes, telling stories, and occasionally stairing at the coffee table. On the table sat a framed picture of frankie, ...a sparkle in his eye, and the biggest smile I ever saw on a face. RIP.

Posted by Ocean at 12:57 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

February 24, 2005

REMINDER!

adapted...

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely, ... in an underused and unscarred body/mind, but rather to skid in sideways, pain in one hand, bliss in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and mind screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

I need reminders...

Posted by Ocean at 02:50 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

blue icing

...from december

blue icing... got my boat and a friend's boat out of the water today. skim ice has been forming every still night, it was time to get out. the ride to the ramp is only about a mile or so, so it didn't seem too cold. with a blue sky and utterly windless conditions, the water did look like blue icing. it wasn't iced, just very, very still. it'll skim over tonight. the bay was really nice, all clear and crisp and clean. three clammers were digging for their gold in a peaceful solitude, devoid of summer's population enthalpy, but probably singing their own icy blues.

chilled. wish I had that wood burning stove. a cup of hot thai soup and a hot laptop on me. eyes heavy. relaxed. three more months of landlock. patience. cold irons bound.

candle and daydream time. short day.

Posted by Ocean at 02:30 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Rides

Why do I still ride? I don't, but I plan to. Riding is another "connection portal" for me. It is that official state of flow. Riding puts me, ...forces me into the Now. You get so absorbed by The Ride. Negative thoughts stop. The body relaxes, but is very alert at the same time. Like the energy in a coiled spring, but relaxed at the same time. Negative feelings vanish. You are just left with you, the bike, the wind, and a more complete awareness of what is going on in the moment. You are 100% involved. It recharges you, resets you. When you are in a negative mood, or pre-occupied about some small, dumb crap , you go for an invigorating ride. You come back relaxed and smiley for the rest of the day. It changes your focus. Maybe its just endorphins. Definetely worth the price of admission. You just can't be stupid about it. And you can make it a slow mellow cruise, or a rollercoaster ride.

As far as boating goes, I can't walk on water. A boat allows me to get out on the water, away from the suburban concrete sprawl. Have you noticed I like the ocean? Boating has some of the elements of riding, depending on where you go. But its more just a way to access something thats magic to me, both environmentally and experientially. Its another way to connect with the world. We don't have three feet of mud up here. We do have sand bars. Some are marked by bouys, others you learn to avoid, sometimes the hard way, hopefully not at high tide. You learn to read the water. Its all good. These things may actually appear to be distractions, but they are not. They are about coming back to life, getting back in touch with a part of myself.


                 

Posted by Ocean at 02:00 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Crash

...an old story

(operation#3, ...hardware X-ray, right tibia and fibula)

Here is a small example. When I used to motorcycle a lot, I called it a "moving meditation", because I developed that sense of always knowing what was going on around me, without thinking. Bikes are hard to see sometimes, and often when driving on a road with two lanes in my direction, I'd be in the left and a car in the right lane would come over into my lane. I usually KNEW this was going to happen. I'd calmy slow down, and let the car go infront of me. I got so in tune with what the other guys were doing, and felt so comfortable, that after a while, when I knew a car would be changing lanes right into me, I'd stay there, move towards the left shoulder, driving on a 6 inch strip. Then, I'd hit the gas a bit, let go with my right hand, lean over, and knock on the guys side window. It was all calm, comfortable, and I knew I was safe. It was most entertaining observing the drivers when they were startled by me at their window. It was like play.

There were a few other real accident avoidance scenarios, where the only thing that let me escape was that total focused calm. A knowing something was gonna happen, and then a instant calm focused reaction without thinking. The body just reacting perfectly, all by itself.

The one time I got run over by a truck, I knew it was going to happen, I had the brakes ready, but he came over SO fast (he was trying to avoid rear-ending a car in front of him), that my fingers didn't even start to squeeze the brake. I flew through the air about 75 feet, twirling around...seeing the sky, my pretzel of a bike, the sky, my bike, ... the whole time thinking... "Wow this is neat!, but my bike is trash, damn, ok, I'll get a new one. Hmm, when am I gonna land? Oh, ok, Im coming down now. There are the rear wheels of the truck and I'm about to land under them. Ok, arch, twist, yeah ok, cool! I landed against them, instead of under them. I'm laying in the street, all calm, thinking, Ok, I lost my bike, but that flight was a cool experience, and I'm fine. No problem. I get up on my left leg, and go to take a step, when I notice my right foot is hanging on by some skin and muscle, so I hop over to the curb, sit down holding my leg up. People start running over, and I'm still kind of calm, I start telling people what to do. "You. Call 911. You, can you get this helmet off of me? Thanks. Hey you guys, can you get my bike out of the road, its blocking traffic." Once everything seemed under control, only then did the pain start. But there was an element of "fun" again, when the EMS guys showed up with nitrous oxide.

I think the last story, was just a tad more than "nine" calmness and focused awareness, there was also, adrenaline, endorphins, and shock. But, I'll never forget knowing that that truck was coming for me. And I'll never forget the amusement I had while flying through the air.

If I didn't have this "knowing, calm, focusing" ability, I'd be dead 9 times over. That or be very bored. I really have too many stories like that. (not the crash) I had to promise my ex, that when we had kids, I would curtail pushing the edge, but she never understood how safe it all was. Or how "that" focused awarness was so, ...peaceful? Flow. Real flow. Not just going along with the whatever flow.

Oh, its amazing how much sand and pebbles and road can get embedded deep into your skin, and how the rubber from tires can go in so deep that it takes a month and a half for the tattoo to disappear. Always ride with a leather jacket. (...and helmet!).

Posted by Ocean at 01:35 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

8-ball

I got to observe some good "nine" behavior and get a taste of my way overshadowed 8 wing*** last night. I went out with a friend to shoot some pool. We put our names on the board and waited our turn, got a beer. This girl I know, an aquaintance really, needed a partner becuase they had switched from playing single to partners. So she asked me to play. I said OK, and I had next game also, and wanted to go back to playing singles if we won. Some guy was hanging around her and I started getting bad vibes from him. We win the game, I shot like shit, and put in my quarters to play her one on one. This guy starts bitching that I'm playing two games in a row. So he has a point, but I calmly explain to him why I was gonna play anyway. We play, and I lose in about two minutes, so I put my name back up on the board. All is well.

After a few minutes, I notice someone erased the list, and now I've lost my place, and have to wait for a lot more games to be played out. Now I get angry. So I say to myself I'm gonna confront this idiot guy (he erased the queue). Then I start to fear the confrontation shit. So instead of confronting him directly, I go to the girl, within easy earshot of this guy, and say "Which asshole erased my fucking name off the list? I'm gonna go erase the list again and put my name first". I said it in a very convincing way and gave him a dirty look. After a few minutes, he splits. Now I'm angry with myself for not being direct. It would have probably ended in a bar fight, which I'm sure you could guess I'm not too fond of. And now there is a group of 5 young obnoxious, drunk guys swarming the pool table. My friend plays, I partner up with him, we win, he gives me the table. A couple of wisecracks from the new guys, complaining Im not playing with a partner, I am still angry, but calmly explain its my game, I'll do what I want. Now, I'm not really a good pool player. But suddenly, I make that jump into the Now, and use the anger as a very focused energy. I'm making unbelievably hard shots, and on a combo to bank shot, I call the pocket, and then tell everyone "And its going in!". It was a next to impossible shot, and I "knew" it was going in. Almost every shot had extra snap on it, unless it needed finesse, but everything was dead on. It was un-natural. I was focusing anger into through the pool stick to the shooting the cue ball. And old man took a turn, and my play changed dramatically, my play mellowed, but stayed focused. Then one of the rude guys played again and I missed the first two shots. I remembered the anger, and then only needed one more shot to win. I finally lost to a girl by sinking the cue ball along with the 8. Everyone had given up playing against me. My friend, who knows how I play had his jaw hanging open the whole time. Damn it was fun! I'll never play that well again. The whole time, I was mediating every pool related problem that came up. There was a lot of friction between various people.

Then the night got really interesting. Here is where you're gonna think Im wacked (pun intended). While I had been playing pool, my energy controlled the whole area. I was calm and controlled and fun, but I could feel the control. I'm not used to that. It certainly didn't seem warranted to me, but it was obvious in a subtle way, and it was pleasantly amusing. This girl at the bar had been looking at me from across the room. She was with her boyfriend/husband and was looking at me too much. Her eyes seemed to be asking for help. This couple was sitting about 5 feet from where my beer was sitting on the bar next to my friend. I went over there and was bs'ing about the pool stuff with my friend. She keeps looking at me. Her guy was a mobster. Seriously. Now she's looking at me, and she's looking pretty good, so I'm looking back. But, I'm not exactly going to try and pick her up. Her guy is like a robot, not talking, no facial expressions, nothing, then he does this subtle head and hand gesture, and suddenly this 6'4" 300pound guy in a suit appears out of nowhere and stands just on the otherside of the "L" in the bar, and proceeds to calmly watch me. I'm like, fuck, this IS the Sopranos. After about 20 minutes, I say fuck it and go up to the big guy. I start talking about fishing, but Im searching his face for more than words. He converses back, but he looks both amused and like he is a little embarrassed that he blew his cover. He gets done talking to me fairly quickly, shakes my hand, and gives me a reassurring nod, like "hey no problem". I took it as my cue to go back to my own business, and when I turn around, the couple is gone. The whole time, I felt very calm and in control, amused actually. No, I wasn't really drunk. The whole thing was very dream-like, but it actually happened. Very strange. Feel free to comment, I'm still trying to make some sense out of the whole thing.

***another enneagram reference

Posted by Ocean at 01:30 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

treasure dream

The dream from the night before last... I'm underwater, not deep, but a little dark and a bit murky. I dont know if Im diving or if i can just breath underwater. I find a one foot square canvas bundle, and I get excited about it. I look inside and I see its full of $100 bills. Its not just the money, it a good feeling wrapped up in the bundle. As I start to grasp it, and I notice there is another bundle attached to it with wires. I discover the other bundle is full of explosives, dynamite. I hover there figuring what to do next. Very frustrating. Will I blow myself up? Can I get away with it? Can I disable the bomb from the prize? There is a wise old man watching out of curiosity. I wind up leaving the two connected bundles, but making a mental note of where they are. The scene dissolves with me trying to figure out how to claim the prize without killing myself in the process. The wise man seems content to wait for my return.

Not much interpretation needed here I guess...

Posted by Ocean at 01:29 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Right...

...as steven wright says "there's a fine line between fishing and standing on a dock in the rain for hours, like a fucking idiot". just a reminder.

Posted by Ocean at 01:28 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

blah

I remember, a couple of years ago, we were having some deep discussion in front of a fire. I said something like, "My biggest sin, is that I don't **live** life. When I die, the thing that will bother me is that I didn't live up to my potential, I didn't live life fully". Blah. (Spiritual Sloth?) Blah.

Posted by Ocean at 01:19 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

Bootstraps

I think one reason I get excited about boats and bikes is that they make me feel alive, full of positive energy. Its like they are bootstraps I can use to pull me out of sloth. You could say that they are just another insignificant distraction, but thats not the case. There are many other things I use as bootstraps, but most revolve around fun, physical activities or special relationships. The intimate relationships have by far the most power. Its like you jump back into life. Its like it pulls you out of your stupor, and back on track. Changes the pace, the pov. Connects you. Anyone notice this bootstrap thing?

Posted by Ocean at 01:14 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

The Pull of Flow

(thanks to cousin pete for pic)

...when this becomes, effortless, almost automatic, ...riding the razor's edge in perfect, confident balance...

Posted by Ocean at 01:07 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)

FLOW

...flow
conversation snippets...

big problem ---> Lack of FLOW. I used to be addicted to FLOW. I used to adjust my life to attaining flow, like a junkie. Its been too, way too long since I was in a state of FLOW. This describes what I mean. Here is a quote from the back of a book...

"...For more than two decades Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has been studying states of "optimal experience" - those times when people report feelings of concentration and deep enjoyment. These investigations have revealed that what make experience genuinely satisfying is a state of consciousness called flow - a state of concentration so focused that it amounts to absolute absorption in an activity. Everyone experiences flow from time to time and will recognize its charactoristics: People typically feel strong, alert, in effortless control, unselfconscious, and at the peak of their abilities. Both the sense of time and emotional problems seem to disappear, and there is an exhilarating feeling of transcendence. Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience reveals how this pleasurable state can, in fact, be controlled, and not just left to chance, by setting ourselves challenges - tasks that are neither too difficult nor too simple for our abilities. With such goals, we learn to order the information that enters consciousness and thereby improve the quality of our lives."

Flow is basically living in the moment. (It's NOT the "going with the flow" that 9's*** get stuck in - that is just going along with whatever). This is real Flow.

...You are the boat, the river, and you are even generating the current. It all becomes one and you are an active but seemingly effortless director. Perfection. You are 100% in the moment, and adjust your (re)actions perfectly to the situation/activity/environment as they happen to acommodate your intent.

Activities that have routinely delivered Flow, for me: Slalom waterskiing, snowboarding, mountainbiking, motorcycling, diving, running, moments of football, softball, climbing. Sometimes playing guitar with another guitar and drums. Shooting pool. Working out.

For a somewhat less intense flow, sometimes reading, writing, having a conversation, having sex. It can happen doing anything. The key though seems to be having an adequate level of skill that matches the activity. The more skill, the higher the level of activity, the more intense the flow. If you dont have enough skill for a certain activity, its awkward or frustrating. If you have too much skill, it is boring so there is not 100% absorption. For me, physical, often rythmic activities did the trick the best. Most of those things I dont do anymore. I guess as I've gotten older, I've tried to get the same flowing satisfaction in other, less physical ways, such as everyday activities, but I'm either bored or frustrated it seams. I can think of a few reasons why I lack flow. I am out of shape, and no longer do my fun things on a regular basis. For non-physical activities, again, Im out of shape, leaving me more stuck in my head. Also, I have to many toxins in me leaving my brain sluggish. Nope, haven't found anyone to flow with lately, and thats the best flow of all.

Step 1. Get to gym and lay off the cheeseburgers.

That "moment" of flow IS spirituality to me. Imagine having flow 24/7, in the moment, fully living Now to the fullest.

I don't think I've had an especially intense life. Although I've spent a lot of time doing those activities, and have had many peak experiences, it all seemed pretty normal except for some really peak experiences that I guess bordered on transendantal or endorphin overload due to unplanned danger. I'm sure I've spent more time watching TV overall. But I thrive on the peak stuff, wither watching TV.

It seems like those experiences have to do with being forced/drawn out of my head and into my gut.

Re: Raw foods diet. I have noticed that a combo of eating very clean - not junk, tons of fresh fruit and vegetables - (basically healthy vegetarian with small amounts of protien - very little or no meat or dairy or processed food), ...combined with physical exercise and meditation, really helps to make me more prone to get that flow going. Performing an activity on a regular basis also helps, of course.

***

enneagram type 9; enneagram is a kind of personality system, with esoteric aspects, based on basic motivations arising from innate fears. good googling.

Posted by Ocean at 01:01 AM | Permalink | | Comments (0)