St. John (Day 5, Part 3)

Bringing momentous day 5 to a close...

After we left Little Lameshur Bay, I was driving when I saw something that I have to admit gave me a start. We were going up a steep hill on a narrow road when suddenly a huge truck started coming down! Had to drive halfway off the road with no guardrail and a steep drop off into the jungle to let it by. Not something a Midwestern man of the plains like me is used to!  As we got back to 107, we saw a mongoose. I knew they were around on St. John, but we had never seen one before. One more sighting on the way home: two wild white donkeys (or burros or something) along the road.

After we drove home, we ate, tanned, and swam in the pool for the rest of the day. This was the first afternoon that we were able to (or maybe just noticed) that we could see St. Croix from the villa. We knew the island was south of us, but always just assumed it was too far away to be visible. Nice dinner and then we sat out and watched stars. I swear I can sometimes see a trace of the Milky Way late at night.

St. John (Day 5, Part 2) - Octopus Sighting!

Now...on to the detailed story of my first octopus sighting!

I'm making a huge deal out of this, because I have always been absolutely fascinated by the octopus. As mentioned in another post, it's an animal I call an 'earth alien' because it seems like it could come out outer space (or at least an imaginative science fiction novel).  They have eight arms, no backbone, and a highly developed brain. They can problem solve, change skin color to match their background, change their skin texture to do the same, shoot ink to confuse their enemies, and squeeze their bodies through tiny holes far smaller than they are. They can even move around outside the water for limited amounts of time. Earth aliens!

In my reading about them, I had learned long ago that they are shy and prefer to hide than be seen. However, you can find the entry to their homes if you look for a small pile of empty oyster or clam shells (their principle food). So all through the years, I have been looking and eager to see an octopus in the wild. However, I have never been lucky enough to find one. The trip to Little Lameshur Bay changed my luck.

I was snorkeling well out into the bay along the rocks on the east side, when I saw five or six opened shells right along this large group of rocks. The shells looked so clean that I realized this was it. An octopus den must be nearby! So I looked at each hole and crevice I could find, searching for some hint of an octopus. Of course, knowing about their talent for camouflage I had to look very carefully or I might mistake the octopus for a piece of coral or rock. But I couldn't find it.

Then...BAM!...I realized it wasn't in the crevices at all. It was sitting right there on the side of the rock no more than a yard from me. It was colored to match the rock and curled up to hide its tentacles, but I was sure I'd found my quarry when I saw the eyes and the siphon. I moved around it a bit and could see the suckers on several of its tentacles.  It's head was about the size of a football but, because its tentacles were curled under it, I had no way to estimate how big it was. The thickness off the tentacles near the head made me think that for them to taper to a tip as they usually do that the tentacles would have to be 2 or 3 feet long, making for a diameter of 4 to 6 feet. Not enormous, but certainly big enough to send me into orbit! The picture above is not actually the type I saw, but it's pretty much the exact position I found mine in (just imagine most of the tentacles pulled up under or curled up around the base of the head, and the color matching the rock and you can get a fair idea.

Given the size and that there was no weird shape or pattern to it, I have to assume it was octopus briareus - the Caribbean reef octopus - which I assume is probably a pretty common type. This is a picture of an actual Caribbean reef octopus.  They seem to look like other octopi, but the only thing that makes me wonder if it might have been a different kind is that the pictures of the reef octopus I've seen seem to show a more extensive mantle with more connective tissue between the arms.  While I didn't see the arms of my octopus very well, it seemed as though the mantle ended much further up the arms.

Anyway, I was ecstatic! I just floated there watching him (he did nothing, so I guess I'm easily amused). His siphon pumped water, his eyes just watched me. I have to admit I did flap my fins towards him a little thinking I could get him to move, but he was far too smart to fall for such a puerile ploy. In any case, this sighting was the highlight of the trip for me and is something I have always wanted to see! Scratch that off the bucket list...(yeah, I am easily amused!).

St. John (Day 5, Part 1) - Little Lameshur Bay

Click to expand

This day was the highlight of the trip...so much happened! So the document of it all has to be split into two parts.

That morning, I was able to convince Jim we should drive beyond the end of the road at Salt Pond Bay and head for the Lameshur bays. He was worried because the map specifically says "no rental vehicles beyond this point". Since most rental vehicles are 4-wheel drive jeeps, he was probably right to have doubts. But I checked the Internet for other people's experiences and thought the map was making a big deal over nothing. When we visited Salt Pond Bay, we walked part of the road. Lots of major potholes and stretches that were unpaved, but that's why we have a 4-wheel drive jeep right? We made the drive today, and I'm sooooo glad we did!

Little Lameshur Bay is beautiful! I lifted the picture here, as I'm becoming less interested in photographing things...I'm there why not just experience it?  Anyway, it has a nice sandy beach and loads of shallows both among the rocks/coral and in the middle of the bay where there is a sandy bottom and sea grass. This was great, because Jim got to see plenty of stuff close in while snorkeling, while I was able to explore way out into the bay. As a result, while we still love Salt Pond Bay, Little Lameshur Bay is our new favorite beach on St. John.

There's fewer people who get out this way, as the cruise ship people usually stick to the other side of the island and buses can't do the road beyond Salt Pond Bay. While there were about twenty people on the beach, it is so wide a beach that we were not at all crowded. When we arrived - around 9 or 10 - there were only four other people there! Close in, Jim and I both saw sea turtles and we could get quite close to them as long as we just floated along. They kept an eye on us, but didn't seem that bothered by us. Awesome!

I didn't explore the west side of the bay, but the east side has loads of rocky outcrops (which you can see in the picture above). This is a fantasyland of snorkeling: reefs, sea plants, rocky 'canyons', grottoes... It just beckoned me on and on, and I was at least two-thirds of the way to the point by the time I thought to come back in. I stink at estimating depth, but I think the water was about 20 feet deep as I got further out (by the rocks that is), but I also found inlets where I could stand in two feet of water if needed. Visibility was fantastic!

Of course there was plenty of coral, but some of it had its arms out despite the daylight. Looked like these were under rocks or in crevices where perhaps they don't realize it was daytime. So this was something interesting to see. Brain coral, finger coral, and circular corals that looked like unglazed pottery. With the latter, each one was occupied by a single darkish fish about five inches long that would chase away other fish.

The sea life was just as varied. Aside from the usual panoply of colorful fish, I saw 11 reef squid hovering in a line, shifting colors as I approached. Several sea turtles. Bigger game fish. A huge, angry red sea cucumber. A school of about 20-30 needle fish stretching off as far as I could see. These predators are thin, silvery, and have needle like teeth. They hang right near the surface, so sometimes you don't see them until you are right on top of them. The thing is I have never seen so many all together.  Then I saw why: massive schools of fry were hanging out near the rocks and in the grottoes. One school of well over a thousand were a cloud all around me, and each one had a bright neon blue stripe inside its body. Another smaller school had about 100 tiny muddy-colored fish in a round shape the size of a medicine ball. I reached out towards them and, instead of scattering, the 'ball' shifted shape as if the motion of my hand were shaping it! Really neat! And then there were two firsts!  I saw a bright red sea spider (see picture) which seemed to be harassing a sea urchin. And the best of all...drum roll please!...an octopus!!!! At last!

Since I have to run on about the octopus sighting for at least a few paragraphs, I'll save the story for the next posting.

Mumonkan, Koan 20: The Man of Great Strength

Shogen Osho asked, "Why is it that a man of great strength does not lift his legs?"And he also said, "It is not the tongue he speaks with."

The man of great strength does not lift his legs because he does not need to. My answer recalled to me some lines from a poem I wrote during my Pete Retreat several years ago (the poem - 'Siegecraft' - is posted here on Zen Throw Down).

For the art of siegecraft

is to be...

and watch the world

wrap around you,

turning

wand to sword to scepter

A strong or wise man draws his power from inside himself, so there is no need to act (to 'lift your legs'). This does not mean you should be a non-entity who sits around and waits or expects all things to move as you wish or imagine. You let this power inside of you - your essence - speak for you, and I think the more right-minded you are the more you amplify this essence to the world around you. There is a sense of strength, conviction, or truth that comes from you. So you do not 'speak with your tongue' but with your very presence or existence...with what you are.

I can look back at certain points in my life where I was definitely in this mindset and, at those times, it felt as though people and events conformed to me the way water flows around a rock. It wasn't that I was controlling anything or dominating people around me, there was a feeling of the 'world wrapping around me' rather than me conforming or adapting to the world.

When I am in that mindset, I'm not fighting things around me, nor am I submitting to them. I just am. Things happen as a result of this steadfastness. Perhaps this is what the concept of non-contention in Taosim is all about?

St. John (Day 4)

Back to Salt Pond Bay! Salt Pond Bay is a 45 minute drive from Andante. We have to drive all around the perimeter of the island and through Coral Bay to get there, even though it's closer to drive east. Problem is there is no road east through the National Park!

The bay was a hot and intensely sunny as always, but the snorkeling has never failed to disappoint. I saw two reef squid but, unlike prior years, they were not over the sea grass but near the coral. This made them easier to spot and look at. Each was about 8-12 inches long with big black eyes and hovered in the water fluttering their lateral fins. This year, I decided to dive so I could get real close to them, and they immediately flashed into a white color and backed away slightly. As I rose to the surface, they jetted away.  I always get excited when I see reef squid because they are cephalopods, and I'm fascinated by the entire group of animals.

A first: I saw a spotted eel. He was snaking around the bottom in about six feet of water, looking for a hole to curl up in for the day. Looked a bit like this guy pictured, only bright yellow all over, especially on his head. He was probably about two feet long or so. Not the biggest eel ever, but I can check that off the sighting list!

As I swam into the middle of the bay where the boats are docked, I was looking for big barracuda that usually hang around near the boats, but there weren't any out there. I did see a small sting ray and three sea turtles munching on the grass and rising to the surface for air. They didn't seem at all bothered by my presence.  There was also a large surgeon fish parked near the coral, with a tiny black and neon yellow 'angelfish' moving around him, probably nipping algae or parasites off of him for a meal.

photo by Jerry Kane

Another thing that often happens in the ocean that I like is you get a little fish or two (not even an inch long) that swims near you for protection. Sometimes, they can be very distracting as they will swim right in front of your mask, making you look cross-eyed at them. Annoying, I guess, but kind of cute too. Speaking of small fish, naturally there were tons of colorful ones to see, but I saw a whole lot of bluehead wrasses, chasing fish away (some were fish much larger than themselves), so I imagine it was some kind of territorial thing. They are really colorful and I always like seeing them.

Another familiar but always welcome sight are schools of fish. This time it was a big school - maybe 50 or so blue tang. For you cartoon people, that would be Dory from Finding Nemo. After snorkeling during the morning and early afternoon, we drove home and - of course - vegged by the pool and tanned. Then Jim cooked us a nice steak dinner! You can click the pic below to get a load of the fantastic setting.

St. John (Day 3)

One of the things we like to do at Andante is see how many iguanas we can spot in the cacti and undergrowth surrounding the villa. These critters like to sun in the morning and evening, and I'd say the one at picture center here is probably about three feet long from nose to the tip of his tail. Click on the picture to expand it and enjoy in the 'Where's Waldo?' fun (there are at least three iguanas in this picture). The record number of iguanas seen in this particular cactus is five iguanas. Only a little zoom was used to take this photo, so they are very close and you can enjoy watching them move their heads around from time to time or occasionally inch from one side to the other. However, they are usually the picture of sun worshipping slackers.

We check on the iguanas everyday, and have found that the same ones seem to come to this cacti each day. There are other cacti around the villa but not as many tenants on those. One day, we saw a brilliant green iguana up there. He was a bit smaller than the others, but still a good sized lizard. In fact, the road that winds up to Andante is Iguana Road and I can see why they named it that. Aside from all the ones we see at the villa, several times over the years we've seen iguanas racing across the road. (They can move really fast when so inclined!) They shun humans but, one afternoon, I snapped this photo of an iguana right at the start of the path that leads from the villa down to the beach.  He was just browsing around, munching on flowers, and didn't seem too concerned about me being there. I can see why people decide to keep them for pets; they are really cool looking!

Today, we revisited Francis Bay for swimming and snorkeling. It's on the north side of the island and usually the current and waves are a bit more active here. This activity reduced visibility so we couldn't see the fish as clearly as usual. Part of the problem was we forgot that we should not arrive at a beach before 10:30 or 11 to get the optimal amount of light for seeing fish. It's actually not the light so much as it's not usually until then that all the morning clouds have blown away. Jim suggested we should keep notes of these little factoids we discover, but I'm not sure it would make much difference. We're both such early risers that by 9:30 we're antsy to get out and about.

This day was very low key, as well. After spending the morning at the beach, we had lunch at Mongoose Junction (yes, there are mongooses on St. John though we've never seen one). After that, we just went back to Andante and enjoyed the pool and worked on our tans. As I mentioned, the plant life was thicker this year than in prior years. I think this is a palm tree (or two) growing right along the west balcony. The giant leaves on these plants make you feel like you've taken a trip back in time to some Jurassic ecosystem. (This picture expands really big so you can enjoy the beautiful landscape behind me).

St. John 2012 (Days 1 and 2)

Back to St. John!

Without intending to, we have ended up going here every other year.  This trip is our third visit, and I think warm weather arrived earlier this year - just as it did up North - because the plants were much more in bloom than on previous trips. The front yard of the villa (Andante by the Sea) is a sort of walled garden with loads of flowering plants (like this one). This time they seemed in full bloom, which was a colorful way to be welcomed back to Andante.

I had never liked the idea of going back to an island, because I felt like there were so many other places to go that 'repeating' was unwarranted. Jim was the one who stuck to the idea, and it has paid off. The key is there is so much to do and see on St. John that we can go back again and again. We revisit old faves and then try new stuff too. Plus, since we are familiar with the island, Cruz Bay, and the villa there's none of that 'first day awkwards' I usually have on vacations to new places. We just dive right in!

Of course, on St. John 'diving in' means kicking back by the pool at the villa and being all by ourselves. After arrival on Saturday and then all day Sunday, we did nothing but tan, swim, play cards, look for iguanas around the villa, sit on the deck, and stargaze. Perfect!

crazy jay blue)

A late entry for National Poetry Month!

ee cummings wrote this one in 1958, and I've loved it ever since one of my best friends in high school introduced it to me by giving it to me as a description of myself. For at least seven or eight years I have kept a copy of it posted at work as a reminder of some of my strengths . I especially love the construction with the unclosed parens, which create a loop that suggests the poem goes on forever.

crazy jay blue)
demon laughshriek
ing at me
your scorn of easily

hatred of timid
& loathing for (dull all
regular righteous
comfortable) unworlds

thief crook cynic
(swimfloatdrifting
fragment of heaven)
trickstervillain

raucous rogue &
vivid voltaire
you beautiful anarchist
(i salute thee

An Indian At The Burial-Place Of His Fathers

This is another poem by William Cullen Bryant, an American poet from the 1800s. He was an American of the Romanticist school and editor of the New York Evening Post. When I read a lot of his work - the most famous being "Thanatopsis" (which I also have posted earlier in this blog - I think of paintings by the Hudson River School painters. They seem imbued with a sense of the early days of our country mixed with a sense of Transcendentalism.

Unfortunately, Bryant seems to have been neglected beyond his masterpiece "Thanatopsis". That's a shame as in my opinion he's an American treasure. This poem, "An Indian At The Burial-Place Of His Fathers", is just as good as "Thanatopsis". Maybe someday Bryant will come back into vogue.

An Indian At The Burial-Place Of His Fathers

It is the spot I came to seek,--
My fathers' ancient burial-place
Ere from these vales, ashamed and weak,
Withdrew our wasted race.
It is the spot--I know it well--
Of which our old traditions tell.

For here the upland bank sends out
A ridge toward the river-side;
I know the shaggy hills about,
The meadows smooth and wide,--
The plains, that, toward the southern sky,
Fenced east and west by mountains lie.

A white man, gazing on the scene,
Would say a lovely spot was here,
And praise the lawns, so fresh and green,
Between the hills so sheer.
I like it not--I would the plain
Lay in its tall old groves again.

The sheep are on the slopes around,
The cattle in the meadows feed,
And labourers turn the crumbling ground,
Or drop the yellow seed,
And prancing steeds, in trappings gay,
Whirl the bright chariot o'er the way.

Methinks it were a nobler sight
To see these vales in woods arrayed,
Their summits in the golden light,
Their trunks in grateful shade,
And herds of deer, that bounding go
O'er hills and prostrate trees below.

And then to mark the lord of all,
The forest hero, trained to wars,
Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall,
And seamed with glorious scars,
Walk forth, amid his reign, to dare
The wolf, and grapple with the bear.

This bank, in which the dead were laid,
Was sacred when its soil was ours;
Hither the artless Indian maid
Brought wreaths of beads and flowers,
And the gray chief and gifted seer
Worshipped the god of thunders here.

But now the wheat is green and high
On clods that hid the warrior's breast,
And scattered in the furrows lie
The weapons of his rest;
And there, in the loose sand, is thrown
Of his large arm the mouldering bone.

Ah, little thought the strong and brave
Who bore their lifeless chieftain forth--
Or the young wife, that weeping gave
Her first-born to the earth,
That the pale race, who waste us now,
Among their bones should guide the plough.

They waste us--ay--like April snow
In the warm noon, we shrink away;
And fast they follow, as we go
Towards the setting day,--
Till they shall fill the land, and we
Are driven into the western sea.

But I behold a fearful sign,
To which the white men's eyes are blind;
Their race may vanish hence, like mine,
And leave no trace behind,
Save ruins o'er the region spread,
And the white stones above the dead.

Before these fields were shorn and tilled,
Full to the brim our rivers flowed;
The melody of waters filled
The fresh and boundless wood;
And torrents dashed and rivulets played,
And fountains spouted in the shade.

Those grateful sounds are heard no more,
The springs are silent in the sun;
The rivers, by the blackened shore,
With lessening current run;
The realm our tribes are crushed to get
May be a barren desert yet.

Guillaume Apollinaire: Mirabeau Bridge

Photo: Eric Rougier

This is my favorite poem by Guillame Apollinaire, a French poet, art critic, and enfant terrible from the first quarter of the 20th century. He wrote brilliantly about modern art, knew all the leading Parisian artists of the time, and is credited with coining the term 'surrealism'. He had a rich life and died young.


Under Mirabeau Bridge the river slips away
And lovers
Must I be reminded
Joy came always after pain

The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I

We're face to face and hand in hand
While under the bridges
Of embrace expire
Eternal tired tidal eyes

The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I

Love elapses like the river
Love goes by
Poor life is indolent
And expectation always violent

The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I

The days and equally the weeks elapse
The past remains the past
Love remains lost
Under Mirabeau Bridge the river slips away

The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I

National Poetry Month: One

Once again it is national poetry month, so I'll use this as a means to get back into blogging by posting poetry (my own and favorites by others).

I wrote 'One' nearly fourteen years ago, and it's one of those poems that came as inspiration. I was living in the city and one morning as Summer was waning, I was walking to the bus thinking about ways in which my life was changing. Words and phrases started bubbling up in my head and then I saw a leaf detach from a branch and drop down, carried on a light breeze. It caught the sun at times but slowly made it's way out of sight.

Something clicked in my head. That leaf was me. I got on the bus and wrote this poem all at once. No edits, no drafts. It just came.

when a leaf
feels the wind,
it clings
to the branch
like a child
to a mother's hand.
it
slowly
lets go
and
when it's free,
it flies
and is
the most
beautiful
when it is

alone

for the first time

uncertain of

where

it will

go.

Months Away

It's been too long since I've been away! Busy busy busy!

But then a friend on Facebook mentioned April is National Poetry Month. I will use this as a way to get back into posting.

#1 Song the Week I Was Born

One of my friends posted on Facebook - and encouraged us all to post - a YouTube video for the song that was #1 on the charts the week we were born. A quick search revealed that, for me, the song was "Kind of a Drag" by the Buckinghams. However, in digging up this fact, I read that the song with the most radio play that week was a different song.  It was the B-side to the Rolling Stones' latest single. The song was so popular, despite being a B-side, that in a week or two after my birth it took the #1 spot. The song was "Ruby Tuesday", and I decided this was the 'real' #1 song and posted it as my birthday song.

My mother was totally in love with Keith Richards back in the day (obviously before he turned into an incoherent, homeless pirate).  She loves "Ruby Tuesday', and I recall her telling me once that she was playing and singing the song all the time before I was born.  Sounds like the better choice for my birthday song.

Thank God I wasn't born several weeks sooner. Then my birthday song would have been "I'm a Believer" by the Monkees. That's a song-sign I do not want to be born under!

Clash

Clash is the latest movie by Johnny Tri Nguyen, the star of Force of Five and The Rebel. Or at least it's his latest movie available in the US. Clash has a very different feel than The Rebel, the last Nguyen movie I saw. That movie was a period piece, while this one is a stylish thriller set in the present day.

The plot is pretty straightforward, but the competing interests of the characters and their resulting double crosses of each other lead to enough twists to lift the story in to the better-than-average category for a martial arts movie.

That said, the plot doesn't get in the way much of the action, and the fights are really good. I can't think of any fights that looked like they used wires, which is good given Clash's grittier feel. While there are guns and knives used, the martial arts remain the focus in all the fights. The only downside to the guns is that it's a bit laughable what bad shots the characters must be in order to miss some of their targets!

Nguyen remains a strong performer, with a good deal of screen charisma beyond his skills as a martial artist. Some of his spinning kicks in this movie are especially impressive. Also, both he and costar Thanh Van Ngo (also from The Rebel) engage in more submission moves than I recall from recent martial arts movies. That was cool.

Downsides? There are two big ones. First, the romance between Nguyen and Ngo is extremely forced and, since it takes up a good deal of time in the middle third of the film, that's a problem. I didn't feel any sparks that suggested these two characters could overcome the obvious trust issues enough to fall in love. As a result, the love story is a big minus. It slows the movie down too much, despite some of the additional complications it introduces (no spoilers here).

The other downside is that Le Thanh Son's direction ends up spending a bit too much time on shots of his stars smoking, drinking, and otherwise 'looking tough' and this makes them come off like dorky poseurs. Nguyen is a hot guy; he doesn't need the film to sell him to us. An extended example of this is when Nguyen and Ngo tango in a club. The director's (or scriptwriter) is trying to be stylish, but it just seems out of place. Exactly when does a woman who spent her teens in a brothel, was a mother, and then lived as a mercenary find time to learn tango moves? Plus, the obvious use of a dancing double for Nguyen (who clearly couldn't 'cut a rug' if you gave him scissors) makes the whole thing kind of embarrassing. On the plus side, Le Thanh Son does a good job with the rest of the film.

While these flaws definitely slow the pace of the movie down in places, especially in the middle, Clash is a great ride. I have yet to see Nguyen give a bad performance or dish out a bad film, so here's hoping his star continues to rise.

Pre-Dawn Meditation

One of my favorite things is life is to get up before dawn and meditate. I love watching the dawn unfold and to greet the day with a clear mind.



photo: Eric Van Gilder

 Today I indulged in this for the first time in many months. I sat at my Zen table, lit the candles, and calmed my thoughts. It was completely dark. As time passed, I could see the sky becoming lighter. I'd watch but the change was to slow to see. Instead, I just reverted back to breathing and clearing my mind and then - once in a while - I'd look back at the sky. Each time, there was a notable shift in the skies brightness or the color of the clouds, the trees, the stone on my Zen table, or even my skin.

All sorts of images came to me, but the idea they all held was that day-by-day, moment-by-moment, we seem to make so little progress. So many events and days are inconsequential or "more of the same". It can feel pointless or that we're not getting anywhere.  In fact, we are making progress in some direction - intended or not.

If we are right-minded, over time, we are like a bird gliding effortlessly past a traffic jam.

Atlas Shrugged, Part One

For me, Atlas Shrugged is one of the ten greatest novels ever written, and I can say that even though I do not necessarily agree with Objectivism. So I went into this flick with high demands but not super high expectations. While this is not a stellar film experience, I must say I was engrossed! For me, an Atlas Shrugged movie would have to do three things really well: convey the philosophy, rock the plot, and get the characters right.

Rand's philosophy gets very little air time here, but I'll give Part 1 a pass because this is a trilogy. The director may be relying on the second or third 'acts' to develop the philosophical angles. Since Rand did her philosophy to death in some portions of her book, a less heavy-handed approach could be a plus.

In terms of distilling Rand's mammoth plot, I think they made some good choices. As opposed to the slow economic decline Rand painted, we start out in the middle of a crisis. This was a brilliant choice as it allowed a good deal of explication to be avoided. We now know what the problem is, so the film can focus on who caused it, who can stop it, and what's in their way. I also like how they drew the crisis into parallel with some of the feelings and issues Americans have today. They also quickly deal with the obvious plot problem: why should the audience care about railroads? This issue is credibly handled in the first minutes of the movie, and it was wise not to dwell on it. The use of blackberrys and texting seems shocking in Rand's speechifying world, but they are a perfect way to telegraph some of the conversations and keep things moving.

On the downside I'm not keen on the early revelation of a man behind the 'disappearances', perhaps because I felt the mystery aspect of the novel was one of the key plot hooks. Even though the way they have the men 'disappear' makes good dramatic use of the visual medium, I still feel they could do more with it. The 'destroyer' could be portrayed in a horror movie, stalker way (he kind of is already with the shadows and waiting for people to be alone). Have some fun with it! I also found the pacing a bit rushed, but I also find Gone With the Wind rushed compared to the book. Perhaps any movie based on a book this big can't help but seem rushed by comparison. No matter, a longer run time (an extra 30 minutes would only take us to 2 hours) is clearly needed. Given the trilogy approach, a longer run time would help with pacing but wouldn't burden the audience too much.

As for the actors inhabiting these larger than life roles, I like the choices they made though there is some wooden acting. The actress who plays Dagny is sometimes a bit stiff (and I'm not sure she knows how to walk in heels), but she definitely 'gets' the character and conveys her aura. Hank Rearden is also well-played, and the actor is physically perfect for the role. The jury is still out on John Galt and Francisco D'Anconia who each get minimal screen time, although the updating of playboy Francisco into a 'playa' is pitch perfect. Likewise, the updating of James Taggart into the typical do-nothing, pampered executive all too common in the business world today is spot on. We'll see how the actor does as his character starts to show his true colors. A big plus is the guy who plays Ellis Wyatt! He totally sinks his teeth into the role and steals the scenes he's in. On the other hand, the woman who plays Lillian Rearden needs more juice. She's playing the vixen-bitch in this philosophical soap opera, and she should camp it up a bit. The actor playing Hugh Akston was able - in one minute of screen time - to repel me. He played Akston with the aura of a surly Walmart check-out clerk rather than a brilliant scholar. Terrible choice and actor.

One surprising note is how the saggier acting moments were more than offset by the benefits of the cast of virtual unknowns (or at least a cast with low recognition quotient). These actors were definitely committed to their roles. Besides, I find it terribly distracting in dramatic movies to have recognizable stars onscreen. It's like when I saw a biopic on Jane Austin starring Anne Hathaway. I never got past the fact that I was watching Anne-Hathaway-playing-Jane-Austin. Of course some of that was her poor performance, but some of it is just the star power. You really have to be as talented as Meryl Streep or Colin Firth to overcome that so that the viewer can forget they're watching a film with a star. I don't think I would have enjoyed this movie as much if Dagny had been played by Julia Roberts or Kate Hudson or whoever, even if they did the job perfectly. Brad Pitt as Hank Reardon? Ick.

Bottom-line, Atlas Shrugged is technically a low-budget movie, but it looks and functions very well all things considered. I thoroughly enjoyed it and, like I said, my demands were pretty high as I can easily hate adaptations of my favorite novels. Part of the fun here was anticipation: how will they handle the lighting of Wyatt's Torch? What will Wesley Mouch look like? From what I understand, Part 2 is coming in Fall of 2012 and I'm looking forward to it very much!

Truman Capote: "A Christmas Memory"

If you're looking for a great holiday read...this is the place I recommend you go. I love this book! Plain and simple. I always save it for the holiday season though, and I never read it at any other time. It's become a holiday tradition. The three short stories all take place in holiday seasons during the depression and feature the same setting and characters, so they form a nice group for a single volume.

"A Christmas Memory" is really the core of the book for me, and it's my favorite short story ever. I've read it every Christmas for something like ten years now and I have the same powerful, emotional reaction every time...and I'm not given to outbursts of emotional vulnerability. I smile, laugh, cry, and daydream about my own Christmas memories every time I read it. No other story affects me like this one, and I think everyone will see a little of themselves or their childhood somewhere in these pages. The other two stories are very well done. I'd probably rave about them much more if I could value each on its own merits, but they do get lost in the glare of "A Christmas Memory".

While this is excellent as a literary work, what I really value in these stories is their beauty, simplicity, and truth. Highly recommended for a holiday evening with hot chocolate, a lit tree, and Xmas carols playing. For an even better impact, there is a CD out there of Truman Capote reading "A Christmas Memory". Well worth picking up if you want to share this story as a holiday traditional with your family.

Happy Holidays ("Love Makes a Family")

Very sweet video. Happy Holidays!

Holiday Party (Tenth Anniversary)

This was the tenth year running for our Holiday Party! We had family and friends in attendance...some who have been coming the entire ten years! Here's some of the pics from the festivities!  Thanks to everyone who shared this special night with us...love you all!

Jim preparing the spread...

...as the guests start arriving



Old friends and new join in as the Annual Grab Bag Extravaganza begins!

 

Opening presents...

...displaying swag...

...and, of course, the stealing!

A fun night for all...

...and to all a good night!

Two Years Before the Mast

Richard Henry Dana (1815-1882)

While I've been continuing with my readings in transcendentalism (see previous posts), I also have needed a little fiction fix. This is being satisfied by Richard Henry Dana's 1840 novel Two Years Before the Mast. The novel represents Dana's recollections of having served aboard a sailing ship as a young man, new to the life of a sailor.  It became a huge bestseller at the time once the Gold Rush picked up steam, because it described California in those days. I was led to the novel during my Herman Melville kick. I read in Melville's biography that he had read Two Years Before the Mast and I believe it had influenced his own writing. 

The book is apparently out of print, so I trolled ebay looking for an old or antiquarian hard cover edition for my library. I couldn't find anything I liked, so I hopped onto iBooks and found an edition there. For free! Got to love technology!  So far, the novel is a surprisingly easy to read, with very little in the language to mark it as having been written in the 1800s. This is because Dana's style is very crisp and lacks the filigree and ornamentation sometimes found in writers of the era. I've been reading it on planes and during my business travels, and I find that I like reading books this way because I always worry about how traveling with books can damage them.

Dana also seems to have been an interesting person in real life. Aside from his two years at sea, he was a lawyer who defied the people of his social circle to defend fugitive slaves. He was also a supporter of the Free Soil movement, which fought against slavery expanding into new territories as the United States stretched across the continent to the Pacific.

Naturally, I'm not expecting the literary depth (some might say pretensions) of Melville. That was not Dana's point in writing Two Years Before the Mast. What I'm looking forward to (and already enjoying a bit of) is the idea of reading an account of life back then through a first hand eyewitness recounting actual experiences.  This is one of the reasons I find early US literature so fascinating; it is a means of becoming something of a time traveler and seeing what life was like when our country was growing and not even a hundred years old yet.

By the way, the picture at left is a photo of a replica of the ship that Dana sailed in, the Pilgrim, during his travels.  In fact, I believe Dana Point in California got its name from - you guessed it - Richard Henry Dana.

Progress in Piano

Been working and travelling for work a lot, so haven't been blogging much.

I've continued practicing my piano and was very encouraged by how quickly I picked up some of the pieces I used to know, such as Prelude in C Major (Bach), Fur Elise (Beethoven), Valse Sentimentale (Schubert), and some preludes by Chopin. However, I could feel my hands were not managing the pieces with the dexterity they had 10-15 years ago when I was last playing.

Hanon

Since I've stuck with this for a few months, I decided it was okay to buy a new book. A very practical purchase though. The only exercise books I had are the ones from my youth (Fingerpower, Know Your Scales and Arpeggios). The first was just too simplistic for me as an adult learner, and the second - while a good resource - seems more about getting familiar with sharps and flats in each key and the basic chords. So I bought Hanon's The Virtuoso Pianist, which is an exercise book written more than a hundred years ago. Playing these pieces is a time-tested way to improve strength, so I now start my practice sessions working here. Apparently, once you learn all sixty exercises, you can play the whole book in an hour. Lofty goal indeed, but why not? I need practice with the basics!

Getting my strength and fingering back up to par should help me reconquer my old repertoire with more control, plus aid me as I re-learn some other pieces: Sonatina in G Major (Diabelli) and Pachelbel's Canon in D.  And, just to keep things interesting, I felt it was important to learn some completely new pieces: Beethoven's Sonatina in G Major (and then continue to work in the Sonatina album) and "Vittorio, Mio Core" a great Italian art song by Carissimi.

Maybe as I get into the Christmas break, I'll work up enough nerve to post of a video of my playing? Hmmm...

Chia Tao Poem

So far this my favorite from the book of Chia Tao's poetry I've been reading. The beauty and isolation depicted here is compelling. And the image of the moon and clouds seems reads to me like a symbol for finding clarity of mind.

Overnight At A Mountain Monastery
(translated by Mike O'Connor)

Masked peaks pierce
the sky's cold colors;
here, the trail junctions
with the temple path.

Shooting stars pass
into sparse-branched trees;
the moon travels one way,
clouds the other.

Few people come
to this mountaintop;
cranes do not flock
in the tall pines.

One Buddhist monk,
eighty years old,
has never heard
of the world's affairs.

In O'Connor's notes, he references a story that floored me so much I have to include it. Apparently, in a book written by someone who spent time meeting with Chinese hermits in the mountains during the 1980s, there was a story about an 85 year old monk who had lived in a mountain cave for 50 years. The monk spoke up at one point during a conversation to ask "who this Chairman Mao was whom I kept mentioning".  Wow!

Chai Tao (779-843)

I'm enjoying a compilation of Chia Tao's poetry edited and translated by Mike O'Connor. I had never heard of Chia Tao (or Jia Dao), but I was at a bookstore and was looking through some clearance books that were all around martial arts and spirituality and saw O'Connor's book. It's short, but with this kind of poetry you can't just flip through it quickly and get much out of it.

None of these poems are haiku, but they have an austerity in their subject matter and the way they are written that creates the impact that the best haiku should have. There's a solitude and loneliness running through his work, a quiet that recalls the archetypal image of a monk sitting alone in some forgotten mountain monastery, meditating and writing poetry, while the rest of the world continues on.

The translator notates that Tao had been a Zen monk, and this really seems to inform his work. He also comments on the sometimes cold, dry, or lean feel to Tao's poetry, and he's right. Some of the poems are downright unpoetic (perhaps sometimes due to translation and/or untranslatability of certain passages). I lean towards believing in the strength of the translations, however, because O'Connor is a poet himself if I remember correctly and I find it hard to believe any poet would take time to translate works and render them dry if they were actually rich with symbols and description. Not to say there aren't symbols, but they're more the use of a word that stands for something, without embellishment. In terms of imagery, the poetry also often calls to mind very vivid landscape images but very few words are used to do this.

However, I find the austerity of Tao's poetry to be a strength given what he's trying to do and delivering. His verse seems focused on communicating something that is very immediate and 'in the moment' - sometimes almost like a flash of kensho frozen in his lines and preserved. If he were to embellish with a lot of adjectives and imagery, he would destroy that precision and clarity to no real end. The coldness of the poems to me goes hand in hand with a detachment in the tone that conveys a sense of Zen. There were several times reading his poetry that I recalled my Pete Retreat (see other entries in the blog), and that wonderful feeling of being really alone and away by yourself. There's a kind of undemonstrative happiness that comes out of that which I can feel in Tao's poetry sometimes too. There is also a sense of contemplative regret or melancholy breathing through a lot of the pieces (many are about saying goodbye to people). However, this kind of melancholy isn't depressing or a downer; it sweet, calming, and comforting. Like sitting alone by a fire in a blanket while a snowstorm blows outside....if you've felt this you know what I mean!

O'Connor's notes are pretty good. Sometimes they illuminate certain images (his Glossary of Symbols is really useful!) or just indicate where certain physical locations are. The introduction is excellent as insight into the man who wrote these works. Overall, a great collection.

In That Mood...

Days pass
In games of solitaire
I feel
Moments moving through me
Like monthly bill payments

A dead planet
Round a star
Hurtling
To the point
From which I began

O for the solace
Of destruction
The desperate ruins
That urge
And impel

Autumn Bike Rides

Been getting some good biking in as we get into autumn. Over the last few weeks I've racked up 86 miles either on my own or with Jim. This brings the season total to 319 miles. Still nothing to crow about, but breaking the 300 mile bar makes things a little less sad.

On one of the rides, I saw a praying mantis crossing the path. These are another animal I think of as an 'earth alien'.  Like the octopus and stingray, praying mantises (manti?) are creatures that just look otherworldly. They have a lot of special characteristics that make them unique. For example: some mantis' jaws can puncture skin and they are the only insect that can turn its head on a neck. Then there's that whole business about the females eating their mates while they are mating. And you have to love them because they are one of those voracious predators that eat tons of bad and/or annoying bugs (like dragonflies).  Stopped to take a picture of this one(click to expand). It was about 5 inches long and was doing this weird swaying motion on its legs as I got closer. Maybe this is a behavior designed to make it look even more like a leaf or piece of plant debris? Not sure, but it was kind of funny to watch.

Yesterday, Jim and I were riding together and the fall colors were really getting started, so Jim took some pictures. This is a big picture, so you can really see the beauty of the scenery and colors if you click and expand. With the slanted autumn light, the beginning of fall is just a gorgeous time to be riding the paths!

October 5th - Bodhidharma Day

ink painting by Sesshu Toyo (1496)

From what I've been able to gather, this is the one Buddhist holiday that is a Zen holiday. The others seem appropriate for Buddhists only. Now, strictly speaking, the whole idea of a holiday or day of commemoration is probably nonsensical from a Zen standpoint. I wonder what Bodhidharma would have to say about 'Bodhidharma Day'. Somehow, I think he would find the whole idea preposterous and mightily disapprove.

My idea of celebrating this day was to stay home and meditate for a while. And this really does suggest a bad mindset. How is sitting in zazen a 'celebration'? Why would I want it to be? Why do I need an excuse to sit in zazen? How is sitting is zazen on this day any different from any other? The real driving force behind me wanting to celebrate this day is not celebrating Bodhidharma at all. It's that I've not sat in zazen for a long time, and I'm deluding myself with the notion of a holiday to get back into it. What a tangled web we weave, huh? Eeeesh.

Once I realized that, I decided that I would still take the day off as a way to start reasserting some control over my work-life balance. And I will meditate as part of that, because I do need to get back into it.  I've lost a good deal of my sense of peace, perspective, and discipline of mind without it.

And whether Bodhidharma would have approved or not, I do like the idea of a day to think about him specifically.  Despite all the mythos around him, Zen did spring from him. So what's wrong with taking a bit of time to think kindly of someone I owe a lot too?  More than the whole Zen thing, he has become a symbol of kind in my life.  As the cartoon below humorously illustrates, he represents the idea that my spirituality, my intellectual life, and my physical self (in terms of activity and fitness) are all part of the same thing and that they should all spring from the same place.

Transcendentalism 101

I've been reading two books this past month. The first is The Transcendentalists by Edith Packer. It's a history of this fascinating philosophical/religious movement that took hold of America in the 1830s and 1840s. The movement interests me because there is something uniquely American in its idealism and energy.  It is also loosely akin to Zen in some ways, almost like it arose through a sort of convergent evolution.

I had started reading Packer's history when I came across the second book: Selected Writings of the American Transcendentalists edited by George Hochfield. Hochfield's book assembles key writings by thinkers who led up to Transcendentalism and essays by the actual leaders of the movement as well.  So it's all the cerebral 'wiring' behind the history that Packer's book covers.

Hochfield's book includes material by George Ripley, Margaret Fuller, Orestes Brownson, Theodore Parker, Bronson Alcott, and many others. A further plus is what the book doesn't include: the really popular pieces from the movement: Walden, Emerson's essays, etc.  Hochfield wisely kept these out since most people likely have access to them through other books or already have them in their library.  This means his book is filled with material you probably would not be able to get and/or are unlikely to own.

As a result, Hochfield's book has almost all the material Packer references in her history, at least in the early chapters that I have read. Once I had Hochfield's book, I decided to start all over with Packer's, only this time as I go through it I'm stopping to read the essays and writings she references. So it's like I'm working my way through the history and actually reading all the thinking and writing that was being done as I go. Very stimulating way to study a movement like this!

I'll re-read some of Emerson's essays (most notably Nature) as I do this exercise. Plus it will spur me to finally read Walden, which I have to admit is something I haven't done. Probably not everyone's idea of fun, but for an Early US Literature fanboy like myself, it's as fun as watching UFC matches!

Back to Piano...still!

A while back, I posted that I had gotten back to playing piano. Well, I have stuck with it! Long ago, I had a fairly decent repertoire for a beginner. Almost all classical music. None of it was super difficult stuff; it's mostly the kinds of pieces "any serious student has in their repertoire" (according to the one of the books of sheet music I have).  I've really enjoyed getting into this again; it activates a whole other part of my brain.

Chopin

One of my favorite composers to play (that sounds pretty presumptuous since I haven't got scads of composers that I play!) is Chopin. He was born in Poland, so he's a countryman. His stuff is really emotional, and there's a somberness to some of his pieces that I really love. I'm re-learning a couple of his preludes and a waltz. Some of the pieces are really short so they are quick learns. But some of the chords this guy has in his music! It's like you have to stretch your thumb and pinky as far as possible in opposite directions and it's still almost impossible. I think I read somewhere that he had a very wide reach with his hands. Must be true, because the sheet music offers alternate ways to play some of the chords so that you lose one of the outside notes. And that's good, because there's a few chords that I physically cannot do!

I'm also relearning a sonatina by Diabelli that I used to be able to play all the way through. Much longer piece with different sections/movements/whatever you call them.  Diabelli is much more light and happy in tone. He's a good antidote to all the Chopin. 

The best part of this is the mental break it offers. I come home for lunch, eat, and zip through a couple pieces. After I'm done it's like I've taken a mental bath. My mind feels clearer and I'm more relaxed and in a happier state of mind. I think it's because I have to focus so much on my playing that my mind just ejects any extra baggage sloshing around in my skull.

One thing I've never done is play in front of anyone. Jim hears me sometimes, but he's not really listening, and I really try to practice as much as possible when I'm alone.  In fact, I'm not sure I could play in front of someone. Maybe when I get a better handle on some of these pieces. For now, though, this is a very private thing.

Work Stress or Lack of Discipline?

I'm back! After not posting for a while. A lot of hours at work and just being very busy left me little time for blogging.

However, while these last several months have been really crazy, I feel as though I've managed it well. I had a few moments where I wigged out, but I found myself able to take hold of myself and quickly regain control over myself. I kept my thoughts calm and even and did not allow myself to go off the deep end. Summoning this impacted me within seconds, and I noticed it sometimes telegraphed itself to others and 'destressed' them as well. Not saying I'm perfect by any means. I'm a very strong personality, and I did have a few 'moments' where I was just panicked. However, I know I dealt with these last few months far better than in times before my Zen training.

As things are slowing down, a thought occurred to me that work stress isn't all from external sources (i.e., our job, boss, coworkers). Much of it is self-inflicted, and much of it is created by undisciplined reactions to external sources. That means a lot of work stress is self-inflicted and I can just decide to shrug it off. A few things I noticed:

• Deadlines that aren't deadlines. I say I'm going to do something by [date], and then I - admirably - feel obligated to deliver. However, no one wants on-time - but subpar - results. We create stress by assuming everyone is inflexible (and/or that we always have to submit to that inflexibility).
• Other people's stress. When someone else gets worried, I find myself becoming worried. Empathy is good, but it must be controlled. It's best to sit back, dettach, and think: "Is this really a problem or are they freaking out?" Not letting others determine our mindstate avoids stress.
• We gotta do X. Sometimes, we have to examine what we're doing and get to essentials. This takes a lot of discipline because we tend to think everything we do is critical...and it's not. The difference between 'good enough' and perfection is often too slender for all the extra stress it causes.
• Dropping the ball. People request stuff and then forget about it when something more critical comes along. If you ask about the task, they tell you to deliver (because they are stressed). But if you say nothing...it just goes away. If/when it comes back, everyone says: "Yeah, let's do that now. I know we had to put it on the backburner." Naturally, this takes some wisdom in using it.
• Summon the right mindstate. When I feel stressed, for a few seconds I think about the smooth stone on my zen table or a moment of enlightenment I had while in zazen. My breathing notably becomes deeper, my tension level plummets, I feel my shoulders relax, and my thinking becomes much cleaner and logical. This is really helpful in conflict situations or when someone is wigging out because I become detached emotionally and my stance and tone are much calmer when I reengage. I had a client who was literally exploding (swearing and all). I did this and - within seconds after I reenaged - he calmed down and even apologized for his outburst. We solved the problem within seconds after the dynamic shifted.

All these observations have one theme in common that is a hallmark of Zen: taking control. Stress comes from being undisciplined mentally: feeling like we're out of control or have no control. Zen trains you to understand that you always have control over yourself: how you think, how you respond, what you feel - and what you choose not to feel, etc. By maintaining this discipline, I got rid of a lot of unnecessary stress. Or perhaps the stress that is bred from stress. I learned quite a bit from this situation, and I was happy to see my Zen training validated in such a concrete way.

Another Bike Ride

I have got to get the odometer fixed on my bike. Until then I'll continue using the blog to track miles. Did another 17 miles yesterday. So we're up to 233 miles for the season.  Should have time for another ride this weekend.