Desire

DSC_0322, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

I don't know this man, but I saw him running and he was one of the few that was completely lost in his world of running...his world of desire, his moment in time...The kind of person you want to know what the story is...He's kinda like a wizard it think and I hope i see him somewhere around Boulder.

I loved watching this race because there were 53,000 people with the same goal...to run, walk, jog, whatever it might be, and finish a 6 mile journey...the desire to do something..to be a part of some collective energy towards a single moment and goal and to share it with a ton of other people...and the interesting thing that I noticed is at any given moment you could search the body language and the eyes of the thousands of people running by and pick out their moment of desire or their thought process...they had reached their particular moment of triumph, possibly running faster than they had planned or accomplishing something they never thought possible..or their joy in being a part of the huge procession...

The desire that drives us onward and forward, through the tough times and the joyful times, the desire to be alive and have fun, to test ourselves and push our minds and bodies to places that we might not have realized they could go. I think for some this is more of a daily practice and for others it is a very difficult practice. I know for me, I am pretty good at testing myself physically, but I need to continue to practice the mind side of testing, and pushing, and challenging...more reading, more curiosity, more knowledge, more questions, more writing, more listening....

After college I really felt the reality of our plight as people...it is easy to not challenge our mind because we are not "forced" to....remembering the times in college when I was so stimulated by learning was an exciting time. I am constantly reminded of this these days and as I strive to read more and write more and learn more, I can very easily drop into a lazy mind routine and make excuses...like I almost did today....the practice of practice i think is what it should be called if it isn't already...

I like that one...practice needs practice. Duh, look at Yoga, or meditation, or for that matter anything else we do on a regular basis that could be construed as practicing for the moment when you become "enlightened" in that practice....huh...

Well, I suppose i have given myself a little realization today and I will make a point today to practice...and tomorrow and forever....

The desire to practice...let's leave it at that.....


Love and Understanding

First Aid, Dreams and a New Job

Memorial Day, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

The picture above is from a display i stumbled across on Memorial Day here in Boulder...not unlike Arlington West, this was a moving and somber place with 100's of pairs of boots laid out on the lawn, fittingly in the rain, to represent the fallen soldiers from Colorado. Another reminder of our current world and the daily battle we are waging....


I finished my second night of First Aid which was CPR training so I feel pretty good, at least better, about being able to use if if i need to..I feel like I need to carry around a first aid bag with gloves and things. Really, if you haven't, this training is so simple and could come in very handy if you ever need it....

Last night I had beef tips with mashed potatoes because I was very hungry from my bike race, in which i got totally creamed by a bunch of pros over the age of 30...jeez...i still rode hard, but it was painful, but anyway, i think the beeftips gave me weird dreams...i dreamt that I was on a school bus stopped at the side of the road and next thing I know we are all on in the bathroom...a very large bathroom and there is a homeless guy who keeps wandering around while everyone is peeing in urinals...the girls were too, which was wierd and then next thing I know, we are on the highway standing at the side of the road and all i can see are the cars coming directly at us so I run down the road to stop them and they start swerving into the mountain side...one by one...and then a CHP is there pulling a ton of first aid kits out of the trunk of his car and then......I woke up...huh....



now i am going to drink some coffee..


love and understanding.

First Aid

DSC_0351, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

Last night I took First Aid training, the first of two nights...I have to be certified in order to coach the little guys on the mountain bikes which start June 9...now, i am not the greatest when it comes to that kind of stuff, mostly even the thought of it makes me a bit uneasy. But then I think of all the times in life that I have dealt with something that should have grossed me out completely, i guess you sort of go into a special place and stay calm...at least I think. I have friends who are firefighters/paramedics and they all same the same thing...you just have to do your job...not to say there aren't things that are horrible to see etc., but that is why you are trained....I can't say this course is training me to feel totally confident, but it is amazing how even a small thing can help....for example.
Did you know that if someone has a sucking chest wound you can grab a plastic bag, stick it over the hole and tape it down on thee sides? That way, it creates a vacuum again in the chest cavity when the breathe in and the loose side lets any excess air escape when exhaling...
or,
if someone's intestines are hanging out, don't shove them back in like they show in the war movies...just cover them up and make sure they don't go anywhere else...yep...(i can't help but hope and pray that none of my 7-12 year olds crash so hard that their intestines come out, but now I can deal)
or,
someone can die within 20 seconds if certain arteries bleed out?
or,
don't put direct pressure on an eye if it is injured, just around it and in fact, if you have dixie cup, cut out the bottom and place that over the eye to protect it.
or,
if someone is impaled on a tree...don't take the branch out and try and bandage around the wound with plenty of gauze.
Always try to protect your self with the proper things like gloves, and eye protection....

here is the order of the day when something happens:
Check, Call, Care....

Turniquets are bad...don't use them
pressure, elevate, and then find the uphill pulse....press on it.

oh yeah, as long as you have acted within your training and in good judgement, chances are good that if you get sued, they won't win...

well, those are just some of the things I learned...tonight I will be working on CPR and learning how to help someone who's ABC's are not functioning...i know you are curious about that one, so check back tomorrow for more free learning.

Love and Understanding!

10k

DSC_0258, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

Yesterday the Bolder Boulder went right by my house...this isn't just some 10k where a few thousand people run it...try 53,000 people..yes...53,000...half the population equivalent of Boulder itself are on the streets running, walking, strolling, jogging, skipping and wearing some pretty awesome costumes. This race has been around for 30 years or so and it is one of the largest in the country. It attracts pro racers from all over the world, of which I witnessed running by at a speed not unlike riding a bike at a medium pace, and it brings the entire city to a halt for from 6 am to 12pm. They literally have the entire city set up to deal with the amount of people running through it and for the most part I was not only impressed but overwhelmed...in a good way.  I watched the runners for most of the morning and snapped off something like 430 pictures, of which I narrowed down, but it was fun and more emotional than i would have imagined.  

I was struck with a constant feeling of emotion, i think due to all of the positive energy flowing past me like a sea of water.  I am not kidding, at one point, I had crossed the street before the race started and it took me over 1 1/2 hours to get back across...that is how thick the crowds were when running past.  Some of the runners were very serious and running all out, there was a wheel chair race first and that one put me right in the mode of the human spirit for sure.  It made me want to race my bike, it made me remember the desire to do things and try things and make it to the end.  I saw so many people, who were clearly, not runners, but had made it to my spot known as "Mile 5" on the course and I sensed their personal struggles and their happiness to have made it to mile 5...they had a grueling uphill to the finish into the huge Colorado Buff stadium, but by mile 5, they had essentially crossed that magical point of no stopping and no return..they would be pushed forward not only by the running masses, but the masses of supporters along the way...see, the other amazing thing, was the entire course lined with people watching, cheering, passing out bacon, yes, bacon, among the volunteers passing out the thousands of cups of Gatorade and water, the clean up crews, the motorcycles, the jets doing their fly over, the hundreds of pro photographers (of which I kept getting mistaken for..kinda cool) and the dogs, the kids, the old and young...I couldn't really wrap my mind around it after the third hour of the non stop procession of people...I would occasionally walk inside and look out the living room window and hear and see them and then casually walk back out to take more shots...There were live bands everywhere playing all sorts of music and I imagine the runners had constant inspiration with that.  

I was overcome with a feeling of joy and happiness by the end of the morning..one that I did not expect to feel and I was again reminded to get out and do the things that matter and make us feel good.  I got to spend all morning with my camera, learning how to shoot runners and scenes and action, on a day that was not dry, but mostly rainy and wet and gloomy...I can't wait for next year...i'll be running it for sure..well, you know, trying to at least...

Humans are pretty awesome...when they want to be.....

Love and understanding.

Floating

I have begun to write every day in case you haven't noticed...yes...this writing thing is a challenge to say the least but something that I must keep doing as an excercise for my life and for my word.  Sometimes I think that maybe i shouldn't be doing this in the open with people watching, but then i go back to the main idea of this blog, which is the creative journey unfolding and it seems very fitting...it also holds me to it, like a watch dog...like the nosy neighbor that peeks out the window to report on the doings of all her other neighbors she sees bustling around with life as she observes and frequently tattles, corrects and disapproves of their doings.  yeah...sort of like that.  I find it so interesting in this day and age that in so many ways, we forget that we have neighbors or that we don't interact more with them.  

When growing up in Santa Monica, its seemed that all of my neighbors knew each other, had kids that played together, or at least said hi on their morning walk.  These days it seems like a rare occurrence...more out of fear and doubt than anything i suppose.  I think in a big city like L.A., the innocence of pure unmotivated interaction is lost a bit and people tend to distrust the motives of others actions, but i think if you search it out and make the effort, you will always be surprised at the outcome.  

In Boulder, I have found that there is a bit more openess towards interaction with one another and you needn't search to far for that connection...maybe because the stakes are lower here...and by that i mean survival stakes.  Maybe the guards have been let down a bit...i don't really know...It is not to say that there are still those who seem ill equipped to deal with social situations, but I am constantly given the kindness of strangers and the interactions of other human beings.  I like that.  

The weather here has turned into gorgeous summer days, with bright green leaves shining and flapping in the wind, and deep bloody purple irisis that seem to be everywhere.  Each day there seems to be a moment when you think it may rain a bit as the clouds menacingly gather over the Front range mountains, and then an hour later, they are gone, or they have moved south or east...It sometimes feels like a protected vortex here at the base of the mountains and i find myself feeling very safe and content.  The stream by my house is flowing again with a renewed power from the snow run off and with that new movement, i often find myself standing by the stream and contently listening to it flow by...usually feeling quite calm and inwardly open to the day.

There are so many teachings and writings about the stream or the river and it is obvious that those teachers spent many a day on the banks of some local stream or river watching the same flow that I am now observing this small one...the way a root gets caught in the flow and is  washed constantly by the same pattern of water as it struggles to hold on to the earth, or the way the height and speed vary in the morning and night, sometimes growing coffee brown with the intensity of the flow, or calmly clearing as it slides a bit slower by and eases up in the graceful arc of her intentions.  I find the stream more calming to me than the ocean for some reason...it may be that the ocean is, for me, to immense to feel calm, and too powerful to be safe...or that the stream is an offshoot of the powers of the mountains all around and simply a vein in the blood of the earth.  I don't know...but I do know that having the water near, and feeling its simple flow, is a constant reminder of life....just that, the simple flow...

Peter Gabriel has a song about it....

river show me how to float

i feel like i'm sinking down

thought that i could get along

but here in this water, my feet won't touch the ground

i need something 

to turn myself around.

I always loved that song as it brings me back to the reality and simplicity of life...the stream that flows in a tireless, simple, purposeful, sometimes fierce, sometimes calm, babbling kind of way...i think the practice of letting that flow take us through the day is the challenge...the gift the place to be.  

Life is kind of like a stick race on the river...you know, the kind when you drop a few sticks in and then run to the other side and see which one flows by first, not really knowing how or why, but just enjoying the moment that it happens, and then they are gone, down the stream, river or out to sea...i think those sticks are like our moments, our experiences, our loves, our lives, our hopes our dreams...if we let them float freely, the right ones will come out first.....and then we openly let the other ones float away, maybe forever, maybe for a moment.  

Love and Understanding.

Big Kids

you know, sometimes late at night when i am up and eating chips and salsa and its late and I am watching a movie or doing whatever I want, it dawns on me, that i am a big kid and I can do whatever i want whenever i want and no one can tell me what to do...like, sleep really late, or take a nap when i want, or go for a bike ride, or eat junk food, or drink a beer, or read a book or talk nonsense, or believe in myths and fairy tales or jump in puddles...you know, things that we get to do as big kids...i look around and sometimes marvel and laugh at all the big kids pretending to be adults and forgetting they are really big kids...some of them are big assholes..too bad they never got to be a kid or still don't want to be...some of them are bigger kids than I could ever imagine and get to do things like play music, srite, and make movies, and guess what??? they get paid to do it...cool...some big kids play with heavy machinery and build roads and bridges and other big kids are the class president, or at least trying to be...lately that one seems the most important of them all, and sometimes the silliest...This morning, i didn't have to get up and do anything so i didn't and now I get to go have coffee...which is a big kid thing i suppose, but hey, its fun....i like being a big kid because my mom and dad still love me and i have a sister who is big too.  

have fun being a big kid this weekend.

love and understanding.

Moving

Moving..it is never an easy thing to do for many reasons.  I think since 1991 I have moved on average of once a year or so...no joke...When I went to college I moved up to Eugene Or. where I lived in a large blue house called..rightfully so, The Blue House.  In it were 9 people living together between the ages of 20 and 24 i'd say.  I lived there for the summer with my dog and my best friend Gus, and then I had to go...i don't do so well with roommates, so I found a place a bit further out in Eugene with a huge yard, under a main house.  It had a washer and a dryer and was pretty sweet for a 20 year old.  From there I moved to a small one room studio closer to campus the next year, then I found a 3 bedroom house which I paid 755 a month even closer still to campus.  I did have to get roommates there for a bit, but Julia, my college girlfriend, moved in eventually and all was fine for a while.  Then she broke up with me, my dog died and I moved...again...this time to a place named Fish Taco...not really sure why, but this house was a riot....3 of us lived downstairs and 2 upstairs.  My room was basically the living room which was separated by two or three sliding doors with slats, so there was basically very little privacy if any at all.  It was fun though, the most fun i'd ever had living with roommates for sure.  There was always something going on and by then, I was almost done with school so i really didn't give a crap.

Graduation came, I picked up and moved back into my dad's guesthouse in Santa Monica, which was fine for a while, but eventually i had to move because by then I was a grown man all of 26 and I thought living in the guesthouse might not be good for my image...so like a smart guy, i moved into an apartment...with my sister...good for the image? maybe....not really, but a fun place to live and we were really good roomies....then I found a cool pad in the palisades off the beach, where I could check the surf in the morning and walk over a bridge and jump in...that was nice...lived there for about a year....due to some relationship issues, i had to move out though and found my way back to Santa Monica and managed to find a recovering alcoholic vegan who needed a roomate.  The apartment was basic, but after a year of living with this poor guy,who I hope is ok to this day, i had to go...and besides i had met my fiance...another story, so we moved into an apartment on 5th street in Santa Monica.  A nice 2 bedroom charming spot with wood floors and a small kitchen...but then a year later, we decided that we should save money on rent and moved way the hell out to Agoura Hills...if anyone knows where that is in relation to Santa Monica, I might as well have moved to Alaska....we were pretty much cut off out there and living in a modern town home, with a garage below, and a one bedroom unit above...big, plush and functional, but not my style...for sure...so after I broke off the engagement ( another long story) I moved out and was homeless for a bit, sleeping on friends couches and Taylor's couch, I found a tiny tiny, smaller than any place I had ever lived guesthouse in Marina Del Rey...it was basically a room with a kitchen in it and a bathroom...but my landlord was a cool guy and i somehow made it work for my life at that time...AS fate would have it I met one of Taylor's neighbors who became my girlfriend and i ended up moving in with her (mostly to get out of the small pad i was in (big mistake and another long story) and that place happened to be the complex right next to my sisters place back in Santa Monica.  After 9 months and almost watching this girl off herself on booze and pain pills, i fled to another small, but swanky, guesthouse in Brentwood, which happened to be literally across the street from where the whole O.J. Simpson thing happened.  My landlord was Russian and lived alone in a huge new house in front.  The guesthouse was the size of a two car garage, very new, but also very bare bones...i liked it and was happy there, until i got handcuffed by the LAPD by mistake (another great story), and then as luck would have it, he sold the house so I had to move...again....I found a great place in Santa Monica again, a one bedroom, very spacious with a garage and wood floors and redone with a nice new kitchen.  I loved it and it served as probably my longest address.....i'd say 2 years or so???

from there it is a whirlwind, but let's just say in order to end up here in boulder i moved to temporary situations 5 times in a year....I had garage sales, bought a trailer, packed it, moved it, shacked up with family, and finally ended up here in my new place....whew...i guess I have moved alot....

Point is...my mom is moving in the next two weeks and I understand her struggle and frustration with it and how hard it can be, but when I look back at all the dots on the map and the places I have moved into and out of...it has truly created a part of who i am and during the move, which is never easy, we often forget that new beginnings are on the horizon and from that, life grows...sort of like the seasons....I can't wait to help my mom move and set up her new life...again....

love and understanding

Memory Lane

I used to ride a big wheel when I was seven years old...every waking moment that I could be out side it seemed i was on my big wheel.  It was huge, or at least that is my memory of it.  I recall it being a heavy duty plastic yellow body with red bars and three big black wheels and the sound of a big wheel is unmistakable on the concrete sidewalk...if you have never heard one it would probably scare the crap out of you late at night...it sounds not unlike a small jet humming with a slight push and pull of the small yet tireless and urgent pedal strokes that propel the little three wheeled chariot forward over the click clack of the sidewalk cracks and sometimes popping rocks and twigs in the same motion.  Close to the ground you could really ride them hard and take a turn at full speed, skidding the back wheels out and if you were lucky, you'd keep going, but many times you'd flip over or crash into the nearest bush...and don't get me started on the down hill shenanigans...these machines were crude and had no breaks and to boot, they were a fixed gear, meaning that if you went fast enough, you couldn't keep up with your little legs as the pedals had reached terminal velocity and could actually turn your legs into a puree if you tried to slow them down...so, you just took your feet off and hoped for the best...of course, the Flinstone method of braking was the most utilized method, or at extreme high speed and completely hopeless situations, the low side bail out onto a soft patch of grass.  Yes, the big wheel...it was my version of the bike and motorcycles that i ride today, except they both have breaks.

I used to learn the neighborhood with that big wheel and spend hours exploring different paths and courses and jumps and which sidewalks were the smoothest.  It was also the machine that one time got me completely lost and took me on a huge adventure....

I had just moved to Santa Monica from Colorado I believe...this had been after a few different moves in my younger years and I recall not being to happy about the whole thing.  I had left my friends again and this time I was taking matters into my own hands...i was going to show my parents a thing or two...I would get on my big wheel and ride off into the sunset....well, at least I thought i would.  So, the first morning that I was in my new home, a small white single story stucco house, with brown trim and diamond shaped windows and a shingle roof that had a cozy fuzzy texture and made it feel like the Shire, I decided to take a journey.  I probably would never return and my parents would miss me and it would have served them right, because I was 7 years old and not to be trifled with.  I didn't prepare the journey well.  No food, or water, or anything remotely resembling supplies, just the big wheel, my Osh Gosh b' Gosh overalls, sneaks, and a striped shirt I believe...red and white to be exact, my favorite one.  

I was off...down the long driveway with the tall green hedges and the funny looking Palm Trees and then out onto the sidewalk...aah, the open road, er sidewalk...I turned right and never looked back.  What I was thinking I don't know...it was not unlike the prison that has no walls because the guard says to you, "Ha, look around you...where will you go?  Miles of wilderness surround this place.  Don't you get it?  This is the prison....you will never escape."   Who cared, I was free...rolling on the sweet grey concrete over the cracks, click clack, pause, stand up, look both ways, and then mutiny...CROSS THE STREET to the next block...that was the point of no return...I had broken the one rule of big wheel lore...or at least Parent law...I had done it...i had left the domain of my block...my world, my island, my earth...i had propelled myself into orbit at full speed and didn't dare look back....how sweet it was.

As the day continued I rode...sometimes I would stop and pretend I was a knight in the forest and other times I would camp out on someones yard for a bit, in the warm grass, but as the day grew longer and, if you remember, days when you are kid are LOOONG, I had a dreadful feeling that I was no longer in Kansas anymore, and I began to panic a bit, realizing i had absolutely no idea where i was, what street i lived on, my address...anything...i was one day into my new habitat and hopelessly lost.  At this point I began trying to retrace my steps and i remember riding down what I thought were familiar streets, only to find that I had increased my radius of exploration and was more lost than ever at this point...I even managed to find my way to the outer edges of my world at that time...Montana Blvd, a busy street with large and fast cars and too many adults...that scared me the most...When was the last time you sat really low to the ground and looked up at everything...try it...not fun, more like a house of horrors if you are in the right frame of mind..everything is loud and fast and big and when you pass people who may be walking by while riding the big wheel, your head only goes to their knees...again...7 years old, small, people and cars big...low to the ground, scary.

I think at this point, i cried.  I was really lost, this was not fun anymore.  I was going to starve to death on the front lawn of some unknown stranger. I just wanted to be home, trouble or not, for I knew there would be a large spanking waiting...I was sure of it...but I didn't care anymore, i wanted my trip to be done.

It was at this point I had managed to somehow pass a house I had passed before...a very large, old historical looking home, with huge windows, a wrap around porch, huge pine trees in the front, an old gold station wagon in the front...and as i rode by the side where the hedges were huge and tall, I rode very slow....it was then that I saw her....she was very old, with white hair and a skinny face, but not the kind that scares a kid...she was magical and white and had on green gardening gloves and she was half in and half out of the hedge with some clippers and as I rode by, she stopped and poked her head out and said....."Are you lost?" just like that...she knew it...i must have looked like a soldier returning from a 4 year campaign...or just a scared little kid with dried tears and probably a few boogers in his nose.  I stopped a bit past her, stood up from my mount and said...."yes...i am."  

"Well, we can't have that now can we."

She proceeded to walk me up onto the porch and sit me down while she went inside for her walking shoes.  She informed me that we were going to walk around and see if we could find where I lived...which we did.  I think I took her on a 2 hour stroll through the neighbor hood, and by now, i had ridden down many of the same streets 3 times, each time feeling like they were familiar, but realizing that they were not the right one...she never skipped a beat, she walked behind me and along side me, smiling and talking and asking me questions about where I lived...I think she was an angel.

Eventually, we made it back to her house and I remember she took me inside and gave me a lemonade and by now it was growing dark, not quite dusk yet, but the sun was on its way out.  I remember the sound here clock made in that large house.  It was a wood interior, with big wood furniture and large warm rugs and wood floors and a huge staircase leading up with a banister that screamed for someone to slide down it...and I could hear her rummaging around in the kitchen and then out she came...with cookies and car keys...we were off....We loaded up into her gold station wagon, the big wheel in the back and me in the front...barely able to see over the dash and we started driving...all over...slowly....and she hummed softly, calmly, all the time I felt safe.  And then it happened...we were on a street that I grew to know as Carslyle and 23rd...and i saw him...my dad, coming out of the front steps looking very worried, and there was his car, a silver bmw with the flashers on and I just about jumped out of the car!!!

"There's my dad!!!" I shouted.

"Oh goodie." I think is what she said...something sweet and cute, but i really can't recall as I was completely overwhelmed with relief and fear of my young life for the punishment I would probably get....we pulled over and she got out and as we opened the car door, I burst onto the lawn and rushed to him...I remember him giving me a huge hug and asking all the normal worried parent questions..."where have you been?, we were so worried! What were you thinking??" etc...but to a kid, who cared at that point...i was safe, back from my epic journey, of which I survived.  

I don't really remember what happened next other than my dad thanking her profusely and i think she smiled and gave me a hug and told me to come visit her.  And that was that, into my dad's car and home, where mom was also waiting and beside herself with relief.  I had been gone a total of probably 7 hours in a strange new place and they had been searching for me for a while, not thinking I had gotten too far on my big wheel, slowly expanding their search not wanting to think the worst.

In truth, i had ridden from 20th street to 26th street, and up and down the entire length of the small world i would grow to know as North Montana, which was 4 blocks long...a large area to cover on a bigwheel...

It wasn't till later in my years that life came full circle...that house where I was rescued became the corner house of my youth and childhood, as my dad bought a house on the same block, just a few doors down.  I would pass by it every day and wonder if she would remember me.  I am sad to say, i never had the courage to visit, until I heard that she had passed and eventually the house was redone, thankfully to restore it as a historical monument, but I will never forget her that day...She was my Aslan, my Gandalf, my Bilbo, my magical angel....

I don't think i got spanked that night because there is a fine line as a parent when you realize that punishment would probably not work...I had learned my lesson well enough and a spanking would just be redundant and mean...but i think i wan't allowed to ride the Big Wheel for a bit...I wasn't worried...i had plenty to keep me busy in the back yard of my new world...besides, I was only 7 and the days were long, so I had plenty of time to plan my next journey.....

Graveyard Shift

DSC_0186.JPG, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

I worked a graveyard shift out of high school at a diner called The Penguin in Santa Monica. It had a very large penguin on a very tall pole outside the restaurant and it was on the corner of Olympic and LIncoln, right off the 10 fwy...yeah..I was a soda jerk through the night, but eventually worked my way up to waiter. I was 18 years old. I remember I had to wear one of those 50's paper hats and I worked behind my first "bar" if you will, but there was no booze, just 4 large milkshake blenders and I used to turn those things out like no tomorrow...Black Cows, Vanilla Shakes, Chocolate, you name it I made it...and at 2 am it was wall to wall people without room to walk or move. I guess LA always had the late night side pretty well handled. I remember eating my shift meal, usually around 4 am when things slowed down a bit and some of the regulars were there...usually Highway Patrol, other graveyard shifters, or really early risers...we served everything all the time so wether you were eating breakfast or dinner, you could do it whenever you wanted. I always had eggs and toast, because it was safe...that kitchen was not the healthiest for sure, but I do remember the bacon...it was always super crispy and Rigo the chef, an old gnarled dude who had tatoos and a permanent sneer, would serve me up an extra portion. Rigo and I didn't talk much, but I always helped him take out the kitchen mats and I think he liked me for that. Audra was the cute "older" waitress and Patrick was a rotund guy, probably in his early 20's but a deceivingly powerful black belt in karate..or so he said, but I believed him because he was always so calm and at those hours you deal with a lot of drunks and wierdos and he always managed to kick them out with grace and style. After a hard night of slinging milkshakes and usually making decent cash, i would eat my 2 eggs, hashbrowns and toast and by 6 am I was out the door, heading home to my dad's house where I always remember, he'd be leaving for work and I'd be going to bed....at 7 am....The graveyard shift...

Orbit

RabbitRocket, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

this picture makes me laugh...I found this guy on the roof of a house that was also adorned and decorated by other "art" installations. A guy who calls himself Cr. Cyon, and is obviously not worried about the neighbors. I was kind of in awe and then when I walked around the corner and saw the rabbit blasting off...that did it... I was hooked. I don't know how long he's been up there, but considering the different weather here i am impressed that he is such good shape, probably due to his intense astronaut training and fitness levels. I am a little concerned about the Russian era rocket he is saddled up on, but he seems capable enough...let's name him.................Blue? hmmm...Bunny Boy?....Astro Bunny...yeah..Astro Bunny....that's it.

Funny when you take the time to walk around and look for things out of the ordinary, which is what I like to do when I have my camera with me. Sometimes my eye just sees things that are normal, but I capture a part of it that is not ordinarily seen, but this was just something, pure and simply out of the ordinary and I don't think I can even do it justice...To find this in the middle of my little town here in Boulder reminded me to always look up and to think big and to believe in Fairy Tales....I think one day I will pass by and he will be gone and I will have two things to believe...one, Dr. so and so artist took him down...Two: Astro Bunny finally blasted off in the night and is now in deep space nine orbit floating effortlessly with David Bowie, the Russians, Jesus, some satellite that is busy beaming down CNN and as he floats along, he remembers the endless days of waiting and wishing and planning and believing that one day he would actually blast off and orbit the world he left....and from high above he would look back down and smile a bit, knowing that his journey was long and sweet.

I think i like the second story.....I better go back and watch him take off.


Love and Understanding.

Sometimes it seems that life is simply flying by....really fast. Not really in a bad way, but just as an outside observer. This week, for example, went right out the window. I can't believe it is Friday already. I am amazed how quickly the days can go even without feeling like a regular time schedule is responsible for it. I guess the reality of it is "Time flies when you are having fun." These days for me aren't about regulated times or activities so my time is simply made up of doing the things i want to do and love and upon doing so, I realize that the days just blend. I am not thinking about what day it is or that on Thursday I have a meeting etc., I am simply taking the days as i do and not till the end do I realize that I managed to have another incredible time of it. Really a good thing to remember for me as I lived for so long on a highly regulated schedule that very rarely allowed me to actually enjoy my time. Now, even as I write this, I sometimes feel like a lush, but that passes quickly because I realize that it is a time of introspection and learning. A time to remember for future endeavors and thoughts as I continue the journey. Pretty soon I'll be coaching young kids how to ride mountain bikes 4 days a week, which, I am sure, will not be unlike being a ski instructor, and I look forward to the little humans teaching me for hours on end to remember not to take life so seriously. It really is amazing when you think about kids. I have been noticing them alot lately, I think because more often than not these days, I feel a little like a kid myself, although much bigger and a little more confused than they are. But I see them and it is remarkable how fluid they are in the existence before us. I am not sure if it is there limited knowledge of relative life or the beauty of their minds not yet tainted with that knowledge. I don't know if that makes sense, the point being, they are true and real and not carrying around the bags of burden yet. So I feel like my place these days is all about trying to not pick up bags, my own, or other peoples, so that I can continue to be light on my feet and in my mind. Kids see to have an innate sense of freedom and laughter. The other day I was watching a summer camp of young kids, probably 4-6 years old, walking down the street with two "adults" and they were in a single file line all holding onto a rope so they wouldn't get seperated..a good idea really, but one that the kids seemed to humor for our sake, and as I watched and listened to the flow of laughter, wonder and kid babble...the very last one walked by me, almost as if in slow motion, her dark hair ly bumping and flapping in the slight breeze, her right hand on the rope, she turned and looked up at me and gave the biggest smile i had ever seen..as if to say, "This is the life huh?"...she kept walking, but kept looking back at me smiling and i just stood there on my two feet stuck watching and smiling back and feeling like a secret member of the group. She somehow knew that I had secretly wanted to be in line with them, holding onto the rope, laughing and smiling and it was almost as if she taunted me, but I knew better...I knew the right thing to do was to get into the car and go run some errands…you know, to appear to be a responsible adult…
Yep, life is flying by as we hang on to the rope and sometimes let it pull us gently along, remembering that there are always people older and wiser who will help us cross the street.

Rain

Last night it rained...a ton. More rain here than i have seen since i moved here. There is something about the rain at night doing its work of washing down all the filth and grime and concrete and at the same time feeding all the life that has just come up since the dead of winter. I remember the days in my college years in Eugene Or., when it rained almost non stop for weeks on end. Everything was damp and muddy and cold and grey and riding around an old blue Schwinn 3 speed resembling a crab fisherman, with my yellow rain gear, was always a little masochistic yet under my hood I was laughing like a child. You got used to the rain eventually, well 3 years later at least, and it became a way of living. Things went on, unlike rain in Los Angeles....there it seems like the end of the world is coming. No one can drive, everyone is panicked and the ocean becames a floating petri dish from all the crap floating out to sea, not to mention the mud slides and basic havoc that the city streets inherit from the downpoor. The rain there is more like a punishment, whereas the rain here is more like a gift...a soft noise on your head and a sweet sound in your ears. I supposes after numerous years in Oregon, the rain doesn’t bother me anymore because I know it won’t last that long and the sun will be out again soon, but I do remember the times when I was deep in despair from knowing that I could not be outside in the sun or the warmth and I suffered from a huge bout of SAD…you know, seasonal affective disorder…the kind that makes your bones feel soggy and your mind feel slow…the kind that gives you a million reasons to not do anything each day. Just like anything else though, looking back at it, I really was enjoying myself, but I was not in the moment then. I was somewhere else and feeling disconnected from life. I realize now that enjoying the moment of each thing we are going through can open up and broaden our sense of adventure, life and love. Instead of thinking about the next 5 days, think of only today and instead of dwelling on the mistakes of yesterday, make sure to pay attention to the ones that you are making today…at least, that is what I am trying to do each day. People ask me what I do here, in Boulder, and I am now proud to say that I am a home maker…and damn proud of it. I cook, clean, do the laundry, wash cars, grocery shop etc…oh, and don’t forget, I have coffee in the morning, write, read, ride my bike, watch movies, sit on the porch…all the things that we want to do when we can’t or don’t have the time..so unlike my days in Oregon, where I would have been freaked out about not “doing” anything, I am relishing in the well deserved downtime of being alive. I will be working again soon enough, or maybe not, but point being, I am trying to live just during the present day and what I get to do that day is the only thing I need to worry about. Sometimes you just need to let go of all pre concieved notions and cares and trust the stream of life…the one that we float down each day..The more relaxed we can be about it, the more we will follow the flow. Someone asked me what my religion or spiritual belief was the other day and for the first time I really thought about it and the answer came quite easily…”The Universe” I said…that is my spirit. How can I deny my part in the energy of the world around me. I don’t mean to sound hocus pocus, but I really believe that we can tap into the synergy of our life force through the flow around us and the design of all things. There are too many examples of how well things work in nature vs. the myriad of human error when we try to “control” or force things..I am not saying that we as humans don’t have a huge part in our existence and creating amazing and good things too, but for me there is a certain daily practice of trust in the world’s way…the stream if you will, and I for one like floating down it, sometimes lazily, sometimes out of control in the rapids, and sometimes taking a rest on the small sandbar in the middle of the day.

That is my spiritual belief. Streams are good.


Love and Understanding.

Mothers day....

Tay and Mom.JPG, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

Need i say more?

Two Trains

Two trains collided in my sleep last night...big long black ones with miles of cars and graffiti streaking the sides of the deep metallic box cars behind the engines belching the loud chug a lug smoke and breathing some foreign engine fuel that gives them the appearance of strength unknown.  I don't know why they were heading to the same place in a constant motion of speed and purpose, or why they didn't realize they were on the same track, but at some point the crossings with the slow moving arms striped with white and blazing red lights, didn't say anything to them.  They just let the masters of the twin lines motor on and drive intensely forward, not slowing and not knowing.  Like a word problem gone horribly awry, one train going 80 mph and the other going 60 mph headlong in the night laden with things that man uses and wastes, what happens when they both arrive in the same station at the same time going the same speed on the same track?  The lead locomotive grinning a hockey toothless grin with no mouthpiece being driven by sheer madness and delight, the other with a determined grip on life not willing to back down, flying forward with all intentions of saving the world..eyes open and pulsating the wild wind of night's breathe....

the last moments of the two behemoths is too short to adjust and re think and bargain for another track or a slower speed or a different space in time.  the last moment is only filled with the silent terror of knowing that there is no way to stop and that the collision is imminent and the destruction will be great.  the black burly beasts of power and grace and mechanized metal hurtle at one another like two gladiators in it till the death and committed to the moment of contact.  The contact that starts the night with a momentary fusion of the big bang theory, and then we don't know what sound was made and when it happened.  We awake and wonder what it was all about, the driving sweat and fear and the feeling that we have to slow down and breathe and believe that we can drift away again knowing that we are still in the middle of our own deep covers, wondering what tomorrow will bring.

A Journey

DSC_0358.JPG, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

This morning it is raining and a man is coming to town. I read his book once about a dog and his love for that dog back when i was first arrived in Boulder...right before I hurt my knee. Ted Kerasote is his name and today he is coming to Muttropolis at 7 pm to talk about his book...Merle's Door. I again find myself fascinated not only with his story and my own life's reflection of the tangible relationship he had with his dog, but more importantly, i think he has proven that to be a writer is truly a gift to share and give back to others. I don't know his background and how he started writing and i may ask him today, but I am inspired to write because of him, because of the importance of sharing our experiences with those around us and how, without planning or knowing, we can give to others hope, understanding, compassion, humor, sadness, guilt, anger, recognition...all from a simple effort, really, of pen to paper, or now days for me, fingers to keyboard. I do look back on many old journals and wonder if I should mine them for stories, experiences and thoughts...I probably will, but for now I have been charged with writing every morning when I wake up without hearing the news, reading or talking, just to wake up a bit on the early side and write..as a discipline.

Discipline...now that is something I am quite good at during certain times. If i can make this writing practice a "physical" act as I do with my bike or the gym, as a way to make my mind powerful and limber and balanced, like my body, then it should be a bit easier...but writing...what will i write about? what will i say? what if I can't? what if no one understands? well, fine...it is not about that right now..it is about my process of "becoming a writer"...more and more...

I marvel at the process of writing, be it a sweeping epic or a self help book, or a biography. I don't really know how it works and sometimes when I read a book that speaks to me i think.."I could have written that, but how?" how does one write page after page and structure their thoughts and story? How does one do it? I am sure that there are classes and do's and dont's..but really, is it taught? Do we write what we know? Do we simply imagine? To this i have no answer yet, and maybe never will, but I think these days it is simply a matter of exercising the muscles in the mind and the firing synapses to the fingers...which in its own right is pretty wild...our mind is thinking and we are able to respond through our muscles and turn those thoughts into words through a mechanical surface and a pattern of action...i guess the one true class that actually helped me the most in all my years of school was my 8th grade typing class...yep...8th grade.

I remember my mom was always typing on an old brown two tone IBM Typewriter in the back nook of our Spanish castle that we grew up in. I often could depend on hearing that sound of the thwack thwack thwack ding whizz click click thwack thwack mostly early in the morning, late at night or sometimes in the odd moments of the middle of the day...typing away at her letters and stories and thoughts. The room was small with a small metal fold up desk and the makings of a bright white and flowing room you might find in an old chateau in France, with drapes, old lamps, one chair, baskets with flowers and stacks of paper..a place that always was there, waiting to be visited and waiting for the sounds of the writer who would command that wheel. I think that is where I may have tried my hand early on as a kid, having learned to type, however slowly, but wanting to imagine I could type as fast as my mom...The heavy keys and sound of the machine being on was a constant reminder that it was waiting for you to take charge. They should make that sound an option for the computer..the sound that a waiting typewriter makes when you turn it on, at least the electric ones in any case.

The journey of a writer is what i am fascinated with these days...and I am beginning that journey here and now. looking out of the window today into the rain and feeling cozy and ready to embark, as if I have set foot on a ship heading for the horizon and it is calm and beautiful, but deep down, you know that there will be long nights and storms and fear, but the sun will rise and the wind will blow and the sounds will carry you through...not unlike the tapping of the keys and whirring of the motor and the sound of the printer...not unlike the wind in our minds.


Love and Understanding.

Wild Geese

ok...tonight was simply a devine time...my sister is in town for Mothers Day and today we made a feast that would be fit for the queen (which my mother is of course.)  We chose a fried Sage appetizer, Rosemary Potatoes, Stuffed Eggplant and a baked Swordfish...all of which we cooked together and from a cook book called the Silver Spoon...an amazing cookbook for anyone who loves to cook. My dad turned us on to it and we all spend our free time cooking from it and sharing our tastes with each other so they can cook it too...the food is amazing and really easy to prepare.  So Taylor and I chopped onions, scooped eggplant, diced tomatoes, dunked sage in egg, roasted potatoes in oil and rosemary, basted swordfish, drank white wine and generally indulged.  My mom got to relax and eat and we were all satisfied by then end to the point of utter happiness and food coma delight.  wow.

I'd like to share a poem that my mom has always shared with me that reminds us to live completely and without remorse....it is written by Mary Oliver:

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the river.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

So often I forget that we don't have to torture ourselves...we don't have to pretend we are something or somebody else..we just need to relax into our own love and being and from that we will stand taller, love freely and give more.  I think there are those in this life who find suffering to be comforting, but we often forget that just because you are suffering doesn't mean the world and all things good have stopped...so I say, why should we have to suffer?  Why don't we stand up and walk amongst the life all around us that is simply being and doing what it does...like the trees in winter and spring, like the snow that melts, like the fires that rage and turn death into life.  We don't need to create suffering for ourselves...there is plenty to go around this earth, we don't need to add to it.  And in  the end, "the world goes on"....

Happy Mothers Day

Love and Understanding.

That's me...in the front..in my glory day of cycling. That guy behind me is a huge Austrian guy with a funny accent and legs the size of steam engines in the Titanic. We are leading the race and probably going into that turn at around 32 mph...i loved it then and i love it now, but now I am having to re train my legs and mind to work up to another level of competition...so yesterday, I climbed mountains...big mountains...into the thin air of Colorado and across deserted dirt road, on my road bike, up and down, sometimes thinking of mountain lions as I slowly made my way up hill after hill, with my mind pushing me and thinking of reasons to not quit and to keep my legs turning over at any cost...I rode in a way yesterday that was vaguely reminiscent of my days above, but this time, my mind was strong, and my legs were not..they were stronger than i expected, but my mind was the rock...the thing that allowed me to push through the fear and pain the knowing that i may not make it...the reality of the situation..i had somehow hooked up with an ex pro bike racer who was kind enough to "show me around" a bit...and I ended up miles away and in the pain zone, the likes of which I had not experienced for sometime....but i loved it..i spit and drooled and blew my nose on my legs and cursed sometimes, and then sometimes i just gave in to the mind numbing thought that I was riding way beyond my fitness and ability and the logical side of my brain telling me that I had no business doing this ride...but by the time we had reached our final descent...a 45-50mph winding wide open mountain road for 9 miles, i was delirious and beside myself with the knowedge that I had done something that day that was not physically possible for me right now..and as I switched into high gear and suddenly my legs felt strong and alive, and we rushed to the bottom of the mountain, i remembered that i had yet again, traveled within myself and proven that, beyond pain and fear and the thoughts of my old glory days, i had triumphed and won...

As I limped home, seeing double, crosseyed and caked with dust and boogers and spit and sweat, i was happy...and lucky and alive...i climbed mountains and flew and suffered and lived...

and guess what? tomorrow, i get to do it again....

love and understanding.

Aaahhhh...spring....So it goes each year, but for me this year

is different. Experiencing the swift weather changes here in Colorado is mind boggling.  Two days ago it was 75 degrees and I was on a motorcycle ride in the mountains...and then

this....

yes...snow and lots of it.  Not enough to actually stick to the

ground a whole lot, but enough to feel cold and damp and amazed at the change.  The amazing thing is that it was just enough moisture to allow the remaining buds to start coming out and the grass got that much greener in a morning of work from mother nature...

This only lasted for a while and by 2 in the afternoon it was dry on the streets and had warmed a bit.  All in a relatively short span of time. I spent most of the day inside cooking a pasta sauce and working on things that I had been putting off...filing, bank crap and basic organizing, but it felt good.  It felt good to hunker down in the cozy space and know that the world was doing what it needed to be doing to move things along. I like the weather and the changes and the cold and heat and snow and rain. It is fun to adjust each day to it and find other things to do.

I couldn't ride my bike yesterday..or let's just say, i wouldn't...so I did other things to excercise, my mind and

spirit.

i always look at this lamp and think of Narnia...it is so magical

outside each day and I still can't believe I get to wake up in the

morning and have the life i have.  I think i'll make a pizza

today.

love and understanding.