Category Archives: My Story

Change

Posted on by Leave a comment

Where We Started

As Neil DeGrasse Tyson points out, we are made from stardust.  It takes a supernova to generate the energy to create the heavier elements.  That stuff diffuses, then gravity slowly congeals into new bodies.  Now this takes time, many millions up to billions of years.  Even geologic time is somewhat inconsequential compared to galactic time.

That’s a reason why we are so deluded with respect to time.  For children, the weeks leading up to Christmas can seem like forever.  It’s no time at all.  However, sometimes when I sit in meditation, time seems to stand still and I get jumpy.  In truth, our lifetimes are meaningless when viewed from even the nearest galaxy to our Milky Way.

The message in this?  Chill, already.  The therapist I saw for my ADD had me put a sticker saying NBD on the dash of my pickup.  No Big Deal.  Universes come and go in the blink of Kali’s eye, and we are obsessed with He Who Must Not Be Named’s tweets.

What is important is what we do with this tiny minute we are here.  I am attempting to connect with that eternal universe I tend to ignore most of the time.  Going back to the roots.  Well, the roots are made from stardust.

My brain gets oxygen and food these days, so it goes into action, what it evolved to do.  The action is thinking.  Thoughts arise, mull around, and pass to something else.  We are physically safe most of the time, so it isn’t really necessary to be on alert all the time.  The saber-toothed tigers are gone.

So, my task is to stop thinking so much, and just be space and stardust.  It’s where we came from and where we are going, so why not just be with that?  When I am able to let the clutter go,  I am more in harmony with the changing universe, not my nearly ceaseless churning of the noise I absorbed yesterday.  What arises, fleetingly, is equanimity and serenity.

In the long run we are all dead, so what’s the big deal?  Maybe we need catacombs, ossuaries we visit regularly to remind ourselves of the impermanence of it all.  I would like ho hold Nietzsche’s skull in my hands.  So much for the Ubermensch.

Can’t we all just get along?  If I remember something, I wand to remember yesterday’s sunset and look forward to the breeze in my face as I walk out of the coffee shop.  Oops, there I am thinking about the future, not enjoying the nice people in the coffee shop.

 

.

Posted in ADD, Aging, Buddha, Depression, Fear, Meditation, My Story, Stories, Trump

Mindfulness

Posted on by Leave a comment

Meditation

The ostensible purpose of mindfulness meditation is to stay in the moment.  One does this by watching the breath.  Just watching the breath.  Not thinking about breathing, not planning the week, not obsessing about ice cream.  By watching the breath only, one is in the moment.  Not the past, not the future, just now.

What the Buddhists call the self is that portion of our brain which wants to stay busy.   So, we think.  Thinking about most anything.  Some people have feelings, but I mostly think about feelings.  We are to note the thought of feeling, and return to the breath.  The goal is like cleaning the garage, getting rid of junk and having the other stuff organized so we don’t have to think about it.

Carol and I start our mornings with fifteen minutes of meditation.   We both agree about considering the meditation a success if we are able to watch more than two breaths.  I beat myself up about this.  What the hell am I doing this for if I can’t stay with my breath more than two times.  I must be some sort of failure.  When I complain about this to accomplished meditators, I hear “That is just where you are.”  That is no help, thank you very much.

Can’t they wave their wands and create an enlightenment spell?  Where is Hermione when I need her?  In fact, I am making some progress.  Some mornings I can stay with two or three breaths several times.  During longer meditations I sometimes can sustain for several minutes.  If I can’t stay with the breath, I pray.  I pray for others, I pray for myself, or I just pray with gratitude.

I also use mantras.  I justify them by believing my ADD doesn’t allow me to meditate like normies.  After all, people have used mantras for thousands of years.  I also blame my addictions, as if people haven’t overcome addictions with meditation for thousands of years.

Well, despite my resistance and whining, I am actually getting somewhere with this mindfulness business.  I have tried lots of stuff, trying to get myself somewhat lined out in life, and mindfulness meditation is what works for me.

Now, this mindfulness is not a standalone thing.  It is Buddhist.  That means The Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path.  They explain why we are always thinking, mostly for no good reason, and provide guidelines for going through life without doing harm.  I dodge them by telling myself I can’t find a clear, brief explanation, as if Mr. Google doesn’t exist.  Well, I do a fairly good job of following them.  Most of the time.

At age 74 I feel I am finally on the way.  What more is there?

Posted in Buddhism, Insight Meditation, Jesus Prayer, Meditation, My Story, Stories

Sherlock

Posted on by Leave a comment

Sherlock and Watson

Two years ago I wrote about The Buckner Banner.  I rode the USNS Simone Bolivar Buckner to Germany and home two years later.  For some reason known only to the military gods, I was chosen to edit the ship’s newspaper, The Buckner Banner, although I was a lowly private.  It was great fun, and our nine issues were a big hit because we serialized a Sherlock Holmes novel.

There were civilians aboard, military dependents, and lots of troops in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean for nine days with little to do.  The Banner was printed on a worn-out mimeograph machine, and the result was lots of gaps and unreadable copy in the paper.  Passengers got involved in the story and had great fun trading issues back and forth to be able to read each installment.

I got lots of compliments, and had the run of the ship as newspaper editor.   Strangely I have never read Arthur Conan Doyle’s works until now.  Sherlock is one of the best-known fictional characters in English.  He is probably better known today than in the Victorian era because of movies and television.  Basil Rathbone starred in seventeen Sherlock movies.  Robert Downey Jr. starred in a movie, and there are two current TV shows, Elementary, set in New York and starring Jonny Lee Miller and Lucy Liu (Dr. Watson a woman!); enjoying a five year run, and Sherlock, starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, also with a long run with just a few episodes each year.  At least 99 actors have played Sherlock.

We are steeped in Sherlock Holmes.  Barnes and Noble has a two volume edition of Doyle’s Sherlock stories, and I am well into Volume One.  The story I just finished is set in London and Brigham Young’s Utah.  The Mormons had a lot of bad press in Doyle’s era, what with polygamy and Brigham’s Theocracy.  The story reflects that bias, featuring three murders.

Doyle gives the Saints a bad rap, but a lot of their infamous deeds were a response to the persecution the saints endured in Missouri and Illinois, which led to their trek west.  2017 is not the only time people in America have faced religious discrimination; hate directed against Jews, Catholics, and Mormons for starters.

This was part of Doyle’s appeal.  He made the events of the Victorian era come alive for his readers then. They come alive for us now, here in a land of Anglophiles.  I am going to have a lot of fun with Sherlock, Watson, and company.

Posted in Current Activities, My Story, Sherlock Holmes, Stories, Troop Ships

Weather

Posted on by Leave a comment

Weather Map

One of my Insight Meditation teachers likes to say everything is what it is.  Well, the weather comes and it goes.  If you are curious about the weather, look outside.  We seem to be preoccupied about the weather.  One of the big small talk topics is weather.  Every local TV newscasts has two segments on the weather.  The national news now has a weather story every evening. 

We always have weather.  It is always changing.  Regardless of what they say, we will get what we are going to have.  The meteorologists can give us an educated guess, but so what?  Look outside.  That is what we have.  Life goes on. 

We are at the mercy of the weather.  It’s hot, cold, wet, snowy, or beautiful.  The changes bring beauty.  We should be preoccupied with the beauty.  My teachers talk about impermanence.  That’s weather, that’s life.  We are born, live, and die.  The storm comes, stays a while, and is gone.   

Weather is not tomorrow, it is now.  Feel the cold, your stiff fingers.  See the sunrise, breathe the coffee smell, listen to the coffee shop chatter.  That is the weather.  Life is now.  Not tomorrow, not yesterday.  Yes, we have to act.  Work, laundry, get the brakes fixed, stop that faucet from dripping.   

The lesson is to feel the weather while stopping the drip.  Enjoy the light when the driver in front of you is texting after the light changes.  You will get there.  He will get there.  The clouds will be gray.  The sun will shine.  It is.  You are.  That’s all.

Posted in Buddhism, Equanimity, Insight Meditation, My Story, Stories, Weather

Winter Blues

Posted on by Leave a comment

Winter

As I sit here in the coffee shop it is a gray January day with a light rain falling, promising to turn to snow.  This is an accurate metaphor for my mood of late.  I’m prone to depression, get treatment for it, but this is probably Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).  I haven’t been able to do much writing, and what I have written I haven’t posted.  This is unusual. My goal is to put something up every week and I haven’t come close.   

I used to have two of those lights which are supposed to help, but I gave one away and the other is over the bathtub I haven’t been able to use lately.  Why no baths?  Leaks.  The upstairs bathroom sink cold water faucet started leaking as well. 

For me, things happening around me are often related to the state of my psyche.  Water is also a symbol of the unconscious mind, and leaks are about something important trying to come to consciousness.  I am engaged in a struggle to keep things buried.  Thus, leaks I am slow in fixing, and gloom leading to inaction.  It’s easy to guess how my meditation practice is going.  

My meditations are supposed to have the goal of being totally in the moment-no thinking about the pas, the future, or Donald Trump.  I can stay with just observing my breath for maybe five seconds.  I usually am able to stay with my breath or a prayer for several minutes before drifting off to be with Dorothy and Toto.  I come back to the breath, stay there a while and drift off again.  Currently, I obsess.   

I think the real issue for me is aging.  I am 74 years old. Lifting a fifty pound sack of ice melt salt is hard.  I used to throw fifty pound sacks around.  I cannot go above the second step on the ladder for fear of falling off.  I sometimes cheat and go to the third step, no higher.  My balance is not very good.  I have stayed at the same weight for some time but the muscles are shrinking and the belly is growing.   

I forget stuff.  I have always been somewhat forgetful, an ADD-ADHD symptom, but it’s worse lately.  I am going to have to go back to writing reminders down, a habit I have slipped away from.  I also head downstairs to do something, do two or three other things and head upstairs with the task not done. At least I get some exercise going up and down the stairs all day.

I know this too will pass, but I am tired of waiting

 

 

Posted in Aging, Arthritis, Current Activities, Depression, Health Issues, Insight Meditation, Meditation, Memoirs, My Story, Stories

Leadville

Posted on by Leave a comment
Leadville

Leadville

As part of our week in Breckenridge, we did a day trip to Leadville over Fremont Pass.  This country figures in my life.  My father grew up in Leadville, and I worked at the Climax Molybdenum mine one summer when in college.  Breckenridge is low country, around 9600 feet.  Leadville is over 10,000 feet in elevation, the highest incorporated city in the U.S. Climax is at the summit of Fremont Pass, 11,360 feet in elevation.  Some years, it doesn’t snow in July.   

Climax, Elevation 11,300 Feet

Climax, Elevation 11,300 Feet

Climax is at the foot of Bartlett Mountain, once one of the largest bodies of Molybdenum in the world.  Moly is used in alloying steel and as a lubricant.  Moly alloyed in steel makes it tougher, useful in high stress applications.  It’s first big use was in gun barrels during WWI.  Much of Bartlett Mountain is gone, hollowed out, crushed, had the metals removed, and the tailings dumped into a once beautiful glaciated valley.  Common with most mining operations, Climax has gone through several boom-bust cycles, and is currently just limping along.  Leadville is limping as well, still dependent on mining. 

I worked at the Storke level, 300 feet down the mountain from the original portal and mill.  I lived in a company hotel there. There was once a company town, but it went away as the milling operation took the land.  The store and the beer joint were still there in the mid-1960’s.    

I worked as a miner.  Drill, shoot, and muck.  That’s mining.  The drill was a jack leg, a pneumatic rock drill with a leg attached to be extended as the drill hole got deeper.  It was powered by compressed air, and had a water feed to keep dust down.  Drill holes in the face, load them with explosive, shoot, then remove the broken rock (muck).  I plan to go into the whole operation some time.  I did it for the money, and I can now say I was a miner. 

Leadville is down the pass.  What a place.  First gold, then a lot of silver, then bust as the silver market collapsed.  Mining has always gone on, from small independent operations to massive developments supporting a fairly large town.  My grandfather lived there for about twenty years as a railroader, a good Union job.  Born in 1903, my dad grew up there until 1918 when the railroad went broke and the family moved to Grand Junction.  Growing up, I heard lots of Leadville stories.  I will tell some more sometime.  If you go down the hill from the hotel on Harrison Avenue, the house at the bottom on the right is where my father grew up. 

Mining Hall of Fame

Mining Hall of Fame

When we visited, we drove around and I bored everyone with Leadville stories.  We ate at the Golden Burro, where I ate in the 1960’s, and went to the mining museum.  If you have any interest in mining, that’s the place.  Mostly, mining is taking metals and fuel from the earth and leaving a mess.  Leadville has lots of messes.  The worst ongoing mess is the water.  As it comes out of the mines it is highly acidic and loaded with toxic metals in solution.  It will have to be treated forever, at least in human terms.  Mining built Colorado, and we will always deal with the legacy.  Oh, what a mess we made.

Posted in Climax CO, Family History, Geology, Gold Mining, History, Leadville, My Story, Stories

It’s Not Easy Being Green

Posted on by Leave a comment
Kermit

Kermit

“It’s not easy being green”.  I like to use that line with people who dye their hair green.  They don’t seem to mind, as they are extroverted enough to do such a thing and be seen in public.  I particularly like the phrase because I have a green pickup and my totem animal is the frog.  I even have a couple of stuffed frogs people have given me.  I have been kissed, but, alas, never turned into a prince.  I do tend to hop and croak, but draw the line at eating flies. 

I have found that at my age, I can initiate conversations with strangers I wouldn’t have dared to do when I was younger.  People just figure I am a silly old man.  Right on.  I am bald and usually wear a hat.  I walk up to African-American people, men and women, with dreadlocks and tell them I have wanted

Whoopi With Dreadlocks

Whoopi With Dreadlocks

dreadlocks for years.  Then I take my hat off.  I always get a laugh and a couple of comments.  It’s my way of connecting with black people.  It is also a way of showing respect for how they look in a humorous way.  I have had a lot of fun with it.  I also have a bit of a Rastafarian streak. 

Another joke I use with strangers is when I see someone with a college shirt on.  With the Denver University people I ask them why Colorado College grads keep a copy of their diploma on the dash of their car.  It’s so they can park in the handicapped slot.  Here in Colorado, it’s often CU and Nebraska.  By the way, that N on their helmets stands for nowledge.  

I used the joke with Duke-North Carolina, Auburn-Alabama, Notre Dame-Penn State, Denver Metro-CU Denver, USC-UCLA, and sadly after Saturday’s game, Washington-Oregon.  The combinations are endless.  I have had the most fun with Texas Tech-Texas A&M.  I told the joke to a couple, he with a Texas Tech T-shirt.  She screamed, “I’m an Aggie!”.  He couldn’t stop laughing.  I used Purdue with a guy wearing an Indiana shirt.  “My dad’s a Purdue grad and an engineer”.  He promised to use it on his dad. 

Then there are the Gingers.  I tell them they should rule the world.  Gingers are a downtrodden minority no one is really aware of.  The pure redheads are usually able to effectively protect themselves, given their temperament.  Of course many of them are Irish, which opens up a whole new area. 

Lincoln Tunnel

Lincoln Tunnel

I also have my New York joke, useful with anyone from a four-state region around the city.  “Do you know why the suicide rate is so high in Manhattan?”  “The light at the end of the tunnel is Jersey.”  Even Jersey natives laugh at that one.  Now, New Jersey truly is The Garden State, except for those ugly industrial flats across the river from Manhattan.  When in the Army, I was stationed at Fort Monmouth on the Jersey shore.  This child of the Colorado Plateau was overwhelmed by the lushness of that area.  I had never seen so much green. 

So, now you know how I make a fool of myself in public.  Try it, it’s much better than expressing panic about the election.

 

 

Posted in Green, Hot Pot, My Story, Stories

The Hurt, The Itch, and The Joke

Posted on by 2 comments

It’s raining today, which means it is time for miscellany.  I always have a few short ideas rattling around in my head, and these days writing about them is the best way to get them out of there.  First, the itch. 

For years now, if it doesn’t hurt, it itches.  I have arthritis in several places and it bothers me from time to time.  Currently it is my left knee and my left wrist.  The knee hurts and is weak for the first few steps when I get out of the chair.  I get shots in the knee from time to time, usually good for six months or so.  I am left handed and the wrist is intermittently a real pain, usually when gardening.  I notice that my left hand is weaker than the other one (I won’t say right.)  as I am the official opener and fixer around the house, this is not good.   

Itch

Itch

The itch is the biggie.  I itch every morning until the Allegra kicks in, and every evening until the Benadryl kicks in.  I don’t know what the allergen is, and it is year around.  The worst spots are on my back over my kidneys.  Right now, the inside of my forearm and calf are itching.  The itch doesn’t drive me nuts, I was already there.   

I tried the allergy specialist with no luck.  The only things that help are the antihistamines.  There is a possibility the allergen is one of the medications I take.  Next time I see my doctor I will talk to her about doing an allergy elimination protocol.  I won’t do it myself, I take that stuff for a reason.  I don’t want to have a stroke while tracking the source of the itch. 

I didn’t itch when I was younger.  I even felt a bit smug when others complained about their allergies.  Maybe the whole thing is karma.   

cuironNrgb

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, the joke, my favorite of all time.  I see a person wearing a college t-shirt or sweatshirt and ask them if they know why graduates of the school’s big rival keep a copy of their diploma on the dash of their car.  They do it so they can park in the handicapped spot.  Here in Denver it is usually Colorado-Nebraska or Denver University-Colorado College.  Nebraska, of course, is the most appropriate.  That N on their football player’s helmets stands for nowledge.  Most Coloradoans know that joke, but it is fun to see the reaction when in Nebraska. 

I have used it for schools all over the country.  Michigan-Ohio State, Purdue-Indiana, Notre Dame-Penn State, Duke-North Carolina, Auburn-Alabama, USC-UCLA, and especially Texas-Texas A&M, as Aggies are right in there with Nebraska.  I have told this to dozens of people, and only one didn’t like the joke.

Posted in Arthritis, Health Issues, Itch, My Story, Pain, Stories, Writing

Declining and Arising

Posted on by 3 comments
The Quarter Moon

The Quarter Moon

A few years ago Carol, my wife, her sister Judi, and I wrote a blog about caregiving for aging parents.  The aging parents are gone and so is the blog, but one piece I wrote sticks with me.  Watching the decline.  I wrote the piece about Frank, Carol’s and Judi’s dad who went into a serious decline in his ’90s.   

Frank is gone, so now I am watching my own decline.  I had it come home to me when I forgot where I parked the car in downtown Minneapolis and spent three hours searching for the damn thing. By the time I found it I was tired, relieved, and a bit ashamed.  Not finding the car has always been a problem for me, a function of my ADD.  I keep a little yellow ball on the radio antenna of my pickup so I can see it in the parking lot.  Losing the car for three hours is a new one, however.  Yes, I have a GPS in my cell phone. 

Losing the car is only one symptom.  My knee, wrist, shoulder, and back hurt.  I fall down.  I can’t remember names.  Carol and I make a plan every week, and I forget what I am supposed to do.  I go downstairs to get something, do three other things and end up back upstairs without what I went for.  Three times. 

I will be 74 in October.  What do I have left?  Ten, maybe fifteen years?  Aging is reality for me.  Usually I take these things in stride.  After all what is important is the moment, which is almost always pretty good.  The trip to Minneapolis threw me into something of a funk.  I got scared when I couldn’t find the car.  I went to help my brother-in-law, who is facing some aging issues as well.  I still haven’t recovered from the trip. 

My life is good.  We have a nice home and garden, good things to do, travel some, and have fun together.  I can write, which I was unable to do until the last few years after getting diagnosed and treated for ADD.  I have gone places and done things.  I can ( http://www.insightmeditation.org/ )meditate which I could not do for most of my life.  I have found an important role as family caregiver. Caregiving is especially meaningful because it didn’t exist in my family. 

The meditation has opened up a spiritual life I have sought since I first asked “Why?”.  I now  know the answer: Because.  The secret to because is becoming.  The sun is up every morning.  The birds sing, even if I have trouble hearing them.  The new in my life outweighs the difficulties.      Most of the time.  I get myself in trouble when I stare at that unknowable wall out there.  If I stay where I belong, here and now, I’m fine.  Events, however, sometimes present that wall-my brief time on this world and in this body.  I’ll get through it.  Writing this has already helped.

Posted in Aging, Balance Problems, Current Activities, Family History, Health Issues, Meditation, Minneapolis, My Story, Stories

Minneapolis

Posted on by One comment

I recently went to Minneapolis to help my brother-in-law.  He was on his bicycle returning from doing some volunteer work when he was hit by a car.  His leg was broken, and the ambulance took him to the Hennepin County Medical Center, a huge facility, where he had surgery on the leg.  There he was, in the hospital then in a nice rehab facility, immobile.   

I traveled from Denver to serve as legs.  He need his mail and things from his place and the police report for starters.  The mail and things was no problem.  He lives in one of Minneapolis’ hip neighborhoods.  Lots of bicycle shops and pizza joints.  The police report was another matter. 

Minneapolis City Hall

Minneapolis City Hall

The City website gave a wrong address.  I asked around, and was sent to City Hall next door.  It is quite an edifice, a big pile of brown brick meant to be in some architectural style.  There is nothing on the outside of the building to identify it as City Hall.  I found the right office and was told I had to have written permission from Jim to obtain the report.  So, back to the rehab center for the note, and back downtown.  A little later in the day, I had to park a few blocks from City Hall.  I said the location out loud to myself so I would remember.   

I got the report ($0.40) and headed back to the car.  I couldn’t remember where I parked the damn thing.  I walked around for three hours with no luck.  I even had to stop for something to eat as I was getting tired.  I asked for help at a police station and got nothing but sympathy.   

I finally got a cab and we found the car in ten minutes.  I was looking on north-south streets and the car was on an east-west street.  Later it dawned on me I could have pinned the location on the GPS in my phone.  I guess I will have to learn how to use the thing after three years.  I was as stressed out as at any time in my life.  I just felt old and clueless. 

I stayed in a hotel down by Mall of America and the airport, not wanting to stay downtown.  It is easy to go back and forth if it is not rush hour.  Minneapolis highways seem more congested than Denver, and the streets are in worse shape. It’s an older city and the winters are worse.   

The hotel restaurant was an Outback Steak House.  It was entirely too much noise for me.  I ended up at the Denny’s (!) down the street.  After running around an unfamiliar city, I was too tired every evening to even turn the TV on. 

Lots of years ago I spent some time in Minneapolis Searching For Truth.  I don’t know if I found truth, but I came to appreciate the city.  It is also where Carol went to high school and the University of Minnesota, so there are connections other than the one with Jim.   

As in every big city, downtown emphasizes the diversity of the population.  In Minneapolis, I expect to see blonde Scandinavians.  Nope, African Americans and Somalis.  The city has the largest Somali population in the country.  I don’t think they are Lutherans.   

The only complaint I have about Minneapolis is the climate.  It rained.  Several times.  Once, a lot.  This child of the desert can tolerate some rain, but not much.   What happened in Denver when I got home?  It rained.  Where is the justice?

Posted in Minneapolis, My Story, Rain, Stories, Weather
« Older Entries Recent Entries »