With early morning solo practice, the setting looks pretty peaceful, but sometimes it's a crabby, choppy, messy piece of work where I don't know what I'm doing or why exactly I'm out there and can't balance on one foot or remember where to begin. I laugh, or grumble. My body doesn't want to do forms. It does things that feel clunky and I tromp around with my pant cuffs soggy with dew. I want to keep showing up, so I give myself lots of permission to do what feels easiest, to be goofy or stand still or walk slowly, rewarding myself just for being there at all. The practice falls together, almost every time, from the clumsy wrestling with myself back eventually to formal movements, to some kind of synchrony of body mind sky seagulls tennis balls people cars dandelions trains and falling leaves, the cosmic wheels oiled and turning in softened symphony...

constellation
Bright Hearts Burning
self-consuming

in the broadcast of story
that may reach, or not,
some infinitesimal destination

some lonely planet
circling some lonely average star
long after the blazing Hearts

go still and dissipate
into contemplative clouds
of gases and ashes

that spark birth of the new
from their rich material;
that offer wonder

to the very distant
from the script
of their ancient light

We are the leaves of one branch,
the drops of one sea,
the flowers of one garden.

Jean Baptiste Henri Lacordaire

I guess I'm preparing for the new year by loving the old. This is only one slender thread from my year, that interweaves with all the rest.

During the few months I’ve lived in East Bay, (and in San Francisco too), I’ve experienced puzzling situations. I thought they somehow had to do with martial arts, but I couldn’t really figure it out. I seemed to receive love from strangers for no clear reason, and I seemed to receive direct anger from strangers for unknown reasons. I received punishment, pranks, and odd, sometimes beautiful, expressions of thanks or support. Burned food, bug spray, chicken bones, white trash, incense, chimes, broken glass, flowers, duct tape, hugs, silver baubles, warnings of a sad and early demise or maiming or deliberate car accident or rape. Staged kissing scenes, crazy monologues, people eating in 'the neutral zone', being nudged toward and away from certain colors and decisions about work and residence. Facebook and Youtube art, music, cartoons were funneled my way. Teased about being a ‘cougar’, a ‘fag hag’, nun-like as my life ironically is. And I was aware of tension and division, of well-defined factions. There was a set-up martial arts game going on I figured out, but it seemed to involve a lot of people and territory, and some aspects seemed very genuine, like something else was going on. Teachers who I assumed knew all about the game seemed genuinely puzzled by some of the stuff I told them. So I was confused. Being human, I suffered through some of the hostile stuff, and was quite afraid at times. I was suspicious of the appreciation, and at times ate it up.

The worst part was that sharing these experiences with outside friends and family and martial arts people was met with general supportiveness but doubt, and sometimes open questioning about whether I’d gone crazy or paranoid being alone too long, or doing too much of this active meditation stuff. I debated that myself. What I was talking about was strange indeed. People silently following me, getting in my space at libraries, stores, sidewalks. Giving me star treatment, or no service at all. I became more isolated, having something so big going on with no one else who seemed to see it.

Saturday, in the middle of another painful setup, I managed to throw out a few questions, seeking to understand why this person I’d just met was behaving so bizarrely. And why was I treated so badly at some groceries and shops? I broke through the facade enough to learn two key terms: AIDS and Oscar Grant.

(Oscar Grant was an unarmed Oakland resident who was shot and killed on the public transit by a policeman almost exactly a year ago, before I arrived in California.)

Both of these, according to this man, are issues that are very alive, that divide the Bay Area community and its businesses in a big way, along ethnic lines, gay hostile/gay friendly, police hostile/police friendly, and religous practices.

It hasn't been all about me, but about the community. These pieces of information helped validate that my experiences have not been imagined, though how they may weave with the martial arts relationships, and why I'm involved, is still guesswork.

These situations have disoriented me, put me into hiding at times, contributed (along with ordinary human problems I have like anyone else) to the see-sawing of my art and mood. AIDS and police concerns and the division of communities-- I suspect a lot of people here are far more stressed than I.

This year has been a trip. There are a lot of touching, funny, and amazing stories. The tenacity of imaginative assumptions about divorced women has surprised me. Teasing out game from reality has been challenging. There's real life tension in this community like I've never experienced before, along with people who seem genuinely tired of dissension and working toward peace. Every day is a prayer. Life is full and beautiful with fantastic mystery and intersections. I try to be true to who I am and what I want and the people in my life. I try to keep a clear and present mind.

You wouldn’t think photos of plants could be offensive, but the ones I posted last night seem pretty garish this morning.

Some people are playing a game with me, and it seems I’m the only one who doesn’t know the rules, or even who the players are, much less the referees. I got pinched pretty hard yesterday, and the pictures I posted don’t look very different from what I received.

Some people do have a role in life to be offensive, and it can be a powerful, even beautiful, role. But it’s not mine. I don’t want to play any more. I’m opting out before I get in the habit of being someone I don’t want to be, before I become uncaring. I do care, but I'm tired.

I'm thankful for all the beautiful moments, and even some of the harsh ones. People have bravely shared their joys and their hurts with me. I have experienced some amazing things, and I am the richer for it.

Now, if I can only find where the game board ends, and the everyday world begins...

carniverous plants:












What people perceive as cruelty
is often the matter-of-fact
mechanics of survival on the planet.
Yet humans and other creatures,
sometimes consciously, sometimes impulsively,
neutralize the uglier facts of life
and (as though there were
a Great Benevolence,
a flow more powerful
than the need to eat)
the lion does sit with the lamb.

To be born in a barn
sounds quite poor
but maybe the air was fresh and clean
and the straw smelled sweet
and the sound of the donkey crunching hay
was soothing.
Maybe the stars carpeted the sky with light...

This pic was taken spring before last in New Orleans: 3 Light Bulbs.

from The Solstice Song (@2002)

The day is short. The night is long.
The fire's glowing gold
as though we coaxed the sun to burn
within this ring of stone.

Orion straddles a moonlit street
winter at his heels.
A fence with garlands of tiny lights
defeats the dark with cheer.

solstice

cosmic
clockwork-
celestial
prose
and poetry-
mechanics
and magic-
darkness
and delight-
elegant waltz
of one planet
around its burning star-

i will soon be asleep
in a space private and warm.
i wish the guy
selling last month's papers
outside the grocery store
could say the same.
he's not resentful
nor hardened
but gentle without artifice
and a bit bewildered.
how did I get here?
he must wonder.
he tries to assure me though
he's ok
he has two blankets
to sleep between.
Have a good Christmas
he says as i walk away.

(My sister drew this when she was a girl.)



"Not so much like esp, but like intersections sometimes. Tonight, I was thinking what will I get my sister for Christmas, and ‘fun socks’ came to mind, and I googled that, and went to one site, and was surprised to see all the funny designs and thigh socks that come up over the knees, saw nothing she might like, and abruptly went to a photoblog I check regularly, though not usually first in photoblog linr, and there was a photo of a clothesline in Italy with what looked to be thigh socks.

Then, just now, I sat playing scrabble, listening to a radio program, and I was thinking of using some letter combination, and thought that’s probably not a word, just one I made up, and the guy on the radio said ‘a word I just made up’"

After typing the above, which I haven't edited, I checked email, and saw notice of George's comment about his synchronicity with last night's photo of a man's hand on a saw.

The timing of his comment with what I'd been writing about was another synchronicity.

Like thought tag, back and forth, back and forth between brain and other people or the physical surroundings, or like catching a wave...

I wrote to Jen Gray (the photographer of the Italian socks) a few years back when I walked into the house in Texas having just wrestled with a burrowing tortoise, and saw she had just posted something on a turtle she'd seen--in Illinois, I think. It was experiencing synchronicity through photoblogs that got me paying attention to ESP--phenomena I feel confident involve a logical process of physics we don't fully grasp yet.

Jen Gray

detail from a mural near The Starry Plough on Shattuck, in Oakland/Berkeley:

I captured this picture tonight. I call it California Christmas Tree. Why not.

The street I walked on this afternoon
wasn't quite like this
but wasn't that different, either.
I'd just asked a fellow on the sidewalk
if he knew where Powell was
and he said Powell?
it was, oh, way over in Emoryville!
and he waved- way over there
and he gave me three bus numbers
and where to make the exchanges
he had beautiful eyes
and one gold tooth
and I thanked him very politely
and the pedestrian light flashed on
and I crossed the street we stood by
and on the other side
the street sign now read Powell
and there was an office window
that read Emoryville
in ornate letters
and the air smelled cool
different
like i was breathing
very high in the sky
or roses with no scent
peaceful and happy all at once
and the people walking by
who were frowning
we were breathing the same air
It took a lot of effort
for my legs to move this morning to the park
but this afternoon
it was as though my feet weren't even on the pavement
and I don't know why

Happy Hanukkah!

I looked up Hanukkah on Wiki, to see what I could learn. Lots of interesting info, images of menorahs, latkes and dreidels, but the little fact that got my attention was the role of the shamash, the candle that's used to light the 8 main candles of the menorah. Shamash means servant, or guard, in Hebrew. By using a shamash, the eight other candles can be dedicated to honoring Hanukkah only. I looked for more information on the shamash, and came upon instead information on Shamash the sun god and god of justice for ancient Assyrians and Babylonians. Hammurabi is said to have given Shamash, the child of the moon god, the credit for the code of laws he created. In reading about Shamash, I came upon Shapash, the Canaanites' version of Shamash, only female. Both were considered the torch of the gods, illuminating truths.

Rain came down today, clouds sealing off the sky, but the sun broke through for just a bit in the mid-afternoon, abruptly illuminating the raindrops dangling from leaves and clinging to the window glass into hundreds of diamonds, dazzling prisms, a joyful sight that lasted for a moment.

from a dream night before last -

in a house with no walls
see the morning hills
stretched out like waves
partly lit
by the rising sun
the air bright mist

a chipped egg in one hand
the shell
light like a breath
peer into the crack
and see white, white
nothing else?
but listen -
look again
two tiny chicks!
funny things
of flint and weight
like a ray of light

a day passes
another egg in hand
ah- precious
twins again
wobbly, unfocused,
restless,
ready-
set us down!
-to live

The bowhead whale has a life span of over 200 years, longer than any other mammal. They sing love songs to attract mates, and it's unclear whether males, females or both do the singing. The bowhead whale can sing with two voices at a time (perhaps creating solo harmonies and solo countermelodies!). And for each year, each mating season, they change it up a bit, create a new song to intrigue and beckon the new mate.

University of Copenhagen (2009, August 3). Love Songs Of Bowhead Whales: Whales Sings With 'More Than One Voice'. ScienceDaily.

martial arts
in the frost
merging galaxies online
giant black holes
born of collapsing superstars

I'm frittering
they say
frittering
my morning and life away
my odd ways draw disdain...
from me.
11 months.
what have I done?

and then
in writing, flow,
I'm writing with my boh in the park.
On the laptop screen
I see again and again
one galaxy flows through another.
I'm living the mystery
the beautiful work
I'm meant to do
the puzzle becomes an answer
no longer a question.
I get distracted
by other's expectations, and even my own.
Don't distract me from my boh!
Don't distract me from the web links
the merging galaxies
the fusing consciousness
is there anything more powerful
than a human intent as a lion
focused on its prey?
intent as a she-bear
protecting her young?
intent as a race horse
aimed at the finish?
is there anything
more powerful than love?
i know what my work is.
Two points make a line:
the immediate goal
and the one beyond...

Even the thorns of a rose fascinate us-

Some people argue that computer games are a waste of time. I would agree that they certainly can become addictive. However, my experience has been that they can also help me exercise my brain, clarify my thinking, and sometimes teach my brain new ways to process information. Ironically, time spent with the computer, like with a good novel, can help me understand life off the computer screen.

Another benefit is that game playing can broaden skills and comfort with using new applications. These skills can transfer to work and research related situations.

I was just visiting a site I like called Galaxy Zoo . Volunteers are invited to contribute data toward strengthening computer capabilities to distinguish different types of galaxies and features within galaxies, something the site claims humans still do better than computers. So, instead of playing a solitary game of sudoku, I spend ten minutes looking at images of galaxies, and helping out our understanding of the universe by providing feedback. For example, I answer questions that can help determine whether the photo is likely that of a spiral galaxy or a globular cluster.

Right away, he gently removed the broken pane and replaced it with another.

She is taking care of the old beat up piano, polishing the wood to a high shine.

She took in the abandoned cat and the abandoned dog.

He hid potatoes for her under the whole wheat toast.

She brought food for the bed-ridden, left dried corn for the injured deer.

He mailed her some two-dollar bills to make up for the ones that had been stolen.

He let the confused stranger into his home, and washed his scraped-up feet.

She replaced the flip-flops the dog had chewed up.

They took in another's children.

She gave tea leaves to the woman who was dispirited, made a hot drink for the boy with the bad cough.

He gave the man in pajamas whose house just burned down a pair of his own jeans.

People want to repair what's been broken; they want to make things right.

what the human heart needs
is a lullaby
it'll be ok, baby
it'll be alright, child

what the wounded world needs
is a lullaby
it'll be ok, baby
it'll be alright

a voice
slow and steady
gentle and calm
a ship sailing swiftly
out of the storm
it'll be ok, baby
it'll be alright, child

my brain freezes up
I am amazed
grab an organic Fuji apple
from the forbidden produce section
please, teach me some more!

i'd never met her
yet she hunched her shoulder between us
as though we were enemies.

i walked away.
along the sidewalk
the wind shifted

spiky red blooms
shimmered in the fragile fragmentation
of noonday sunlight,

a dancing spectrum of blessings
for those who break,
and for those who would repair
that which has been broken.

These are some of the first images I took with the Sony DSC T-90 I got in July, just as I moved to Oakland. The camera was either stolen or lost a couple weeks ago. That camera was a very lovely work of ingenuity and elegance. So slim and tiny to have so many marvelous capabilities. I was very attached; we had quite a passionate collaboration that camera and me!

Well, the replacement, the Sony DSC W-290, is finally here, no touchscreen, but less expensive, and a slightly more powerful lense. I haven't got much enthusiasm yet. I have to grieve the passing of the old before embracing the new, I guess, and that's what I'm doing tonight. The good news is, I should be posting some fresh images in the next few days.

In respect for the victims of the train bomb in Russia yesterday, I've removed the poem I posted prior to learning about the tragedy. The families and the citizens of Russia have my prayers and synpathy.

on thanksgiving eve
the bright blue air

one crow passes
a morsel to another

as they wing above
the undulating street and houses

in sharing food
a sacramental sky

So, yes, there is water on the moon. According to the article from space.com cited below, there are two possible sources for the water. One is that it is carried by comets. The other is that it is created on the moon through an ongoing process. The solar wind consists of positively charged hydrogen atoms. The wind, at one third the speed of light, (very fast), slams into the moon with great force, breaking up the molecules of the soil, freeing up oxygen. Hydrogen meets oxygen and, abracadabra, there is H2O. The tangible outcome of sun meets moon is water.

"It's Official: Water Found on the Moon"
By Andrea Thompson
Senior Writer
space.com
posted: 23 September 2009

A circle of crows or ravens
ganged up on one of their own this morning
among frosted leaves near the baseball diamond's home plate;
the victim was screaming and struggling beneath their pecking.
My approach interfered with the attack.
They flapped and collected in bare branches above,
gazing balefully at me.
I thought it was over food
but when I examined the spot in the dust,
no evidence at all.

the air grey silk,
the world in infinite pause,
peace flowing through fingers and limbs,
the autumn tree radiates warmth,
no doubt it has a heart,
a seagull arches in the sky,
a man and dog walk by

stragglers cling to twigs
but bold sky shoves through -
fall giving way, giving way

A whisper can be quite effective.
Soften, and be strong.

write
and delete
write
and delete
write
and delete
write
and delete