8.08.2010

Chicken Haiku.




Chickens embody
A comical dignity
That lends to haiku.



Scratching the surface
A chicken turns up more
Than is at first seen.


A chicken listens
Head tilted, waiting to hear
The footsteps of lunch.


Cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck
Cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck
Cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck.


You bully the sun
As if dawn is your making
Cock-a-doodle-doo.


I invite haiku
On chickens if you want to
See what you can do!

8.07.2010

Flowers Are Better Than Bullets.


On May 4, 1970, four unarmed Kent State students were shot and killed by National Guardsmen during a Vietnam war protest. One of them was Allison Krause. She was my friend Laurel's sister.




Laurel is conducting interviews with participants and witnesses to the Kent State tragedy as part of the Kent State Truth Tribunal. These interviews are being livestreamed throughout the day today and tomorrow on Michael Moore’s website.

The Kent State shootings were a flashpoint in American history. Many segments of the population were terrified of the growing youth movement because of the rapid changes that this movement heralded on race relations, women’s rights, and national security. In light of the Kennedy assassinations, as well as the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., even national leaders succumbed to the irrational notion that America’s young people were on the verge of a revolution aimed at shredding the fabric of American democracy. (Sound familiar?) This fear exploded at Kent State when a group of National Guardsmen - who were not much older than the teenage protesters - opened fire on the crowd of college students, killing four and wounding nine.

When the iconic photos of teenagers sobbing over the bodies of their dead classmates reached the American public, most of the country came to realize that the national response to the youth movement had lost all sense of proportion. Allison’s death in particular inspired plays, books, films, poetry, and some very emotionally-charged music. This song by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young is probably the most famous:



The day before Allison died, she had a conversation with one of the National Guardsman who had been sent to her campus to keep order. Noting the lilac blossom someone had placed in the barrel of his rifle, she said to him, “Flowers are better than bullets.”


8.05.2010

Tao Te Ching Ring.


I’m not friends with M because she’s a MixMistress extraordinaire at one of the local pubs; I’m friends with M because she has a uniquely deranged mind and is funny as hell. She’s also an amazing photographer - she shoots with these bizzare old-school cameras that give her pics an authentic vintage vibe. Plus, her family and friends are a hoot to be around. Yes, there is much to love about M besides her formidable skills behind the bar.



Still, I have to admit, being friends with a bartender comes with some significant perks. Like, when they drop by your house and bring over “just a couple of things,” it ends up looking like this. I’ll be honest - I’m not entirely sure what all was in this brew that M whipped up at my kitchen table last Saturday. There was peach iced tea, black currant liqueur, Lillet, bourbon, citrus zest, and a variety of muddled berries and fruit... Mmmm... Muddled...



I love how M wields her muddler with such aggressive authority. Everyone! Five times fast! MixMistress M manages the Mister Mojito muddler masterfully!



Oh, and the drinks also had fire in them, and not just from the bourbon. I don’t know exactly how M ignited these citrus peels and made them go “fwoosh!” but it was AWESOME. Plus, M had the honor of using my new bigfoot lighter, which is currently my favorite accessory in the world. The fact that the fire came from my bigfoot lighter definitely had an impact on the taste of the drinks. Why is this true? Because I believe it in my head to be true, silly.

As M and I drank her delicious concoction, we had an especially nice conversation about the Tao Te Ching. We chatted about what a wonderful philosophical text it was because of its intimacy with nature, and because - at 10,000 words of simple and beautiful poetry - it’s pretty accessible. We then decided that it would be a good idea to honor the Tao by appreciating some nature, so, drinks in hand, we set out on a hike down the fire road near the hippie cabin.

We went to the end of the lane and back, enjoying the birds and squirrels and lizards. The trees were tall and the sun was warm and my drink was cold and I was walking and thinking about how easy it was to move forward when you don’t worry too much about where your feet will land next. I was very much in the moment, and enjoying it immensely.

That's when things got weird.



What's that? There! Sparkling on the ground...

A silver ring - thick metal twisted into an infinity loop. Lower left. See?

I bent over and picked it up. The ring was dirty, but I could see that it had words engraved all the way around it.

“Good eyes,” said M, glancing at the piece of silver in my hands. “What does it say?”

I brushed the dirt away to reveal the words. I read:

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”

“Cool!” said M, but I didn’t speak. “What’s wrong?” she asked me.

“This is from the Tao.” I said. “It’s the most famous quote in the entire text.”

“You’re not serious...”



Oh, I'm serious, all right. From the Tao Te Ching, Chapter 64:


The tree as wide as a man's embrace grows from a tiny sapling.
The tower of nine levels starts as a heap of dirt.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.


Now I don’t pretend for a minute to know how the universe works. But stuff like this makes me think that The Matrix likes to mess with people’s heads when they're a little buzzed.

The whole episode reminds me yet again that things fold back upon themselves - you never know when you might find something on the journey back that you overlooked on the journey out.

8.03.2010

Hippies On Horseback.





I don't know...



...This looks an awful lot like a horse to me.



In fact, I think there’s some rule that says you can’t hold a rodeo without horses. I think these team ropers would agree.



So would this bronc buster. This cowboy might have been distracted by a different sort of “bust” over there to the right in the white tank top.



Not these team ropers, though. These guys were all business, as were their horses. At one point, I found myself cheering for the horses by name. “Good job, Chief!” or, “Way to go, Goldie!” When the cowgirl in the stands next to me started laughing, I laughed too and said I was more excited to see the horses perform than the cowboys. Nodding knowingly, she replied, “The horses are classier.”



But the Fort Bragg rodeo wasn’t only about the horses. There were bulls, too. This adorable guy dusted his cowboy, then charged horns-first into the gate where I was standing a mere nanosecond after I had snapped this shot. If it wasn’t for my girl M tugging me back, I would have been a Jendocino-kabob. Cool pic, though. Inattentiveness has its rewards. Thanks, M!



When attempting to ride a bucking one-ton animal with horns, a helmet can come in handy. I know it’s not very cool, but I bet about now this dude is really, really happy he has a helmet on his head instead of a Stetson. One of the things I love about this shot is that even though you have four cowboys rushing over to help the guy on the bull, the cowboy closest to the action looks like he just wandered into the arena because he thought he might have left his pickup parked there the night before.



Oakdale Rodeo, Salinas Rodeo, Fort Bragg Rodeo - asses hanging over the rail is universal.



I don’t think Stilts the Clown and Zeus the Wonder Horse are universal, though. This ensemble might be unique to Fort Bragg. Incidentally, I have no idea what this guy’s actual clown name is, but whatever it is, it can’t be funnier than Stilts. And this clown needs all the help he can get, especially when his best joke is about Zeus being unable to address the crowd that day as he normally does because he’s a little hoarse. A little hoarse.



Aside from Stilts the Clown, this cowgirl was a highlight of my day at the Fort Bragg rodeo. She’s a local barrel racer, and what I loved about her was her town pride. She was thrilled that many of the local competitors performed so well because now when anyone called them hippies on horseback, it was with respect.



This girl’s mother had hand-beaded the cuffs of her jeans with coastal wildflowers under a bright sun alongside the blue Pacific.



She told me that even though the current fashion among barrel racers was to have a lot of expensive “bling” on their tack and outfits, she’d rather wear her mother’s needlework out into the arena than have the fanciest rig in the show.



And she wanted abalone and seashells on her bridle. Not silver conchos and a bunch of fringe - but abalone because it’s an enduring symbol of the Northern California coast.



I just loved this cowgirl’s easy appreciation for the simple things that make our little corner of the world wonderful and unique. After all, when the tack is off and the horses are tired, we all need a home to go to that we can be proud of.



8.02.2010

Slinking Around A Slinky.


Look who I found this morning, inching circles around the top of my toy Slinky. Around and around she went, measuring the endless loops, no doubt wondering where it was taking her and when it would all end... Hey, didn't I just pass this way? Hey, didn't I just pass this way? Hey, didn't I just pass this way?



I think she came in on a bushel of flowers some friends brought me from their amazing garden in Elk. How strange for her to have moved from that beautiful bundle of nature to the cold, steel modernity of the Slinky. I question her choice, I really do.



Maybe she questions her choice, too. And maybe she likewise wonders why a grown woman still owns a Slinky. And Silly Putty. And crayons. And two yo-yo's. Well, if I wasn't a kid at heart, this inchworm wouldn't have had a Slinky to measure in the first place. See? A Slinky, like inchworms and the universe, always comes full circle.