The Lessons of Plants and Flowers

This plant, a gift from Ben and Wendy, was practically outgrowing its pot at one time. Its branches were tall and abundant. One day, it's abundant branches were bone dry and its leaves were brown. Matt and I had a dispute. He was adamant that the plant was dead. I disagreed. "Let's give it a chance," I said. "I think it will grow back again." I cut the branches down to stumps and put aluminum foil on the ends to preserve whatever moisture they'd retained. One day there was a miracle. I looked at the plant and saw that a new tall branch had grown overnight. No, not a miracle, but a joke. Matt had taken a branch that he had trimmed from a backyard bush and put it in the pot. We laughed together at this, Matt repeating his verdict that the plant was dead. Life proved him wrong. Thankfully he lived to see the new growth and I got a chance to say, "Ha ha, I told you so."

The plant to the left may eventually reach the ceiling. Such is the way of a healthy plant. I've attached a string from the ceiling to the supporting pole so that it can do this. Eventually I'll cut the plant down, shear off its proud growth, so that I can entrust it to Rachael's care when I take a multi-week vacation. Such is the life of a plant and the whims of a human. The plant to the right was a Christmas gift from Rachael. Small yellow roses bloomed from it and perhaps will bloom again when the season is right.

I found myself thinking about the message of flowers when I received them in sympathy for The Recent Event. Flowers seem to be the all-purpose messenger. They speak of love and forgiveness, of get-well-soon and condolence. I balked at this when I saw that the flowers I was given were starting to die. It would seem to me that I've had enough of Death without having to witness it in the friggin flowers. But flowers always, no matter what the occasion, teach us about the whole process of life. Some flowers die before others. Leaves can last much longer. Eventually death will seek every thing and every body. In the meantime, there is beauty and there is joy, not diminished by its eventual passing, but exalted in It's moment for the moment we share and the next one if it is granted to us.

My Very Best Friend Ever and Forever

My Avatar

When I gave Zwinky permission to enter my computer, I thought that it would create a cartoon version of myself using a photograph that I would download to the program. Instead my choice of options was only what was available. Voluptuous (as Lorraine would say) was not available. Nor was gray hair. My choice was between cutesy and hot. I chose hot. I have to admit that she's growing on me even though she's not what I had in mind.

A Curmudgeonly Comment About the Friggin Ball

I may have written about this before, about how we get used New Years' Eves here in Northern California. As if there is no New Year's Eve celebration in San Francisco where fireworks blaze in front of the ferry building. Or in Southern California, the home of Hollywood. Well finally Matt and I settled for Las Vegas because it is at least in the same time zone as us. Within minutes they announced, "and now we go live to New York" which was, of course, a rebroadcast of what was live three hours earlier. And so we settled again, since all the world is apparently focused on the friggin ball falling in friggin New York. Why not Greenwich, England, the official time-keeper of the world? Or further to the west where the crooked date line is drawn?

And they were excited, the crowds. At least according to Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest and probably Anderson Cooper and the boringly outrageous chick on the stage with him. Yes indeed, the crowds went wild with anticipation as the moments drew near. Their collective nerves quivered as the ball descended. And then there was an orgasmic cheer. The New Year had begun. Matt and I yawned and showed our age. Having been through 63 New Year's Eves, we know that nothing changes. The most narcissistic species on this and possibly any planet has arbitrarily decided that a particular moment in time begins a Whole New Year. And time goes on, one tick at a time. The Cosmos doesn't even bother to shrug.

And yet, just a bit, no more than that, I would give up some of my hard earned wisdom for the youthful exuberance that had me tossing into the air in front of the princess's castle at Disneyland a pack of cigarettes that I'd resolved to quit smoking on a New Year's Eve so very long ago.

If A Tree Falls in the Forest

and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Well of course not, I would answer, qualifying the answer by including birds and other hearing critters among the absentees. The falling tree would create the vibrations that we and such critters would interpret as sound if we were there, I would add, while putting aside such matters as the transmission of these vibrations across great (or small) distances to other sentient beings who might or might not be hearing the sound
Soooooooooo if a tree falls in the backyard of a sentient being and said sentient being ignores it, what happens? It returns to the dirt that birthed it, I would say and I offer the photo at the left as proof. I would remiss if I failed to point out the caribiner and chain attached to the tree trunk about two thirds of the way up. This was not an unloved tree, though we did not hear it falling. It held up one end of one of our two (much loved hammocks).


All this is prelude to The Presentation of The Moss. I like my back yard look of winter. Instead of the white coldness of snow, I get the sometimes moist greenness of moss. It reminds me of a summer visit to Amsterdam

in my 20's; the moss remains my second most vivid memory of the
city. And so, more pictures of moss, all of them clickable because they are so cool. The last one shows the remaining

hammock which will soon be stored in deference to winter's fierceness, Northern California style.




On a totally other subject, Thursday will begin my 5th week of on-track eating. I have been writing about this in my newest blog, Onwards: 11/11/09 to 11/11/11. I had not planned to provide a link to this blog until I'd reached 185 pounds, the weight at which I started Onwards, Getting Rid of the Regain on September 29, 2005. My current weight is considerably higher, but I feel confident that the only thing that now stands between me and my size tens is time. I invite you to join me as I narrow the distance from here to there.

Wisdom From A Friend

My friend, Lesley Wolfetwain, wrote this when reflecting upon the Solstice. It resonates with me and expresses my wishes for my friends and family and for all of us human inhabitants of this planet.

Tomorrow morning the sun rises at its lowest point. The day after, it begins to rise, to promise spring and summer. For our ancestors, a time to rejoice. We have forgotten that joy; that the cycle of the seasons means the crops will grow again and there will be life for another year.

So I wish you all the joy of that knowledge of life. Of those things that make life beautiful; the love of friends and family, the laughter of stories and tales from our personal histories, the memory of those gone on from this world, and the dreams and hopes for tomorrow. Remember also the glory of Earth herself, the amazing physical structure of the land and water and the myriad of life that lives with us on this small planet in the dark of space. We are so blessed with this world, this special place that somehow gave humankind the chance to be what we are. That we can live and love and treasure that life.

Tonight go out into the night, look to the sky but also feel the earth in your hands. Whatever your faith, send a thank-you to the universe for what you have.

And know I love all of you very much.

Joyful Creation

I had originally entitled this post "Liberation (from The Cosmos) Finally!!!" Then I preloaded the pictures that I intended to use with it and came away with unexpected feelings. I will start this post as I'd initially thought I would, with the whoa-is-me weariness of a project that grew and grew until it absorbed too much of my time and threatened to smother me. In true narcissistic fashion, I have installed the pictures that include me or my project at full power so that the detail is available with a click of your mouse, while reducing all the others.


These pictures show the pain that I am willing to endure for Art (spoken with a tongue-in-cheek pretentiousness). They also demonstrate a certain idiotic perseverance. I could have reduced the extent of the scratches on my hands and arms with the judicious and arms with the judicious use of masking tape. Though the amount of time that I spent working on The Cosmos since my last post exceeded 50 or 60 hours, I couldn't be bothered with spending less than an hour to make it safer.

One of the most satisfying parts of my project was the involvement of The Public. As I wrote in my December 3rd post, all objects except for the glass "stars" were made mostly by kidlets, but also by some adults, at the Sculpture Jammer week-end on October 3rd and 4th. I felt a strong commitment to include everything that they made in the finished Cosmos. Securing them to the window screen that I used to create "the fabric of The Cosmos," to use the title of Brian Greene's wonderful book on the subject, took eons of time. The attachment had to be strong enough to withstand my rugged handling as well as whatever nature will throw at it in its outdoor setting. Many pieces were complicated creations and had to be virtually sewn on to the screening. I spent about 3 1/2 hours trying to secure in a prominent position an "alien" that a woman spent at least 40 minutes making. The final position is indeed prominent, but the alien is irrevocably deformed. Were I ever to do a project like this again (which is to say "Were I ever to totally lose my mind"), I would know that the intended back should be secured first and the pieces in the front should go in last. There is a very good reason that I didn't plan to do this, yet the intended back (which is slightly smaller) ended up being the actual front. (Have I lost you all yet??) If I'd have known that this would happen, I would have had to spend significantly less time on the alien and the alien would not have gotten deformed. The (clickable) picture above and to the left is the intended front, while the (clickable) one to the right of it is what ended up being the front.

Another satisfying part of this experience is that my involvement was with the Sculpture Jammers, a group of other creative people who committed themselves to the larger project. What we intended to do was create a meditation space honoring "the elements." My idea in creating The Cosmos was not just to create the material aspect of stars and the like, but to also give a sense of unseen forces like gravitational and electromagnetic fields and the space-time continuum. The (clickable) picture is of Susandra, who helped me create the container (I'm sorry that I can't think of a better word) for The Cosmos. Susandra is a sculptress who works with welding metals; her knowledge and experience saved me numerous missteps. Other sculptures in the meditation space honor the sun, the moon, fire, and wind. The pictures are of these other pieces and of some of the artists who worked on them.
























The meditation space came about through the brainstorming and work of the group as a whole. After I loaded these pictures, I began to think of the experience of the people who would come upon our creation with no expectations of seeing expectations of seeing anything there. I smiled as I imagined this. Before this, I was satisfied but disappointed with what I and what we had created. I saw many flaws in The Cosmos. The meditation space looked ordinary to me, a result most probably of working the nitty gritty of it over the course of many months. When I imagined how this would look to passersby or people just out for some fun in the park where the project is now installed, I saw it with new eyes. And I smiled and felt joy.