Friday, April 30, 2010


(sculpture by Judith Skenazy)

4ozs is on break for the month of May, returning June 1. Meanwhile, Happy May Day, Happy Mothers' Day, Happy Graduations, Happy Birthdays!

Thursday, April 29, 2010





To reach high from within -
well done, so proud, beautiful, bravo, magnifique, heroic,
many hands clapping

Wednesday, April 28, 2010


the moon hangs like a lantern

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


I'll drive less than I did last year.
I'll stop taking home purchases in plastic shopping bags.
I'll stop buying water or soda or milk bottled in plastic.
I'll purchase a vehicle that gets more miles per gallon, or use well-designed public transportation, or walk, or ride my bike for errands.
I'll share ideas with the state or county or companies that could reduce usage.

In this way, I'll decrease the demand for petroleum. I'll be an example for neighbors and family who may be reminded to bring their reusable bags to the store, or reminded of the benefits of drinking water from glass instead of plastic. I'll decrease the likelihood of another petroleum disaster like the one now happening in the Gulf of Mexico. Less oil will be needed next year. I'll make an impact. I'll take better care of the home we all share.

Monday, April 26, 2010







Shake off disdain, be thankful for love. Look far!

Sunday, April 25, 2010


dragonfly wings
showered sparks of light -
tall grasses swayed and
whispered, peace.

Saturday, April 24, 2010






My own car attacked me tonight. I'm parked on a slope, and when I went to get something out of the trunk, the sharp edge of the trunk lid suddenly slammed down and whacked me along the hairline of my forehead. I have a bit of a gash, and it hurts like the dickens.

But what's odd is that after the initial sharp vibrating pain, and the hour with the ice cubes on the head, and the feeling life is one bungled mishap after another, I feel rather happy. You know, like when you were a kid and skinned your knee outdoors, and then it's nighttime, and the bit of pain seems to be a pleasant reminder that you lived today. Doesn't make sense, does it. Like endorphins are released perhaps to counteract the hurt, but also to reward having ventured outward.

I try to be brave like a kid walking a few new blocks past the familiar boundaries of the street where he lives, or knocking in the dark on a stranger's door for trick or treat.

Friday, April 23, 2010





Sojourner Truth was a remarkable human being by any measure. Born into slavery in the late 1700s, her early years were characterized by traumatic loss and physical and sexual brutality, the nature of which could easily have broken her. Instead, she found the courage and passion to fight back. She fought and won the retraction of the sale of her son through a lawsuit, and motivated others to support abolition of slavery through her autobiography and through the fiery speeches she gave around the country. She became a Methodist, reporting life changing experiences through her faith. Her stamina and heroic voice created an army of people intent on ending slavery.

I read several biographic articles this evening, and found the one on Wikipedia to be the most thorough and interesting and the best referenced:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sojourner_Truth

Sojourner Truth had been known as Belle (Isabella Baumfree), and, growing up in New York state, spoke only Dutch until approximately age 9. She chose her own name as an adult in her mid-forties.

It's very hard to look at the terrible things that were done to a young child, and that happened in her life as a young adult. Perhaps that's why I am drawn by her decision to name herself, an act of freedom to define herself as something more than the piece of property used by vicious owners. A beautiful action, and a most beautiful name.










No matter our schooling or experience, some days we have nothing to teach, only a tremendous amount to learn.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


shall we analyze every note,
or enjoy the songbird?

pick apart the threads
or dream beneath the blanket?

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

January, 2009


the moon was an awkward melody,
a single note strung
to a bit of ribbon
fluttering on the wind

Monday, April 19, 2010


To be effective in martial arts, when physically in motion, one must be still within. When physically still, one must be in motion within.

I think this is an old adage, and I don't know the source.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Liberty ship USS Jeremiah O'Brien:





Waves rise and crash.
Smell the salty paradox:
life and mortality.

Saturday, April 17, 2010


A great blue heron slowly sailed across Valencia a little after two this afternoon.
A pair of brown pelicans appeared at Seal Rock (thought the seals did not) A gull dropped its food from on high, a flock of cedar waxwings perched on 2nd Ave, a pair of starlings flapped in a puddle. House sparrows sang. A pair of pigeons led the way down the sidewalk. A couple of coots and mallards paddled about at the Cliff House. Canadian geese, mallards and a cormorant flew over Lake Temescal this morning.

Wasn't looking for birds today, but there they were in Oakland and San Francisco, living peaceably among humans.

Friday, April 16, 2010








South San Francisco

Thursday, April 15, 2010











The diversity of garden life in the Bay Area of California is phenomenal. My photos here are not that great, but they show a few specimans I haven't included before.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


Kamiak Butte is an isolated rocky elevation in southeastern Washington surrounded by low rolling wheat fields for miles around. It was quite a contrast to the tall, numerous Colorado Rocky Mountains near where I'd lived before.

It's hard to convey how very dear Kamiak became. It's always windy at the top, the trees gnarled and stunted by the harsh, arid conditions. Yet even at night, it seems bathed in a benevolent light. Because it's the only high point with no structures in view, you can see infinity from its shoulders. Kamiak holds its space in the middle of an unvaried agricultural landscape, a wild serenity.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


You’re in another country
and you’re at a party
and the language isn’t yours.
You know a few words
but really have to concentrate to hear if those words show up.
After awhile
your brain is exhausted trying to interpret the
talk talk talk.
You can go in the next room and lie down
or surrender and give up listening.
The party flows on fine without you.
You stop struggling.
You eat the party food and drink the party drink
and look at this guy’s blue shirt
or that gal’s funny hair
or how the house dog’s tail
gently sweeps the floor
in time to the music.
You start to feel better.
You’re riding the wave –
given up on understanding -
not getting a single word -
breathing in the big picture.

Monday, April 12, 2010



clover leaves
smell big -
school kids
miracle grow -
chimes sing
like waterfalls on fire -
bare feet
just brush brown earth -

Sunday, April 11, 2010



regarding opposing forces:

Taoists see the two sides of any apparent contradiction existing in an active harmony, opposed but connected and mutually controlling.

Richard E. Nisbett
The Geography of Thought: How Asians and Westerners Think Differently...and Why

Saturday, April 10, 2010


I'm in the beginning stage of sewing by hand a cover for my martial arts equipment. I love the feel of the coarse fabric under my fingers, the growing row of little stitches. There is something calming, centering about work with the hands. The rhythm of the activity, the concentration it requires helps us out of the circular thinking that can percolate under stress. When sanding a piece of unfinished furniture, shelling pecans or peeling potatoes - you know when your project is complete - and it feels satisfying! I've always thought that people who repair clocks, mend shoes, make or repair guitars were very fortunate in their lines of work. Work with the hands can take us from distraction to focus, stress to contentment.

Friday, April 9, 2010


Four grown mallards with five ducklings, a raven, a red-winged blackbird, a dove, and one robin joined us on the field near the lake for karate last Saturday - or maybe we were joining them on their home turf.

I think if we'd been truly fighting, they would have disappeared fast. Instead they hung around as though we were giant, talking egrets in motion, as though we were something a little different, but not intending any harm.

A pair of Canadian geese flew over Broadway after breakfast.

Thursday, April 8, 2010


empty of intention,
the threads weave about us in
miraculous ways.
would-be weavers
try their hands
pulling threads this way and that
when the threads were woven long ago.
can we change the plot of a book
already printed?
change the outcome of page 240
when living page 123?
oh yes
expand contract
expand contract
each breath a new expression,
a fluid expression,
the broadcloth of infinite re-creation

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


a tired tawny lion
sits in the parking lot
beneath the freeway
of my Monday morning dream
and in my waking mind
ever since

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


The blanket was warm and soft. I wanted to get up this morning and get some exercise, but my body was looking at the same old routine: the walk down the usual street to the usual park, and doing the usual thing. It wasn't budging. So I lay there a bit.

A different little park, not too far away, came to mind, and ping! I was up and getting sweat pants and hoody lined up on the bed. It felt great zipping down a different street as the sun was pulling itself over the sea of housetops.

Sometimes it helps to mix it up a little.

Monday, April 5, 2010


Let's play the game that our ages, teams, tattoos, races, sizes, languages, scars, religions, hair colors, street smarts, genders are only costumes we wear, and within those costumes is something gem-like, pure and true. The costumes are entertaining, but should we let them get in the way of connecting? Should we let them interfere with light-within-me meeting light-within-you?

Let's play ‘Namaste’.

Sunday, April 4, 2010


We can only do what we know is right, as best we can see.

My viewpoint won't be the same as yours. I'm a different age, in a different location. My life experience and training are different. My height, visual acuity, hearing, build and stamina are different. The people around me are different.

We can't expect a mouse, a giraffe, an owl and a flea to have the same understanding, say, about vegetarianism.

Look at me. I look at you. I hope you live your truth so I can learn from your perspective, and perhaps adjust my understanding.

Still. We can only do what we know is right, as best as we can see.

Saturday, April 3, 2010





Happy Easter!

Friday, April 2, 2010





Last night, I made a list of 30 acts I'd seen or experienced, trying to grasp what kinds of love cross one's path. Filling an empty pantry full of groceries for someone out of work. Friends making sure a lonely neighbor kid isn't left out. A person bringing a glass of water to his partner mowing the grass on a very hot day. A cat that curls up near a frightened child. A woman making a birthday cake for someone in an institution without friends or family. A woman caring for a chronically ill sister. Putting one's full intention into a back rub for another, or into the creation of a song. A busy cashier listening to a customer's conversation. A man taking a confused barefoot stranger at the door into his home, and washing his cut up feet.

One thing the acts have in common is sacrifice, small or large. A desire to offer up a moment or a year, one's sense of security, one's belongings. Some impulse or calculated risk for another. When the act feeds the giver as well as the receiver, I think the moment shifts into something larger, something surprising that connects those involved, some experience of light that transcends the feeling of sacrifice. That's love.

Thursday, April 1, 2010


I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.
George Washington Carver

This is the quote for the week in my desk calendar that was a gift from a friend.

According to Wikipedia, Carver had a traumatic infancy when he was stolen with his mother and sister from their owners, apparently to make money on their sale. George was recovered, but was never reunited with his mother, although slavery was abolished early in Carver's lifetime.

'Since black people were not allowed at the school in Diamond Grove, and he had received news that there was a school for black people ten miles (16 km) south in Neosho, he resolved to go there at once. To his dismay, when he reached the town, the school had been closed for the night. As he had nowhere to stay, he slept in a nearby barn. By his own account, the next morning he met a kind woman, Mariah Watkins, from whom he wished to rent a room. When he identified himself as "Carver's George," as he had done his whole life, she replied that from now on his name was "George Carver". George liked this lady very much, and her words, "You must learn all you can, then go back out into the world and give your learning back to the people", made a great impression on him.'

The words Watkins spoke seem to define Carver's subsequent life. He shared the wisdom of crop rotation with farmers, and found and shared many uses for peanuts, soybeans, sweet potatoes, and pecans, education regarding nutritious foods that was useful for everybody, but especially for those like he who had emerged from the impoverishment of slavery.

As I was creating this post, I read further down into the article and discovered the following:

'Carver never married or expressed interest in dating women, and rumors circulated about his sexuality at Tuskegee Institute while he was an employee...Late in his career, Carver established a life and research partnership with another male scientist—Austin W. Curtis, Jr... The two men kept details of their lives discreet, and as such historians know little about how these men understood their relationship. Nonetheless, the fact that Carver willed his assets to this man (consisting of royalties from an authorized biography by Rackham Holt) testifies to the importance of each other in their lives.'