Blue

I used to love winter. Especially during the first couple of years after I moved to DC, I looked forward to winter with great anticipation. I loved the quiet and spaciousness, the open sky, dry air and moody storms that mark the season.

Over time, though, I've become very fond of the buzzy, noisy lushness of summer in the midatlantic. The bugs, birds, flowers, the tree canopy waving back and forth overhead in the breezes, the warmth and long days, thunderstorms - ah yes, I believe I've been converted into a lover of summertime, which might be why I'm feeling a little blue this week.

Fall will continue through Christmas, as it does here. There's plenty of color in the trees that still have leaves, and it's still warm enough to walk around wearing nothing bulkier than a jacket. Some days I also need a scarf. So I shouldn't complain, or maybe I should wait to get my dose of Seasonal Affective Disorder until January when it's really cold and dark.

Or maybe I should chuck my thoughts about how I "should" experience life right now and just let the blues wash over me. Why not? 'Tis the season, after all. Happy weekend, ya'all.

Decorated Manhole Covers

From Wikipedia:

A manhole cover is a removable plate forming the lid over the opening of a manhole, to prevent someone from falling in and to keep unauthorized persons out.

Although the covers are too large to be collectible, their ubiquity and the many patterns and descriptions printed on them has led some people to collect pictures of covers from around the world.

Despite their weight and cumbersome nature, manhole covers are sometimes stolen, usually for resale as scrap, particularly when metal prices rise.

The top pic looks like a hand to me. Below - as if someone put this manhole cover in a playpen. Wonder what it means?

Wordless

One of the things I'm appreciating about my current bout with Chinese medicine is the fact that if I can't find the language to explain exactly how I'm feeling, I don't have to. Today, when I could only shrug my shoulders in response to his questions, the Sufi acupuncturist abandoned the idea of a conversation and instead just put me on the table and "listened" to my pulses. In that way he learned everything he needed to know in order to proceed with the treatment. I love language and words, but sometimes it's such a relief not to have to talktalktalktalktalktalk.

Here, too, I can't seem to put any words together. It's just that kind of week. Sad that the option of listening to my pulses is not yet technologically possible on Blogger.

Oh well. Instead, here's one from a series I'm especially fond of, street pics of what we Americans call "manhole covers." (Who thought of that name anyway?)

White Knuckles

Thanksgiving weekend is over ... thank God! Two more holidays to go and I'm home free until next Halloween.

My plan to enjoy Thanksgiving was a solid one, and it's true that the weekend was much better than years past when I worked like a dog to the exclusion of all other activities, something that just made me feel resentful. Forcing myself to have fun, my determination to relax, even the Hugh Grant movies certainly improved the experience, but ...

But what? By yesterday afternoon I realized how exhausted I was from my efforts to Do It Right. No matter how nice I was to myself, still I was sad and lonely all weekend. I tried so hard to feel at home, in the right place. I tried with all my might to relax and enjoy the time off, to remember that I'm well loved and well regarded, that I'm really not such a freak after all. I worked hard, alright. And now I'm knackered!

Don't get me wrong - this past weekend was a million times better than it might have been, oh yeah! I'm not complaining, really! I'm very thankful to all the wonderful people I spent time with, to the tuna who gave his life so I could have a delicious dinner on Thursday, and to the gentle weather, falling leaves, clear sunshine and fleecy overcasts that made being outside such a pleasure.

It's possible that the problem I have with the holidays is not something that can be fixed. Maybe I'll refrain from trying so hard at Christmas, just let the day be what it is. Will that help? We shall see.

Unintentional Magic

Yesterday I had lunch and a nice walk with one of my favorite blog kin, Steve of Shadows and Light. My kinship with Steve is automatic, easy and completely comfortable. Just as with other blog kin I've become friends with in "real life," Steve is a person I would never have known if not for blogging. Thank you so much, dear Pod, for suggesting that I check out Steve's blog! And Steve - thanks for blogging!

Steve and I share a wavelength even though we don't really share the same aesthetic. It's a very interesting connection that made our walk so much fun. How interesting to see what he noticed and what he was drawn to, compared to what my eye picked up.

The city was deserted yesterday, making the walk from Dupont Circle to Logan Circle and up to the White House almost spooky. There wasn't even any traffic. It was really odd - like being in a movie. What we did, in essence, was "climb" the masonic pyramid, the street pattern designed by Pierre L'Enfant and the founding fathers (for reasons we modern Americans will probably never understand.) The Masonic pyramid is a well established pattern that our feet followed completely by accident. Very cool!

The performance art continued even as we waved goodbye, standing on opposite platforms of the McPherson Square Metro stop. Our trains arrived almost simultaneously, his heading one direction and mine the other. A poetic ending to our dance, don't you think?

Life is full of surprises and wonders. From out of the nowhere, apparently, any Saturday afternoon can suddenly turn into a Masonically inspired shamanic ballet. I love that! Thanks, Steve! Thanks Pierre, George and all the rest of the Masons! I salute the enduring power of your designs. Even now, a couple hundred years after you laid out the grid of streets here, they're sill compelling enough to trace by foot. Isn't that something? Yeah!

Inwards and Downwards to Deep Winter

At some point in late fall, usually right around Thanksgiving, the season lurches forwards all of a sudden, like a weather earthquake. The change of seasons is never smooth of course, but what I'm referring to is a particular jolt that happens every year at this time. It's not subtle. When the shift occurs, the story I tell myself is that Brother Sun has entered the earth where he can rest in the dark until winter solstice.

Usually this shift occurs over a period of about a week, but in 2007, it all happened in one 24-hour period. Yesterday was the day. In the morning, it was strangely warm, not like Thanksgiving at all. The air was soft and gold, the trees were gold, the sky itself looked gold - as if someone had upended a gigantic pitcher of sunlight over the whole city.

Late in the afternoon, as people all over America were sinking into carbohydrate-liquor-L.Triptophan induced stupors, Brother Wind ripped through Washington DC, bringing the gold in the trees down to ground level, clearing the heat and humidity. There was also a quick rainstorm, like an exclamation point, in case we hadn't noticed. Brother Wind was apparently in quite a mood.

By this morning, the pavements were buried under deep stacks of crunchy gold, (even the sidewalks that were just swept yesterday). The sky was bright blue again. It was cold, too, as it should be right now.

The sun entered the earth, slamming the door behind him, while people feasted and rested and watched Hugh Grant movies. Very cool. In this crazy, moody midatlantic swamp I call home, my fancy seasonal metaphors play themselves out literally. I love that!

Sleep tight, Brother Sun,. Sweet dreams 'till 2008. Goodnight!

Gold in the form of light, warmth and an avalanche of falling leaves arrived just in time for Thanksgiving in Washington DC. It is a perfectly gorgeous day.

Perhaps there are some folks out there who can dismiss the pure saturation of gold, though it's hard to imagine how anyone could ignore its perfection. "Glorious" is a word that goes nicely with the color gold. It's a fitting description of the world out there today. The birds are singing, people are smiling. What a Thanksgiving!

All is harmonious indoors today as well. One of my roomates just switched on some opera, a nice accompaniment to the smell of something in the oven - a cheesecake, I think - that they'll take to their feast later today. The dogs have all had very long walks and are napping peacefully.



I feel completely happy, grateful, content, even. I believe this is how I'm "supposed" to feel. Wow, so this is why people like Thanksgiving. I get it, finally.

All that gold outdoors, the sweet smells and sounds indoors and this newfound warmth in my heart are showing me, in no uncertain terms, that the Sufi acupuncturist is correct. I have turned a corner. I'm on the mend.

A cool front is going to move through later today, bringing some rainshowers and colder temperatures, a good thing. It's too late in the year for it to be this warm, but how great that it was anyway, just for today.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'all.

What big teeth you have, Grandmother!

Love the cool dino head in the window of National Geographic, something I might never have noticed except these days I'm downtown every week to see the Sufi acupuncturist, after which I tend to wander around in neighborhoods I don't often frequent.

The natural world is full of fierce wonders. Always has been. Lions, hurricanes, volcanoes, blizzards, buzzards, fire ants, hailstorms, earthquakes, sharks, virulent bacterium ... even geese are fierce sometimes. The geese who hang around the Lincoln Monument are truly scary, hissing and giving me the evil eye whenever I dare to walk past them.

We humans are fierce creatures, too. Accepting the reality of our survival instincts while simultaneously polishing our rough edges in order to expand our capacity for grace and compassion is very unusual. I don't know of any other species that cultivates kindness. It's either there or it isn't.



OK, it's true - we aren't the most practical species that ever existed. I mean really, why are we so intent on becoming "good"? We work so hard, and we are so earnest in our efforts. Even though we fail as often as we succeed, we keep trying.

Aren't we adorable? I think we are.

A Plan for the Holiday

It's here - Thanksgiving week. Imagine me taking a deep breath, sitting up straight. Oh yeah, time to get ready for the holidaze. Oh yeah.

Navigating my way through Thanksgiving Day is always tricky. It's a day you're "supposed" to spend with family, children, partners, and parents, and because I have none of that (well I do have family, though they are all far-flung) the feng shui of the holiday points out to me, in no uncertain terms, what a freak I am. I'm single, have no kids. My parents are dead. Where does that leave me? Usually, in a Very Bad Mood. To make matters even more complicated, every part of the traditional Thanksgiving feast gives me a stomach ache. Even a saucerful of that food makes me stupid and as heavy as if I'd swallowed a block of sandstone. I'm physically miserable for hours afterwards. So you see, partaking of a regular Thanksgiving dinner is a completely unpleasant experience.

Getting through Thanksgiving day with my self-esteem intact is always a monumental challenge. Thanksgiving and me? We just don't get along.



But maybe this year will be different than usual. Believe it or not, I'm gearing up to enjoy not only the day itself but the entire four day weekend. I have a master plan that might actually work.

I'm taking all four days off from work, something I haven't done in many years. That in itself should help boost my mood. Usually I'm working like a dog while everyone else is relaxing. And I wonder that I tend to develop quite the attitude by the end of the weekend. Sheesh.

Also, I believe I have planned for just enough down time, just enough social obligation time, to make the weekend harmonious. Too much alone time (though I love being a hermit) does nothing except make me weird(er), but too much socializing is exhausting. I'm such an introvert. My plan is to balance one against the other.

Hugh Grant will be my patron saint of the weekend. I've ordered four of his films to have on hand Thanksgiving Day. I'm going to cook a nice piece of fish, make a salad and some rice, and watch heart-warming movies all day. That sounds just right.

Between now and then I will be working hard, something that should help keep me from worrying about money, another of my favorite holiday season preoccupations.

Enjoy Thanksgiving? It's such a novel idea. Will it work? We shall see!

Illuminations

The Sufi acupuncturist has me drinking the most heinous tea as a part of the healing trajectory I'm in the midst of. Usually when I need acupuncture, it's the needles and especially the moxa that I dread. This time around, I sought out an herbalist because my intuition told me I needed some assistance from the green world. Sure enough, it's the herbs that are working on me. I'm fascinated and repelled by that truly awful taste first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Funny that the needles aren't really bothering me so much. Go figure.

I asked him this week how something that tastes so bad can be healing. How does murky, bitter, obnoxious tea reweave my life force? As he explained, the tea isn't meant to re-weave. It's a pattern breaker. This particular tea is supposed to break the solidity of an ongoing heartbreak I can't seem to shake off. I've never thought of heartbreak as solid. Apparently what happened is that my heart shattered, then froze. My liver has been on fire ever since, angry and hot, perhaps in an effort to melt the ice. Isn't that idea evocative? Wow. No wonder my stomach hurts!

Some people love pathological diagnoses, i.e. Ms. Mellicker what you have is acute and chronic stomachitis. In order to deal with this condition, we will put you through a series of incredibly expensive, dehumanizing, uncomfortable and probably unnecessary tests that will frighten you but help protect us from litigation later on. Next we will prescribe some serious drugs that you'll probably take for the rest of your life. In addition, you will need to take other medications to deal with the "side effects" of the drugs we prescribe. Your emotional state of being is not connected in any way with your sour stomach.



The officiousness of the people who deliver western medical diagnoses might make some people feel safe - I guess. I find this approach to healing impossible to understand. No wonder I have no confidence in these people to help me feel better.

But the poetry of Chinese medicine, especially as interpreted by the Sufi acupuncturist, makes perfect sense to me. It's a revelation, imagining my broken heart, suspended as if frozen, caught in a moment I can't get out of, as Bono would say.

So you see, that's why I'm drinking this awful tea, lying on the table every week while he "listens" to my pulses and jabs me with needles. Every week I cry like a baby, imagining the ice around my heart melting. I'm eating carefully, getting enough sleep, doing everything I can to further the process.

Healing from anything is such a dynamic process, but healing from heartbreak? Yikes.

Starry Nights

The days are growing noticeably shorter. When it's rainy, as it was today, dusk seems to come even sooner. I find the shrinking daylight alarming in a visceral way, even though here in the house on Tennessee Avenue, circa 2007, many varieties of electrical lighting are available. In fact, it's hard for a modern gal like me to even imagine the deep inky darkness of unilluminated nighttime.

The closest I've been to truly dark night skies includes a couple of clear nights at witch camp in British Columbia, a night at a friend's ranch in Cazadero, California, and at a cabin I used to rent on the Mendocino coastline. Lake Tahoe was a place with some fairly dark nights, as was Ouray, Colorado. There were dark nights at Avebury in England, too, obscurred by streetlights, unfortunately. Put altogether, the memories I have of truly dark skies can be counted on one hand.

Real night is very very dark. Have you ever seen it? In a truly dark location, the stars and Milky Way are so bright that you can cast a shadow from the light. I always feel sad when I realize there is a whole generation of urban kids who have never seen the Milky Way, not ever. The star spangled sky is such a dazzling and inspirational sight. How does anyone manage to experience hope without it?

Strange to think that just one hundred years ago, everyone knew about the Milky Way, everyone had experienced a night so dark (during the dark of the moon) that it was impossible to do anything except tilt their heads back and gaze.

In spite of the wonders of a starry sky, when it's dark, it's dangerous. I've tripped and fallen every time I've been exposed to a very dark night. And, too, think about all the creatures who inhabit the dark: the lions, the tigers, the bears.

Oh my! Sometimes I try to imagine how frightening it must have been once upon a time, long before incandescent light. Just thinking about it makes me want to light as many candles as I can, as if I'm warding off the imagined darkness as a tribute to my ancestors.

Five weeks to go before winter solstice. Gosh. Better go buy another huge bag of tealights.




STARS

O, sweep of stars over Harlem streets,
O, little breath of oblivion that is night.
A city building
To a mother's song.
A city dreaming
To a lullaby.
Reach up your hand, dark boy, and take a star.
Out of the little breath of oblivion
That is night,
Take just
One star.

--Langston Hughes

I like the term "gentleman" because I like the idea that being gentle is classy, distinguished, polished and polite. I believe the term "lady" refers to a person who understands how to behave gently, who is honest, has integrity and is very polite. Ladies are the counterparts of Gentlemen, right?

During the 70's, the Women's Movement taught us that there's honor in toughness, sharp edges, assertiveness and head-banging confrontations. In fact any behavior that a "lady" would never entertain was encouraged enthusiastically within the movement. At that moment in time, we had to abandon our manners for awhile, in order to bust through the glass ceiling of our cultural hierarchy. It was important and I'm really glad we did it.



Unfortunately, though, in the process of becoming empowered, we lost contact with the virtues of kindness, gentleness, softness and receptivity. To cultivate gentleness was to sell out to the man. To be called a lady was a heinous insult. Seriously, it was.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older, or, well, who knows why? But these days I so appreciate gentle behavior. My favorite massage therapist is persistent but gentle. My acupuncturist is focused - but gentle! I've even managed to cultivate a little bit of gentleness within my own being, something I intend to continue.

Every day I'm walking around in this beautiful, gentle, soft and sweet autumn in Washington DC, marvelling at the subtlety of the colors and shapes, and the pearly softness of the sky. The air itself is healing. The season is gentle and I am loving it!

No one could ever truthfully describe the autumn of 2007 as spectacular, glamorous, or dramatic, like fall usually is.

Nope. Still it's beautiful out there. The trees, though demure this year, are definitely changing color and dropping their leaves as is seasonally appropriate - in the most dainty way you can imagine. The rain storms have been gentle, the temperature moderate. It has been been a quiet fall so far.

Capitol Hill was a misty world of sweet air and almost complete silence following this morning's rain. The gray sky softened everything further. The world was extraordinarily smooth, including the sky, trees, air - like satin or silk.

My shamanic dance of alignment with the weather included a couple of quiet walks (no ipod, no telephone, no yelling at the dog), but we didn't walk too far. It was a real day off from all my usual habits of busyness and anxiety.

I love days like this. Thank you soft grey weather gods! Thanks for the peace and quiet!

Cheap Thrills

I noticed this morning for the first time (while Jake was howling at a passing firetruck) that it's gotten cold enough to produce small, ephemeral clouds just by breathing - or howling. Jake was able to create a rather huge cloud with his siren song. I've always loved that phenomena. I know it's ordinary, and that these clouds disappear instantly, but it always feels magical, at least to me. I'm also a big fan of fogged up mirrors and windows, too. Why? Oh ... who knows why these things make me happy, but they do, they really do.

Cheap thrill number two? It rained much of the night last night, another sign that the pattern of drought has been broken. Thank God! Thank God, too, for the invention of comforters. When it's raining outside it's such a luxurious feeling to snuggle underneath my comforter, even if I do have insomnia, as I did last night.

The show at Groovy DC was a complete success, another luminous cheap thrill. All but two of the framed photos sold within the first hour of the event. Several other matted prints also sold quickly. I received many wonderful compliments about my work, too. A couple of people gave me their phone numbers and asked me to come photograph their neighborhoods. It was so encouraging! I felt like I was in a movie all night. Super excellent cheap thrills!

I've always said that the key to a happy life was cheap thrills, but I used to believe I was being ironic when I said it. Right at the moment I'm understanding the wisdom of this idea. Cheap thrills? C'mon. Yeah!

Deadlines

I've been scrambling to get ready for yet another show of my photographs. Isn't that cool? It's wonderful to be invited to show - really boosts my confidence. So of course, even on short notice I said YES, not really thinking about how much work it takes to put a show together. But really, why in the world would I say no? Time enough for rest in the grave!

Once it became clear that I would have to work right up to the moment the show was hung, I surrendered to the reality of linear time, cancelled plans for lunch with a friend and let go of ambitions to be productive in any other way today. It's OK.

In fact it has been a good frenzy of relentless matting, framing, bagging, while listening to Dexter Gordon as loud as is polite. After awhile, my eyes went blurry, the images danced before my eyes. It was a frenzy, but such fun.

It's always so amazing to see my pics hanging in public and to listen to people's reactions. I know no one is going to say, "Actually I hate your pictures. I find them trite, banal, and self-involved," at least not here in DC. The happy result of our southern manners is that I get only positive feedback. How nice.

The process of working with my pics in a "real life" format has had a huge impact on what I see, what I'm called to photograph. I've learned so much! I can see why they always say artists should show their work. It's an evolutionary experience!

Now I have to put on my funny shoes and lipstick. Then I'll go pretend to be an extrovert for the evening. Stressful? Well, yes, but oh so worth it. Life is full of wonderful surprises, and I am grateful!

Chill

A series of cloudy, chilly, damp days is the perfect signal that it's time to curl up indoors for the winter. The weather explains everything. Once upon a time people understood that, but these days we prefer to ignore it so we can carry on with all our big plans and activities.

Why must we humans always be so busy? When lions and bears don't have to work (i.e. hunt), they lie around, play, nap. I guess we're more like bees or ants, always in the process of constructing or deconstructing the environment around us.

Even so, once upon a time, the coming of winter meant that people slowed down, slept longer, and did a lot more sitting around than was their habit in spring, summer or the harvest in fall. Another thing they did that we still do at this time of year was gather together for good cheer and to help cultivate a positive attitude as the solar year wound its way down to the longest night.

Summer was so hot this year, and went on so long, was such an over-busy time for me, that by mid-October, I realized I had completely forgotten the sensation of being cold. But now I remember, as of today. It's not freezing out there, just chilly enough to make me want a cup of tea, a chapter of my book, rather than a long walk around the neighborhood.

Not a problem! Tea is good, reading is good, being attuned to the season at hand is good. Now, back to my book.

Caught in the Snarl

I reserved a Flexcar for many hours today, hoping to get many many many many errands out of the way all in one fell swoop. Usually I spread my weekly errands out over time, but today, I decided to get organized, motivated, and uber productive.

My goal is to Do Everything I Can before the week of Thanksgiving, because during the holidays, all hell breaks loose on the streets of the nation's capital. Everyone is running hither and yon, driving like maniacs. It's just the way it is. Since I'm hoping to enjoy the holidays, I thought I'd nip all that running around in the bud. It was such a good idea.

Please don't misunderstand - I did get many things accomplished - almost everything on my very long To Do list, in fact, which is amazing, really! I was very ambitious. But I paid a price for my productivity, mostly because I had to do so much driving. It would have been OK except I got stuck in not one, not two, but three traffic jams. Major repairs on Rock Creek Parkway and the late afternoon beginning of the commute caught me by surprise.

I turned up the radio and tried making some little vids to amuse myself as I sat waiting and waiting for the traffic to begin to move. How do people do it every day? How do they manage to drive through the insanity without going completely nuts? I don't get it.

Tonight I'm making soup after which I plan to veg out in front of the television. What a day! Whew!! It's great to be bi-pedal again.

Here Comes the Dark

Light is so precious during the last quarter of the year, especially after Daylight Savings Time ends. The angle of the sun at this time of year is incredible. It makes everything more beautiful at the same time that the suddenly dry air brings every shadow, every detail, into sharp focus. Glorious! The days are shrinking away - no wonder daylight has suddenly become so precious. No wonder fall is the season made for melancholy! No wonder!

I'm very lucky to live a life that requires me to be outdoors so often. In fact, spending time outside is a major component of my Plan to Stay Sane. The natural world reminds me, every day of the year, that there are larger realities than my own personal dramas. Thank God! I can't imagine working in an office all day, emerging at 5:30 or 6:00 to discover that it's already completely dark. Yikes!

Of course there are moments during the hottest afternoons of summer, and the coldest, windiest, rainiest moments of winter, when I curse the wild, extreme and unpredictable nature of weather and seasonal shifts, even though here in Washington DC, those extremes are quite gentle (except in August). Mostly I'm so grateful to partake of the change of seasons. I missed the seasons the entire time I lived in San Francisco. Living in accord with these dramatic changes is well worth the occasional discomfort. It's so orienting.

At the moment, the weather gods are at their best, producing crystal blue skies, brisk mornings, warm sunshine, gently colorful leaves, and the most incredible displays of cirrus uncinas almost every day. Every night it gets chilly enough to discourage the mosquites from laying eggs. Soon enough all the bugs will be gone until next spring.

And on and on. I love the wheel of the year. I depend on it!

Do you like my shoes? (below) They're Fluevogs. I love these shoes.

Just like that

Today, the time changed, the temperature dropped and all the leaves changed color. Or so it seems.

At long last, it's here!

Welcome, Autumn!

The Power of Time

Tomorrow morning at 2:00 a.m., suddenly, it will be 1:00 a.m. Just like that, in the time it takes public officials to snap their fingers, time will flip backwards an hour, or so it'll seem to those of us enduring the end of daylight savings time.

I'm not a big fan of daylight savings. I know they say it saves energy, but how? When it's dark, people turn on the lights. How can shifting the clock one hour save daylight? This is a mystery I'm likely to never really understand.

In the spring, the onset of DST means that morning suddenly comes too early. It's rude. Even more obnoxious is the unceremonious dump into darkness in the fall when they unplug DST for the winter.

OK, I'll admit loving the luxurious feeling of waking up so early, but it's freaky at the other side of the day when the dark arrives without warning, landing (with a heavy thud) much too early. Should it make a big difference that it's 5:30 instead of 6:30? Seems so arbitrary, but the change into and out from under DST always has its impact, at least on me.



I've always wondered if time would be easier to understand from outer space. Seems like watching the earth from a distance might help me really get that the thing I call "time" is very limited, measured as fractions of the spin of the earth, on its own axis as well as around the sun.

There must certainly be many ways to perceive time that I can't even imagine. Probably there are different kinds of time, maybe, who knows?

Those of us living in places with DST will be "given an extra hour" tonight. But - how can that be so?

Oh never mind, Reya. Change the clocks and get a good night's sleep. Okay, OK.

One Crazy Sky

I'm reading The Body Has a Mind of Its Own by Sandra and Matthew Blakeslee, a mother/son team of science writers who specialize in brain sciences. The book, as it turns out, is a weird hybrid of self-help and armchair cutting edge science. Very odd. However there's so much interesting information about how neurologists are thinking about the brain these days, it's worth slogging through the psychobabble.

Reading about brain maps engages my highly suggestible nature; reality itself this week seems as plastic as gray matter. Wow.

As if to reflect this perception, the sky was crazy all afternoon with every version of cirrus cloud imaginable. I took dozens of pics as the sky continually shapeshifted. In these pics the showers of ice crystals are as visible as the nose on your face. No offense intended.

Winter is coming.

Launch of the Holiday Season

My goal for the rest of 2007 is to enjoy the holiday season. I know you're supposed to enjoy the holidays, but it's always a challenge for me. In fact the story I've told myself for many years now is that I hate the holidays.

This year I'm taking some time to examine this story. Surely if I tell myself I hate the holidays, I'm certain to feel that way, right? I've been asking myself, why do I hate the holidays so much? Why do I set myself up to hate this time of year?

For a couple of years while I was still at Whole Foods, I spent the weeks coming up to Thanksgiving in a frenzy of order-taking for ill-tempered and impatient customers. The last three days before Thanksgiving, my co-workers and I froze our asses off in the refrigerated truck or in the store, slinging thousands of pounds of clammy raw turkey flesh in the general direction of the customers who - right before Thanksgiving - are more ill-tempered, more impatient, than ever. It was like being in a David Lynch film. I learned how to say Kill them all in seven different languages during my years at Whole Foods. OK, so it's no wonder I didn't enjoy Thanksgiving then. But what about now?

Halloween this year was a blast, an auspicious beginning to the season in which, at least in America, everything gets amped up. Maybe I can relax, have a laugh at myself when I get amped up, maybe try not to work so hard. Maybe I can deconstruct my pattern of holiday hatred. Do you think? We shall see.