The white table

GIRONA, SPAIN

The table that’s white is in our kitchen. It has a tablecloth on it. It’s a perfect size for the balcony. Not too big. Not too small. And it folds out to accommodate up to eight guests. When a balcony in Spain reaches certain proportions it changes from a balcón to a terraza. We refer to both the “front balcony” and the “rear balcony” as terrazas. We put the white table on the “rear balcony.” Moved it from the kitchen and took it right out there; into the sun and elements of the weather. It seemed like a good solution, solving the problem of having no table on the terraza and liberating the kitchen from the unnecessary presence of an ugly white table. For several days we looked down on our neighbors, across and around the park at the other balconies. We saw their tables, the designer tables, the ebb and flow of the feng-shui on their balconies. We looked at them with our noses upturned. We were better. We had a cheap folding table made of wood and coated in a blinding white paint. We had a table that was destined to serve dutifully for years. That evening our landlord called. Put the white table back in the kitchen, it will get soiled out in the weather… Soiled? No, it’s a piece of crap why would it get soiled, and even if it did, who cares? How did he know it was on our terraza? Where does he live? Is he always looking in on us? Steve took his camera and affixed the telephoto lens. He scanned every window in search of the over intrusive landlord.
In slow motion, we brought the table back in. But the rather juvenile thought crossed our minds: to move all the rest of the furniture out on to the terraza.

Of space and time

Girona, Spain

3/2/2009

There are many sights and scenes that pass by without thought in a day of travel. I think about this as the day passes. But I throw such moments away under the veil of the need to expedite progress towards my gate, platform, etc. In example take yesterday where I traveled for nearly 20 hours; there was not a moment I took yesterday to sit in meditation on the mere absurdity of the idea of going from Seattle to Girona in the space of 20 hours. Instead I took it all in step and treated it like a day in the life that was better forgotten than remembered- essentially a day not lived. Imagine just how much more fulfilling our lives would be if we were able to make each moment memorable. How is it possible that during such an event I am only able to take away that which I found loathsome during my travels. Perhaps it was the preconceived notion that travel is a mere inconvenience and a means to another latitude. Simply something unavoidable and aggravating. On one day there may be a time when travel is a time to look forward to instead of a time to grit your teeth and remember your sleeping pills.  

Obsolete design

Instinct is the subconscious reaction that is used by the Sail-finned Water Dragon in response to attack. It is also the response used by humans in the moments preceding an incident of high trauma. It has been said that humans with very low IQs respond best in high trauma situations based on the instinctual presence in there genes to fend off trauma that is occurring in the moment- much like a Neanderthal. The instinct reaction has abated over centuries past due in a large part to the late predominance of intelligent strategy. In the event that a human equipped with intelligent strategy were to engage a human equipped with subconscious reaction in hand to hand combat, it is almost undeniable that the human with subconscious reaction would win. But a trio of Neanderthals would loose against a trio of modern humans as it would be much like hunting a pack of wolves or lions, even if the Neanderthals had a significant advantage in numbers. In fact, in today’s world most people never see humans with the inability to develop intelligent strategy, as they often don’t reach the forefront of society without being a fluke or used to simulate a situation of ignorance. In reality there is no room for Neanderthals, and there is no room for those who react in the moment with out baring the impact of their actions in mind. In other words, people who act like Sail-finned Water Dragons ought to be thrown into the sea.

"All men can see these tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved."
-Sun Tzu

Life on demand

Sac-town, Cali
2/13/09

At the Doubletree here in Sac-town there are more busses and rental trucks than when DHL delivers to grand central station. Bikers are everywhere, fools with cameras loiter behind the trees and tempers are flaring. But we need to train and so we escape out onto the streets, within the traffic and disappear from the face of the city- into the ghetto and through the country clubs, along the river and among the river boats. We flash from one suburb to the next and laugh at what’s funny and sneer at what’s not. Some guys want to go hard and some not, but he who goes hard is always ridiculed by the rest; not because he deserves it but because it puts pressure on everyone else to do the same. The most effective way to make a good idea look bad is to tell the guy who made the idea he’s an idiot. But pretty soon someone else thinks his idea’s good too, and he’s off in his trail… one thing leads to another and everyone’s going full and racing all out; ‘cept for that one guy who said the idea was stupid, he’s sitting there watching everyone else ride further into the distance, quite content to sit in the wake and muse with himself whether his legs are indeed as open as he hopes. Then it’s all over and we ride together again, chatting about the flatness of the roads and how Sacramento ranks among the top 10 of the worst places in the world to live. We are distracted by even the slightest change in anything, not because we’re dyslexic, but because we seek contrast in a monotonous four hours of Sacramento countryside. And then were back, into the city among the bridges and towers. Cameras flash, sirens wail, and the bum on the corner asks for a dollar. We thread our way through the buses, trucks and team cars and make our way to our phalanx. We give our bikes to the mechanics and make our way to our rooms. This is life, this is how we live…

189 ainaola drive

Lying in bed, it’s the low hum of the ceiling fan and the chirp of the tropical birds outside that reminds me I’m 5000 miles from the nearest continent. A week after arriving I’m still blasphemous in my resignation that Hawaii is its own world- a place where people are content and life creeps along to the beat of tropical paradise. Hidden beneath the veil of tourism and masked by people posing as hippies; the Tao of life in Hawaii exists along the road and in the greeting, among the trees and in the sea… it’s the wood of the canoe or the herb in the tea, a vibe that can be overlooked but never shunned. Its easy to sit down and drink tea to the moment, or wake up and mount your bike directly. The day starts when you’re ready and stops when you do, yet in following your own pace the rest of the island matches stride for stride.

On the Water

Hilo, Hawaii
November/December 2008

My surf board was white. It was long and blunt, too. And it was a lot better than the board I rented for two days. But I was equally unprepared on the surf of Honoli’i with “my board” as I was with the rental.
With the help of the Garmin 705 I managed to find every paved road in Hilo County and a few more within 50 miles. One day while under the guidance of the Garmin I turned onto a road that seemed fruitless, but alas made a swooping turn through the jungle and under a bridge before the road suddenly became populated by lifted pick ups, SUVs, and people carrying surf boards and those out just to be seen. I rode by and looked over the precipice to see the surf crowded with little people on surf boards. Hmmm, that looks fun…
When my bike and I arrived back at our quaint little Hawaiian rambler set 400 feet up the hill, I had a mind to find the surf shop and figure out what was what in the surf world at Hilo. I found out very quickly how it worked. What you do is you get a surf board from somewhere (decline when they advise you to take lessons), tie the leash to the right foot if you’re “normal footed” and proceed to make a total fool of yourself. During my first “session” I sat on the beach with my leash tied to my right foot and watched as the seasoned veterans made there way out to the surf. Awh, easy. I walked into the water like a wily pro, got the board wet, jumped on and got thrown by the incoming white water at least three times. I finally made it to where the surfers were waiting for the waves and fell off a couple more times in perfectly calm water. From my perch the shore looked awfully far away and the water felt –hmm- deeper than the 25meter long, 4 foot deep pool at the gym. Then I maneuvered around a little bit and acted like I knew exactly where the next wave was going to be, which was 10-20 feet outside of where everyone else was... despite my apparent knowledge everyone stayed where they were, perhaps because of the farmers tan, but likely equally deterred by the fact that I was doing more swimming beside the board/under the board than I was straddling the board like a beached whale.
With time (over the course of several weeks) I managed to figure out how to catch the waves, although when I got to the part where I was to stand up the front of the board began a frightful pearl and sent me head over hills and swirling below trying to remember if this was an area with rocks and whether I was actually going to resurface in the next minute… Eventually I learned that if you can get just one hand on the board as you fall off you can be above the surface within a matter of moments, but if not, well… you learn hard.

Undaunted Courage

“… This confirmation problem pervades our modern life, since most conflicts have at their root the following mental bias; when Arabs and Israelis watch news reports they see different stories in the same succession of events. Likewise, Democrats and Republicans look at different parts of the same data and never converge to the same opinions. Once your mind is inhabited with a certain view of the world you will tend to only consider instances proving you to be right. Paradoxically the more information you have, the more justified you will feel in your views…”

Taleb, Nassim. The Black Swan. New York: Random House, 2007.

Undaunted Courage

Wet leaves

Bitter cold
Mid-fall, 2008

What did I do today? Yesterday? Not much. The word is light and I will leave the truth for next year… but remember- the truth hurts. This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed and became aware of the bleak, dark day and pitter patter of the rain. I had had a plan for the day but I forgot what it was and went down stairs to pour some coffee and consider the all too foreboding plan for the day. After contemplating the decision for 30 minutes I decided to pour myself another coffee and make a venue change from the kitchen to the living room. Sometimes a venue change helps stimulate mental focus and psychological function. I sat and stared out the window at the wet leaves. I hate wet leaves. I stared harder and began to glare. I wanted to kill the wet leaves. See- here’s the deal with wet leaves: They were once dry. They floated around, caught the brisk fall wind and soared through the air. They were like a pair of chipmunks playing in the back yard. They were part of what was a happy time. Now they are wet, like melting snow in the rain. They are hopeless and useless, smothered in the mud puddles and smashed into the streets. It’s like a scene from the holocaust; everything emaciated and forever (actually just for the moment) denied the meager redemption of previous ecstasy. Awh, but it will get better. Still the plan doesn’t come to mind, so I go outside and wander through the wilderness for a little while. I always carry a shotgun when I leave the house in case a beast emerges from the forest in a fit of rage and hunger. I wander into the garage to make sure my bikes are in the same place they’ve been for the last week. Yep. I’m tempted to get on and ride it around in a circle just to make sure it still works, but fight the temptation and sharpen the axe on the grinder instead. Still with no clear objective in mind I take a seat and figure on staying there until thoughts become more lucid…