Come on Baby Light My Fire

No matter what you think of firewalking or how you explain it. This is the view before you. Now, baby, place your delicate white footsie on that.

The firewalking was easy, although it gets the most attention. It’s the drama.  It isn’t about the firewalking. It’s about taking the first step.

Years ago when I first heard that Tony Robbins’ participants walked on fire, I said, “When someone teaches a seminar on how to walk on water, I’ll take it.” But after listening to Tony Robbins tapes some 20 years ago, after reading Robbin’s book Awaken the Giant Within—that was long ago too. After recently watching  Joe Berlinger’s documentary on Tony, titled, “I am Not Your Guru,” I decided. “I’m going.” A twitter user posted the link, and although I don’t know who it was, I thank them.

I was, of course, concerned about walking on hot coals, no matter how many explanations are put on it. I had a teacher in San Diego who burnt her feet walking on hot coals, so I had that image pecking against my brain.

I didn’t know if I would do it, but thought, this is my opportunity to teach myself to overcome fear, and to think that if I could walk on fire I could do anything.

There were 35 fire strips for 10,500 people, I don’t know how many people walked, the majority did.

Tony prepared us for about 2 hours before the walk while videos of flames burnt around the room, on the monitors, on the digital strip around the San Jose SAP Hockey arena.

When images of flames came up, I thought, Hey wait a minute, you said hot coals, not flames. The images were of the burning wood before they settled into coals.

When the time came, the helper said, “Step on the grass,” (There is a strip before the coals.) I gave my chest a pound, shot my fist in the air, focused on the other side and walked.

Hey, that sounds like going for your dream.

Do You Know the Way to San Jose?

Trip to San Jose November 9, 2016

It was a beautiful day, clear sky, green fields. I arrived at the airport at 8 p.m. for a 9:20 flight.

Pretty easy huh?

Nine hours later I arrived at my motel in San Jose at 6 o’clock in the evening.

Could I have driven the distance in that time? Maybe. Except I couldn’t have read a novel or napped on the plane.

I felt that I had been dropped into a 3^rd world country.

The plane in Eugene was delayed for about 45 minutes. I had brought my laptop that weighs a ton and placed it atop my roll-on suitcase. The weight of it made that luggage sluggish and hard to pull. No problem, just walk down the jetway and board your plane. Right?

Wrong.

There was no jetway.

The plane was a little puddle jumper to Portland, and I guess it didn’t deserve a jetway. It was parked outside.

Okay. No problem. No rain. Except to my surprise once out of the airport gate,  we entered a long outside corridor that was blocks long. (I’m not exaggerating this time.) We could leave our suitcase at the bottom of the stairs but needed to take electronic devices aboard. I lugged my heavy computer case up the stairs, and all was well.

We were off.

Except that we arrived in Portland 45 minutes late, and by the time I dragged that suitcase with the computer down a ten-mile long corridor and arrived at the gate it was closed. Bye, plane. I watched as it pulled pull away from its jetway.

They reassigned me. The next plane would leave in two hours. They told me to go to gate C 9. And where was gate C 9? Back down that ten-mile long corridor, with me schlepping that suitcase while my back swore at me.

And where was the plane?

Parked outside.

To conserve space they offered to check my bag for free, so I did, and we flew to San Jose while I read and napped and told my back all was well.  It could relax.

We arrived around 4:30.

I decided since time was not a problem this evening, to try out my UBER app, and through it arranged for a car. (Only $5,16 they said.) I had planned on registering for the Tony Robbins event at the convention center this evening, but due to the late hour and my exhaustion, changed my mind.  In the morning I would join the great throng of other contestants also registering. (My consultant warned me.)

The UBER site said a car would arrive around 5 p.m., then they said 5:30. I waited and waited, and the phone kept saying they would arrive in 2 minutes, then 3, then 4, then 2. And the phone was down to a 5% charge.

Finally, I gave up and took a shuttle ($25.00) to my motel—not a hotel, a MOTEL.

Usually one has a car when arriving at a “MOTOR lodge.” I had switched from a hotel to save money.  That meant I had to walk to my room, number 183, down a pathway, over a bridge, through the woods, no, but it felt like a mile with me feeling I was pulling a cement truck.

I arrived at my room and decided not to leave it until morning. Among the many food items, packed in my suitcase is power-shake makings, so that will have to do for dinner.  They warned us to bring snacks for there will be no lunch break tomorrow.

At the Motel I had to pay for WiFi, and yes I did need to sign a document from back home, which was one reason I bought the computer.

I’m on the computer now, figuring I should use it since I paid for it.

I’m not complaining, just the facts, and I got in a day of reading, and up there in the sky, I marveled again how exquisite it is to fly. Can you believe people can fly? They can pour themselves into a big heavy bird and sail away. It is incredible, even if ground duty makes it take all day.

And speaking of birds, this morning on the way to the airport husband dear and I saw a flotilla of geese, floating down like eiderdown feathers, and landing in a tight puddle of brown the size of a football field in an immense field of green. And behind them, another group ebbed and flowed in slow motion until they gradually joined the dark sea of Canadian geese sitting down for a feed or a rest.

Tomorrow the event.

To be continued.

The Tigers are Circling

"Writing is like hugging a tiger you don't know if he will hug you back or eat you."

The Tigers circled again last night. I thought they were worries or concerns of the mind or plagues of the psyche. Daughter dear said those are “Tigers that turn our dreams into remorse.”

So I let the tigers have their way for a little while, just so they could air their grievances, and then I turned to #Joseph Campbell’s admonition: “Follow You Bliss,” did an about face, decided that everything would work out, and went to sleep.

Tomorrow I'm off to see the wizard.

#Tony Robbins

"Wherever you go you meet part of your story."

It's a Beautiful Day in Our Neighborhood

View from my window.

The leaves are red, the sun is shining, the air is crisp, we bought a house.

I slept last night.

This morning as I wiped bacon grease from our microwave and encountered that ring of rust around its turn style, I thought, We had to buy a house to get a new microwave.

That’s not really the reason, but I am tickled to have our offer accepted. We haven’t really bought it yet, you know, the loan process and all that.

The house was on the market one day. We viewed it the next, began filling out acceptance forms that night, placed the offer the following day—that was after 40 pages of forms, plus a loan pre-acceptance letter, and numerous docu-signs.

The next day the listing broker said there was another offer on the house.

I sent an addendum upping the price to cover the closing costs we had asked for. They were showing the house twice that day.

I couldn’t sleep that night.

I tried various thought patterns, seeing the house as ours, trying to keep fear out of the equation, knowing the house was our’s, relaxing.  I really believed that house was for us. It doesn’t look like a Davis house, but it hugged me when I went inside, it's cute, upgraded, and immaculately kept.

The house is in a neighborhood, but as it turns out, it is right on the edge of the city—the city boundaries are wiggly, and this house landed in one of the outside wiggles.

 I can legally have chickens!

The owners have chickens, and their beautiful secure chicken coop  comes with the property, and it has a well.  I like well water. It has a separate building my husband can use for a shop. Perfect.

I’m thrilled.

I’d stop writing so much about me if you would tell me about you.

What would you like to see on this blog?

For me to shut up? (If you felt that way, you wouldn’t be here.)

For me to tell you something you didn’t know? (What do you want to know? I probably don’t know either, but I’ll give an opinion.)

Yes, I know blogs are supposed to give information or instructions, be funny, or entertaining. I don’t have expert advice on know how to be a master in any field, how to be an expert blogger, gardener, farmer, scientist, and regarding technology-- forget that.

No expert advice is coming from me.

But the value of a blog is that you can talk about anything you want. People can read you or not. We can connect, have a discussion, we can talk about life and its idiosyncrasies. 

#Life. That is the reason we came to this planet.

So, I think that’s what we ought to talk about.

To learn its mysteries.

To find value in the little things.

To encourage each other.

To find ways of #coping, of getting along, of overcoming traumas.

To see with new eyes the world outside our window.

I have used that analogy often, the view out the window. It depends on which window we are looking through as to what we see. I see the beautiful red tree in the yard. We could look out and see garbage cans.

Choose which.

Don’t you think that is true with life,that we have a choice as to where to look?We can let others choose for us, see pictures the media puts before us, of murder and mayhem, or look out our own window, and watch the kids throwing leaves, laughing, falling into great piles off red, yellow amber, rust, tan?

Leaves I raked.

You know how little we know another person. They have a right to their privacy, that’s a given, but I’m thinking of someone I met who said they didn’t care much for social media, that they would rather sit and talk. I thought, great, tell me about yourself. The trouble was, I didn’t get much.

I wonder why we are so separate from each other.

In The Life and Death of American Cities, Jane Jacob’s describes what happened when urban renewal built superb, monolithic brick and glass towers for the city’s poor.  There were burglaries, rapes, assaults, and hallway muggings. 

On the other hand, some of the tattiest neighborhoods remained stable. Their crime rate was low. What was the difference?

Community.

The shopkeepers worked at their windows watching the neighborhood, the butcher knew everyone on the block. Little could pass their watchful eyes, besides, people are less apt to harm those they know.

It appears now that people are so busy, so overworked that they go home, crawl into their houses and pull the sidewalk in behind them.

Do you want more historical facts? (Ha, ha, hee, hee…somebody said that history is a lie we have all agreed with. Another said, “History is HIS STORY.”

Who wrote the story? Do you want a conservative telling the story or a liberal? Whose story would you believe? Is anyone unbiased?

I love trying to unravel ancient history, myths, legends, ancient civilizations, those sorts of things, and we must glean from whatever information we can find. We must be discriminating; we must go where no man has gone before. What feels right? Now they say that dinosaurs had feathers, would you have believed that 20 years ago?

How did we get to be the peoples we are? Many savages or semi-savage peoples had tales of a Golden age where people had better weapons, better boats, better towns, and higher forms of religion.

What happened to those people? Did they succumb to wars, natural disasters, comets, aliens, internal decadence, or a lack of concern for the planet?

The dark ages did happen. And then came the Renaissance-- derived from the rediscovery of classical Greek philosophy, such as that of Protagoras.  Wow.

We are led to believe that it was a linear line from cavemen to now. What happened to the cave dwellers? Did little people of Hawaii called Menehunes exist? And did they one day walk into the jungle never to be seen again?  Who built the pyramids, and how?

Science is now talking about a holographic Universe, and that our brains, as well, have holographic qualities. #Quantum physics postulates that there are black holes that will not crush people but are portals to another place or dimension and that space travelers can use those black holes, and wormholes, as well, to travel and even create their own.

Some even suppose that space travel can be faster than light.

Scientists have found that atoms once together, then separated long distances, still communicate instantaneously with one another—like lovers feeling what the other feels.

Some may scoff at this, but remember, people scoffed at Copernicus for saying that the sun, not the earth was the center of our solar system and that neither earth nor sun, was the center of the Universe.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”  -- Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

I turned around from raking leaves, and there she was: