Idle hands? Take a listen.

Love this video, recommended by a friend. (Thanks, CD!) It's a sweet surprise and a wonderful way to start a long weekend. Yes, it's only Thursday, but go ahead, let your obligations float away and play with some new thoughts.

Creation Keeps the Devil Away, by Hess is More

Sasquatch-Friendly Weather

I never leave October without tools to combat the Gray Doom that is fall and winter in the maritime Northwest. Sure, there is a lot to love here from November through March: knitwear, vitamin-A packed orange vegetables, uncrowded beaches, the arts, the holidays, and dress-up cocktail parties. Bright objects—red raincoats, traffic cones, fall leaves, the Pike Place Market sign—stand out all the more brilliantly against the gray sky.

But that heavy gray sky is with us almost constantly for five months, and it’s easy to lose perspective living under its vague, unrelenting dullness. Its presence is undeniable, documented. In a study covering 51 years, Sea-Tac airport was cloudy on average 266 days a year. The same study showed that from November through March, Sea-Tac was cloudy 77% of the time, on average 23 days a month. While ours is a dream climate for conifers, mushrooms, Sasquatch, and vampires, it can turn can turn the nicest, otherwise sunny human into a lumbering, carb-craving, depressed bear. The dark days are so emotionally challenging, in fact, that the University of Washington offers not only world-class academic programs. It also offers light therapy.

Light therapy is one way to combat winter blues, clinically known as Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D.). For a student diagnosed with S.A.D., the U flips the switch on a simulated sunlight panel and the student soaks up all the fake rays needed to recover. I feel for the unsuspecting university freshman, probably from Arizona or Southern California, who gets clobbered by our cement-colored clouds and has no idea what hit him. (Or her. S.A.D. affects more women than men.)



Favorite rain boots. Photo courtesy CDStuder Photography. Used by permission.



It’s no surprise that so many of us, at one time or another, get some version of the winter blues. Only a full-on cock-eyed optimist, or the rare person unaffected by any weather, is immune to the pull of the Gray Doom. Of course, there are people who love the darkness. They thrive on the quiet and the lack of distractions. They are sure-footed spelunkers finding treasures in this cave—poems and songs, time to reflect, and time to concentrate on work.

I’m the other kind, the more common sort who needs evidence of light at the end of the seasonal tunnel, who needs to manufacture the sun when I can’t see it. My winter blues prevention and recovery kit includes a Happy Lite simulated sunlight panel, vitamin D tablets, the best rain boots I can afford and two rain coats in revved-up colors.

More importantly, a wise person told me last year how to best fight the winter blues. He said, simply:

Go outside at dawn and walk.

The last thing I want to do in this weather is haul my bum outside. Yet as much as it doesn’t make sense, it works. Last year I walked three days a week at dawn with a friend. While some walks were leisurely, others included steep stairs and additional exercises such as crunches, push-ups, and modified pull-ups. We caved in to the pouring rain only once.

Last “winter” was particularly long, and for various reasons it could have been very difficult for me personally. Strange as it sounds, it was easier to keep a positive attitude by moving toward and into the darkness.

I'm starting to view this Sasquatch-friendly weather as not such a bad thing. I now see it as a training ground for handling one of life’s big, and counterintuitive, challenges: face your fears to dispel them. If going out my front door to face the overwhelming winter gray keeps me from falling into its clutches, then maybe moving toward my fears will dispel them. I’m ready to face November through March—and more. And if I'm lucky, I'll see Sasquatch on one of my early morning walks.

Dogscape

Golden Landscape

Tolerable Fakes and Liars

For the most part, I despise fakes and liars. Who doesn’t? But I understand people who commit certain harmless fakeries and lies. And honestly, who hasn’t? I’m not talking about spreading pernicious rumors, or stealing someone else's creation, or even lying on your resume. Those are bad and wrong. I’m talking about those times when we buoy ourselves up socially, or speak a minor untruth to avoid awkwardness. Tolerable fakes and liars include the following.

Poseurs

In many music and art subcultures, poseur is the ultimate insult. Punks especially disdained poseurs, and feared they were poseurs. Poseurs are unconvincing followers who copy a self-defined legit crowd. They are too cute, too perfect, and too late to get a clue about what matters. They can’t tell the good stuff from the knock-offs, or speak with authority about this band or that, and their street cred score is a big zilch.

But poseurs, for the most part, are just kids trying on an identity and attempting to create social armor. It’s a phase, at least for most people. You might find them irritating, but who else is going to buy your unbelievably esoteric record?

Posthumous poseurs

Posthumous poseurs aren’t dead, but long after a moment or a movement is dead, they stake a claim at its center. A suspiciously high number of Seattleites assert they knew Kurt Cobain, perhaps saw him play at an abandoned storage unit or bought him his first ratty cardigan. And the way some people talk, you’d think they were listening to Sharon Jones back when she still worked at Rikers. The only harm done by posthumous poseurs is that they rob people with a legitimate (if minor) claim to fame of their glory. Overall, though, their tales are just contemporary fish stories.

People who nod "yes" when they don’t really understand something

You must be a saint if you've never nodded "yes" when you don't really understand something. I confess, I have sometimes found it unavoidable at a party or at work.

For instance, at a party, say someone is telling me a story, and before she continues with it, she asks if I understand some obscure thing. Like, “You know how search engine coding works, right?” Turns out I don't know, but unless I really want an explanation, I'm going to nod "yes" to this question. Otherwise, I will glaze over, which is likely to insult this person.

At work it's a similar thing. I remember moments when I nodded that I understood a concept, then raced back to my desk to research it. It sounds phony, but the alternative--having someone explain something I could find out myself--would have wasted several people's time. I consider my nod retroactively honest once I actually did my research!

People who commit to something they don’t even know how to do

I'm fully against committing to something you have no intention of doing. That's just a flat out lie and someone is going to get hurt. But if you commit to doing something, even if it is over your head, and you know you will figure it out to meet your commitment, that's great! You’re stretching yourself and taking a risk. And as long as you meet your commitment, saying yes is retroactively honest! (I like this idea of retroactive honesty.)

People who act like they're meditating or praying when they aren’t

There you are on your yoga mat, eyes closed, looking for all the world like a beacon of spiritual light. But really you’re thinking about the new puppy at home. What should you name it? You need a leash, a bowl, a kennel. Should you dress it? Would that be cute or stupid? Your mind is anything but clear and open.

And you in church, near the back. You look for all the world like you're deep in prayer, but you're really thinking about how you’ll make ends meet and what’s for dinner.

What you do while you're "meditating" or "praying" is none of my business. And personally, I think showing up and going through the motions has its place. You're keeping up a practice that you believe in, and that's more than a lot of us manage.

So...

I say, in the name of overall truth and harmony, I can live with little fakes and lies, in myself and in others. And whenever possible, I'll make them retroactively true!

Attention: Superheroes Make Crap Artists

"Art is made by ordinary people. Creatures having only virtues can hardly be imagined making art. It's difficult to picture the Virgin Mary painting landscapes. Or Batman throwing pots. The flawless creature wouldn't need to make art. And so, ironically, the ideal artist is scarcely a theoretical figure at all. If art is made by ordinary people, then you'd have to allow that the ideal artist would be an ordinary person too, with the whole usual mixed bag of traits that real humans possess."

--David Bayles and Ted Orland,
Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking

Strange Autumn Beauty

Cedar of Lebanon Cones

Sunflower

Divine Mouthful

Every few months, on a Sunday morning, my inbox brims with messages of love. They say things like:

So beautiful for the eyes and the mouth.
Just love our evenings together so very much.
There are not enough superlatives in this world...
What a grand night of laughter and love with an extra serving of deliciousness.
I can't believe how fast six hours can fly by...and how I always wish it didn't have to end.
I LOVE US! It just get better.

There is no illicit affair here, no clandestine meeting every few months. But there is a married man involved. Three of them, in fact.

What generates such passion is Boccodivino. That's Italian for divine mouthful, and it's also the name of a ten-person dinner gathering held roughly once a season. The love messages, sent to everyone in the group, follow on the mornings after our dinners.

photo by Willie Weir

We take turns hosting, and each person cooks a small plate for each meal. What one cooks is determined solely by that person. Sometimes there's a theme, usually not. Some of us cooked little before Bocco, as we call it, and no one in the group is a professional. After 14 dinners together, we now flow effortlessly in and out of each other's kitchens, find our unassigned places at each other's tables, and manage to delight and enlighten each other in new and surprising ways.

photo by Willie Weir

It's not overstating things to call Bocco an adventure. The food, the knock-out food, is original, personal, sometimes risky, and always interesting. As cooks we try new things: cleaning squid, baking a souffle on the spot, deep frying onion rings, making fresh cheese, and composing a tomato terrine. As diners we've been treated to dozens of enchanting dishes, such as the aforementioned, and things like a shocking-magenta beet and vodka cocktail; pork loin with fig chutney, savory whipped cream, and a poached apple rose; fluffy lemon snow pudding; a scallop appetizer full of unexpected flavors and textures; a beautiful and light salad with pear dressing; and a creamy soup made from home-grown greens.

photo by Willie Weir

What makes these evenings so magical, though, is way beyond the food, and our strong connection to each other is a bit mysterious to me. I've been in other groups that just never ripen--never fully develop--and ones that rot because of a noxious personality or too many rules. But Bocco thrives--it now has a life of its own. It is the gift that keeps on giving in unexpected new ways. Food brought us together, but something more than sharing a meal is going on here.

photo by Willie Weir

Maybe Bocco can't be analyzed and copied exactly elsewhere, but it has taught me things that enhance every part of my life:

1. Everyone brings something unique to the table. Would you really want it any other way?
2. No matter what, show up, even empty handed. You are more than what you carry with you; your presence is important.
3. Value experimentation over perfection. It opens into new worlds.

I can't wait for our 15th dinner, and the messages that follow, like these from dinners past:

...a sensory overload extravaganza...but even more meaningful to me was the fun of being with you
Another Morning After The Divine Indulgence
My house goes up in value each time we gather here!!

Note: Photos for this post are by Willie Weir and used by permission. Thanks, Willie! Willie is an adventure cyclist and a gifted writer and speaker. For more, see Yellow Tent Adventures.


photo by Willie Weir

The only way to end this week is with a quote from Steve Jobs 2005 speech at Stanford:

Don't be trapped by dogma, which is the result of someone else's thinking. Don't let the voice of others' opinions drown out your inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.

While You Were Away

I Think I Know What You're Thinking

In my next door neighbor’s yard, flowers dance in pastel waves and shrubs and trees flex their trim forms. And in my yard? The plants are the equivalent of couch potatoes. My yard is often a lax tangle of living and dead plant stuff, and I know it bothers my neighbor. In fact, it bothers me, but Yard Work slithers under other To Do items and hides there for months.

One August afternoon, I returned home and parked my car in front of my house just as a woman parked at the house next door. Clearly, she was a friend of Perfect Yard Neighbor. As the woman stepped out of her car, in my rear view mirror I saw her look at my yard, then at me. She did this a few times—my yard, then me.

Crap. She was clearly waiting to talk to me, and I knew what was coming: a lecture, on behalf of her friend, titled Clean Up Yer Damn Yard. And I was in no mood to hear it.

I remained car bound and checked my phone. Stalling, stalling, stalling. She didn’t move and neither did I. My dog watched through the living room window, probably thinking, "Oh brother...humans..."

I finally cracked the car door open and headed for my house, fiddling with my purse and avoiding eye contact with this woman.

And then, half way to my front door, the inevitable.

“Excuse me,” she said.

Yeah, I heard her, loud and clear, and I couldn’t very well ignore her. I dug deep for my polite self.

“Yes?” I finally answered.

“I just wanted to ask you..."

Ugh. Here goes.

“…what's that stunning red flower in your yard?”

What, no lecture, no judgement? In disbelief and relief, I blurted out everything I know about the crocosmia, which was hovering prominently, gorgeously, above the tangle of the rest of my yard. Hummingbirds...um...the hummingbirds love it, I stammered!

All this woman saw was what was currently in bloom. All I thought she saw was my failure to keep a respectable yard.

I often assume I know what others are thinking, and that's not completely bad. Making an educated guess about what others think streamlines communication, suggests sensitivity to those around us, and can prevent conflict. But when that guess is based more on my own concerns or mood (remember, my yard bothers me) than on any evidence, I'm just making up stories.

The thing is, we listen to the stories we tell ourselves. If I tell myself people are critical and negative, I’m more defensive. If I tell myself people are usually friendly and doing the best they can, I’m more open and willing to engage.

If this woman had not stopped my eyes-down progress toward my front door, I would continue to assume she, and possibly others, disapprove of my messy yard. In fact, what she said made my day and reminded me to be more open.

P.S. The devilish flower is, specifically, Crocosmia Lucifer. And I have no idea what my dog was really thinking. It was probably something about food.