April 2010, in Some Walnut Shells

Spring storms blow in rough and wild but cannot quench my blistered feet blazing around the verdant trails. Wind and rain, flowers and sun, this tree huggin' soil worshipper zims that vernal edge singing the body electric, feeling real Walt Whitman up in here, Leaves Of Grass, up in here.

"Buddhas do not wash away ill deeds with water, Nor remove transmigrators' sufferings with their hands, Nor transfer their realization to others. Beings are freed through teachings of the truth, the nature of things. --Buddha

Swam Donner Lake at 9:00 AM 4/26/10 for ~1 minute. Yes, there was snow on the beach. Immersion in cold water is some crazy stuff. I do believe I liked it. Then I learned to snowboard; loved it.

Used to wait for my favorite pet wild freshwater crab sitting on the shore of San Francisquito Creek. I did not know one could find crabs in freshwater until she scuttled by my favorite creekside basking spot, little blue devil with her home under rock. I hope her descendants scuttle there still.

Kids' art takes me places people plumb forgot existed, and beyond. My son convinced me to roll down a steep grassy hill in Tilden Park with him, the one between the botanical garden and the Brazilian Room. Had completely forgotten how dizzy that can make a person, but now it's the freshest, way. Daughter did it too, of course - 1st time's free.

Son says "I wouldn't want to live in a little bitty world, and have a little bitty life, because then you would be born and die in like five minutes." Might be good enough for Alan Jackson, but we're looking for that step up.

"Surrealism is not a school of poetry but a movement of liberation, a way of rediscovering the language of innocence, a renewal of the primordial pact, poetry is the basic text, the foundation of the human order. Surrealism is revolutionary because it is a return to the beginning of all beginnings." --Octavio Paz

Chthonic. Look it up. Jung laughs with us while Faust and Faunus smile vacant past unthinkable dreams, or are those memories? Reflections of reflections through looking glasses and shattered knives.

"This life disappears only very quickly Like something written in water with a stick." - Buddha.

Found daughter trying to figure out the cover to Cheap Thrills by Big Brother and The Holding Company, yes the real album cover from 1967. First it brought back memories of myself trying to figure that art out, then I went ahead and actually looked at it. It has to the funniest album cover of all time. Long live R. Crumb. About Janis on the back my daughter said "She's happy."

"There ain't no money in poetry. That's what sets the poet free...cold dog soup and rainbow pie is all it takes me get me by." --Guy Clark Windy

Winter night, edge of Tomales Bay: no tent, old bag, let breeze in strong through zipper. tickling chill woke me every 20 -minutes - I laughed and thanked lucky stars for wil...d gifts, turned over to more ochre dreams.

Feeling inspired for more night hikes after last full moon traipse in the howling cold wind & pouring rain. Have finally realized, with a little help from a extraordinarily visionary friend, that we do not have to wait for any weather, moonphase, or water temperature to arrive.

"May we have the confidence of joy and delight When food and wealth accumulated with miserliness are left behind And we separate forever from cherished and longed-for friends, Going alone to a perilous situation." -The First Panchen Lama

My First Song: Love Up The Dreams That Need Love

Title: Love Up The Dreams That Need Love

Got a righteous good feeling when I gaze at the sky
Light of saturn shines sweet on our smiles
dark green shadows with blue shades of night
Help me to sing out, "It's gonna be alright"

Dance, dance, dancing in downpours,
Skipping, laughing down every trail,
So alive, and so very willing,
To Love up the dreams that need love the most

Got a righteous good feeling when I smell salty water
Light of Neptune tastes salty on our lips,
dark green shallows with dark blue shades of the deep
Help me to sing out, "It's gonna be a great leap"

Dance, dance, dancing in downpours,
Skipping, laughing down every trail,
So alive and so very willing,
To Love up the dreams that need love the most

SO excited to live this good life

Yesterday I sailed for the 1st time. We left the Richmond Marina late morning and returned at sunset, gorgeous, giving, feeling, beyond previous experiences. The folks were friendsome and I was on point, maybe a little jacked up with the thrill of the saltwater and blue sky. Stopped at San Francisco Aquatic Park for lunch, realized a 10-year old dream of swimming there, delightful, delightful, cold, and salty. Dominique and Chris swam too, and we felt quite fab about it.

Just got home from the wildest full moon hike yet, and I have been leading them for years. Just one taker and I drove to the back entrance to Kennedy Grove Park in the blooming storm of the decade, disappeared into the shadows beneath the old trees, smelled the bay trees smelling bayish, brought the moss & ferns inside us, marveled at them, then turned ourselves inside out, the better to know the lonesome hill entire. Ineffable, ineffable, but still I feel the urge to try to describe this blessing based in mud and the windy woods at night.

A woodpecker, sounded like a big old flicker to me, tapped on a tree to let us know we had left El Sobrante proper and entered into a realm most humans will never know. The storm blew in hard, whipping the trees, tearing through the forest like a herd of elephant spirits, leaving branches akimbo. Abandoned the Black Oak Grove trail in favor of the more sheltered Upper Sea Foam trail, which led us to the Lake View Lookout, where the wind promptly blew my hat off and threatened to crush my taker's umbrella, but we endured, nay, even dove off the west side of the slope into the fierce cold wind, down Lower Seafoam trail. She pointed out cracks in the soil indicating major earth movement; I raised my eyebrows while feeling for the creep of the hill, got a little giddy, passed by the dripping bench. It got steep, the storm blowing in arrived in force, dropped giant drops on the steep trail in quantity, traction got low, my hat became porous, navigation got tricky. With the miracle of Goddess we made it down without falling, stopping every now and then just to listen to the sounds of the storm whipped woods at night. Words cannot describe, but these tears of gratitude must mean something. I feel good, blessed, like I have stepped into the light after a month in the dark, those foggy trail visions will circle my mind until the electricity fades from my eyes.

These two wonderful trips, in addition to the 11 bands, party at the gym, day hike, and birthday lunch more or less top off my birthday celebrating month, and yes, I have no shame, might even see Hank III tonight...

BE HERE NOW

love love @ 40

mmmmm...40-years today. feels unreal, and I still love my skateboard. ready to lope across the ridges, down into the greenest glens, wildly aware

Dharma Bummin' Hard

The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
I thought that I read this whole book long ago, but it turned out that I had read all but the last 20-pages or so, which were stunning and grand. The whole book seemed to be about me and a certain set of my friends at a certain time in our lives, which I think is part of it's genius. It helped that I knew most of the places he wrote about, made me have goosebumps more than once.



"During the night I had a vivid dream, one of the most distinct dreams I ever had, I clearly saw a crowded dirty smoky..."



From the mountain climbing to the hitchhiking to the suicides & orgies, Kerouac paints complex pictures of their idyllic lives that cyclically became painful. I like the way he tries to extricate himself from pursuing sex, and warmth, the whole time feeling a nagging desire for a little smooch in a heated bungalow, classic theme.



What I liked the most though, were the demonstrations of manifestation. Kerouac hears about stuff, gets excited, and is able to make or let the stuff happen, with a little help from his friends & family. Sometimes it's little stuff like food & booze & transportation, while other times it's life itself, fulfillment & bliss & loving friendship.



One night in a meditation vision Avalokitesvara the Hearer and Answerer of Prayer said to me "You are empowered to remind people that they are utterly free" so I laid my hand on myself to remind myself first and then felt gay, yelled "Ta," opened my eyes, and a shooting star shot.


View all my reviews.

Snake!

Siobahn's heel came within about an inch of the tail of this precious baby rattlesnake in Kennedy Grove Regional Recreation Area, about five minutes from my house. It lay right in the main walking part of a fairly well used trail, apparently digesting a recent rodent snack. I grabbed a stick and proceeded to convince the snake that the bushes off the trail were a better spot to hang out. Mr. Rattlesnake's response was to quickly coil up and begin to rattle. As soon as my boy heard that rattle rattle he dropped Siobahn's hand and lit out as fast as ever I've heard him run (I wasn't about to take my eyes off that snake!). The snake uncoiled and slithered snakily away, with a pattern and motion that would send shivers down the backs of innocent men, if such a phenomenon were to exist.

Oddly enough, my dad also saw a rattlesnake that day, near Sonora, while riding the Sierra Century (12,000' of climbing, go Pops!). His was a big old thing, four feet or so, while ours was but a ~15" babe, with a wee little baby tongue that tasted the air for what seemed like very long times. Omens & auspices, snakes & eagles, I lead a goddess blessed charmed miracle life wonderful beyond my wildest dreams. One afternoon I watched a rainbow from the pool. A few nights later bats gave a stunning performance above the pool with a magnificent crescent sinking through the pines, wheelies on motorcycles, swimming from Alcatraz to San Francisco, life feels me caressing.

Me, Walking Up A Hill, Away From the Fire

The boy impressed and touched me with this one. According to him the drawing depicts me walking up a hill with the assistance of a walking stick and a helper dragon fly, away from a hot fire. I love dragonflies, love fatherhood, love fire, love love, so stoked. At first I thought it was a cane in my hand, which made me feel a little funny since I don't use a cane, but then he explained that he only added the walking stick to memorialize the time we tried to walk up a hill too steep to climb. Stick or no stick, that hill proved too steep and slippery, so we just kept sliding down to the bottom on all the leaves, a memorable experience for all. You never know how steep is too steep until you try, true for walking, biking, and driving, smoldering fun.

Wild Artichokes In My Blood

Add "wild" to a word and right away it appeals to me more. Got this pu-ehr tea made from old-growth, semi-wild tea trees. It steeps up dark as coffee and feeds my wild side bold, which roams the wilderness around my home with garrelous gusto, night or day, moon or stars, clouds or rain, wild-eyed and open to new trails that require crawling and bloody sacrifice. You can see my house in the lower right quadrant of the photo. Photo taken looking northeast.

Hiking at Dusk

The boy and I got to enjoy some of the exquisite wonders of dusk hiking over the Labor Day weekend. Twice we ventured out a little before sunset and returned well after dark. The last rays of the sun shining on Mt. Diablo looked absolutely heavenly, and the tranformations of the woods around us in the later stages of the deepening gloom seemed ever new. On one of the nights we had left without a flashlight, and twice I had suggested that we turn back, but Gumbo kept pushing to go further, so on we went. Then we came to a section of dense oak trees that made the vanishing light all the more apparent. There, a particular tree caught the boy's eye, "Whoa, that's weird, look at that!" he exclaimed, referring to two trees growing out of one stump. "That's not right" he continued. We checked it out together for a minute, and I assured him that the treee was not so unusual, but did not manage to fully convince him. He responded with "I think it's best we head back now". Coming back in the dark, the last orangeness fading into the bay, the thistles were more difficult to avoid, so we each got spined majorly. Since then he always calls it "the Prickly Woods", a name that seems to be sticking. Sweet times up on that wild hill, so glad we live so close to nature.

San Diego and Back, Full Moon Style

We survived yet another harrowing journey into California's bastion of conservatism known as Southern California, San Diego to be semi-exact, Scripps Ranch to be overly exact. Temperatures ranged up to 105 F going down and coming up. I recall rolling down all the windows at a rest stop and saying "Here's what 105 degrees feels like kids, check it out." Weather like that seems to wilt everyone, and to make some angry. I saw a homeless guy hanging out under the sparse shade of some tiny tree in Oceanside, mountain bike parked nearby, looking about ready to kill the next suit in a luxury SUV that gave him an awkward eye. The kids took it well and the sunset coming home, viewed from the west side of the Altamont pass, near all the windmills, was spectaclar and very red.

Later last night, back at our shack, the full moon shone with unreal lustre and temperatures remained in the seventies. I contemplated what a full moon hike would have been like as I unpacked the luxury SUV. Just then, little Gumbo says, "But, don't you want to go for a walk?" The little freak must have read my mind, or maybe we just think alike, but I couldn't say that I didn't. We had a nice little hike that included a lovely stare down session with a sizable buck that quivered and whose eyes and nose glistened in the brilliant moonshine. Sure feels nice to have a moon-loving son like Gumbo.

Full Moon Hike No.1 A Success

Made good on my plan to hike the hills under the light of the full moon. Big halo. Amazing light through the trees. Warm California winter night. Laughter. Tree climbing. Only two people fell in the mud, that I know of. Turned out that we only hiked for about an hour, but indelible memories care not for minutes and hours. Of course, having led one moonlit group to the brink of insanity and hopelessness without great bodily injury, the myriad plans of the power mad now harangue me with fury. Mmmmmm...night bike ride to Lake Anza for swimming, wait for the heat.