GRIZZLY PEAR
The Clark County park system has program where one can purchase a memorial plaque at a tree.
My girl has always been intrigued with these plaques, and she likes having them read out to her.
To her it’s all so abstract, but when I get something near 1979, my eyes open up.
They are reminders that life is short, and it runs quick.
Go make the most of this time, it’s what we got. Nothing more is promised.
Is there a better legacy one can leave behind?
One of the local parks has a frisbee golf course so we brought one with us this latest visit.
First, I most likely could use “better” frisbees. I remember the game store in Berkeley having a whole wall of different frisbees for aficionados of this hobby.
Second, I have no idea if it made me any better, but I was constantly reminded of what I learned in Tai Chi. I tried to root my self in the ground and let the body relax, whipping around to initiate a wobbly sad flight trajectory.
Third, my almost 40 year old body was pretty compliant while on site. But it only took the ride home for my left arm to decide that this sudden uptick in this particular repetitive action was traumatic enough to send alarm bells for the rest of the day.
Finally, my daughter had a ball running up and down the hills chasing the frisbee and throwing it around.
My last two decades in a nutshell, encapsulated in a plastic disc.
Life is a series of tradeoffs.
Usually the probem is not being willing to make any trades. We want it both. All.
But the flip side is when we get caught up with the choices that are presented to us.
I’ve only been to church once in the past few years, a talk at a local buddhist temple.
The speaker spoke of the third way, finding other routes instead of just following the binary.
So I guess it’s really a question of more than the tradeoffs at hand, but which ones to contemplate.
My coworker offered to help with the review of one of my projects, which took the worst of the office pressure off my shoulders.
As such, I was able to wake up yesterday and enjoy an ideal morning.
It wasn’t much, but I got up took my time writing a post, surfed for a moment, exercised for a little bit (nothing too strenuous, just the ba duan jin followed by pushups). It was still quite early so I started up sorting through my papers.
I have a massive “box of death” of random papers that all collect in that central location. Usually that box is cleared out via an epic organizing exercise that takes half a day.
This time I just pulled a couple sheets at a time and filed them away. I didn’t go through many of them, but I still got a sense of accomplishment by the time I ate some steamed bread and went off to work.
So nothing spectacular, but it was a lovely way to start my day, hitting my two main goals as well as one of my major auxiliary goals before going to the office.
In spite of what’s written on the state flag, Nevada’s official state motto is “All for Country”.
Coincidentally, I’ve been practicing the Ba Duan Jin, which was invented by Marshall Yue Fei, who had a tattoo 盡忠報國 (jin zhong bao guo, utmost loyalty serve the country).
Such devotion to the nation state is a foreign concept in this cynical age, and I’m wrapping my head around it. Being a patriot is good, and it’s certainly an awe inspiring motto (cue the marching bands and fighter jet flyovers), but I’m just not sold on it.
However, if not that, then what is a better motto for oneself?
During a road trip throughout the southwest, I stayed in a hostel in Albuquerque.
That evening I met a guy from Alaska who pulled out his banjo and played a few songs on the porch while we sat around and chatted the night away.
Given my fondness for bluegrass, maybe I would have picked up my own banjo eventually, but I’m certain I needed a catalyst to that leap.
Even though I haven’t done a ton with the instrument over the years, those moments I’ve had with the instrument can be attributed to that one night.
It’s not an original thought, but it keeps crossing my mind while playing with the kids as they are endlessly fascinated with inexplicable things.
I wonder what higher order creatures think of us.
The must find us adults quite amusing watching our sophisticated TV shows and lusting after our grown up toys.
And I’m certain they really find us quite amusing when we throw our big tantrums.
And yet it’s all 100% real to us.
I wonder if there’s any way for us to detach and temporarily become such creatures, so we can get out of our own heads for just a moment.
As an architect I’ve always been picky about my writing tools.
As a draftsman, I started using 2H lead, but learned a lighter touch and transitioned to H lead for my line work. For my lettering I always used HB lead, which Staedtler Mars discontinued during that stint and caused a minor panic, but we bought enough to last me thorugh to leaving for graduate school. And yes Staedtler Mars was a better lead than Alvin.
I also have picked up a few fancy fountain pens over the years, but ultimately they were too scratchy and have not been used.
I appreciate the fine points of rollerball pens, but I don’t like the fact they can get cloggy.
And the micro fine points of razors are nice for about half a day until they get frayed under my heavy hand, at which point they are not at all pleasant to use.
But my tool of choice is the Papermate Flair pen. It’s a finely crafted writing tool that is cheap enough I can have copies all over the place and feel no pain when it runs out of ink or when one is lost. With a plethora of colors, I can make multiple layers of notes on a single sheet of paper. The felt tip runs smoothly on any type of paper. The point is fine enough to make good notes, but blunt enough to degrade gracefully. It is in short, my perfect pen.