How Dull It Is To Rust Unburnished

In one of my latest posts, my friend Robert wrote in the comments section, “And if I hear your right, the cycling is great for meditation” I’d like to clarify. What I meant was, I want to bleed. I want to be poured out in battle, to be all consumed by life. I remember even as a teen having the desire to push life, to live radically so that I could feel it. For instance, one of my favorite backpacking memories is a long trek over rocky cliffs in a cold and biting rain. Why? Because it pitted me against the wilderness, pushed me hard; made me feel, made me taste, made me fight.

As a teenager, I had a poster up in my room which quoted Ulysses, “…And drink delight of battle with my peers, far on the ringing plains of windy Troy,” “How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life…”

On occasion, the push for fight, the arousal for adventure is combined with a hunger, anger and drivenness that most have never seen in me. Perhaps its because I’m “Wild at Heart.” Perhaps there are deep longings which I want satisfied, but of which I can only glimpse here.

Whatever the cause, I remain drawn to such movies as The Princess Bride (“My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die.”), Tombstone (I’m coming, and Hell is coming with me”), Gladiator (“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.”). You get the picture.

This deep longing and intensity manifests itself throughout my life. The way I drive (when alone), the way I run the coffee shop, the way I relate to people, the wine I like (red-Syrah), the beer I drink (can’t stand all those wimpy ones….Bud, Michelob, Miller). Quoting Ulysses again, “I will drink life to the lees."

So, no, bicycling is not a place for meditation. Bicycling is a place to push hard…..pit myself against the elements…and bleed a little.
“I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart….”

Some Photography Etiquette

You learn as you go, I guess. As long as you still have your camera, your teeth and your money at the end of the lesson, then it was well worth it.

My friend Robert recently learned that you are not supposed to shoot pictures on a pier (as in Santa Monica), on a tripod without a permit.

I just found out that Carnival workers don't like you taking pictures of the teddy bears on their booths without permission. I was informed that it is proper etiquette to ask. At which point, the Carny, whose picture may be hanging in post offices throughout these United States, and whose foot is furiosly working to get the player at seat #3 the big teddy bear, can either approve or decline your request.

Waiting On The Prophet

The story goes like this: The prophet Samuel tells the newly anointed king Saul, “Go down before me to Gilgal; and behold, I will come down to you to offer burnt offerings and sacrifice peace offerings. You shall wait seven days until I come to you and show you what you should do.” So, Saul waits seven days; and still no Samuel. The people around Saul are getting antsy. Trouble’s brewing in the camp; and they’re getting a little bored with the Saul show.

So Saul starts the barbeque early. Could have waited a little longer; but noooooo, he was losing his fan club. The text says, “As soon as he finished offering the burnt offering, behold, Samuel came…”

I was supposed to be signing the divorce documents today. My attorney can’t show up in court Monday, so the spouse and her attorney decided there’s no hurry to finish the paperwork on their end. Great. Now I find myself disappointed. Dissapointed, angry and frustrated. I really want closure on this thing.

So what does that have to do with King Saul? Apparently, the king forgot who is running the show. He was looking to his timeline, not that of God. Not being faithful in that one little thing cost him the kingdom. So it is I’m learning to trust God’s timing in this thing; though so far I’m not doing a great job of it.

There's A Race of Men That Don't Fit In

“He is no fool who gives what he can not keep to gain what he can not lose.”-Jim Elliot

“The wind is wild. I’ve never felt such blowing. Just returned from the flying bridge where I was able to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time-literally lean on the wind.”

“Because the Sovereign LORD helps me, I will not be disgraced. Therefore have I set my face like flint, and I know I will not be put to shame.”-The Prophet Isaiah

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Face set like flint, face to the wind. Not the way I feel lately. I’ve been praying a lot for vision and direction. I feel like I’m floundering---when what I want is something that grips my vision; grasps hold of me and pulls me forward.

Hundreds of different thoughts race through my mind. I lack discipline. I need to be soaking up scripture. Piper says he’s read through the letters of Paul hundreds of times. I’m not even close to that. Being saturated in scripture would help. Hell, spending a consistent 5 minutes a day in scripture would help.

Feeling as though there is a huge chasm fixed between what I want to be and who I am. A chasm larger than the one between Lazarus and the beggar. Huge.
I think that is where the cycling fits in. And Robert Service.
“If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: ‘Could I find my proper groove, What a deep mark I would make!’
So they chop and change, and each fresh move, is only a fresh mistake.”

Today I’m thinking I need to make more time for thinking, praying, soaking and saturating, from that will flow vision and direction.

“ Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.

Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier’s billet at night and a soldier’s ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier’s passion.”

Wordless Wednesday: Rust Never Sleeps

http://wordlesswednesday.com/

Easter at Joshua Tree

It Started Out So Innocently

“They are serving as receptionists, vacuuming office corridors, spoon-feeding the elderly. They serve tea, greet company guests and chatter away at public technology displays. Now startups are marching out as home helpers."

They are here! Oh, brave new world, that has such creatures in it! It’s only a small step until they take my job away. It's scary, really scary! Hailey brought one into the house, an 'I-Dog.' "You bought a seeing eye-dog?," I said. That's the scary thing. People like me are clueless. Our children let them into our houses. They become comfortable with the whole idea of them in places of power, positions of trust. When we question why; how long will it be before they report us to them? And at what cost to our social and moral fabric?

Sure, I thought it was great when they were advertised as ‘The perfect partner,” and when they’d put E-Harmony out of business. It made sense, darn it! For a while it was great not to have to deal with all the emotional baggage. Finally, a partner who was consistently predictable and understood all my needs! Hardwired, baby!

Watch this frightening newscast and quake at the near and coming future.

But I truly did not know what could of come of it! I wish I’d gotten that insurance!

H/T Hot Air

Spring is Startin to Pop

Bring out the Public Piano and fire up the tunes,
The Wildflowers are startin to bloom!













More pics at http://www.pbase.com/dillospics/spring_is_poppin

Pedals and Pinot

Maya: You know, can I ask you a personal question, Miles?
Miles: Sure.
Maya: Why are you so into Pinot?
Miles Raymond: [laughs softly]
Maya: I mean, it's like a thing with you.
Miles Raymond: [continues laughing softly]
Miles Raymond: Uh, I don't know, I don't know. Um, it's a hard grape to grow, as you know. Right? It's uh, it's thin-skinned, temperamental, ripens early. It's, you know, it's not a survivor like Cabernet, which can just grow anywhere and uh, thrive even when it's neglected. No, Pinot needs constant care and attention. You know? And in fact it can only grow in these really specific, little, tucked away corners of the world. And, and only the most patient and nurturing of growers can do it, really. Only somebody who really takes the time to understand Pinot's potential can then coax it into its fullest expression. Then, I mean, oh its flavors, they're just the most haunting and brilliant and thrilling and subtle and... ancient on the planet.

I thought for certain that I’d see Miles and Jack stepping towards us off of the highway. There it was, The Hitching Post, the restaurant Maya waitressed at. And driving into town, commercials for Pinot. And, granted, wishes for my own encounter with ‘Maya.’

I was in Solvang to ride the Solvang Century with my friend, Robert. It was a bookend in some significant ways. It marked 20 years since we did our San Francisco to San Fernando ride. Fifteen years ago, I’d ridden it with cheers from Kristina at the beginning and end of the race. Interestingly enough, I did receive a phone call from Kris on Friday night while driving into town.

I slogged through the ride, one pedal stroke followed by another. Mostly riding alone, as Robert had trained significantly longer and better. One thought leads to another as the miles go by; thoughts like, “I’m too old to be doing this.” And at a significantly low psychological (and blood sugar?) level, when I was convinced that they’d be dragging me off of the route at the end of the day, I decided not to do Seattle to Portland this year. Riding for long periods is difficult enough with discontinuous camaraderie; alone, for me, it is daunting at best, depressing at worst.

At about mile eighty, I found myself in dire need of a bathroom. Neither tree, nor tall building was in site. Finally, I came across the Tres Hermanas Winery. Open for wine, open for water closet. In gratitude, I look forward to trying their Syrah.

Somewhere after Tres Hermanas, I got a second wind, and was able to keep pedaling with greater energy, and slightly more speed. This took me up the BIG HILL of the climb and down the other side where Robert had graciously waited at mile 90 so that we could ride together to the finish.

The earlier thoughts I’d had—“I should have said NO to this ride,” turned to positive thoughts as I finished the last 12 miles. Thoughts of victory, and thankfulness for a long friendship. Overall, I’d finished feeling much more like Cabernet the survivor than a thin-skinned, temperamental Pinot.

Blues and Bluegrass: Enjoying the Desert Part 2

Strawberry blonde hair hanging in ringlets down to the middle of her back. Small Blue polka-dots on a white silk shirt, pleated at the elbows and hips. Ruby red lips, great set of….teeth; attractive but not stunning. More sweet than Siren. The Hotshots have a female vocalist! She belted out some great songs such as Bei Mir Bist Du Shein and Honeysuckle Rose (Well, don't buy sugar, You just have to touch my cup, You're my sugar, And it's oh so sweet when you stir it up…)

The Hotshots sound great! We took the time to hang around at Water Canyon Coffee again today, and stuck around for a listen. Some really talented guys; on clarinet, violin, bass, and drums. Combined with the vocalist, I think it may become my Sunday hangout, much like Mondays with the Kung Pao Chickens.

I was reminded of the only limerick I’ve ever written (that I’m willing to admit):

A man raised on the Brothers Grimm,
Liked his women blonde, blue-eyed and slim,
For such a fair sight,
He would search day and night,
To fulfill his particular whim.

Speaking of music, the Sun Runner’s entire publication was dedicated to music this month. From one of the articles, “Bluegrass Grows in Wonder Valley.”
“Chambers was injured with a broken back in ‘91 and in ’94 decided to go to the Roberto-Venn School of Lutherie in Phoenix, AZ, ‘to learn how to build these things, learn how to cut the wood, learn how to bend the wood, do inlays, make everything myself.” From the same article, “We do not do country. We do western, bluegrass, and gospel………Western music is a working man’s music; it was the cowboy songs on the trail and around the campfire, on a horse ride. There’s no drums, there’s no electric guitars, there’s no stars. In western music, everybody takes a part. It’s shared music. It’s very orchestrated because everything’s got a good melody line that people recognize. You know, when you sing ‘Happy Trails’ at the end of your set, everybody’s singing along with you.”

Till we meet again.