Well I won't be staying long 4 or 5 daysmaybe less you can take me out to dinner to the place you like the best we can gaze across the table and you can tell me about your life the man you fell in love with and how you're now his wife.
If you find you need me or you're feeling sad you can call me on the phone and talk of good times that we had and I'm sure your kids are pretty and one day they'll understand the vast expanse of heartache and how love slipped through my hands.
from Annabelle #2, by Ben Bedford
Ben Plays the Embassy, No. 1
An amazing night at the Embassy yesterday.
When we walked in 10-15 people sat at the bar or tables, and Ben stood with his back to the room, tuning his guitar, the picture window lit green/yellow from the cold night lamps, the neon beer sign throwing gaudy reflections on the walls and floor.
Rachel and I sat down at the bar, closest to Ben. A woman sat beside us, I recognized her as one of the barkeeps. She overheard us ordering our veggie burgers and drinks, and offered her advice on the grilled mushrooms.
10 minutes later Ben walked by and recognized me, even though I had not seen him in years. We shook hands, and I gave him some cash for his latest CD.
He sang his first set to a partly empty room, a handful of people listening. He put his heart into every note, his voice filling the dim room with melody and beauty. His style had matured since I had last heard him, his guitar technique flawless and his voice exceptionally clear and resonant.
Ben Plays the Embassy, No. 2
At the break I was touched that Ben decided to sit with Rachel and I. I had never sat down with Ben and spoken, so I wondered how it would go.
I found out that Ben ....
will soon be getting married to a fellow musician
was a history major
is a runner
has been making his living from music for the past 4 years
was not sure of the meaning of Bukowski's epitaph "Don't Try"
has a western states tour coming up this summer
was not aware of The Handsome Family or Bon Iver
Our discussion passed much too quickly, and he soon resumed his second set. He played a version of Twenty One that blew me away, and Annabelle #2, one of my favorites, made me smile and feel meloncholy. He dedicated Poncho and Lefty to Rachel and I.
Ben Plays the Embassy, No. 3
Rachel had to work in the morning so unfortunately we had to leave during his second set. I said goodbye as I passed, sad to leave this beautiful, forlorn troubadour.
Well, actually, I am rolling the leg. Greg left a comment on my now idle running blog about how he suffered a similar injury while running 18 miles in snow. He revealed that using a foam roller helped his leg recover.
I did some internet research on foam rollers and found that some runners use their Nalgene bottles for the same purpose. Since I am not in possession of a foam roller, I decided to use the Nalgene bottle resting in my freezer.
I lay down on my side on a wood floor, balancing my right thigh on the frozen bottle. I tried to roll my upper leg, back and forth. Balancing required a good effort from my triceps, so I also got to work a bit on my arms.
I felt pretty good afterward, and have now rolled my leg 3 times.
I ran 1.5 miles today, same result, stiffness after 10 minutes which puts an end to my running visions.
The good news is I seem to be slowly getting stronger. Today I walked up and down stairs with no stress on the knee, which is an improvement. The only thing remaining is to get well enough to run. Even the soreness when I sleep at night has disappeared - I have to keep faith that this will heal soon.
Alas, not soon enough. It seems I am getting too close to launch date for my 2 spring ultras, and my longest run during the past 27 days has been 3 miles. I may as well admit, barring a miracle, that my next long race will be sometime this summer.
Today I contemplated getting back into the darkroom, but instead I worked on and finished our tax returns. Dull, I know, but I was motivated knowing that in a month I will be getting a check for a few hundred bucks.
I worked on 2 digital photos this evening, close-ups I exposed while walking home from work yesterday.
When I finish posting this entry I am off to the Embassy to hear Ben Bedford. I am going to bring the camera along and hope to get a photo or two of him performing to a packed bar.
"The wind blows hard among the pines Toward the beginning Of an endless past. Listen : You've heard everything." Shinkichi Takahashi
It felt good to walk to work with the camera again.
As usual, I saw Homeless Bill sitting in his usual spot. This time, I decided to photograph him.
I have always been curiously fascinated with people who wander around all day, no commitments, home, family or friends. Living in Chicago in the 90's I saw my fair share of these lost souls. Some seem deranged, others filled with greed for the next drink or meal. A few, though, seemed thoroughly happy. These I considered to be the wise ones, modern day Zen masters who roamed the earth as enlightened individuals.
I don't have the sense that Homeless Bill is one of the enlightened ones, but the picture I made of him this morning may prove me to be wrong.
I did another triple workout this afternoon. Ran 1 mile to Brookens, then did 6 sets of strength exercises and 6 sets of jump rope. I walked home, then got on my bike and rode 9-10 miles as fast as I could. No matter how hard I pedaled I could not force myself into exhaustion. I was doing loops around the cemetery - going into the wind, uphill, I attacked it like I was Lance Armstrong. I'm either in fantastic cardio shape, or biking is just too damn easy for me.
"In the meantime I could even sell two photographs you sent me last time and I will transfer your part in due course.
The photographs I could sell were acquired by two professionals so I still believe that your work is something special, outraging the normal scene." Erich Ryf
If I am outraging the normal scene, I must be doing something right.
Pretty crazy 24 hours.
First, Rachel comes home to this :
And we eat a bit of this :
I walk to work, work a bit on the budget, feel like I need some air, take a walking break, and see this :
3 or 4 years ago I was sitting in the Embassy Tavern with Rachel, drinking and talking, when this guy starts singing and playing his guitar.
From the first note I knew he was something special. I listened with great interest until his final song. Rachel had left hours ago, but I stayed, sitting on a bar stool, getting swept into the ether of this man's voice.
I introduced myself during one of his breaks, and told him one day I would be reading about him in the New York Times. Well, the New York Times may not have heard of him yet, but a lot of people have, and his new album is getting a lot of attention.
He is playing at the Embassy this Friday, and Rachel and I will be there, cheering him on. In a couple of more years he will be too big to be playing for free at the Embassy, so I better see him while I can.
The second email was from Erich Ryf, owner of a gallery in Switzerland. 2 or 3 years ago he contacted me about exhibiting in his gallery. I accepted (who wouldn't?), and sent him a box of photographs. I was able to sell 2 small 5 x7's during the first month. Unfortunately, at that time, everything turned south for me. I lost my energy just after completing the gallery darkroom sessions. I couldn't get myself to work anymore. Just at a time when my work was selling in galleries in New York, Switzerland, Colorado, and Chicago, I had to leave it all because my vision vanished.
Van Gogh predicted that if he ever experienced success with his pictures, it would be the end of his career. In 1889 -1890 he was finally getting some recognition, but he ended his life in mid 1890, never to experience the influence he would have on future artists.
After getting a bit of exposure, I did not have the desire to take my life, but I could no longer work and see. My spirit had withered.
I finally started to gain some life in October, 2008. I started tentatively, and slowly built some momentum. I started a blog. Learned digital photography. I had lost contact with the gallery world, but maybe this was a good thing. It was back to basics, making pictures to make pictures.
Erich's email included this :
I was surprised that he included my name in his gallery pamphlet. I wrote Erich today telling him how stunned I was to see this, and offered to send him some new work. I am feeling the fire again, so I want to get into the darkroom and make 10-15 new prints for his gallery.
A few hours ago he wrote back and told me to send the work. Not only that, but the opening quote to this blog entry was in the email. So I may have sold some more work, and will be getting some cash soon, which will pay for the supplies I will be ordering in the next few days.
And the best, an epitaph for my gravestone :
Outraging the Normal Scene
~ ~ ~
I had a triple workout today. Ran to the arboretum and did 3 sets of strength exercises. Ran a little more, then walked home.
Feeling energetic, I rode my bike to Brookens and did 6 sets of strength exercises and 6 sets of jump rope.
Riding my bike home, I still had a lot of unspent energy, so I rode to the cemetery and rode around the empty roads as fast as I could, and rode up the steep hill 5 or 6 times. I rode home as hard as I could.
My knee would not allow running more than 3 miles, but, riding a bike does not bother it, so I have found a way to get a good cardio and leg workout.
"Rolling the bamboo blind, I Look out at the world - what change! Should someone ask what I've discovered, I'll smash this whisk against his mouth.
All's harmony, yet everything is separate. Once confirmed, mastery is yours. Long I hovered on the Middle Way, Today the very ice shoots flame." Chokei
Today I was happy.
While I was walking to work this morning I noticed that my legs felt stronger, especially in the hips. When I ran across a busy street I felt like my old self - light and fast.
When I got home from work I took Maggie to the arboretum and we ran around the 1/2 mile field. I was able to run the field 6 times, which is double what I had been doing. I even wore Maggie out because, feeling so exuberant, I could not control my pace and ended up running faster than I should have.
After the run I did 3 sets of strength exercises and the special hip stretches.
Today gives me confidence that I am going to get over this. I felt kind of smart today because I figured out how to treat this odd injury. However, it is too early to be giving myself a pat on the back, I will wait until I can run the South Farms, then I will celebrate by eating a Jimmy John's sandwich :)
My 13 days of silent meditation have come to an end. I made some progress and hope to continue meditating everyday, although it will not be as easy since I won't be living alone.
I will pick up Rachel at the airport tomorrow.
After I finish writing this entry I will bake a cake for her.
More old letters and pictures found today :
After my run today I recalled Wim Wender's film Lisbon Story. The main character has his foot in a cast for the first half of the story. When his foot finally heals and he sheds his cast, he is exuberant and celebrates by doing a dance with a big smile on his face!
"Better watch your soul, it'll leave you like a hundred bucks. My friend said, "stick to your guns", But instead I just got stuck. And I'm walking backwards, lookin' forward to getting done, Oh but that ain't enough, no, you want me to run. Oh that ain't enough, no, you want me to run." M. Ward
Yesterday I had 2 good workout sessions. In the late morning I went to the arboretum with Maggie and ran in the empty field adjacent the experimental plots. The field is about 1/2 mile square, with some places to stop and do some stretches. I felt pretty good, considering it was my first consecutive running day in about a week and a half.
Later in the evening I ate the biryani leftovers, relaxed, and realized my legs felt good, so I went over to Brookens at 10:00pm and did 10 sets of strength exercises. Last Saturday I managed 5 sets of jumping rope, this time I was able to do 10 sets.
I had some soreness in my knee as I slept last night, but it has not bothered me since I got up. Decided today is a good time to rest and recover. There are days when I feel I am going in the right direction, and that full recovery is only a couple of weeks away. I hope that is the case.
I was looking through some old postcards this afternoon. Reading the notes from friends jarred some memories loose. I have boxes of correspondence from the 90's, but now that email is dominant I don't have much from the past 5 years. Part of that is my fault, as I lost the desire to write. I currently owe letters to 3 or 4 friends. It sometimes takes me 5 to 6 weeks to respond.
Postcards & Polaroids
Card
When Rachel spent 2 years in Namibia working for the Peace Corps I sent her over 250 letters. It would take 3 weeks for a letter to arrive, so it skewed our sense of time. I realized that upon receiving letters from her hitching through southern Africa on a month long vacation, that she was most likely already back in Namibia at her teaching post. I once received a Christmas package from her in June. I proudly wore the scarf she knit to work that day.
When Rachel returned from Africa, I met her at the airport and we had a nice cab ride back to the city. I had hung a sign in the living room which welcomed her home. However, it must not have been well placed, because she never noticed it, and after an hour passed I finally gave in and had to point the sign out to her.
We still joke about that poorly placed sign, so I have decided that I want a second chance to redeem myself. Today I printed out a welcome home poster which I will hang in the living room on Tuesday when she returns from Hawaii. I also plan to bake her favorite cake (chocolate macaroon bundt with German chocolate frosting), and will try to repeat the yummy biryani dish which I made yesterday.
Not much going on tonight, the house is quiet, it is cold outside, and I'm getting hungry...
"At last I've broken Unmon's barrier! There's exit everywhere - east, west, north, south. In at morning, out at evening; neither host nor guest. My every step stirs up a little breeze." Daito
Meditation X
Running everyday is fun because the momentum can be felt, and that inspires me to get out there and not miss a day. Now that I am injured, I have been running every other day, but I am finding that it too has its advantages.
Yesterday was an off day, and since it was cold I was relieved not to run. It was the first time in over 19 months that I was happy not to run. Today was equally cold, but I was excited to get out and run because a 2 day rest is good for building energy.
Today I felt some improvement in my overall leg strength. This injury has more to do with my hip than my knee, although it is the knee which stops me from running. Before the knee starts to tighten I can feel the hip getting progressively weaker, then it is only a matter of time before my leg strength is corrupted, which is manifested in a tight knee flex.
I finished another watercolor painting yesterday. I am happy with how these paintings are turning out. I have always wanted to be a painter more than a photographer, but I love how the camera can capture exact line and spacial perspective. This new method of picture making allows me to combine my love of the exact line with the unpredictable, free hand that places color and spirit onto paper. Within a few months I hope to have 30-40 of these types of paintings made.
I made an incredibly delicious meal tonight. I placed golden potatoes, cauliflower, carrots, and peas into a large pot and cooked them in just a bit of water for 15 minutes. I then dropped various types of indian spices into the pot, added 1 cup of water, and cooked on low heat for 30-40 minutes. I then put the burner on high and cooked for 5 more minutes, just to get everything smoking. This was followed by adding a cup of cooked basmati rice, turning the dish in an Indian biryani. I warmed up some paratha bread on a skillet, and sat down in the quiet, dim room with a cup of hot nettle tea to enjoy my meal. I mixed up some chocolate pudding earlier in the day, and ate that for desert. I'm looking forward to the leftovers tomorrow :)
"I write in the dark again, rather by dusk-light, and what I love about
this hour is the way the trees are taken, one by one, into the great wash of darkness.
At this hour I am always happy, ready to be taken myself, fully aware." From Awakening VII, by Lucien Stryk
Tuesday was a day of rest - no exercising, no pictures.
Yesterday I had a good workout, ran 1.5 miles, walked 3 miles, and did 4 sets of strength exercises. I felt some tightness in the knee during the run, but nothing too bad. The tightness is the only problem I have. If I did not have it, I would be 100% healed, so I just need to find a way to cure it and I will back in business.
The one thing that is fascinating about being injured is observing how my spirit explores the problem, trying to find a solution. Yesterday while doing strength exercises at the arboretum I started running sideways, lifting the left leg, then pushing it left, followed by the right leg. After 30 meters I would reverse direction. This did not stress my legs or knee, so it was not an exercise which will help my problem.
I felt I was getting close, though, and as I was walking through the fields with Maggie, I started doing the sideways running a little differently. Instead of keeping my legs in a straight line, I would alternate bringing the right leg behind, and then in front of the left leg. I immediately felt the stress from this exercise, as it works the muscles/tendons which are directly related to the injury.
The main point of stress is in the vicinity of my right hip, and the tightness radiates down to the knee. When bringing my right leg behind the left, it stretches the muscle/tendon, and this causes the knee to tighten.
I am happy to have discovered this exercise, by practicing it the damaged leg will eventually repair itself if it wants to avoid pain.
Meditation is going well, I am taking it with me everywhere I go. It is good to practice it beyond the sitting cushion, but not easy.
Today Joseph came in to fix a shelf for Leona. I was the only one in the office, as Leona had a fearful visit with the doctor. Joseph was in a talking mood again, so he sat down on the floor, his back against the wall.
We discussed food.
"James, I spent $50-$60 this week on fruit."
I thought about this, then replied, "I went to Meijer and spent a similar amount on fruit. I have been eating a lot of star fruit lately."
"Star fruit is delicious."
"I hate driving to Meijer, it is too far to walk, but I love their produce, so I give in."
We are both vegetarians, and I asked him what he knew about Vitamin B12.
"I know about B-12, but I have not thought about it lately. I have been feeling really tired, though, but I decided it was the cold weather that was bringing me down."
"When I was 37 or 38 I experienced an energy crash that lasted for a couple of years. I thought it was caused by age, so learned to live with feeling down all the time. A couple of years ago I started to increase my iron intake, and that helped, but 6 months ago I read that vegetarians can't get enough B12 in their diet, so I started taking a supplement. Soon after I felt a boost in my energy. Rachel thinks it's all in my head, but I don't care because I am feeling great."
"Our mind has as much influence on our health as our body, " and so on....
During the conversation I wasn't doing well with my breathing, and I consequently felt a bit edgy. This hindered the ease of the conversation because I was fidgeting in my chair. I did not have time to sit in meditation before I went in to work, this no doubt played a part in my not being able to focus and relax. I have to remember how important it is to sit everyday.
Yesterday as I was walking through Lincoln Square one of the senior mall walkers was startled by my presence and made a frightened gesture and funny noise. Normally this kind of response would have thrown me off balance, but as I was focused on my breath her actions did nothing to my composure and stride. I walked on completely aware of my breath and surroundings. I felt good about this, because when I get into such a state, where external circumstances don't take me out of myself, I can no longer be swayed to and fro like a leaf in the wind.
Now that everything is slowing down for me, I am startled at how fast moving my life had become. While moving fast in a running race is a good thing, in day to day life it prevents me from enjoying the details of little and big things.
Food is an example. I was eating too quickly, and thus not enjoying the experience as much as I could have. This past week the simplest of foods have brought me immense pleasure. Feeling inspired, I have been creating new meals which have been delicious.
Yesterday I sauteed zucchini and mushrooms in olive oil, garlic, and salsa. I then placed the cooked food in a small bowl. I threw some parmesan and romano cheese on top of the hot food, then placed fresh cilantro atop the cheese. I covered the bowl for 5 minutes. When I uncovered the bowl the cheese had melted and the cilantro had become pleasantly warm and moist. I mixed everything together, and then savored each bite. A tasty snack!
I finished another watercolor painting yesterday. I printed out the first picture from the "Small Winter Day" series. I like the screen version, but this picture in particular was meant to be a painting.
I listed a few darkroom photographs on ebay, and on a whim 2 of my recent watercolor paintings. It is a lucky week because I have had several inquiries about the pictures, and already have a bid on one of the photographs.
If I can get back to selling 3 or 4 pictures a month, I can continue to work part time - let's do it!
"On the same spot I sit today Others came, in ages past, to sit. One thousand years, still others will come. Who is the singer, and who the listener?" Nguyen Cong Tru
Saturday evening I went to Brookens and did 12 sets of strength exercises, 5 sets of skipping rope, and 20 minutes of IT band stretches. My knee was feeling good enough that I ran 3 laps around the gym barefoot.
The next day my knee felt fine, but I decided to relax in the house - built a fire, meditated, read.
Today I took Maggie to the arboretum and ran 1.5 miles in the grass. Knee started to get a little tight at the end when I stopped. I then did 3 sets of strength exercises and walked 2 miles.
Knee feels fine now, so I probably did not overdo it. Tomorrow no running, but will plan to run a small amount on Wednesday. I feel now is the time to begin giving the knee small doses of stress, followed by rest. Hopefully each time out I will feel a little stronger. I am guessing I need 3 more weeks of rest/stress until I am back to normal.
I may have to skip one of the spring ultras, but if I can get back to full strength by early March, maybe I can run one. Probably not, but at least a glimmer of hope remains because my knee seems to be gaining small increments of strength every 1 or 2 days.
Meditation is going well.
Today I bought groceries at Meijer and was able to maintain focus on my breath while walking the aisles, which allowed me to remain aware of my movements and thoughts.
Another shift in consciousness is that I am no longer moving too quickly, or, trying to get from one place to another, only to find that upon arriving where I was going, I am off to another place, hence, I am never really in any place at all.
By remaining aware of my breathing, I feel fully grounded wherever I happen to be. My breathing is deeper, with a more fluid rhythm. The aroma and taste of food is more intense, visuals are more jarring, and my interactions with people more peaceful and good natured.
I am far from where I need to be, but as the Zen Master once told me, I shouldn't strive to get to that place, rather, just be in the place where I am already present.
Did not make a painting yesterday, but made 2 today :
"Colleges being nothing but grooming schools for the middle class non-identity which usually finds its perfect expression on the outskirts of the campus in rows of well-to-do houses with lawns and television sets in each living room with everybody looking at the same thing and thinking the same thing at the same time while the Japhys of the world go prowling into the wilderness to hear the voice crying in the mountains, to find the ecstasy of the stars." From Dharma Bums, by Jack Kerouac
My consciousness is silently being altered through a concentrated effort of sitting, breathing.
Yesterday I woke at 4:00am and meditated.
Then walked to work, the silence of the streets almost as startling as the stillness inside my head.
When I got to work I tried to maintain focus on my breath as I worked on various projects.
Joseph came to the cottage at 7:30 with 2 others. After 5-10 minutes of work he sat down at the desk next to mine and asked,
"James, when you get up in the morning do you ever sing this to your dog, 'Wake up Maggie, I think I got something to say to you'.....?"
I grinned, and unsure of Joseph's mood, replied,
"I don't think I ever have".
This lead-in allowed Joseph to talk with me for 30 minutes. He did most of the talking, telling me about an upcoming Pacific Coast hiking trip which he probably won't participate in because he does not have 3 weeks vacation time.
He then went into a detailed account of his hiking trip through a part of the Appalachian Trail, specifically hiking the mountains of Vermont.
During the conversation I made a note of the following :
Joseph has a 22 year old girlfriend
He is an experienced surveyor
He is almost finished with his 2 year degree in Geographical Information Systems
Once finished with school he should have plenty of job opportunities
He may move to the Denver area
He practices Yoga while on his long distance hikes
He carries incense and candles in his hiking backpack
He does not get blisters after 12 hour mountain hikes in the rain
He likes to drink tequila by the campfire
I am not sure why Joseph decided to sit down and tell me about his life, but while he was doing so I tried to maintain a focus on my breath while at the same time involving myself with his words. Because of this dual focus I was in a more relaxed state of mind, and perhaps this is why he felt comfortable enough to share so much with me.
Throughout I did not say much about my own life, I just listened, and asked questions. It reminds me of something Robert Bly wrote in a book of translated poems by Rilke, “If you want to to have a conversation with someone, ask a question, then..... listen.”
As Joseph spoke I was reminded of the fictional character Japhy Ryder (a portrayal of poet Gary Snyder) in Kerouac's Dharma Bums. I asked Joseph if he had read that book, and was surprised to find that he answered no.
When I got home from work I meditated, then took Maggie to the arboretum, where we did the same routine as the day before.
After a short rest I decided to make a watercolor. Rather than work from a still life, I decided to convert one of my recent digital photographs into a painting. The majority of my digi photos resemble etchings/paintings, not photographs. I do not print any of the photographs because I don't think I would like how they look on flimsy, glossy photo paper.
I inserted into my printer a piece of cut-down watercolor paper, then chose a photograph to print. I took the printed photo to my painting studio and got to work.
I set up my supplies - paints, water, brushes, towels, palette knife. Because I was working with watercolor I decided working on an easel would not be smart, so I set the paper on a small, flat table and began applying paint to paper.
Since I had already worked extensively on the photograph to achieve the tones and colors I wanted, there was not much which needed to be changed.
I was surprised how easy it was to mix colors that were similar to the photograph. When I applied the paint it soaked into the paper and ink nicely, and I liked how a thin layer of paint allowed the ink to show through.
I was able to get into a painting flow, which is where my mind turns off analytical thought and moves into a spacial/color mode.
As the painting progressed I realized I had hit upon a way of making pictures which suited my temperament. Making a digital photograph is easy in the sense that the computer does most of the grunt work - the mixing of colors, contrast/lightness, hue/saturation are quickly achieved with a few mouse clicks. While the results are superb and brilliant, there seems to be a step of the process missing - the part where I do the work. When I put the finishing touches on the painting, I realized I had found the missing step.
For my first painting using this method, I am pleased with the results.
Meditation III
Today I woke at 6:30am and meditated. Walked the dog. Cleaned the house. Did laundry. Ate lunch. Did another painting.
Meditation IV
The only time my knee hurts is when I am sleeping in bed. During the day I have no pain, and I am still searching for a proper method of recovery.
Tonight I am heading to Brookens Gym to skip rope and do some strength exercises.
Got a call from Rachel yesterday, she made it to Hawaii, and is having a great time.
Time to walk the dog....
I almost forgot, it's Valentine's Day, so here is a clip from one of my favorite Valentine's films :
Day 2 has brought me a little closer to center, but I am still a long way from hitting a sweet spot.
Meditated in the morning before work, and as I did so I recalled a dream I had last night.
My body must have felt the shock of not running yesterday, because in my dream I returned to a running route I have visited many times before, but only in my dreams. After a short jaunt through an unknown town, I reach a lush forest which is populated with exotic and dangerous animals, such as tigers and rhinos. Beyond the forest is a large grassy hill, and atop the hill is a plateau upon which a track is built.
In the dream I was with my friend Michelle. Michelle happens to also be currently injured (not in the dream), so it makes some sense that I am with her in the dream. We are planning to run a long race, and as we are warming up we get to the edge of the forest and hear a lion roar. This frightens us because the race will extend into the night, and we are concerned we will be easy prey for the lion and whatever other hungry animals are lurking in the night forest.
Because of the lion we decide to run around the edge of the woods to reach the hill and track. When we get to the track I change into my cross country spikes, but I find that the heel of my right shoe is falling off. I become irritated because I have only worn the shoes once before.
I then woke up.
It was awesome to be able to run in the dream, and also to be at my favorite place with Michelle. My body and spirit are already missing running.
When I got home from work I took Maggie to the arboretum and we walked around under a mild blue sky. I did some strength exercises while Maggie barked loudly at me - she didn't care to wait for me to finish. I could sense her frustration and I started to laugh, and this made her more impatient, so she chased me around the playground, nipping at me, while I protected myself by raising one leg and blocking her attacks with my shoe.
When I got home I searched for some postcard paper to make a drawing on, but could not find any. Instead I stumbled across some more artifacts from my past.
Artifacts
I cut a large piece of watercolor paper down to 8x10 size, then made a chalk/charcoal drawing of a small vase of flowers, set up in my studio/meditation room.
Vase of Flowers
Close Up of Vase of Flowers
I usually like to listen to music while I draw, but for the past two days I have lived in silence, dancing to the beat of my own breath.
I tried to stay focused on my breathing and body position while I drew.
I have not made a drawing in a long time, but I did not seem to forget the little skills I possess.
After drawing I meditated, then made some nettle tea and sat down to write out this entry.
Tonight a supper of Indian food or pasta, I have not decided yet.
More meditation.
Then sleep.
My knee, and everything else, felt improved today, which makes me hopeful I may be back to running within a few weeks. I think my whole system was taxed from the Riddle Run, and I am just now finally coming around. Next time I may think twice about running 5 1/2 hours in snow.
Outside my window the sun has sunk below the houses, a soft orange and blue glow warming the grass and the street. The chickens have made their way back to the coop, time to tuck them in for the night....
I woke at 5:30am, and decided to meditate before walking to work. It only took 20 minutes for my mind and body to calm.
The walk to work felt different because of the meditation, and a couple of positive things occurred which I don't think would have happened if I had been in my normal state of mind.
When I was walking through Lincoln Square mall I passed 2 people seated on a bench. I heard a woman call out good morning in a cheerful voice. There was nobody around for her to be saying that to, so I turned around and saw her smiling at me. I smiled and returned the greeting.
When I got to work Joseph stopped by my desk and asked if I knew how Melinda was doing in California. I told him all I knew from reading her blog, and then we got into a pleasant conversation about our dogs, our ambitions to live in Oregon, and our discovery that we both do not own cars.
I see Joseph somewhat frequently, and we usually say hi/bye, and leave it at that. During our conversation I felt relaxed and happy, which was an aftereffect of meditation. I normally am not talkative, but meditation changes me into something different, and I believe other people and animals can sense it. Had I not meditated this morning, I believe I would not have talked with Joseph.
In a future entry I may write about some of the unusual experiences I have had while under the influence of meditation.
Today was the first day since November, 2007 that I have not run. What an amazing experience to run for 451 consecutive days. It's all over now, but I knew it couldn't go on indefinitely, there are too many things that can go wrong. I am thankful for having had the health to run all those days.
No pictures today either. I was pretty sad when I saw some beautiful things on my morning walk and realized I did not have a camera.
With Rachel being gone it is quiet in the house. Because I will have no interruptions for the next 13 days, I have decided to spend most of my time meditating throughout the day. During my breaks I plan to walk and practice drawing.
I am going to try to make a drawing a day. I will probably use charcoal and chalk, and will focus on still life, such as an apple, a vase, etc. Simple seeing exercises to test my breathing and concentration obtained from meditation.
Melinda, if you happen to read this, Joseph says hello :)
"I don't think anybody but a drunk can understand the terrible the horrible horrible BLUES!!! a hangover can bring! of course I am no longer hung now, am fairly high, and even enclose a half-dozen poems I batted off tonight. not that it matters that they are good or not; what matters is a little juice flowing, good or bad, there's a little flowing again. I had a hell of a period, it was like steel walls built all around me. but now a little song and dance. it's not excellence we want, it's a kind of going-on, a clown's gesture. it took some deciding to come to this. I think we are all too careful. fuck reputation. if I have a reputation it's only the dirty work of others. I have a right to go on. nobody has the rights to rope and bind me. fuck 'em." Charles Bukowski, September 7, 1965
Quite a change an aching knee can bring. Yesterday I walked 3.5 hours around town, camera in hand, and made a lot of pictures.
Today I yearned for the South Farms, not being able to run I decided to walk it. I was hoping to go the full 13 miles, but when I got to the end of the road at hour 2.5 I got fatigued, my knee was stiff and gimpy, energy was low, hard wind in my face, I got glum and grumpy, and blisters formed on the balls of both feet. Not a good combination, so I cut the loop short and walked the same amount as yesterday, 3.5 hours.
Not sure what all this walking is good for other than giving me a good time under the WARM February sun, a chance to speak with crows, and watch the shadows grow and merge across the fields.
Disregard my last letter. Strings became undone. A little sawdust spilled out. Beer. Wine. German gloom. These things can fetch anyone. A waterglass looks like a skull. Horses run into the rail. Insomnia. Job trouble. Toothache. The body bleeds. Retching. Flat tire. Traffic ticket. Lack of love. Sleep, then nightmare. Paper everywhere. Trivial bits of paper. Nothing ever done. Flooded sink. People in the hall with cardboard faces. Sure, sure, sure.
Today I will walk in the sun. I will simply walk in the sun."
Charles Bukowski, September 4, 1962
Working evenings I saw Joseph for only a couple of hours in the afternoons. My desk was next to his, so we would sometimes talk.
I had a detailed map of Paris hanging in my cubicle. I was planning a trip there in the summer of 1994, and by gazing at the streets and the city districts everyday I slowly became aware of the places I wanted to visit – Montmartre, Ile St-Louis, Montparnasse, wandering the Seine.
My hope was to wander the city from dawn to dusk for 8 days, camera in hand. My idea of a good time would be to observe how the sunlight interacted with the streets, people, and buildings.
Joseph noticed my map and told me he had been to Paris, and all over Europe.
"Kiki and I visited Matisse's studio in the south of France. One of our best days was when we took a day trip to the countryside. We took a picnic lunch and sprawled ourselves on a hilltop overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The beauty overtook us, and we decided to try our best to be great painters."
Henry Matisse
He gave me some tips about Paris, the most memorable one being not to wear shorts in the city, because it would flag me as a tourist.
Whenever the shipping department would get a new pallet of binders, the boxes would be filled with thick, glossy paper inserts. The company had no need for these inserts, so Joseph would use them for his daily drawings. Whenever I looked over at Joseph's desk, he was either doing soda inventory in Excel, or making a drawing.
His style of drawing was unique, the paper being filled with thick black lines of smooth, flourishing, circular abstractions. He seemed sure handed and confident of what he was doing.
Morningstar in the mid 90's provided a class reimbursement to its employees. The classes did not have to be work related, so I decided to take a drawing class at Truman College in Uptown, which was about 1 mile from the Parc Paris, on Wilson Ave. The neighborhood was rough and dangerous, and I never felt safe during the 1 block walk from the elevated station to the college.
Unlike Joseph, I knew nothing about drawing, but I thought practicing it would give me a better eye for photography.
So once a week I would ride the train to the college on a Saturday afternoon, carrying a large drawing tablet under my right arm, my backpack filled with charcoal, pencils, and erasers.
I had been reading van Gogh's letters for a few years by this time, and I remembered how he believed drawing the figure would lead to success in everything else. So I decided to take a life drawing class.
The first day of class, when I gazed at an unclothed model for the first time, I had no idea where to start. I was overwhelmed, because the more closely I looked the more the little details became apparent. To make matters worse the initial poses were held between 30-60 seconds. I glanced at a few students and their hands were moving freely over the paper, translating lines into images.
Feeling I could spend an hour on a hand, or the intricate lines and shadows of the torso, I could not comprehend what to draw in 60 seconds. It seemed absurd, so I just sat gazing at the model.
I finally made an attempt, making 2 heavy parallel lines which I hoped would look like a thigh and calf. I chose the legs because they seemed not as difficult as the upper body. I did not even want to think about the face and head.
After the initial period of quick drawings, I was relieved to settle into a 15 minute pose.
The model was a woman in her 30's, normal body type, dark hair, attractive face. I studied her pose for a minute or two, wondering what I should concentrate on. There was no way I could cover the whole body, so I decided to work on the shoulders, breasts, and legs.
I found myself falling into a trance as I began comparing the relation of shapes and lines to the overall mass, trying to make sense of how to transfer the beauty I saw onto paper.
The lines I threw on the paper were dark, heavy, yet unlike my handwriting, the lines seemed to contain a rough power which revealed how I felt about the subject. Before I knew it the 15 minutes had come to an end, and we went on a short break.
I sat on my stool and gazed at what I had made. "God, that's awful", I thought. "I'm like a 5 year old learning to write his name."
I noticed the teacher walking around the room, looking over some of the student's drawings. I watched her, studying her facial expressions as she explained to the students how to improve their drawings. I did not want her looking at my drawing, but at the same time didn’t care, I was doing this as a way to help me see, and I already knew that I couldn’t draw a stick figure properly, let alone an artistic representation of a female body.
By this time the model had slipped on a robe and I was startled and embarrassed to see that she was walking straight towards me. Of all the students in the room, she had decided to see what I had made of her. I could feel my cheeks flushing with color, I was a fraud, I knew it, and was sorry that she had to see how I had mangled her.
I wondered if I had stared too intently at her during the pose, but how else was I to translate the beautiful details if I didn’t look at her? I did feel as if I had violated her privacy, I knew her body so well from those 15 minutes, in a way it felt wrong. Only someone very close to her should ever have that kind of knowledge. Maybe she was going to tell me not to stare at her so strongly?
She stopped at my easel and hesitated, then moved beside me to see what I had done. A look of disbelief washed across her face. She looked me in the eyes, then turned back to the drawing. I was still blushing.
The teacher had seen the model come over to me, and now she too was walking towards my easel. I looked down, I couldn’t believe this was happening. A student sitting nearby noticed what was going on and stepped towards my drawing. I tried to keep my perspective, and when the teacher arrived I had managed to get the blush out of my cheeks.
She studied the drawing, the model and student also looking. 3 people were staring at a bunch of heavy lines that resembled an abstract sumi painting, my first nude study.
"Oh, look at this", the teacher said in a praising voice. "These lines are drawn with vigor and so much freedom…" Her hand moved close to the charcoal fragments and traced the outline of the shoulders. "Very unique. Well done," she told me.
The student standing next to her nodded his head in agreement. The model seemed skeptical, and returned to the posing platform.
I walked over to the student's drawing and saw a skillful replica of the entire pose, including the face and head. He was good.
I walked back to my drawing and saw a mess of tangled lines. I was awful.
I did not know what to make of the teacher's comments, why I had attracted the model's attention, and why the master drawing student had nodded his head in agreement with the teacher's assessment of my work.
I didn't have time to think about it further, because we were now into the 30 minute pose.
"Reminds me of when I was in New Orleans last month and 2 college profs drove some miles in to see me and then argued with each other into the night about their degrees and how they were going to take over the university magazine. Finally one of them noticed me, turned to me and said, "My balls hurt!" I told him that was too bad and then they went on with their talk." Charles Bukowski, April 12, 1965
I felt the neighborhood warming up so I got up at 4:00am and walked out into the damp, tepid darkness with the camera and tripod. I walked a few blocks down Oregon and when I passed Vine Street I set up my tripod to make a photograph of the puddles in the gutter.
As I was setting up the composition I heard a voice call to me. I looked up and saw a teenager standing on his porch.
"What are you doing?"
"Making photographs."
"For what?"
Using the line from last week, "I like to photograph beautiful things."
"What are you photographing?"
I felt myself getting irritated, not at his questions, but rather because fate placed me in a spot where somebody happened to be up at 4:20am on a Saturday morning, was looking out their window just as I was passing by, and had the energy and nerve to go outside and question my intentions.
I instinctively wanted to say "none of your goddamn business", but I knew that would escalate the neutral situation into a war, and I don't like war.
"Come here and see".
He stepped down off his porch and walked over. He stooped a bit to get a view of image.
He smiled and said, "Your photographing the street."
I explained to him what I saw in it.
"Here's the house on the left, and I like the wetness in the gutter and pavement."
"Oh, ok. Sorry for bothering you," he said, walking back to his porch.
"It's ok, I'm standing out here in front of your house, you didn't know what I was up to."
I made the photograph and walked off down Vine Street. I thought about the power of language, its haunting, cruel ability to steer one off a cliff, or land one into the arms of a lover.
I thought about when I was 12 years old, in the 6th grade.
Every morning before school I would run to my best friend Rocky's house. His family had come from Mexico. He was a dark skinned boy who was popular with the girls.
When I entered his home I would notice a large oil painting hanging on the kitchen wall which his sister had made. A dark girl on her hands and knees, the folds of her faded work dress sagging to the floor, a rag in hand as she scrubbed a floor.
Years later I would think of this painting when I was at an impressionist exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago, coming across a picture by Gustave Caillebotte.
The Floor Strippers
Rocky and I would eat cereal, watch a bit of tv. His mother would always smile at me and give me a warm feeling. We reluctantly would leave his comfortable house and walk back the way I had come, to the school yard.
One day while we were in class, I had carelessly blurted out to Rocky that Mexican's spoke like dogs. I know how bad this sounds, but my intention wasn't cruel, rather I was trying to convey my frustration with not being able to understand Rocky's family when they spoke. It was like listening to something as foreign as a dog bark.
Within seconds of my saying those thoughtless words Rocky flew into a rage and saw blood - my blood - he ran after me and I'm sure he would have crushed me to a pulp had I not been faster than him. We raced around the room until the teacher caught Rocky. He was sobbing, and looked as if I had just murdered his mother.
From that day on I knew I would not be able to visit Rocky at his home again. He told me a few days later that when his parents asked him about who had said such a horrible thing, he did not have the heart to tell them it was me. His parent's liked me, and he believed it would hurt them if they knew I was the one.
Rocky and I rarely spoke after that, and I never forgave myself for saying such a stupid thing. I had meant no harm to Rocky, and I respected Mexican people.
I learned that day that a simple blunder with words, an act of just a few seconds, can destroy years of friendship. I no longer trusted words, and decided I didn't like talking. What a waste.....
As I walked down Vine street, the wet pavement throwing long, garish reflections at me, I relived that painful day. My distrust of words was still strong, and I still preferred silence to speaking.
I walked around town, making numerous photographs in the dark, moist loneliness of early morning. Just as the sun was coming up I decided to stop at work and put in a couple of hours.
I was feeling kind of tired by the time I left work, more from reliving the past than anything that had happened earlier that morning. Walking home, the sun's light glared white in the streets, making me squint and smile. How much had really changed in 30 years? Walking along in the morning light, I was that same kid bopping along to Rocky's house, just a few thousand memories richer.
