I Love that Tree...Let's Kill it !

This past weekend we finally dismantled the final, dead, piece of the Rhododendron tree in our side yard. This was the tree that flowered in all its glory for 2 weeks a year, as a huge living impressionist painting, a staple of our lives.

Recently, it was just a tree, and we noticed its declining color and health matter-of- factly, coldly viewing it as a nuisance, an obstacle to the spreader each time I fertilized. But I remember when.....

Originally our side yard was such an overgrown wilderness, that we had no idea that the tree existed. After we blazed a trail with our machetes, chain saws and Miller High Life, using more chutzbah than expertise, this pink and white giant dominated the landscape. We used the lower branch as a swing for Kris and Kaila, as endless numbers of film store developed pictures can attest. When Kris and Kaila got older, they used it as a swing for the younger  neighborhood kids, and the tree's legacy grew.

Over the past 10 years,  more and more of the tree died, but since the girls were out of the house, it carried little emotional meaning. This past weekend, the final death march was performed.

The tree came down quite easily, as the branches and trunk were brittle, void of life as the saw buzzed through  its minor girth,  my shaking arms offering more resistance than the tree itself. After much ado about cutting and cracking and creaking and pulling,  the site of so many years of life, laughter, joy, remembrance,  and nostalgia, consisted of a large hole, and a somewhat resistant root. I, in the role of executioner, and wielding an ax long dormant in our shed, was ready.

But alas, this was a labor of love, like burying an old friend. Ironically, this friend was not being interred in the earth, but freed from it. The final result was a perfectly neat, fairly level circle of grass and top soil, ready to sprout and be green, with no sign of the beautiful, living treasure that enriched our lives and was a unique part of our early family.

As we learn each Spring, and with the passing of loved ones, life moves on, and we get back to our normal routine, our regular loves, fears and passions. Those no longer with us will forever inspire us, guide us, define us, comfort us, but we march forth to the next challenge, living, creating and embracing life. That's just what humans do.

Keep the faith and spread the love y'all !

The Car Wash and the Horror it Brings

Linda and I went to the car wash the other day for the "early bird special", as we are seniors and have been conditioned by our visits to AZ. As the car rolled through the machinery of the car wash, on the propelling rails, through the bands and the brushes and the sprays, I came to a startling realization: A person from an indigenous, isolated tribe in Borneo would view this futuristic, buzzing metal machine as a god or monster as it rolled through this droning, mechanized tube.

How silly, we would all think, that this primitive group of leaf wearing hut dwellers would be mesmerized and horrified  by something we take for granted. This same tribe of hunter/gatherers from an era past, probably eat flying beetles the size of a small bird that, no doubt, would scare the bejeezus out of all of us. Most likely they consider them gods, raise them as pets, and consume them in ritual acts for religious and nutritional purposes. Pick your poison, pick your horror.

Speaking of sheer terror, it certainly has been humid, and boy am I afraid of mildew. Yep, that's what magically materializes in the basement when it is hot and muggy and you don't turn on the air conditioner, dehumidifier, or nuclear reactor imported from Iran. I am starting to understand why the Borneo tribe opted out of the suburbs.

Basil Update: 2 lovely basil plants are in, collecting sun and sharing their earth with Tomatoes (2) and Jalapeno and Parsley. More plants to come. The grass is healthy, and nurturing the collection of infant seeds we have planted, overseen by the Cypress, that we are coaxing toward health and greenery.

As my Borneo brothers say, Y'all keep the faith !

Time: shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Yes that lyric from the Pink Floyd song Time, sounds very morbid, but it is as accurate as a clock, not good, not bad, just real. It does make you think about a few things though. Like "how do I want to spend these next 24 hours". Or "what should I accomplish in the next year ?" John Lennon poignantly wrote "life is what happens to you, while you're busy making other plans". Aha the plan !

So you may not realize this, but you are a planner. Many of you will object, and rightfully so, that you are not sufficiently organized to plan, or don't have the proper time or money to plan, or maturity (that's my excuse) to know how to plan. But you are wrong ! Unless you are an infant, or a homeless person, or an addict you definitely plan. And I am sure many homeless people and addicts plan too, but just sayin'....... Your  planning may be what subway you will take next, or what restaurant  you will go to on Saturday, or what laundry you will visit Friday night, or what channel you will next flip to.  But you plan, and when you do, you are paying homage to the gods (lower case, people, Tea Party stay out of this !) of time.

Time is not infinite. Oops I am fibbing, time is infinite. A second is infinite, depending on how many times you want to slice it. YOUR time is not infinite, our planet's time is not infinite, so Earth, use it wisely. Bruce Lee, perhaps our greatest martial artist, and a part-time  scholar and philosopher, described time's impermanence and value perfectly. He said that our lives are like hour-glasses, and when the sands of the hourglass go from the top to the bottom, they can never be reversed. There is a finite amount of sand, and a finite amount of life.

Make sure you use your life wisely.

Does this mean that each moment of our life must be staged, planned, put in a spreadsheet, approved by the Pope, and posted on social media?  Of course not. the greatest moments of life are unplanned, spontaneous, and hopefully don't result in incarceration. There are many philosophies on how to avoid  being  the person who regrets the fact that the sand has run out and you have still not changed out of your pajamas. Unfortunately, or fortunately, we live in a world, country and sensibility where "time is money". "Ya, you sit on zee couch for sirty minutes, und you pay me zee fee, ein hundert dollarz" Money dictates that you have to spend a certain amount of your finite life working, becoming educated, making out your taxes, and maintaining your house. Culture, your ego, and your peers have decreed that you must spend a portion of your hour-glass contents going to the gym, putting on makeup, and getting a tattoo.

So do we create a "Time Budget" ?  I will spend 50 hours a week working, 10 hours running , 7 hours watching TV, 3 hours at the bar/restaurant, 3 hours developing my creative side, and 2 hours per week on spirituality (not spirits, that was the bar time, no double dipping !).

Or do we create the "10 Commandments of time"? (showing only 4 due to short attention span)

1.  I will never plan my life out longer than 6 months because the chaos theories of Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park makes those plans too risky.
2.  I will never spend more than 1 hour trying to figure out how to cut my commute by ten minutes.
3.  I will never spend more than 2 hours waiting to play 40 minutes of racquetball.
4. I will spend 10 days or more waiting on line to get front row tickets to see (insert your favorite singer, athlete, origami folder or queen bee for drones)

You get the idea.

Simply put, take heed of  Adam Duritz's advice "You don't want to waste your life".

Basil Update: home depot had very few plants so we did not make any purchases this weekend. The grass is getting greener, literally and figuratively, so we are excited about the planting season.

Keep The Faith (whatever yours is ) !

It's a perfectly rainy day

"OMG another rainy day, what ever shall we do ?" This is the familiar refrain in March/April/May when we might as well presume precipitation in New York. And I understand the possible vitamin D factor (no sun, no fun, where's my gun!), but I still sometimes question what all the fuss is about.

Yes of course rain can be downright dangerous when it reaches biblical proportions like when Irena and Sandy and Noah's ark all occurred. But when it's a shower, or gentle summer rain it can be downright poetic and contemplative. And what of the rain in Hawaii that comes each day for 20 minutes, waters the palm trees, spritzes the odoriferous homeless people, then gives way to sunny blue skies. Now that's the optimum situation, often referred to as "God's sprinkler system" (lie). And, of course, in areas of drought, like current Cali, rain gives life, restores order, saves money and reduces alcohol consumption borne of "nothing else to drink dude ! "

When the whole world reacts in the extreme, where do we look for reasonable, sound, moderate thinking ? To Rock and Roll ! That's why rock and rollers love rain, or at least have learned to coexist with it, writing some amazing songs in tribute to its relevance. Linda's favorite "November Rain" by GNR, the Temptations' "I wish it would rain", and, reverently, the Who's "Rain o'er me" from Quadraphenia. CCR boasts 2 classics, "Have you ever seen the rain" and "Who'll stop the rain". The answers to those questions are "yes more and more" and "nobody", so we better learn to appreciate rain and live with it.

Basil Update: I have a sense that the ground is fertile, especially given the fertility dance that I have been performing of late in full headdress constructed of empty Coors Light cans. Early May we will hold auditions for aspiring basil, parsley, pepper and tomato plants (at Home Depot garden center) and select the most impressive. In this endeavor, the rain is our partner.

This Just In: Keep the Faith y'all !

That's not me- is this identity theft?

Biking in the preserve the other day I concluded that biking changes who I am. Of course, all of our thoughts and beliefs, and especially our actions, contribute to make us the person we are. But certain things, biking for me, has such a big impact that I can make the bold statement: Biking changes my DNA ! I  understand that the millions and billions (pronounced milly-unz and billy-unz in honor of Carl Sagan) of my readers may say, "you have no scientific proof of this " ! , and they would be right. So you will either have to take this as unqualified reality based on faith, or conclude that I am a mindless twit. Your choice.

To further support my claim, please see the George Sheehan classic work "Running and Being", in which Dr. Sheehan more or less steals my theory stated above and runs with it, making lots of money and quite a reputation for himself. The fact that Sheehan wrote his book in the early 70's, long before I  had yet mastered multiplication tables is a minor point but should be noted. Sheehan observes that becoming a runner does provide  some people with a feeling of inclusion, as they are now part of the running "culture",  more easily finding their place or niche in the larger world. This new found acceptance is NOT what running provided for Sheehan, nor what changed him. It was exactly the opposite.  He found that the long periods of solitude, while exerting himself to the maximum, struggling with his ego and at times his own laziness, began to mold and change him.

Whether it is yoga, walking, running, biking, meditation, quilting, woodwork, blender drinks or coin collecting- be thankful you have a passion and do it - as often as possible. I personally prefer sports and other endeavors that make you sweat, as it reduces the effect of the Guinness Waistline Syndrome, but that is up to you.  As Joseph Campbell has taught us "follow your bliss !"

Garden Report- tomatoes were the veggy/fruit of choice this year, and they are still ripening on the vine. Basil withered mid summer due to its large parsley plant neighbor that horded all the sun. I gave both of them a stern "can't we all all just get along?" talking to.

Until next week/month/year/decade, Keep the Faith !

If You Can't Find it, Blame the Terrorists

At the risk of evil blog stalkers gaining this information, I feel compelled to raise the world's awareness. Imagine this scenario: 2 minutes left in the Super Bowl, Eli Manning driving the Giants down the field for the win, when suddenly attendees and viewers alike hear an audible pop, then nothing. The teams  are gone, the fans are gone, the stadium's gone. Huh ? Sounds like a David Copperfield stunt right ? I have information from unnamed and possibly nonexistent sources that terror organizations are enlisting the most talented magicians to plan diabolical events as just mentioned. Think of the damage to our country's spirit, should the  Pope or President suddenly disappear while giving a televised speech. The TV camera zooms in to the podium, where a single bowl of Chile or power ranger action figure now fields questions from the press. The question from Homeland Security would obviously be "where are these leaders, football teams and stadiums going?" I am beginning to ask the same question about this post. Some of my readers will say, "this could never happen", but in the words of Mad Eye Moody, "Constant Vigilance !".

The Higher Selfie: much has been written over the years in spiritual and religious texts about the "Self". This is not to be confused with the "self" or , for that matter, the "shelf", which is where many of these texts sit at the library, and where flammable and poisonous liquids reside in my garage. But the "Self", in eastern religions such as buddhism, represents the transcendent nature of each of us,
which seeks knowledge and enlightenment, similar to the "soul" of  Christianity and other religions. A worrisome campaign has been started by liberal groups, to re-invent this concept in the sacred texts, replacing the "Self" with the "Selfie". Conservative political  affiliates have stated that newly released manuscripts from the White House shredders  implicate President Obama as an accomplice in this project. According to tea party members currently incarcerated for vague IRS infractions, Obama's team has tainted classic texts such as the Upanishads, Rig Veda and Bhagavad Gita by inserting selfies of celebrities such as. Red Sox slugger Big Papi, Martha Stewart, Lady Gaga and Boy George where previously the Sanskrit term for "Self"  appeared.  Religious scholars and clergy alike are aghast at this high-tech sacrilege. The Dalai Lama himself was quoted as saying: "There in nothing but Self, as the Self is the unknown, and the Selfie looks best on an I-Phone". Rumors have persisted for years that the Dalai had a dalliance with Steve Jobs and ever since remains steadfastly loyal to Apple.

But on a serious note: 
I apologize for the above omission, but I have nothing of a serious nature to report.

Keep the Faith (and grow the Basil)  !

The End of the World

Yes it is true, you may say, that the end of the world is as likely as me kick-starting that rusted out, neglected old blog machine again. This past Sunday was sunny and warm and I was in the mood for creating some good old gumption. And nothing , Robert Pirsig often said, creates gumption better than cleaning up, and sorting, and creating order. For those uninitiated, who have not read "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance", gumption is defined as a positive, confident, energy that that allows and encourages you to believe that all things are possible. So lo and behold, after cleaning the shed of the following:

1. A pile of grass seed created by the mouse in residence munching on a bag of Scott's sun and shade seed
2. 25% of the wire (lamp, speaker,monster cable) from a rent lawn bag
3. Old drop cloths, that were older sheets and blankets
4. A variety of items that needed rearranging, repositioning,sweeping or to be transported to the garage

I  was filled with gumption at the sight of the clean, orderly space that now consisted of, well, open space. I thought the job was done, but a strange, subtle curiosity behind my eyes nudged me forward to move a piece of stockade fence to the side.....and there it was. The blog machine.. dirty, rusty,all but shouting "I will not start". I felt my gumption waning, and realized I had perhaps one last moment of action remaining. I quickly pulled the cord, nothing, then again...more promising, and again....and IT ROARED.


Thus, here we are. The blogging season has begun.