Category: Uncategorized

[The title of this post is a reference to the fifty-sixth episode of one of the best television shows ever.]

Today, I nearly arrived at my destination in California, only to be whisked away (by plan) at the crack of dawn northward, to a small plot of land near the town of Philo. Here I’m spending my day helping out my host and his wife do some work around their property.

When I originally decided to write about the benefits of stress, I had in mind physical stress as much as psychological. I already mentioned how much I enjoy sweeping, but really, any sort of manageable physical work can be fulfilling in moderation, especially for those of us who aren’t used to it. When you’re doing something repetitive and physical, it quiets your mind so that you can think all the thoughts your brain has been wanting to think but didn’t have time to when you were running around being productive or social. I do my best thinking while walking or pacing or running, and I bet if I did more physical work that I’d have some great thoughts then, too.

I’ll let you know what I come up with when I get back to the internet tomorrow.

Now that I have your attention, I’d like to share with you a few moments of Zen I had today.

• Let’s begin with the cover story. As I was exiting a shop downtown this morning, I saw standing on the corner a scruffy-looking young guy (superfluous link, sorry; he wasn’t a nerf-herder) with a big backpack on his back and a guitar strapped onto him somewhere. He shouted to me “Hey, nice pants!” (I regularly wear capris that have stripes of tie-dye down the side, and get complimented whenever I wear them.) I said back, “Thanks! Nice guitar” as he walked over. He started rambling on about how he broke his guitar strings and was two bucks short for new ones. I was having none of his sly panhandling, but was thoroughly amused and awestruck when he then started going on about how someone had given him these amphetamine pills, but they really cost five dollars. “Wow,” I said as he paused. “Do…do you want them?” “Nah, I’m okay,” which is my standard reply in such circumstances. After a few more rebuffed attempts at donations, he wandered off up the street. I stood for a moment, dumbstruck.
• After that episode, I visited the Lan Su Chinese Garden, and had a splendid time walking through it very slowly, taking in every bit of it that I could, despite the rain. The woman at the front gate was very nice and gave me the student discount because I was friendly and talked to her about my grad program. The garden was breathtaking, and eleven years ago, the site of it was a gross parking lot. Portland’s urban infill is truly stunning in its superiority. The tea house in the garden was pretty schmancy, and I enjoyed sipping my tea and chopsticking my dumplings as serenely as I could. The full experience was well worth the $18.50 I paid. Pay for experiences, not for things.
• Back at home again, I sat engrossed in my internet goings-on while my host spoke briefly to someone at the door. When she told me it was someone from OSPIRG, or rather, Environment Oregon, I sprang to my feet. From my experiences working for The Fund, I have nothing but empathy for these footsoldiers of progress. While at this point in my life I don’t give them money, I share with them what else I can. Today, I grabbed my apple from the fridge, and ran out the door. There was someone who looked the wrong gender across the street, so I ran up and down the street looking for the male canvasser whom I’d just heard. He was nowhere to be seen. I went back to find the female one I’d seen across the street, and she was nowhere to be seen. Disappearing canvassers!! I wandered farther afield, and at last I spotted a young frame carrying a clipboard. Indeed, this person was rather androgynous. I gave them my apple. I walked with them for a bit, encouraging them to go knock on that door! I attempted to bolster their spirits, telling them that they could do it! Met with not-unexpected apathy, after a few minutes I wandered back home.

Let me tell you about my day yesterday. In the morning, as blogged, I had three tasks to finish, but only managed one of them. I also stepped on a small piece of glass in the morning which amazingly cut through my callus and was hurting all day. I waited for the bus downtown for about twenty minutes, all the time feeling like I could be back getting stuff done. Then I met my friend downtown, went to Powell’s, walked around and talked, got lunch, and got amazing truffles at Moonstruck Chocolate (I highly recommend the Ocumarian Truffle, the Sea Salt Cajeta Caramel, and the Cookies & Cream Cone if you’re ever in Portland). I went on an adventure for stamps (I wish more people working at convenience stores said “Good luck on your adventure!” as you were leaving) then took the bus home with a brief stop at the grocery store.

No doubt the pleasant feeling in my tummy helped, but the best part of my day was actually the short walk from the bus stop back to my hosts’ house. I walked along the sloped street, quietly munching on a pear. The temperature and weather were absolutely sublime. I looked out between houses at the pre-dusk vista of mountains and well-constrained suburbs. And there, as if it were waving hello, sat Mount Hood, completely cloaked in snow. Entirely and emphatically visible. I walked very slowly, occasionally stopping completely as it came back into view between houses. By the time I reached the house, I felt totally calm, fantastically content, and at peace with the world.

Frequently amazing experiences flow over us, and though we feel like they should be affecting us more profoundly, all we can feel is, “oh, that’s nice.” But occasionally a confluence of natural beauty, inner preparedness, and sheer serendipity can cause a truly wonderful feeling of serenity in us, and I had one of those moments yesterday. I wish the same upon you in the near future.

I took Russian in high school. It was a small, intense program, whose one teacher was passionate, tough, and kept the tight-knit program together with a strong personality. I did pretty poorly in the classes, but I still placed in an international essay contest. Several of my friends won national contests and got to travel to Russia as the prize.

My teacher had a number of proverbs and concepts that she regularly told her classes. Some were probably from Russian culture, but some were also probably from her own brain. One of those was the difference between hard and soft deadlines. Hard deadlines are the kind where if you don’t meet them, that’s that and you’ve missed your opportunity. These are the sorts of things where the people on the other side of the deadline don’t feel any need to accommodate your lateness: highly professional organizations like many applications, or places with clear reasons for the deadline, like with travel. Soft deadlines are the opposite: when if you miss the supposedly hard and fast deadline, you can still squeak in because either there’s low enough volume that it doesn’t matter, or because the people on the others side are waiting for you. In truth, you should always meet deadlines, but my teacher’s message was that it’s important to know the difference between the two types.

Today, I had three things that I felt I had to do today. One was an application whose deadline was tomorrow. Two were phone calls to my graduate school that I had promised myself or other people I would make today. I finished the application at about 4:30 EST, and then realized I didn’t have time to make the two phone calls during office hours. C’est la vie. Those two were the softer deadlines; they were promises made mostly for myself, but really they are things no one will fret about if I do them tomorrow. Learn to let it go. Learn the difference between hard and soft deadlines. It will make you less stressed and thus happier.

Today I drove from Portland out to Eagle Creek, in the Mt Hood National Forest. It was really gorgeous, with well-maintained trails that rose above the creek until there were sheer cliffs going up on one side and down to the creek on the other. At one point there was a sprinkle coming off an overhanging rock that you could stand under and look up at, only occasionally getting wet. Near the start of the hike there was also a suspension bridge that was fun to walk on. I was hiking with my hosts’ housemate, a late-20s PCA in massage school. We paused and turned around at Metlako Falls, a little stream tumbling down across the path and down a ravine. I commented that the middle of running water feels like a magical place, where evil spirits can’t get to you or something. The drive to the creek took us past Multnomah Falls, and gave us good views of both Mt Hood and Mt Saint Helens. It was a great way to spend my first afternoon in Portland.

Speaking of spending time in Portland, there’s an observation I’ve had about the Northwest that I would like to share with you. In both Seattle and Portland, there is an astoundingly higher number of VW Buses than there is on the east coast. I am curious to see whether the trend continues in San Francisco.

After we got back from the hike, I walked from where I’m staying near Mt Tabor to Belmont, a cute little neighborhood where I found a cafe and dinner. Goals for the remainder of my stay here (until Friday): hang out in Powell’s Books, explore downtown, and hang out with a good contradancing friend who I recently discovered lives here.

I have spent the past week in Seattle, and it’s been a really lovely stay. On Tuesday, I went for a walk along a lake in the city’s arboretum, and then had dinner and games with two good friends. They gifted me with a lovely mandolin, which I have since started to learn. On Wednesday I met one of my favorite writers, which I still haven’t quite wrapped my head around yet. Earlier in my visit to Seattle, I attended the Fremont Fair, with its fantastic parade (including naked, painted bicyclists!) and had a stupendous tour of downtown Seattle, with a focus on art. But despite all these fantastic adventures, the most fun part of my visit was getting to know the folks at whose house I stayed.

Let me first tell you a little about the house and how I came to stay there. It’s three stories, and painted a light shade of purple. It’s on the edge of the lovely Green Lake neighborhood north of the city, one block from the interstate highway. There are five people who live in the house, plus another who mostly lives elsewhere but has a bed nonetheless. I met two of the regular residents plus that occasional resident at Youth Dance Weekend last fall, and they were happy to take me in when I was looking for places to stay in Seattle. So I was very grateful to these three for offering me space.

But I barely saw the three of them my whole week in the city! They were off doing their own thing, and I spent most of my time with the other people in the house. Two of those studied planning during college at U-Dub, and the third bikes everywhere and is pursuing a career around energy efficiency for existing buildings (another great interest of mine). In fact, it turns out that several members of the house were among the naked bicyclists I observed during the Fremont Fair parade. They all entertain guests a fair amount. They are wonderful people, and I have greatly enjoyed getting to know them. I aspire to many aspects of their personalities for when I am living with people in the future.

Today I travel to Portland, Oregon. I hear from several reputable sources that Portland is the paragon of city planning. I’m excited!

Today I’m feeling exceedingly unproductive. I’ve gone over my to-do list several times, but I just don’t feel like doing the things on it. I’ve decided that that’s okay. This is related to the One Thing strategy for dealing with overwhelming to-do lists, except it allows for avoiding your responsibilities entirely (as long as they’re not that urgent). Our lives are filled with urgent tasks. When you have the luxury of a not-urgent spate of things to do, take the opportunity to indulge in some procrastination. Read a book. Play some music. Work on a puzzle. Am I merely justifying how I spent my day today? Perhaps. But maybe it’s legitimate, too! Give it a try next time you have the chance, and let me know whether or not you think I’m full of shit.

“Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
– Ferriss Bueller’s Day Off

Recently I went to a contradance where I really didn’t like the caller’s style. She exuded a sense of stress that I think made it much harder for the many beginners to learn. She made contradancing seem hard rather than fun. There were also many specific things she said that seemed more controlling than I felt comfortable with. I ended up never talking to her about it, because I couldn’t come up with a friendly, non-hurtful way to say it.

So how about it? How do you inform someone that you think they’re doing a bad job without offending them?

It was suggested to me that I write some blog posts about the basic workings of government and politics. I follow such things relatively closely, and I’d love to share with you some of my perception of how things work in Washington.

The Basics: The House of Representatives passes a bill. The Senate takes a look at it, hems and haws, waters the bill down, and passes a crappier version of it. The bill goes to conference committee. The conference committee is made up of a few powerful Senators and House Reps, from both parties, and they hammer out a compromise bill. That bill has to be passed by both the House (easily, usually) and Senate (easy only in an ideal world). Finally, if both houses of Congress have passed the bill that comes out of committee, the president signs the bill into law. After a few years (in many cases) the bill actually starts to take effect.

So that’s bicameral legislation. Sometimes the Senate starts this journey, and sometimes conference committee is arrived at through bills from each house of Congress that are separate but on the same topic. In neither house is “good policy” the primary consideration of most members of Congress. Their primary concern is the perceived popularity of the measures on which they deliberate. That perception is formed partly through polls, but more common factors are media coverage, the Congressman’s ideological perspective on the issue, and the character of discourse amongst the Congressman’s party and social group (which consists mostly of his or her colleagues, with a remarkable amount of cross-party socializing). Also, the path of legislation through each body of Congress is dictated by strict and bizarre rules and traditions that are sometimes as nonsensical as the strangest of religious traditions. Many of the traditions and rules of Congress originated in a time when there was more camaraderie of purpose, and when the wellbeing of the American people as a whole truly stood before political gain in the eyes of most of the Congress.

It’s a pretty fragile system, where institutional obstructionism in any of the House, Senate, or Presidency can force progress to a halt. If you don’t like the way it works, if you actually want to fix things instead of just complaining, you have to talk up and support a group that’s doing something about it.

This is fun! I’ll write more about some aspect of this process before very long.

Recently I spotted a review of cross-country travel on Amtrak in the LA Times. I recommend checking it out, though it’s not at all my experience. The writer, Karl Zimmerman, took pretty much the most posh train trip he could, whereas I’m taking a lower-budget, lower-key trip, with my only on-train splurging for meals in the dining car. I am also reminded of conversations with friends and relatives who also have taken long train trips. Their experiences are rarely as extravagant as Zimmerman’s, but are usually more luxurious than mine: sleeping cabins and less hopping on and off the train. These are all different, legitimate ways to travel on Amtrak.

Everyone has different experiences when traveling, with some very similar experiences diverging widely in enjoyment, and some very different experiences matching each other closely in their success. I am excited to (finally) dig into the first of my travel books (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance) now that I’m done with The Omnivore’s Dilemma. I am sure that Zen and On the Road when I get to it will change the way I think about my own travels, and I look forward to that more cultured perspective.

[The title of this post is a reference to a piece of music by Steve Reich. It’s about the difference between the experiences he had as a child traveling across the United States and the experiences of European Jews on the death trains of the Holocaust. You can listen to it, along with a nice accompanying video, here:]