Don’t give me the blame for calling this storm “the snowpocalypse”. The media have been calling it that since Thursday, before it even took shape. It’s still snowing heavily right now (11:20AM on Saturday). I took some video this morning when the snow was light enough to see out. Right now it’s coming down too hard for video to really show what’s going on. I’ve no idea how much we’ll have by tonight, when it’s finally supposed to stop!
Freelance life has its compensations. This is why I love working at home! At 4PM I get my cappuccino pulled by my own personal barista (Mark). No need to go anywhere on a day with a sloppy cold rain. Aahhhh!
It’s been a busy week, juggling two consulting clients, one new client proposal, five yoga classes and my part-time work at Unity Woods. I love the variety, and am becoming much better at juggling after a few months practice. Part of the secret seems to be maintaining as much yogic detachment as possible. I do the best job I can, and then try to let it go. That’s not to say that I feel I’m doing a slapdash job, just that I try not to get over-involved in politics and non-essentials. I serve my students, my clients and my employer, and then I put it aside and try to give my full attention to my husband, my home and myself. That’s the ideal, anyway. None of it would be possible without a supportive spouse who pitches in to do the grocery shopping and bathroom cleaning in weeks like this. Thank you darling!
I taught my first yoga classes of the new year this week. I am teaching four classes a week this session, which is one more than I have done for the past several months. I’m a bit worried about juggling everything, but I forget all about that when I walk into the studio each time. I do love my students!
I’m pleased to say that my own practice improved by leaps and bounds last year. It really began with my first week with Kofi Busia in summer 2008. Add to my Omega pilgrimages the combination of more frequent practice (inspired by regular emails from a group of yogi friends) and tough weekly classes with John Schumacher, and I find my body changing in ways I wasn’t sure were possible. I’m doubtless due for a plateau here soon, but have been enjoying the thrill of new strength and depth in my asana practice.
I find new depths in my philosophical outlook, too. The past two years have brought several deaths in my family and among the families of my friends. I lean on yoga more than ever for a sense of connectedness and calm in facing the impermanence of all things.
The sign at the gas station on the corner was blown clean off its foundation by this week's winds
The past week we’ve had shockingly fierce winds here in Washington. This morning I saw the sign marking a gas station on the corner of my street had been blown clean off its foundation. I am wondering if this marks some kind of omen for the year to come?
Well I couldn’t NOT write about this one. 24 hours of constant, unbroken snowfall has left us buried under 20 inches. We vaulted into the top ten of historic Washington snowstorms, taking the number six spot for most snow in a two-day period. It started at 9pm on Friday, and didn’t stop until about 9pm on Saturday. Lovely to look at. Hell to shovel. At least this time we got plowed steadily through the day. In the 1996 storm (number five) we didn’t get plowed for nearly a week! Looks like we’ll be making a farmer-style breakfast before we go out to start digging ourselves out.
Mark struggled all day yesterday just to keep the doorways clear enough that we could open the doors, since our lack of porch overhangs means that our front and back doors are easily blocked by the snow. I was inside trying to finish a big presentation that’s due Tuesday to a client in Baltimore. Wonder if that meeting will still happen?
I’ll update later after we get out into it this morning.
11:30AM: After 90 minutes of shoveling, we’re about done in. Maybe another burst of activity later this afternoon will get the cars dug out. This may take a while! New photos posted to flickr…
We made a discovery last Sunday, when Mark and I went out for a drive in our little convertible. In the Virginia countryside north of the town of Orange, Virginia is an old-fashioned barnstorming air show– The Flying Circus in Bealeton, Virginia. Not Monty Python’s, but the real deal with biplanes and stunt planes, sky diving and wing walking demonstrations.
We had no intention of stopping when we set out in the morning, but as our route took us in that general direction I saw the airfield marked on the map and steered us in that general direction. As we got close we could hear the sound of the plane engines up in the sky and looked up to see a yellow biplane going into loops and stalls in a bright blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. We pulled over next to the gate at the airfield and we could see it’s a small operation– no tarmac, just grass runway and handmade plank benches next to the field for the spectators. A little shack selling hot dogs and ice cream, a gift shop and some bathrooms complete the setup. We impulsively decided it looked like too much fun to miss so we decided to stay.
One of the biplanes in the Flying Circus
And I’m so glad we did! The actual airshow started about forty-five minutes after our arrival and lasted for 90 minutes of non-stop entertainment. By the time the show started there were a couple of hundred people there, mostly families with kids of various ages. The grassy airfield setup makes it easy to tailgate or picnic, and many people had wisely brought beach umbrellas to ward off the strong July sun. With the admission ticket price of $10 a person plus a $10 lunch for two, it was bargain entertainment. If you’re really enthusiastic, you can even buy rides in the open-cockpit show planes. Prices this summer are $70 for a standard ride, or $130 for an aerobatic ride, where the pilot will take you through loops, rolls, dives and stalls in an open biplane.
To get there by the most direct path, go south of Manassas on Route 28 for about 25 miles and turn left onto Route 17 South. Continue for 4 miles, then make another left turn onto Ritchie Road (VA 644). The Aerodrome will be on your left. They have shows every Sunday from May through October. Coming up in August is a special weekend balloon festival when there will be balloon rides on both Saturday and Sunday August 15-16.
Today is the 40th anniversary of the first moon landing. On July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong first set foot on the lunar surface. The astronauts left a plaque on the leg of the lunar lander that remains on the surface of the moon:
HERE MEN FROM THE PLANET EARTH FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON JULY 1969 A.D. WE CAME IN PEACE FOR ALL MANKIND.
My friends and family know I am deeply fascinated by the American space program. It started last year when I saw the Discovery channel’s series “When We Left Earth.” Soon I was scouring the library for all books I could find on the subject, and I’ve kept my Netflix queue full of films and documentaries about the Apollo, Gemini and Mercury programs.
I can’t get enough of the story, for many reasons. First, because it was such a tremendous technical achievement, built by thousands of unnamed and hardworking technicians, engineers, computer scientists and so on. Second, because of the bravery and grace under pressure of the astronauts who risked their lives to pursue the voyage into space. Third, because of the cosmic wonder of it all—to see the Earth from deep space is such an important perspective, and one we would not have if it weren’t for the Apollo program.
I could go on for pages with the list of great books and films on the topic, but I’ll confine myself to just one for today. In connection with the 40th Anniversary, the Criterion Collection of films has released a blu-ray version of the film “For All Mankind.” Created by Al Reinert and first released in 1989, this is the most lyrical and artistic of all the films I have seen on the space program. It has no narration, only the voices of the astronauts themselves describing their experiences. The soundtrack includes the ethereal and otherworldly music of Brian Eno. The images are from high-definition film recorded by NASA that at the time Reinert made this movie had not been seen by the public. The following Youtube clip is a little long, but will give you a taste of the film’s pacing and imagery.
The film was released twenty years ago and the Apollo 11 moon landing was twenty years before that. No-one has been back to the moon since 1972 with the final mission to the moon of Apollo 17. Only ten men have ever set foot on another planetary body, and at this time there’s little indication that any others will do so in my lifetime.
Reason enough for wonder, but there’s much more. In another post I plan to write about the spiritual insights that many astronauts experienced as a consequence of their unique viewpoint from so far away from the Earth.
What’s wrong with this picture? I’m sitting outside with my laptop on the patio at 3 in the afternoon on July 14, and I’m comfortable! So far we are enjoying that rarest of seasons here in Washington, a mild summer. While I could ask for some rain right now, the mere fact that I’m able to sit out and enjoy the back garden without melting from high heat and humidity is worth celebrating.
To add to my happiness, my little patio fountain is burbling away making a cheerful splashing sound. I’m pleased to have it back up and running after a one-year hiatus. Three years ago I first assembled the little home-made spout in a pot that Mark grandly christened ” the water feature”. The basin is a blue-glazed Vietnamese planter and I placed a tiny pump inside set up on stacked bricks. Last summer we went without it after the original pump died. Now I have a new and better little pump powered by an unobtrusive solar panel just five inches square. The panel has a rechargeable battery pack so you can even run it in the evening or on a cloudy day. I’ve been very pleased with it and would recommend you check out the Silicon Solar website I ordered it from.
I know we enjoy it, but so do the birds. The fountain sits beside my two burdbaths, and the sound of the splashing water helps attract the birds to the bathing station. There are many nests around the garden, and I saw baby birds become so enthusiastic about playing around the edge of the deep pot that I was worried I might have a drowing victim if I didn’t do something. For my peace of mind I cut a piece of chickenwire and set it inside the pot just below the water level. Sure enough, I’ve seen clueless young birds standing on it, unaware they’re walking on water!
I had an interesting exchange with a student last week. He was asking about desire:
I’m really curious how we can, in this modern world, purify things so simply down to renunciation of all desires and attachments to attain true freedom. Didn’t I see you zip away after class in a plum colored convertible?
Here’s my response:
Eradicating desire is so difficult, perhaps only truly an option for the most realized of souls here on earth. To my mind, the trick is rather to avoid attachment. By “attachment” I mean over-identification with what is not the true self. That does not mean you cannot or should not enjoy the pleasures of life. One can love one’s family and fulfill our obligations as householders without feeling that a parent’s or child’s every action reflects upon us. Same thing goes with objects. So one can enjoy the little plum convertibles of life without feeling that they are part of one’s identity.
We love our family members and do our duty by them while we are with them, and we realize that all things are transitory, including our own lives. Do what’s right, then let go of the result, says the Bhagavad Gita. That, to me, is freedom.
These are ideas that have brought some serenity to my life, but we all have many lifetimes to go before we escape the wheel. Best wishes in your own search for freedom.
I thought I’d write a bit about a new neighbor who’s taken up residence around here. Since April, Mark and I have noticed a young rabbit who moved into the garden and made himself at home. We’ve christened him with the not-too-original moniker of “Mr. Bun”. He’s clearly a youngster, and was tiny back in April. By this time he’s grown to nearly full size and filled out a lot, thanks to the rich crop of clover in our grass. Thankfully, he hasn’t done much damage to my mesclun lettuce. Maybe the varieties I planted this spring are too bitter for his sensitive palate. However he has turned out to be quite fond of my Siberian Iris, which now look like a weed-whacker has been at them.
I’m not sure why I have such a soft spot for the little guy; early exposure to Watership Down, I suppose. And he was pretty darn cute back in April. Now he’s more handsome than cute. His grown-up body is rangy rather than round, with a beautiful dappled brown coat. He’s quite unafraid of us, and seems very comfortable hanging out in a front corner of the vegetable garden to catch a few rays. He washes and grooms himself just like a cat, stretching out those long back toes to clean in between, and licking a front paw to clean behind the ears.
Years ago, I fell in love with a short cartoon from the comic strip “Mutts”. This is from a series the strip’s creator, Patrick McDonnell, developed about adopting animals from shelters:
From "Mutts", by Patrick McDonnell
Some of you may know that I have a deep dislike of crickets. I wouldn’t call it a phobia, that implies my dislike is unreasonable. No, I hate them for very good and rational reasons. Mostly my problem is that they jump. And they’re as likely to jump right at you as away.
It’s a good thing I don’t live in Nevada. I saw a story in The Wall Street Journal this week describing an actual plague of a species called the Mormon Cricket, famous for swarming in very large numbers in the springtime. The poor residents of small towns in the Nevada desert have quite a problem to contend with:
In flyspeck villages like Tuscarora, crickets are a serious matter. The critters hatch in April in the barren soil of northern Nevada, western Utah and other parts of the Great Basin, quickly growing into blood-red, ravenous insects more than 2 inches long.
Then they march. In columns that in peak years can be two miles long and a mile across, swarms move across the badlands in search of food. Starting in about May, they march through August or so, before stopping to lay eggs for next year and die.
In between, they make an awful mess. They destroy crops and lots of the other leafy vegetation. They crawl all over houses, and some get inside. “You’ll wake up and there’ll be one sitting on your forehead, looking at you,” says Ms. Moore.
They swarm on roads, where cars turn them into slicks that can cause accidents. So many dead ones piled up on a highway last year that Elko County, Nev., called in snowplows to scrape them off.
I’m quite sure I’d be moving out for the duration. At least our local insect plague of locusts only happens once every seventeen years! The Journal reports that insecticide is only intermittently effective against such numbers. The only thing that seems to really help is sound, specifically blasting heavy metal music at the critters to get them to move on. Seems they really don’t care for Led Zeppelin and AC/DC.
Hmm, does that mean I have something in common with a cricket? Perish the thought.
I'm a writer, healthcare consultant and yoga teacher. My hobbies are cooking, gardening, blogging and books.
