This is it

This is it. This is that. Right here and right now. The real deal and the big show. 

Yet, in the grander scheme of all things, it is still…..and will eternally be….. practice.

Our practice. As we crawl, stumble or sprint towards the enlightened state of flowing dynamic consciousness. Our practice could be seen as awakened movement on the path that takes us, day by day, step by step and inch by inch towards the highest vision of our greatest understanding of self. I can say with a good deal of certainty that should you succeed in this noble quest of self awareness, the obtainment of your worldly goals will be a natural progression of that effort.

The application of which translates into a phrase I am most fond of; continue your practice. In any situation and all the time. Consider for one brief moment what your response might look like if your current emotional situation, your ability to stay centered, balanced and aware, and your unwavering commitment to continual improvement was optimized. What would you be capable of? Or, perhaps calling on the more banal equivalent, why are you not engaged in that practice, if the potential is so powerful and the payout so profound, this very minute? 

What else is there? Have we been so gaslit by the corrupt corporate capitalistic consumer cabal that our very dreams are now controlled by artificial and manipulative distractions? In a world where a device in your pocket has replaced social interaction, a place where corporations are now legally people, and our ecology is routinely stuffed under the rug of profitable technologies, we deny the mere concept of our selves as spiritual beings. It is all about the material. There is no soul. Darkness. Humanity as commodities. 

Still, we persevere. We fight the good fight. We accept the fact that inside every positive, loving, tolerant and sharing yin, there is a spot of darkness representing the evil we are capable of. Just as inside every equally opposite yang of hate, bigotry, discrimination and greed there is a dot of light. 

Our practice is in this concept of oneness. You as one, me as one, us as one. The collective we as one. Meaning that our responsibility is in making the one we have the power to change (ourselves) the best one we can be. That is our practice and it is through this devoted effort that we change the whole by changing a part of the whole. Should you ever feel overwhelmed by the largess of the corruption currently surrounding us like a global dark cloud, bring it back to the present and…..simply…..go about your practice. Sow the seeds of love. Love your brother. Share your inspiration, cheerfulness and kindness. Count your breaths and relax. Ride your bike. 

To the corporal this means sticking with your plan, keeping your motor tuned-up and ready to race. To the cerebral it includes constantly adding to your acumen of understanding. And to the mindful, regardless of which creation story you prefer, it means doing no harm as we remain vigilant on the sacred path of our spiritual growth.

This is it and this takes practice. 

10

You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t need to do ‘it’ perfectly. Perfection is not a prerequisite.

Perfection is in the doing. In this knock-down-drag-out fifteen round title match, all the perfection one needs is the courage to do what must be done. To set up, take the first step and then keep going. The degree of success, so often tallied in terms of wins versus losses, success of failures, bottom line profits or returns on investments, is bludgeoned silly by the simple act of honest effort. THAT is where any concept of perfection plays it’s part - in making your effort perfect.

I have said this six million times (by the latest count), and I will risk any backlash by the six millionth and one telling, that (and I quote): “If you have done everything correct in practice, if your effort has been pure, enthusiastic, scholarly and authentic, I don’t care what follows.” If one has put forth that quality of effort towards any goal, there exists no possibility of that thing we call failure. Sure you can lose a game, miss a promotion, watch as greedy, corrupt politicians steal your pensions, or deal with the death of your dog - bit if your practice has been consistent and effective, if your adaptation process has raised your awareness, gratitude and ability to forgive sufficiently, your response is not anger, envy or depression, it’s more experience and wisdom. and, dare I ask, Isn’t that what it is about?

If any of you (still) think that the accumulation of gold, stockpiling of political power or indulgence of one’s privilege represent life’s meaning, I hate to break the news, but it is not. The bankrupt adage, once used to sell trucks, extolling that the one who dies with the most toys, wins, made more honest folks wince faster a trump stump speech. Our current notion of totalitarian and predatory capitalism, must end. Quick.

With this as the intro, after class this morning, a particularly challenging set of intervals, I had one of our longest contributing members make a comment on the importance of an emotional glimpse of the value of intensity. I asked him, on the scale of one to ten, how important is your comment?

"You mean in spinning, cycling, pole vaulting or all of life?"

"All of life of course.”

"If I understand it correctly what we just witnessed was proof that what we once thought to be our best, really isn’t. When we think that this is our max, there is always a little more, and when we feel we can no longer continue, we usually can."

“Assuming we want to."

“Right."

"So your numerical rating is a…."

"10"

Perfect.

A New Adventure Begins

It is official. Met with the boss last night where after her meeting with our pal the architect it was determined (as a result of city codes) that the demolition of the cabin (my home for the last three years) will begin on August 1. 

That is the bad news. Mostly because I love this place. It was built in 1905. It has more history and charm than a hundred of the cheesy, cheap, pretentious and unsightly McMansions that are selling for a million bucks up the street. 

The good news is that the boss, although slight in stature, has a heart the size of Montana. They have incorporated into the master plan a new shop to be constricted on the clearing where my RV currently sits collecting moss. Above the shop/storage will be a small apartment. For me.

WOW!

I really don’t know what I have done to deserve this magnanimous gift, but she is insisting that, despite my offer to simply vacate like any normal tenant, that it be done. We looked at the initial sketch drawings of the shop last night over cauliflower-crust pizza and citrus IPA. 

And of course I laid awake all night running through my playbook of proper response. Interestingly there was/is no chapter called ‘How to appropriately respond to the extreme generosity of friends with money.’ Because of course I feel guilty and unworthy of such a grandiose gesture. However (as came to me at 0330) I am committed to finding out how it is properly done. I am sure there will be errors, mistakes and choices that slightly miss the mark, but I am satisfied with the knowledge that my intent, however humble, will be honest, pure and enthusiastic. There will be gumption and glee. Accordingly, let the process begin. 

We have ninety-six days, May, June and July. It appears that I will need to postpone the 2019 Epic Ride, initially scheduled for Aug 3-24, to after the project is complete and virgin turn of key. September is better anyway. I have been in construction long enough to know that means that October is more likely, November for planning purposes. Football season. I wonder what a road trip including stops in Corvallis, Palo Alto and Westwood might produce in the way of side trip adventure? 

First on the agenda is to downsize. Again. I have been through this drill before and although it can be a PIA, we start with the easy chores to recycle, reduce and refine. I will try my best to keep from having to rent a storage unit. A lot of my junk, once sorted, can go back in the RV undercarriage bins. A yard sale and on-line sales are a must. The phrase I like to use with this approach is ‘unemotionally aggressive’. Borderline ferocious. Toss, sell, burn, donate, bequeath and barter. Nothing lasts. 

I can start with an inside/outside approach, cleaning up the current storage area indoors while prepping the Honda and Ranger out of doors for Craigs List designation. 

That is a start. I will get right on it after our bike ride today. Day One of Ninety-Six. And while this cozy little waterside shack isn’t exactly the Smith Tower (once the tallest building on the West Coast) it has way more than forty-two stories. 

A new adventure begins. 

The Next Lightning Bolt

Everything is good - unless it isn’t. And then we isolate and improve. Move the needle from the unsat towards the satisfactory. And then to OK. And then to very OK and then to outstanding. Most of the time, in my experience, as soon as we move one piece onto solid ground, another issue pops up like so many high-desert geysers. The secret is in acceptance of the ten thousand things and their magnet-like capacity to find us. Please do not try to hide. They will seek you out. Do not attempt to outrun because they run faster than the speed of light. Do not deny for they will beat you to a pulp with the truth.

The tactic of choice is the awareness of their presence and the translation of the deeply coded message they bring. They come for a reason, they deliver a vitally important, urgent and powerful directive. It is our job to put the message into perspective and then into practice. 

Should you be in the accelerated program you might get the decode right on the first attempt. If not, don’t panic, you will get it delivered as many times as necessary until you do. Once understood and proof of concept demonstrated, you get another test. One that builds on the former. Like stacking building blocks. One does not start at the top. 

Applications of this amazing cosmic phenomena can be seen in every situation and circumstance, the evolution of which spans alpha to omega, top to bottom and first to last and fore to aft. Consider for one moment your personal trajectory. Can you recall with clarity the handful of turning points, or what Gladwell calls tipping points, that have conspired to create the person that you have become? Or, perhaps better yet, what messages are you still struggling to decode? Are the same situations, issues, headaches, challenges, injuries, defeats, rejections, frustrations (and their adjacent excuses) the same ones that have been hanging around for (pick one) days, weeks, months, years, decades, lifetimes? 

We are all offered lightening bolts of inspiration on a regular schedule. Sooner or later we must make a decision to grab one. We need to search the echo chambers of our souls and act on our highest values. This, like any other endeavor, physical, emotional of spiritual, is something we can practice. And practice and practice until it becomes a habitual default part of our being. Making one bold, definitive and empowering positive choice puts us closer to the next one, an even more important and organically purer one. Once this practice gets rolling with some high-octane universal mojo everything starts to make more sense. Things fit better. Relationships contain more respect and jobs turn to labors of love. Everything, those ten thousand things mentioned above, all have a proper place and time. And we know it. We are part of it. One with it. 

There is no escape. You cannot be outside of this. There is no outside to fit into. 

When those lightening bolts strike, use them. Act on the decoded intel. Align yourself with the power of the universe. This is a huge responsibility. Some won’t be up to the task. Their tests will be repeated until they have successfully solved the mystery. Likewise it is our responsibility to assist them as they progress. I am doing that, perhaps, right now. Maybe, maybe not. Effort, as we have seen, is the perfection we seek. Make your effort pure and the results will always be appropriate. 

Somebody is always listening, someone always asking. No two of us are on exactly identical points on the life chart. I have my questions. I have my challenges. My daily practice is in negotiating graceful movement through this magical process. The one thing that I consider myself fairly good at - is in sensing the approach of the next lightning bolt. 

Ending First

I already know the ending. I will go through the process none-the-less and show my work. This is not a guilty with explanation nolo contendere plea bargain. It is the truth. If you have no clue as to what the heck I am taking about see yesterday’s post originally titled “Oversight Experiment” but changed to 'Shelter Access' upon further editing review. 

The oversight experiment update:

Bank. Done, cake.

Hardware Store. No luck. Out of stock. 

Transit to Les: Done, need a left front wheel bearing, estimated cost $209.

Register Whitey. Need another document signed by the seller indicating valid reason why price is significantly below blue book. Done, signed and sealed. Back today for final.

Graphic artist. Done, complete new direction. 

Opening video sequence. DELAYED.

Zwift and Wahoo updates. POSTPONED.

Start brake job on Ranger. MAYBE TOMORROW.

Set list for (now) tomorrow. TODAY.

Route for Sunday ride. VARIATION ON USUAL ROUTE.

Shop for food. I did get cheese, peanut butter and cheap beer. 

Craigs List Prep. NO MOVEMENT.

Set up wifi gear. After a trip to Best Buy and a lengthy discussion with the entire staff, including three ranking members of the Geek Squad, it seems my initial plan was, although inspired, technologically cumbersome. The antenna to router to signal extender to device design is now scrapped in favor of a ‘better quality router’ plan. TESTING TODAY.

There is the update. The Oversight Experiment was an aggressive plan from the start with little wiggle room for error. The two stops that presented additional time and labor to accomplish are being addressed and hopefully finalized today. Las Schwab can’t get the bearing till Monday so we have an appointment for Tuesday. The transit is officially named Whitey Ford. 

It used to be, and perhaps still is, a popular way to philosophically deal with unexpected delays, dead-ends, taxes, fees, breakdowns or other unforeseen circumstances by admitting that shit happens. We all know this to be true.

The other, perhaps even more astute and utilitarian observation is this: The faster I go the behinder I get. 

Do one thing, do it well and enjoy the process, then move to the next. The end as predicted in the beginning. 

Shelter Access

Today is an experiment. In the form of a morning outline of chores scheduled. As a way to provide a variety of motivational validation and oversight, I will list the items on my to-do list this morning (it is already late 0823) and later in the day, say 1700 I will update, rate and evaluate my success, or lack thereof, with the chores, tasks, assignments, projects advancements, and general observations regarding them. Today is about accountability and flow. The former rather obvious and the latter part of my need to gracefully deal with the frustrations, challenges and costs that will surely follow me in search for completion, closure and catharsis. The list then:

Bank. People still write checks. I must take them to (my local) bank to have them converted to cash. A waste of time and energy as well as a totally unnecessary consumption of polluting fossil fuels. 

Hardware store. I am installing a new antenna, router, repeater set up in the PowerBarn to improve our WIFI. I have already charged over $150 for new devices but now need a $5 adapter to connect the coax cable to the ethernet female input. 

Install the system and set up. Wish me luck here. 

Take the new rig to Les Schwab for front end inspection. That shimmy up front has me concerned. I can double up chores here by dropping off the Transit (Whitey Ford) and then walking the Wal-Mart or Home Depot for the above mentioned adapter.

Register Whitey. Today is officially one week, meaning I have another eight days to get it done. I hate paying a $320 tax on a vehicle I bought from a private party. Just so you know. 

Respond to the the graphic artist doing the re-branding. His first mock up left me completely nonplussed. A total meh.

Do the open video sequence for Season 5 Episode 66. The footage from the weekend is OK and I am already tired of the current video, although two positive opinions were presented last night on it. They liked the new camera angles (over and under). 

Continue the set-up and master the user interface with Wahoo Fitness and Zwift apps.

Start the brake job on the Ranger.

Set list for Saturday.

Route for Sunday’s ride. 

Shop for food. Although I am house sitting for the next six days (four of them double duty) I am running dangerously low on basic provisions in the cabin. Double up again while Whitey is getting scoped. 

Start the prep work for the Craigs List garage sale. Clean the Orbea and shoot the drones. Move the RV down to the cabin and prep for annual spring clean. 

Get to the PB for evening session (and router set up) by 1700. 

Daylight is burning. This is the path. The only map available. You might need to improvise. There is no access to shelter. GO. 

Rap of the Wrap

I have a bit of history with wrap. The vehicular variety not the musical. On a ‘between tours break’ with the DoD from 1997-99, I worked for a promotional marketing firm that specialized in the creation of marketing campaigns targeting high-profile events. We worked the 2000 Olympics, Ironman, The Rose Bowl, Seattle Marathon, and numerous others, designing eye-catching (and sometimes outlandish) vehicle wraps to serve as mobile billboards at the events. I coordinated the efforts from soup to nuts, establishing contacts, outlining the concepts, getting the OK, supervising the production and occasionally getting the nasty job of application. Once the wraps were on - the rest was easy; Drive around the event and show off the sponsors logo. It was a sweet gig and bittersweet when I had to drop everything and get my arse back to the Indian Ocean for another assignment with the MWR branch of the DoD. I have felt bad about leaving Peter with my work load ever since, but I am sure he has got over it. 

The concept, now standard marketing fare, captured my imagination from the get-go and continues to toss occasional lightening bolts of inspiration my way. As you may recall I have even pitched the current Governor of Washington and Democratic candidate Jay Inslee on the idea of taking his important climate-change message on the road with us for the 2019 Epic Ride tour, 21 days along the coast from Seattle to LA. In the marketing pitch I mentioned that the cost of such a visual grass-roots stunt could be his for less than the cost of a single TV commercial - with the potential to grab as many eyes as well! I await a response from his campaign with great anticipation. 

In the meantime, another juicy op has popped. Last week I invested in a new ride. The superbly utilitarian Ford Transit Connect. I have been looking for such a multi-use vehicle for months, wanting a Dodge/Mercedes but they are, shall we say, pricey? My search ended when the rig I had been seeing every day for months, parked in front of the party rental store just up the road, suddenly sported a FOR SALE sign last week. Inside of an hour I had the title and keys, lightened by a stark of Bens I put on the counter in front of the former owner. 

And now the fun part. We took the still nameless rig on a 425 mile weekend jaunt to do some route intel video of the upcoming Olympic Peninsula ride, now a mere five weeks away and test her game. Outside of a front-end shimmy at 40 and a totally unacceptable stereo system, she's got it. 

What she doesn’t have (other than a nickname) is a brand ID. She is as white as a fresh linen sheet. White all over, a cracker of a car if ever there was. An albino rhino on wheels. She is, pardon the baseball pun, a Whitey Ford. 

That is the rap. She needs one. Something that is right up my alley. I have commissioned a gifted graphic artist in the design of the logo re-brand for the PowerBarn. They being the sponsor of the new PowerBarn SAG service. I have added the tag of “Test, Train, Trips & Tours” to the wrap design. I should have the initial mock tomorrow. 

A quick launch video, a menu of specials, prices and contact information and away we go! 

Rap for the Wrap. (I am thinking about Whitey Ford.) 

The Metaphorical Hill

We are climbing a series of virtual hills, repeats, slowly going nowhere in reality but towards redemption in our heads, hearts and spirits. I have mashed together a rather inspired set list and the blending of the two, physical effort and the pulsating rhythm of rock, takes us to elevations previously unknown, or rarely visited. This is one of the many magical moments we find when on the trail of the elusive mountaintop we call the dynamic flow state. Sometimes the magic works, and although the individual parts, the protocol, the music, the group ACQ*, the vibe, all contribute, it is 50/50 that on any given class it will be so profound. It sizzles when it does, providing an extra special experience that crackles with energy and vigor. The interesting part is that even without this value added bonus, every session has the potential to be ‘exactly what the doctor ordered’. All it takes is you. There is a hat, and then there is a hat with a rabbit inside. 

You, as I, must do your part to add to the mix. One cannot merely sit and spin. One cannot feign indifference. One cannot ignore the complete change in the group energy level without somehow contributing to the mix. This can be through body language (one MUST do the protocol - or at the very least sit when we sit, stand when we stand and show approximate compliance to cadence and gear ranges). After that the love you take is equal to the love you make, or, less like Lennon and McCartney and more like Vince Lombardi, your get back what you put forth. This annotated transcription roughly tells us that one must voluntarily and unabashedly assume a leadership role in keeping one’s crew focused and motivated as they discuss mutiny. Or in banking terms, one’s return on investment is directly tied to one’s deposit into their fitness account. That is where interest is compounded and ROI maximized. There exists noting in any area, sailing and finance included, that is more counterproductive and cancerous than indifference, apathy and/or distraction. 

On this day, this occasion and this moment, we are ripping through it with gumption and bravado. I am hearing regular harmonic grunts (those exhales of effort ranging from the USMC hoo-rah to the classic ‘ugh’ - and its many variations -  popular with so many rock vocalists and professional athletes). It never fails to ignite the class to higher levels when one in the rank and file takes a solo in the spotlight. Game on.

Being it Earth Day, and deciding long ago that themed set-lists, where every song is dedicated, however loosely, to the day being celebrated, are banal, boring and beneath the musical sophistication of the audience, I decide to double-shift into a new range and power up a grade known as the path less taken. I decide to ask a pair of ‘related’ questions and give the class the entire hour to consider the answers as we ride. There is a protein smoothie as grand price! Here are the two questions:

How old is planet Earth?

What is the current global population of said planet?

One needn’t be a scientist, scholar or ecologist to understand the fragile connection between the two. I mention that we have a responsibility to be the best we can be and that entails more than the physical. We need to keep ecology on pace with technology. We need less war and more education. We need stiffer penalties again polluters. We need to keep basic crude in the ground and out of pristine water. We need to stop considering growth progress. It is not that we are overpopulated, it is that we are overly greedy in the distribution of commodities crucial in a fair and balanced society. We need more compassion. Mixed with more awareness and loving kindness. 

What would the results be if all of the current 7.5 billion humans cared as much for our 4.5 billion year-old planet as they do for money, power and prestige? 

This is the virtual hill we climb today. Be a good climber. When we get to the top we help others climb. We do not pollute, litter or horde resources. We share. There is no room up in this thin air for hatred, corruption or racism. Our platform is love. We love what we do - and do what we love. 

You are free to join us on the climb. You must contribute to the group effort in some way. You may quit at any time. 

*Athletic Character Quotient

Did Ya See the Rainbow?

I will admit to you now that I love a good routine. There is nothing quite as satisfying as the successful execution of a well designed plan. If ever the adage, ‘plan your work - and work your plan’ needed any additional motivation for appropriate usage, this is the place. 

Following the weekend’s astonishingly successful road test in the new Transit (she needs a nickname), and upon the completion of the associated post-event clean-up, storage, recap, debrief and media download, I went into a physical tail-spin - pulling up in the nick of time to avoid a catastrophic crash and burn. It might have had something to do with the quality of sleep Saturday night (in the back of the Transit, on an always too thin camping pad) and the eye fatigue that comes with 425 miles in two days, or some combination of accumulated, delayed muscle soreness, but whatever mash-up it was - by 1800 yesterday I was toast. Deciding to take the wiser of the paths available I went to bed early and cozied up for eight solid hours of rest and recovery. This was not to be as I almost immediately felt the all too familiar indicators of atrial fibrillation about to pop in for a session. I will spare you the frustrating details, noting only for the record that by the time I did drift into satisfactory rapid eye movement, the resulting dream-scape was lined with scorpions, tomahawk missiles, landmines and snakes. There was also a recurring alligator wanting me to verify an on-line user ID before it was too late and my heart would stop altogether, thereby ending the game - and not in my favor. So much for pleasant dreams!

This morning with my set list assembled and protocol established I set off for my favorite spin class of the week. This would be an excellent way to both manage my heart rate and practice my ability to compassionately deal with the realities at hand. Yesterday gone, tomorrow a dream, today is the gift. And I want to open it! It was a great session, long ascending hill climbs with a consistently increasing musical accompaniment. My sinus rhythm, although sporadic at first, finally settled into the flow and stayed there for the duration. I was pleased with the effort of the class as well as my portion of the responsibility to facilitate it. 

I told but a single story from the two-day adventure. It is not uncommon for me to take the entire hour to tell a simple story, but today I felt more like tossing some quasars instead of lighting the entire sky with a metaphorical meteor shower. The story I told was this:

It is Sunday morning (yesterday). The day started way early at oh-dark thirty at a campground near the state park entrance. As you already know, I didn’t sleep well, but had the foresight to pack my thermos, so as I prepped the van for video action, I swallowed a cup of tepid coffee. This will have to do as the only other liquids I have are ice-cold beer and sparkling water. It is very cold and I am glad I brought along my flight jacket but wished I had packed my gloves. I cam up the fore-aft Go-Pros and thirty minutes before sunrise I am heading up the seventeen mile climb. The plan was to film one of our favorite rides (Hurricane Ridge) at an hour we never see. If things worked out I would capture both the sunrise from the tail cam and moon set from the forward facing camera. The plan was then to return to the bottom, stow the cams and grab my bike and ride what I had just filmed. 

BUT, (always a frame pump in the spokes) when I got to the Ranger Station and looked at my phone for the time of day, it was (as always) later than I thought. The ride up and back is a minimum of three hours and I still wanted to retrace my steps and do some additional scouting and shooting. Ride scrubbed and I am back headed northward, stopping for hot coffee and a poppy-seed muffin along the route. 

After stops at the Lake and a little used northern trail, I am heading up Sol Duc towards the hot springs. It is a 12.5 mile climb ending at the Lodge. I film to the top and then head back down to the Lodge to inquire about hospitality (because I plan of leading a group here asap that would end with a dip in the hot springs, a massage and dinner in the Lodge). Mike at the from desk empathetically tells me that the falls are a must-see on this route and that if I am creating a video for marketing said tour, that must be included. He says that it is less than a mile from the trail-head. And I am off. 

It is great to feel the burn in my legs as I hike the trail. This is aptly named a rain forest as there is moss hanging everywhere from the lower branches of the giant fir, cedar and spruce. You can hear the roar of the falls from the first step. This is a very sacred space. After a quick hike I get to the falls and break out two cameras and a tripod. As I am setting up the sun sends splashes of light through the majestic old-growth trees illuminating the river. I scramble around boulders, between trees and over the bridge to capture different angles of all this magic. I have repelled down to the riverside looking back on the bridge, a wonderfully simple design of two forty foot fir trees acting as main horizontal supports and cedar planks for the deck. This is a state park so the hand rails are five feet tall, solid and secure. As I point and shoot the spray from the water crashing over the boulders has joined forces with the light to create a perfect half-circle rainbow stretching from the bridge's northernmost start to southernmost termination. I am giddy with joy in my lucky presence amid all this beauty. This is one of those circumstances that has the potential to have a lasting spot in my personal museum of magical moments. I am honored to be here. 

When the sun removes the rainbows I sadly begin my departure and the inevitable return to the mundane. Hike out. Media stow, drive down the mountain. But on a lark I decide to stop in the lodge for a brunch they were advertising. More coffee would help.

I am sitting at a table that overlooks the hot springs pools enjoying a decent (not quite strong enough) coffee with the tasty quiche over browns and homemade toast and strawberry jam. Mike, the host, comes to my table to inquire if I had made the hike. I tell him I had. He asks,

Did ya see the rainbow?

Anecdotal Footnotes

Two days and 428 miles later (I hit .428 my Junior year in HS as an anecdotal footnote), the Transport is clean (of gear) and the media dump is about to begin.

It was a good trip. Lucked out on the weather in an area notorious for rain. Explored lots of new and spectacular terrain, the Transport tallied almost 26 mpg (the Ranger never hit 19 as another footnote) and I even slept comparatively well in its cozy rear compartment.

As I still have half a ton of work to do in prep for tomorrow, and all that media to transfer, I must bid you an early adieu - with the somewhat bittersweet promise to full-on ramble tomorrow.

Attached is my favorite cell-shot from the trip. Lake Crescent at sunset. Ciao a presto.

RECON

I am taking the new Transit on its virgin voyage. Road trip recon up to Lake Crescent to scout the massive improvements purportedly ready for riding. The key issue being - what TYPE of riding?  There is also a rumor of sun breaks this afternoon and tonight lasting till about noon tomorrow. So I am outta here. The maiden mission (video recon) of the PowerBarn SAG is underway in 3,2,1.....

Time Will Tell

At one time we used to consider the play on words laugh worthy. Time: William Tell. As Rossini’s heroic arpeggio links the oxymoron with bravado I considered the operatic circumstance that took place in my private concert hall yesterday. I will try to score it for you. 

As most of my recent narratives have begun, this is another that opens with my standing in the tiny kitchen of my soon to be demolished home, sipping J3 coffee. My soon to be demolished home was built in 1905 and sits on a million dollar piece of property in Puget Sound. It is scheduled for demo in less than 90 days to clear the gorgeous site for the construction of the owners new dream home. J3 is military-esque semi acronym for Mr. Coffee (Joe) and the three times I have perked a pot by simply adding to the existing (used) grinds. I have never experimented with J4, yet, but if inflation and gas prices keep up the assault on my food/gas budget, that taste test is not far off. 

As I sip the J3, outside the kitchen window sits my pair of Honda Shadows. One is under the traditional blue tarp and the other under a cammo wrap. The chore of continuing my troubleshooting on the black bike (under the cammo tarp) has been a daunting adventure in humility. The only thing I have left to try is another Ethanol burn-off and hope that this time it will be of sufficient heat to allow proper gas-air-flow mixture in the carburetor. I am not sure what I will do if this fails, but I need to start the process of downscaling so that when the dozers rumble down the drive I have nothing but my backpack and sleeping bag to tote away.

I finish the J and gently set my favorite mug on its resting pad, slide out of slippers and into my well worn Hookas, zip vest and head out to the bike. This is it, the last hurrah. I whisk the tarp away like a matador and disconnect the battery charger. I look at the bike with compassion and kindness much like a coach might look at a rookie star player whose emotional status is compromised by the sudden loss of love. I turn the key and the lights come on. I pull the choke. I thumb the kill switch to off. I gingerly press the start button and she coughs. It is 600 cubic inches of sore throat. But there is a heart beat. Finally with a combination of choke, throttle and release she fires. I set the choke idle as appropriate for warm-up to operating temp and decide to try a long-slow burn. I walk back into the house and fill my mug. Let ‘er run.

After an e-mail check and news update (the attorney general is lying for the POS POTUS) I head back out and rip through a few explosive blasts of internal combustion. If this doesn’t torch-off the gummy deposits - nothing will. 

It works. She is now idling in a lovely twin valve octave that sounds just like an Italian overture in overdrive. I am stoked. The Lone Ranger is about to ride again. I run back into the house and grab my helmet and gloves. Let’s put her to the test kimosabe. 

She runs great all the way to the convenience store gas pump where I splurge for three gallons of high-octane fuel. I am gleefully riding back to the house when I see that the Ford Transit Connect that is parked in front of the rental store every day is now sporting a FOR SALE sign. The mechanical gods, I consider, might be smiling on me today. I pull a safe and controlled ninety degree turn into the parking area to check the price.

How long will this good moto-karma last? I wonder pushing down the side-stand to kill the engine. 

Time: William Tell. 

A TOTAL EMBARRASSMENT

A quick sampling of my initial reactions:

WE ARE FUCKED.

DEMOCRACY IS OVER.

WE HAVE ELECTED A CRIME FAMILY.

BLATANT CORRUPTION.

40% OF OUR COUNTRY IS DUMBER THAN DIRT.

WE NEED TO TAKE IT TO THE STREET.

HOW DID WE ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN?

WHAT?

CRIMINAL COVER-UP.

WHAT A JOKE. 

INTEGRITY AND DECENCY GONE.

THE WORST TRAITS OF AMERICA.

SLIMEBALLS.

A TOTAL EMBARRASSMENT. 

HUMILIATING AND DISGUSTING.

ANOTHER WIN FOR CAPITALISM.

THE PARTY OF HATE.

Are we back to the last line of defense being our votes? Note to every decent, law-abiding, hard-working, compassionate, literate, tax-paying, contributing member of society: These guys cheat too. 

As we are witnessing in real time. Vote them out. 

Choices III: Consent

Day Three: Options.

We always have them. Even in situations most dire or under extreme stress. But please don’t take my word for it. Ask Viktor Frankl:

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” 

To choose one’s own way. As in the direction of our goals, the path that we take in getting there, and the attitude we boldly follow or drag behind us. As I am now fond of echoing in spin class, we are always just a single decision away from, pick as many as apply:

Happiness.

Satisfaction. 

Peace.

Empathy.

Gratefulness.

Forgiveness.

Generosity.

Tolerance.

Knowledge.

Wisdom.

Curiosity.

Joy.

Love.

Respect.

Or we can choose their flip-side counterparts, despair, anger, greed, intolerance, indulgence, violence…..you get the idea. It is hard for me to even talk about. But if awareness of any issue is the first step towards its rectification, then by all means let’s talk. 

This is my truth today. It is my choice. I choose to be happy. Despite all the arguments for the prosecution. I will defend my choices by calling witness to awareness and love. Going first, leading by example, showing the way. Those will attract an army of like-minded followers. More than any dictator can strong-arm a frightened populace by drawing on the sword. We draw upon peace. As Gandhi said,’we don’t fight war with peace, we peace with peace.’ 

But greedy and corrupt politicians always seem to spoil the party. Who elects them? This reality has never been as prevalent as it is today. They don’t even try to hide it anymore, instead banking on the deep hatred and resentment of an ignorant and suddenly emboldened core. Sadly the same freedom that we are guaranteed through our 250 year-old constitution to seek life, liberty and pursue happiness as well as to act with dignity, respect and compassion, is theirs also. We are all free to choose. Once can attend college, get a job and raise a family or one can watch TV, grab a gun and shoot someone he sees as the enemy. Hate it when a period ends with a sentence. 

It is our choice. And with choice comes responsibility. The first amendment does not allow one to scream FIRE in a crowded auditorium as the second (imho) does not guarantee stockpiling an arsenal of automatic weapons. Protection is different from revenge, strength from paranoia and self-defense from aggravated assault. 

We, as human beings, are prone to making mistakes. We fuck up. Often.  Sometimes catastrophically so. 

Make good choices. Practice. Start now. What might you be doing at this very moment to push a peace agenda? It all starts with one. One thought, one action, one bright flash of inspiration. 

Our choice today is to see how many others we can influence by our actions. Take charge. Manufacture some consent. 

I promise to do similar. 

More Choices

You can lead another to the door - but only they can open it. Or, as Mom was fond of saying (I am not sure of the exact circumstance(s) she used it so often but quite sure it had something to do with homework, household chores or Dad), You can lead a horse to water - but you can’t make him drink. Lastly, in this tenebrific opening visual is the cheeky standard editorial cliché (the very word that betrays original thought!): I can show you to what to look at - but I cannot tell you what to see.

We are attempting another crossing of the Rubicon known as choice. 

The run-up to this came as a result of my losing the battle with the carburetor on my 2002 Honda Shadow VT600. I had unwittingly allowed regular unleaded gasoline (with at least 10% ethanol) to sit in the tank over the term of the winter. Initially surprised at its refusal to idle properly and then lose power altogether with throttle, I consulted the New Testament of motorcycle maintenance, YouTube, for consultation. It was there that I discovered, with frustration, the damage potential with my lack of proper storage protocol. I had, according to one video-star mechanic, rode it hard and put it up wet. 

Taking the high emotional ground and choosing (theme bell ringing) to attempt troubleshooting myself was both noble and necessary. The two shops close to me are both now charging $100/hour. I am not in the position right now to be paying someone more than I make in a week for a carb douche. And since we are (now) on the subject of money, please assist me in the proper take-away from the fact that the world’s richest man (Bezos) and I are both in the same income tax bracket. WHAT? 

So it goes with life in our current upside-down world. I can’t afford to have my moto fixed in order to burn fewer fossil fuels but Bezos will get me the parts necessary to do the repair myself by noon tomorrow, assuming I have Prime. 

I am standing in my tiny kitchen sipping a cup of steaming coffee. It is what I call third generation Joe. So named because I have added to the mix three times. I just leave the first two gens of used beans in the filter and add a tablespoon or so of fresh bean, add water and hit the brew button. I swear that if I did a blindfold test YOU would be unable to tell the difference. Unless you are a Starbucks snob. But that is your choice (theme ding). If you want to spend five bucks a cup to my fiddycents, please enjoy (another choice).

So goes the pretext. As I stand in the kitchen I consider my options. Stay with the repair, go deeper, watch more videos. Wrestle it into the bed of the Ranger and haul it to the shop and bite the bullet. Sell it as is on Craigs List. Get the repair done, bite a larger caliber bullet, then sell as a great way to save on gas. Get the repair done and ride it one more season. Buy an electric bike. Ride my bike more. 

I sip the Joe3 and consider the paradox in all of this. I manage a chuckle. Who cares? All I have, all we ever have is a series of choices. We will eternally have the option of do/no-do, go/no-go and as the Bard so poetically put it four hundred years ago, be/not-be. 

I can choose to be happy. I can choose to be sad. I can opt for acceptance or rail against the unfairness of it all. I can act or I can hide. I can, as a popular TV show used to promote, light one candle or curse the darkness. We can always aspire to do what must be done, the best we can, where we are and with what we have. Always. As in coffee, it is better or bitter.

I finish the coffee ritual and place my favorite mug on its lava coaster from Kailua-Kona in front of the overworked Mr. Coffee percolator. It will quietly remain on-deck until I desire another cup, maybe an hour. In the meantime, I put the bike decision on the back burner, thinking that divine intervention might be an e-mail away. 

And pass through the door towards the water and see more choices. 

Let it Be

Without trying to sound like the opening stanza, when I find myself in times of trouble, one thought occurs to me. 

The thought that despite all of my failures, all the mistakes, every time I had 50/50 odds to pick heads and it came up tails, the agonizing defeats, the hard lessons learned, and the bitter taste of humble pie, options exist. An unlimited number as long as I keep the streak alive. 

One option being that it is the current choice that matters. Everything else is history. And the history libraries are chock-full of stories about losing, about defeat, failure and loss. BUT. An equal number of them center on the pivotal point where the hero or heroine decided that TODAY IS THE DAY. A bold, courageous decision is made to act. To do something necessary. Something important. Something big, foreboding and probably dangerous. 

I was reminded this morning as I prepared our always enjoyable TGIM, Thank Goodness It’s Monday, spin class protocol that ‘Giving creates happiness while greed creates misery.’ Meaning that today my mission might be (could be and should be) to give until it hurts. And then give some more. 

Could this one decision change the sordid history that follows me like my shadow? No. Could it change the way I look at the path I have traversed? Unquestioningly. Could it possibly be the first of many more positive decisions to follow? Hope springs sternal. Could, therefore, this be the most important decision to date and the day in my life that can be seen as a turning point, even a Gladwell Tipping Point? Why not? 

There is a concept in Zen known as Kaizen. A rough translation suggests it to mean the philosophy of continuous improvement and personal efficiency. 

Personal efficiency being a malleable term including many elements we call upon during our daily practice. Awareness, kindness, sincere effort, sharing, doing no harm, loving our neighbor among them. 

This gives us all a wonderful opportunity to put our practice into play. We don’t need to wait for the game, match, set, championship, race or event. We can choose to do it today, now and here. Wherever our here is. 

We can accept the reality of our circumstance and strive for its improvement. We can find validity, value and virtue in the continual improvement of our holistic selves - and that of those in our care. 

We can Let it Be. We can bliss-out along the path of continual improvement and the endless search for personal efficiency. We can create happiness and reject misery. We can give. 

For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see.

There will be an answer, let it be. Dejalo ser. 

Here She Is

Seems as if it was a hundred years ago. When a blog post turned to journaling and finally to therapeutic self-help. You might recall that the piece, whatever its actual genera) I decided to title Two Things. Here it is if you might be interested in its sordid evolution.

Should you be crunched for time (more on that conceit later) I will save you a few precious seconds and jump (via whip cut) to where we stand today, 1432, Sunday, April 14, 2019.

I am a failure. There are other equally incriminating and pathetic failures to which I can (should) confess, but because it is Sunday and I would like to rip off a total de-brief, let’s call failure the category and I the subject. The object (one of the two) is my Honda Shadow VT600.

First the back-story pretextual MacGuffin. In our ‘Two Things’ post, we identified a pair of small, but important items of the master do-to list that positively, absolutely, needed to be the recipients of all the focus, dedication, time, talent and luck we could bring to the table that fine day. The two were: Finish the current video (done) and troubleshoot the Shadow, and then repair. Gas is over $3.30 a gallon now and I am burning almost $200 a month pleading with the Ranger to roll a little (actually a lot) more efficiently. The Shadows (I have two of them) help a lot from about now through the end of September. Not only am I a failure but a warm weather rider as well. Sad but true.

Whip cut to last week when I purchased a battery charger, carburetor re-built kit, some sea foam and went to work. Those of you who have wrenched your own rides know of the metric special-tool patience required to work on Japanese bikes. Experience is also a big plus (where experience = knowledge).

Battery charged, fresh gas in tank after chemical cleanse with the aforementioned sea-foam, I tear off the flaring, dive into the housing and wrestle off the hoses, wires and clamps. I am staring face-to-face with the carb body. An aborted attempt to remove the cap without removing the tank ended with a stripped screw. The visual of me with a hack saw cutting in a new slot where the Phillips X once was, makes me laugh. That was yesterday.

Today is wrap day. All I have to do is reassemble in exactly the same order of disassembly. I am familiar with this process, and although I chose not to video the sequence, I think I have a solid mental picture of what parts go back where and when. Robert Pirsig would not be thrilled with this decision, but would surely understand and possibly empathize. Poor fucker is about to learn an important lesson the hard way. Half Zen wisdom and half motorcycle maintenance.

I get everything back together, including a jury-rigged two-washer custom kluge that holds the forward fairings together at the top of the tank. Even got my left knee into the operation as I had run out of available hands to locate, hold, place, support and screw the non-moving inanimate plastic pieces and parts with tools designed for far more elegant work. Then there was the wind and rain.

I stand beside her hoping, I suppose, for maybe a touch of good karma and luck, a liberal (conservatives don’t believe in it) splattering of moto pixie dust. I reach down, set the throttle reserve valve to open, pull the choke out as far it will go, turn the key to on and stand to see all the console lights glowing as if it was Christmas Eve. I reach across her, slide the kill switch to off and, with a silent prayer, press the start rocker-switch with my right thumb.

Sounds like a chain-saw someone is struggling to start. But there is life. I try it again and then another five or six attempts. It is draining the battery and I might have one try left before another marathon charging session. I try.

She fires. Runs. I am adjusting the choke, and she is, while not exactly purring, firing on both cylinders.

And then the oddest thing happened.

She stops.

Nothing personal. Quits.

Here she is on Craigs List.

Still Nervous

He is standing next to me shivering. It is a blustery Thursday afternoon in the Pacific Northwest, gray skies, harsh winds and rain minutes away. I am wishing that my hoodie had another layer or two of goose down. 

I ask Junior, sporting the singlet of his High School, how he feels. 

‘OK, but a little nervous about the run.’ He will be running the 100 today as well as pole vaulting. 

‘You know that is a good thing, right?’ He shoots me the classic look that unmistakably suggests a failed attempt at humor. 

‘It means that there is something important about to take place, and your body, in response to your mind’s strategic planning and preparation, is asking for an assist from your department of energy reserves. That is the tingling in your gut as the request is being processed.You adrenal glands are releasing small amounts of endorphins and adrenaline so that you are aware of the pending fight or flight. Your body is so smart that the amounts introduced into your system are regulated and controlled so as not to send you into panic mode, they act like a primer, getting the motor safely warm and ready. When the time is right another dose is released, this time for the main event. It is a beautiful thing.’ 

He is looking at me with a combination of wonder and astonishment. 

‘The secret is to recognize the additional sensory awareness and power available to you in these moments and use them to your advantage. Simply noticing the change and enjoying your heightened awareness is enough, but one can, through practice, turn what is mislabeled as nervousness into something very much like pushing the turbo charger button.’ 

His eyes are now the size of marbles. 

‘That is one of the reasons we enjoy sports so much, and adventure sports especially, because they hold the potential for the experience of this magical situation. The trick is to recognize the moment, accept the challenge, enjoy the moment and enter the dynamic flow state suddenly available to you. In other words, enjoy the ride.’

‘Dig?’

‘Kinda, but I’m still nervous.’

Day, Interior, Home Office

Day, interior, home office of AUGUST. He sits in front of a huge computer screen set on a wood desk. A steaming mug of coffee is the only other accoutrement visible. He is typing with obvious gusto a document that we see over his shoulder. 

LECTURER

…..the argument can then be made with validity that the best argument is no argument at all. There is no need to take sides, even when the circumstance - in traditional situations - calls for response, a counter or debate. All that is necessary, in this approach, is one’s willingness to do two things: One, to stay present, and two, to be wiling to love. That’s it. And while at first glance this may seem overly simplistic, having spent ten years in its practice, I can tell you that it is one of the most difficult things to actually do. The successful execution of presence and love. Will…

The lecturer is rudely cut-off by a male attendee in the front row of auditorium seats. 

ATTENDEE

…will get you a loss in every debate, a label of pacifist, or worse yet, the contemptuous scorn of both your employer and your competition. 

There is audible murmuring from the audience, seemingly split 50/50 for/against. The scene is now in real life, moving from the computer screen to the auditorium.

LECTURER

Excellent point, and a perfect example of the traditional methodologies and stereotypes we all have accepted as standard operating procedures. But please, allow me to ask a question. In this scenario, is there a winner? Is that the goal? What agenda do we wish to pay forward? I am asking you, please stand, you have the floor, sir. 

The attendee sheepishly stands.

ATTENDEE

I wouldn’t last five minutes with my company if I wasn’t prepared to fight for market share, growth and profit. I don’t think going with the flow, however present and loving I might be, will add to the bottom line of the giant global multi-national corporation I represent. 

LECTURER

Excellent. Perfectly normal and appropriate corporate attitude. 

Harrumphs from the audience.

LECTURER (continuing)

But I disagree with your methods, although they are the current standards of business negotiation. What would happen if, as an example, if you were to listen to the position of the competition and offer your commitment to finding a more efficient, cleaner, less destructive, non-polluting and job creating way to increase BOTH bottom lines, those of your company and that of theirs? What would happen in that scenario?

ATTENDEE

(shaking his head in mock sarcasm) I guess we would both be happy. A win/win?

LECTURER

Be present and really listen - between the lines - of what your competition is saying, so much so that they are no longer competitors, they are teammates. You, they, we, us - all are in this together. Without the needs of the people being at the heart of every decision, what you get are monopolies, corruption, and totalitarian capitalism. The rich eat steak and the people cake. They get health care and we get Oxycontin. We end up with us fighting us. The victims of this targeted political strategy, along with an overly exploited planet, are women, people of color, gays, the poor, the disenfranchised, seniors, vets and students. Those who feel left behind by the people they elected to lead them. Such a juicy paradox. 

I know it is hard to love your enemy. We might start by changing the rhetoric. If we are working together they are no longer the enemy. The first Noble Truth in Buddhism is that life is suffering, but once we accept it as such, it is no longer suffering. Because we have adjusted our view. We CAN handle the truth. It is no longer frightening. We can create a harmonious balance that gives a blue-plate victory to everyone. Even to the greedy, corrupt and power hungry. Violence is not the answer to this question. Stay present and love more. Try it and see for yourself. And continue your practice. 

Audience cheers. Attendee sits. 

Day, Interior, Kitchen, Coffee

Interior, day, kitchen. August is milling about, something on his mind. He is looking for something. June enters the kitchen, captures his attention with a nod of head and raised eyebrow. Without asking she has initiated the communication. 

AUGUST

Nothin is moving. Full stop. No energy, no emotion and zero motivation. 

JUNE

What is the deal?

AUGUST

I don’t know. Started with a full head of steam, best of intentions, ready to roll, but then everything started to go South, slow processing speed, another irritating article on Trump dismantling our democracy, floor needs sweeping. Basic shit piled high. 

JUNE

Take a walk, go down to the beach, take a break. 

AUGUST

Too much to do. I gotta stay with it and push through. I’ll be fine, just need a quick attitude adjustment. Double espresso and a toasted slab of that wonderful hearth deli wheat bread might help.

JUNE

Maybe you should write it up, talk about it, have one of your characters use it as an excuse. Try to set the stage for catharsis. You are the one always saying that drama needs conflict, what do you say - like the desert needs the rain? So project the malaise outward, assign it to your protagonist as another challenge. Explore the issue and see what comes up. Get it down on paper and off of your chest. 

AUGUST

Every time I try that it ends up sounding like a Calvin and Hobbes outtake, or Donesbury or even Christopher Robin and Pooh. I end up on the couch trying to talk my way out of another episode of Imposter syndrome. It can be traumatic as well as therapeutic, and today it feels more like a lethal neurosis with no known cure. Life without parole. I should go for a run. 

JUNE

Nobody is suggesting that you compete with those artists, all we ask is movement and effort. You do not need to seek an award, you simply must do that thing that you know must be done, and here that means sticking with your discipline, finding the courage to endure despite your current - and temporary - negative state and carry on. Don’t worry about the finished results - just write. Again to quote yourself, sometimes we do our best work when the situation is the bleakest. Why, as you have often asked, do we sometimes preform best when we feel the worst, or totally bomb when feeling like Kings or Queens? 

AUGUST

Good question. I don’t know. 

JUNE

Go and explore. Have your coffee, clear your head, sit down and log on. Don’t stare at the blank page, just start writing and go where the flow takes you. You have told me many times that this is where you sometimes find the gems. Don’t push the river Grasshopper.  Relax, breathe deep and ask for the assistance of that energy force you find so inspirational. Do what must be done, write what must be written. Cut away all the fat, render it down, find the truth. Your words. 

AUGUST

Truth, yeah, seems to playing hide and seek with me today. 

JUNE

Your turn to seek.

AUGUST

OK. Thanks. 

JUNE

Are your going to say it, or should I quote you again?

AUGUST

Say what?

JUNE

No need to thank me. 

August smiles, getting the inside joke, bear hugs June and heads towards the coffee machine. 

One Outta Two

One out of two ain’t bad. I will take that average any day of the week. If succeeding on fifty percent of every trip to the plate is more than enough for entry into the Hall of Fame, what does that correlate to in our work? 

Yesterday I had two things I wanted to get done, or more accurately, to spend quality time pushing towards completion. One was the current 2x20 video and the other a carburetor repair on my Honda Shadow. 

After spending the entire morning hunched over the keyboard assembling clips to the timeline, adding transitions and experimenting with a new graphic bundle I dropped 80 bucks on, my left hip flexor demanded attention. A break was in order and our Tuesday nooner 5K was the perfect remedy. Stops at the grocery store, library and bank extended the break and by the time I got back the sun was at a perfect angle to splash the deck in warmth and light. I had a quick tuna sandwich (paired with sparking lime flavored water) and took a twenty minute siesta on the giant bean-bag, carefully orienteering it for south pointing toes. Ahhhh, this is nice. 

As is almost always the case, I immediately start to consider the rest versus production issues involved, and with the winds interference of direct light rays, cutting the vitamin D op with chilling speed, I dressed and headed back to work, break over. 

Back in the editing room saddle the video is now showing some of the promise of its original vision. The theme seems to be working, shots are lining up with emotional and visual impact and the story is being told. In this state, things flow. It is very much a labor supervised and supported by our old friend Mr Mojo. When he goes off on an adventure, with no forewarning and no estimated time of return, the magic disappears with the same speed that the dark clouds enter the Northwest skies in spring. 

That is why I practice being aware of His presence. When I feel that gentle, compassionate and creative hand on my shoulder, every bit of focus and gumption goes from heart to hand. It is like a bass player totally in groove with the drummer, together creating a dynamic, flowing groove. Sometimes I can almost hear a voice commenting on a cut, edit decision or sequence by suggesting, in a rich English accent, ‘a masterful stroke of genius sir’. 

These moments, however frequently or rare their occurrence, are the drops of eternity that create meaning and value. All I am is the conduit. Our hand-eye coordination, so often taken for granted, has magical properties the second our souls ask for permission to enter. These thoughts start somewhere. ‘Try the blue filter’, suggests the senior art director of the soul and bingo, the central nervous system carries out the order and raises eyebrows anticipating a positive response from the benevolent critics assigned to the project. 

Nice. 

This is a zone equal to any we find in athletics. The payout of a hard-fought victory has nothing on the satisfaction of the artist with her work. They are the same, one physical the other emotional. They both have the opportunity - nay the responsibility - to preform to their highest calling. I must run and I gotta paint. I will consider the value upon completion. 

It might come as no surprise then that the Honda still needs work. 

But one outta two ain’t bad.