Tag Archives: Musings

Fire and Air – Part 3

This will be the final part of my Yellowstone travelog.  The Upper Geyser Basin.

I think the most popular image of Yellowstone that comes to mind is that of Old Faithful.  Because of this, I know I was quite astounded to see all of the other features of the park, each with their own unique beauty.  Some of the other hydrothermal features are so much more colorful.  Just check out the pics of Morning Glory Pond.

I’ll start with a small gallery covering Old Faithful and then have a bit larger one of the remaining features of the Upper Geyser Basin.  Old Faithful is so popular they have built bleachers around it that are packed with people from all over the world for those intervals of 90 to 120 minutes to watch it go off.  Apparently, the geyser’s eruption-timing has become less predictable over the years and the boiling water spout is not as high as it once was – still spectacular nonetheless.

Old Faithful is apparently a juvenile.  It takes a 100 years for a cinder cone to grow by an inch, so some of the geysers are thousands of years older than Old Faithful.

I didn’t record the name of every hot spring, chromatic pool, and geyser, but I did for some of the main ones.  And I included some pics of the Firehole River that runs right through the middle of this geyser basin.  The combination of water, geothermal heat, minerals, sunlight, and bacteria is amazing 🙂

Old Faithful

Remainder of the Upper Geyser Basin

There were other parts of the park that I visited that I didn’t include in this travelog and other parts I still haven’t seen.  Just hitting the main features was a lot.  I’ll have to go back again 🙂

I still have at least one more chapter to write in the “Contrasts” series, but we’ll be in a different location for Chapter 6.

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Who Will Remember?

Personal history.  We have it, or do we?  And for how long?  Or do we want it?  Or is it selectively cataloged in the recesses of our minds . . .

When I fired up the desktop today I was presented with a new crash.  Oddly, the computer would not recognize my profile password, and since no one else uses this computer there was no other profile to try opening.  No way to get inside the machine.

Fortunately, I was able to use my laptop to find a fix.  And with one computer sitting next to the other, I walked through the steps of changing some mysterious line in the registry.  Problem fixed.  Except, I also read that many people had problems with lost data and files after “fixing” the problem.

Mine appear to be intact so I am now backing up files, photos, etc. to an external hard drive.  Everything I can think of.  It looks like this will take all day.

So here I am on the laptop.  Thankful I have it.

What if all the data had been lost?  Bits and pieces are saved on flash drives, SD cards, and that external hard drive.  But for how long?  How long do these devices last before they decay?  And even if intact, if I wasn’t here to access them, who would be able to find my files?  Look at all those digital pics?  Piece together the puzzle that is me?  We store our lives digitally now.

Memories.

We go through life similarly.  We are one in billions, and while I do believe we are all connected, just who can access us?  And what do we want people to know?

Personal history.  It’s baggage we carry.  Some of it might be shiny objects, other bits, dark clouds.  But it is all us.  Who we are.

And how much do we share?  How much is forgotten?  And how much is spun into webs that never existed?  Always prettier than the original version.  Everything symmetrical.  Ordered.  Explained.

Did you ever notice how when you start a new job people want to know about you?  All your details.  Did you ever try and remain secretive?  It drives people crazy.  It’s like they want the goods on you.  Someway to think they have control.  Oh yeah, they know that new guy.  Know what makes her or him tick.  Know how to push their buttons.  Know their strengths and weaknesses.  Where they’ve come from and where they’re going.

Or can they possibly know anything?

Can you really “know” someone else?  Sure we share parts of ourselves.  But not all of our pasts.  All of our thoughts.  All of our feelings.  How could we?

And do we want to be remembered when we’re gone?  If so how?

She was a “good person.”  One line to sum up a lifetime.

I’d like the people I’ve loved to remember me.  But when they’re gone, there will be no record.  Just like the computer was wiped clean.  No data.  We were never here.

Or will we leave some lasting effect?  A ripple through time and space?  Perhaps a few words floating in cyberspace?

I guess we should experience all we can.  Share as much as we dare.  Hope we are loved. And love ferociously.  Because one day, all the data, all that personal history will be gone.  No profile password to magically access it . . .

***

Photo: An old ranch in the middle of a remote spot in the southwest.  The family long deceased.  Given to the state for perpetuity to preserve as a landmark.  A moment in history that loses significance with each passing day.  How long before it returns to dust?  There is no permanence.

 

Earth and Water

As I mentioned yesterday in Contrasts, Chapter 5, I would have to post some additional photo galleries of Yellowstone.  I decided to break them up a bit because I took so many photos and there are just so many diverse areas to see in this park.

Today’s theme is Earth and Water.

A Few Seconds of Peace

I am currently working on a gallery for an upcoming post, and I didn’t realize just how many pictures I need to sort though.  Yes, one of the pitfalls of digital cameras, I push the button too often 🙂

So while I’m working on that, here are a few of short videos for peaceful reflection.

Something about water  . . .

 

 

 

Feature Photo:  Horseback riding in the Great Northwest.

Echoes of Home

As I’m trying to settle back in from my latest travels, I find myself growing restless.  Every chance to drive somewhere triggers that “highway call.”  That “road fever.”  And a simple trip to the grocery carries with the temptation to just keep on driving.  Doesn’t really matter where.  Just need to be in motion.

So, I headed out to the closest trail to take in some of the sunshine of these ever-shortening days.  Stretch my legs.  Moving meditation.  Mind a drift.  Day dreams of far away places.

There’s only one lengthy trail nearby and it sort of weaves in and out of the countryside while skirting this small Midwestern town.  And as I walk, it occurs to me that I’ve called this place “home” for four years now – to this date exactly.  I had never really intended to stay.

A temporary hold-over while I adjusted to the loss of my prior home.  A marriage destroyed by my partner’s alcoholism.  She refused all attempts at getting help.  It’s not easy watching someone you love self-destruct, but life does go on.  It has to.

In these past four years, I worked a little over a year and half before internal and external backstabbing saw my position handed off to someone else as a political favor. Age discrimination brought the career to an early demise.  All-in-all, though, it’s been ok.  Probably a blessing.

So, I loaded up the car and drove.  And I’ve been on the road now for at least a year of those remaining eighteen months.  Exploring, rediscovering, breathing again.  Stopping back here periodically to rest up, repack, and move on again.

Other places had that homey feeling.  Sort of like you grew up there and fit in.  Like you could stay and be content.  I never bothered to get to know this town.  I hadn’t planned on fitting in.  Still don’t care to.  But here I am.

Today, I diverged from the natural part of the trail that follows a stream through the woods and headed into the heart of this unknown downtown.  What is this place where I’m hanging my hat?  Where I know no one.

It strikes me that there are a number of features that are universal to the places I’ve been.  Of course, there’s a “Main Street.”  But there’s always a Broadway, Euclid, Park, Oak, Maple, Elm, and 1st through 10th streets.   There’s always a Memorial Park and a Veterans Park.  Plaques and signs from the local Chamber of Commerce.  Lion’s Club, VFW, JCs.  Sometimes a local chapter of the Confederate Sons or Daughters.

While there’s going to be a cemetery or two, I was surprised to the see that the street leading through the main cemetery was named “Dyer.”  Some weird twist to that one. Some cemeteries don’t even name the roads running through them.

There’s always a part of town that’s lined with restored Victorian homes, and a part where the same style homes are decaying.  Where you could drop a hammer on the roof and it would fall through every floor to the basement.

There are always some nice people sitting out on old porch swings that will wave and say hello.  And there are a few front porches and alleyways occupied by people who I wouldn’t want to run into at night.  Or maybe even right now in broad daylight.  They eye me as an invader of their turf.  A hush descends.  I keep moving.

Downtown businesses are mostly closed on a day you’d expect them to be open, except for the bars.  And there’s one of those on every corner.   All busy at 2:00 in the afternoon.  Not much else to do around here I guess.

Half of the shops are going out of business.  Booming economy is nowhere near here.  An old antique shop says it’s having a “retirement” sale.  Sixty to seventy percent off.  But it’s closed with no hours posted.

The streets closed for the farmer’s market open again as the last pickup drives off.  I think there will be some type of Halloween parade on these streets next weekend. Parades and high school bands always a staple.

I can always find the courthouse by looking for the flag.  Small town kingdoms where prosecutors and judges rule.

I head through one of the parks on my way back to where I parked the car.  I’ve always enjoyed hearing the happy voices of children playing.  Reminds me of simpler times when days stretched on forever.   When games had no rules.  We made things up as we went along.  Unbound imaginations.

Maybe that’s why I enjoying moving.  Stretching days down the length of the highways.  I guess it doesn’t matter what town I’m in.  Some things seem eternal.  Echoes of the last stop.

Maybe everywhere is home 🙂

***

 

Photo: This Victorian home was restored and converted into a Bed and Breakfast.  Another staple of small town America.

Skeletons in the Closet

I don’t think I have a closet big enough for this skeleton 🙂

This T-Rex cast is on display at the Smithsonian.  But it’s a good way to call attention to my update of yesterday’s post on the contrasts between museums.  I updated that post by adding a small gallery of pics from the San Diego Museum of Natural History.  A great museum in its own right.

I suppose we all have a few skeletons that we may not wish to unearth.  Buried away in those dark recesses.  Those catacombs and ossuaries of the mind.  Sealed over.   Blotted out of our memory.  Perhaps believing we were isolating a contagion.  A virus that could cause madness if inhaled.

But then again, maybe those bones can be unearthed.  An archeological expedition into our own minds.  We can metaphorically expose them in our current atmospheres and learn and grow from that past, even though that history may not be as ancient as museum artifacts.

Self examination.  Introspection.  All part of gaining true wisdom.  For the answers lie within.

Excavations like meditations.  Removing the layers of past years and lifetimes.  Clearing the cobwebs of societal illusions.  Finding that inner essence.  For the awakening of our souls.

Though self-exploration may be difficult, may we all find peace on our inward journeys 🙂

 

How Personal?

I was having a discussion with one of my blogging friends about a general topic and I illustrated my response with an intentionally vague, and brief, recounting of something that had happened in a past relationship.

My friend encouraged me to write a post about what had happened.

While it is an intriguing idea, and it is an interesting topic, I’m not sure how wise it is to get too personal on one’s blog.  I mean once you put it out there, it will be floating around in cyberspace for a long time.

Even if you’re not giving out names, locations, or other specific identifying information, just how personal should one get on their blogs?

What do you think?

***

Photo: This is my buddy Taz.  We were best friends for 12 years, but sadly he had a stroke and passed on.  That’s a bit of personal information I don’t mine sharing.  No harm can come from it.  They say all dogs go to heaven 🙂

Sans Forgetica

As I was waking up with my morning coffee, I stumbled upon an article about a new, scientifically designed font.  The font intentionally makes reading the text a little more difficult.  And the reason it does this so is so you won’t forget the content.

“Sans Forgetica” means, you guessed it, “Without Forgetting.”

The principle behind the design is called “Desirable Difficultly.”  I guess I haven’t been keeping up with the educational research, or I’ve forgotten it, but this concept was credited to Robert Bjork back in 1994.  The basic idea is this: introducing difficulties into the learning process can significantly improve long-term retention of the materials learned.

Some examples of employing this technique in the classroom include: (1) spacing learning sessions apart – I guess that makes one review the material sequentially before the next lesson is given so you’ll know what the teacher is talking about; (2) more testing – although that seems old school; (3) generating – having learners produce the target material through an active process like making a puzzle; (4) varying – switching up learning environments; (5) disorganization – scrambling the material; and (6) fonts – making the material slightly harder to read.  Thus, San Forgetica.

I guess disorganization was part of the secret when I was in law school.  The instructors intentionally played “hide-the-ball” to force us to search out the answers.

Apparently deeper processing of material is better for us, and the long-standing approach to education of reducing material to its simplest form and spoon-feeding it to us has really been to our detriment.  The theorists supporting the theory of desirable difficulty go into a lengthy explanation of the differences between learning versus performance and retrieval strength versus storage strength.

I won’t go into all of that scientific analysis, but if you wish to read more, you can read this short article in Psychology Today – Desirable Difficulties in the Classroom.  And, here is link to a chapter of a book about learning authored by Elizabeth and Robert Bjork – Making Things Hard on Yourself, But in a Good Way: Creating Desirable Difficulties to Enhance Learning.

I guess this theory gives new meaning to the old adage of having to “learn things the hard way.”

And if you would like to download the font, you can find that here: Sans Forgetica.    I downloaded it, but apparently WordPress doesn’t support it so I can’t write this text in that font, but I was able to add it to my photo to give you this example.

Firework - Sans Forgetica

More fun for the world of writing 🙂

***

Photo: This pic is a one-second timed exposure during a fireworks display.  I just kept taking shots with the camera locked on a tripod and I eventually got some goods ones that froze that blink-of-an-eye flare of burning gunpowder 🙂

 

The Many Flames of Life

I love fire.  Always have.

A Passionate Embrace.

Cozy snowy days by the woodstove.

Well, not quite a Haiku’s traditional 5-7-5, but fire is still poetic.  Fire is symbolic of so many things.  Transformation, purification, life force, power, strength, destruction, rebirth, transcendence, inspiration, enlightenment.

Truth and Knowledge.  Light and Heat.  The Intellect and the Emotions.

“Baptism by Fire” restores primordial purity.  An intermediary between the Source and all of us tiny Particles of Awareness.

Fire is a good visual representation of our emotions.  Anger, I believe, is the most destructive – a raging inferno.  Passion, the most inspirational, a slow intense burn.  Love, a steady light.  Life, the precious spark.

The blaze in the feature photo above represents that out-of-control burst of anger.  Hatred.  The stare of death.

While this image . . .

Fire +

the steady, passionate burn of the heart.  That electric heat, tingle of fire, with the brush of a lover’s hand.  A slow, deep delicious kiss.

And there’s another image I truly love, from my background of being a health care provider – The Keeper of the Flame.  I found this pin at a military surplus store.  I was told it was a German medic’s pin.  The hands delicately cradling that life force.

Keeper of the Flame

And here’s one, a story for another day, perhaps, of a long ago camping trip in the mountains of Colorado.  The howling winds channeling through the mountain pass.  Filling our eyes with smoke and ash as we reached for those life-giving flames.

Cold in Them Mountains

But anger.  Yes anger is the most destructive.  A fire that can consume us.  Destroy us physically and mentally.  We might think it’s directed outward, but the amount of negative energy that burns within can kill.  An insidious suicide.

I end with a link to a friend’s blog.   Lucid Being recently posted “Solving the Anger Issues! – Open Leader.” It’s a good read.

As for that spiritual burn in all of us – don’t let that fire go out.

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BORING

A few days ago, I posted a piece about attention spans and when people will “bail” from reading additional text.  As a writer, it’s helpful to know what’s happening in the reader’s mind so we can craft ways to capture their attention.  And that Bailer’s Point actually ties in nicely with the fourth “Brain Rule” discussed by John Medina. *

People won’t pay attention to boring things.

It seems that when we encounter any stimulus our brains go through a number of discrete phases to process that information.

Intrinsic Alertness – our ability to detect something.

Phasic Alertness – our ability to focus on that something.

Executive Network – our ability to decide what to do about that something.

And despite what people may think, the brain’s attention spotlight can only focus on one thing at a time.  We process concepts sequentially.  Task shifting, or multi-tasking, delays accomplishment time by 50% and increases errors by 50%.  We’re just not wired well to do multiple things at the same time.  We are also much better at detecting patterns and then extrapolating the meaning of events than we are at registering and remembering the details of those events.

We saw before how readers can check out within seconds if their attention is not corralled, and listeners, it turns out, can only hold on for about 10 minutes before tuning out.

So what enhances or extends attention spans?  How can we reach into the readers’ or listeners’ brains and shake their frontal lobes around without screaming PAY ATTENTION?! !

We can add emotion!

It seems emotion coupled with information not only captures attention, but it significantly improves retention.  People remember personal stories bathing in feelings better than they will rote recitations of facts, no matter how intriguing we might think those facts are.

As writers, we need to try to engage all of our reader’s senses.  So they can taste it, hear it, smell it, feel it, breathe it in.

But it also turns out that we need to give people frequent breaks.  As a lecturer, that may mean switching topics or keeping the presentation short.  As a writer, it means we need to effectively use punctuation.  Let the reader come up for air once and a while.

That’s one reason I like to use sentence fragments.  Even though were not supposed to 🙂

And on that note, I’ll call it quits today.  Except if I can hold your attention a little longer, there are a few more fun pics at the bottom of this virtual page.

***

Feature Photo: An old hotel in an 1800’s mining town has a character all of its own, but by bending the light and showering it with color, we add emotion.  Fire!  It draws in the eye and holds the attention.   With blogging, I’ve found that a great pic can really draw in the reader.  Of course, what I think is great others might find boring.

Past Posts on Brain Rules by John Medina, a developmental molecular biologist.

Move Your Body, Move Your Mind

Writing to Survive

Wired

I hope you all have a day of excitement filled with brain candy.  Here are a few more pics I played with, turning the ordinary into a little something more.

Bisbee - 53 - Castle Rock + CF

 

Ramsey Canyon 25th - 7 - CF13-26

Horseback Riding - 1 +MC100+Enamel

Miller Canyon - 3 +Solarize 245

Sunset from the Little House + Enamel

 

Halcyon Days

You’ve probably heard this expression before – oh those good old “Halcyon Days.”  It’s a phrase filled with the nostalgic remembrance of the endless summer days of our youths.

But I have a few more references for you today.  The first is to an on-line publication of that same title that you really need to check out.  It is absolutely beautifully done, and I’m honored to have had one of my poems picked up in its Autumn issue – “An Oil Painting for the One I Love.

The next is to the original source of the term, which ascribes to days in the depths of winter’s grasp.

Greek legend has it that Aeolus, the ruler of the winds, had a daughter named Alcyone.  Alcyone married Ceyx, the king of Thessaly.  Ceyx suffered the fate of drowning at sea and Alcyone, in her grief, threw herself into the ocean.  But instead of drowning, she was transformed into a bird, the Halcyon, and carried to her husband by the wind.

The Halcyon was said to make a floating nest in the Aegean Sea and, while brooding her eggs, she had the power to calm the waves for fourteen days.  This would occur every year around the Winter Solstice, usually 21st or 22nd of December.  The Halcyon is now commonly linked to European Kingfisher.

As time passed, the association with the brooding time of the Halcyon faded, and the phrase was just associated with the calm days of summer, as was used by Shakespeare in Henry VI:

Assign’d am I to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:
Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.

Somehow, the phrase evolved into its present meaning of those happy endless days of our youth.

So, while I’m looking back in time today, I’ll draw another reference to a few more of my past blog posts that were pleasantly, and excitedly, picked up for publication.  I haven’t reminisced like this since my post 100th!!!

The following articles and poems were picked up by The Urban Howl:

Luminous, published under the title: Release Yourself From Your Thoughts – Be Luminous & Divine.

The Bear, published under the title: Bear Wisdom – Venture, Awaken & Emerge From the Den.

Hiking Through the Rhyolite, published under the title: If Your Soul is Open, Nature’s Spirits Will Speak to You.

Monsoons and Mountains, published under the title: Surrender Control & Let The Wind Take You To A New Adventure.

And,

Torrent, published under the title: The Torrent: Facing Our Greatest Fear & Risking Living.

I hope you have many Halcyon days to remember, and maybe this year around the time of the Winter Solstice, we’ll all have some 🙂

***

Photo: I was perched in these mountains last month.  Definitely a calm and endless day of joy.

Winter Encampment

I arrived at this current depot just in time for the Autumnal Equinox and now we’re upon October’s New Moon.  Harvest Time and New Beginnings.  Great symbolism to start a new season in a familiar location.  I was met by the song of the Owl.

But there is much preparation to be completed before entering the Bear Cave for winter.

The past three weeks have evaporated at a frantic pace.  Environmental remediation.  Attempting to free the area of toxins that my body must avoid.  But I’ve still been trying to maintain posts on the blog, tell stories, share travel.

While I begin work on the fourth chapter of “Contrasts,” I figured this autumn landscape by Wolf Kahn nicely captures the moment.  A German artist, it never ceases to amaze me how universal images are.

Sometimes we forget and our views become narrowed to our immediate surroundings.  We forget the commonality of times, events, planetary movement.  The air we breathe and water we drink.  Our shared evolution from that primordial soup.

So many things to bring people together, if we’ll open our hearts and see the connections.

***

A Little Magic

What happens when you mix the edge of a clear mountain stream with a bucket full of multicolored sedimentary stones, add a tablespoon of current reverberating off the bank, and then a dash of the afternoon sun’s refracting photons?  Well this . . .

River Rock

Photo:  Somewhere in Montana 🙂