In the past week I’ve seen:
Is it the cold weather? The pandemic? The holidays? I don’t know, I just keep safe as best I can.
I visited Mirror Lake for Thanksgiving. It was a way to make the most of a somewhat isolated, restricted holiday. A hike like this is the perfect way to spend the day during lockdown, as long as nothing goes wrong. (Fortunately, nothing went wrong.)
It’s the pride of the accessible mountain lakes. I’ve seen it and the landscape change a lot. I saw it when it was liquid – a friend took me along it and along Tom/Dick/Harry mountains.
I also saw the lake when the first snows arrived. Another friend had a puppy who felt snow between her toes for the first time (and went berserk in the powder). On that day the sun joined us with its friendly powers and we marveled when we suddenly saw Mount Hood rise to our right over the lake. In fact it caught us off guard with its hugeness on hugeness.
Finally I saw the lake with another friend who I, in turn, introduced the place to. He had never been out there and he was blown away. It was wet that day and snowy plumes were falling from the trees constantly. The fog was thick and close and we only saw the peak of Mount Hood unexpectedly, against the odds, as we were leaving. He fell on the trail and struggled in the snow but trudged on faithfully with me, a trait I admire.
Having grown up in Minnesota, I wish I could say I was hardened by winter and inured to the cold. But I am not – I just overprepare to avoid discomfort and emergencies. I might be more sensitive to the cold than ever. And this time I channeled those endless anxieties about the cold toward helping my friend stay happy and comfortable. Next time I visit it will require snowshoes and even more layers against the cold and wet.
When we returned to town we grabbed Thanksgiving takeout at the only place that was open: Panda Express. The workers were prohibited from accepting a tip, even while working late on a covid holiday.
My mom tested positive for infection with the coronavirus. She has a mild case though and is expected to recover.
This is the best-case scenario because of her age, dementia, and the fact she resides in a care home.
As usual, it’s my dad who suffers deep hurt and loss alongside the sick and dying in the family. When the virus began to spread and kill in the care homes of Minnesota, he thought of his wife, his mother-in-law (my grandma) and his longtime friend, who also has dementia (the senile form).
His nightmare was for all three of these close figures in his life to get the disease. This is exactly what happened. It killed my grandma but fortunately has spared the other two. He abides by them but in drawn-out isolation because of his knee surgery and social distancing.
Ironically if my mom was to get a bad case, she might enter hospice and this would unlock resources and options to make her content and comfortable. The friend has been in hospice for months and is living without invasive procedures and futile medical regimens.
When my grandma died it pained me to see my dad in sorrow. It was clear even over the video call. In his sorrow the tears streamed all down his face in waves.
Recently on All Saints’ Day he hallowed with a note, flowers and candle a small corner of the living room where the family keeps her ashes in an urn. He shared the image with me and my siblings.
I visited Trillium Lake and enjoyed the awesome beauty of Mount Hood.
The drive to the lake is partially closed so you have to walk a couple miles to get there. We appreciated this because it thinned out the stroller crowd.
We walked with a three-month old puppy and habituated her to her cargo harness. We fed the clever, curious gray jays that ate right out of our hands. A Steller’s jay accompanied the group of gray jays but kept its distance from us.
I watched a lone raven croak from the tip-top of a fir tree. I watched two bald eagles hunt fish in graceful low flight over the water. We chilled in our hammocks and let the tired puppy rest in her warm doggy sleeping bag.
We also checked out a small creek on the way. The forest is already very cold and damp, as it should be in early November. It’s as if the cold rises up from the earth itself. It’s as if winter comes up from below the deep forest.
Mount Hood’s snow had receded and the rock face seemed to burn with an enduring glory. It was a sunny day and we watched its reflection on the water grow more true as the lake became calmer with the setting sun. We looked on the play of light and the long shadows of the winter evening before we headed home.
I visited this special place with two friends and a new puppy. It was a splendid, sunny October day. I soaked up everything I could see, smell and touch. And by following up on my first visit there with friends instead of solo, I added to a pillar of a vibrant, complete life of my choosing.
This park is special. It is about 1 hour and 45 minutes from Portland. If you leave around mid-morning, you have time for a burger and fish and chips in the coastal town of Cannon Beach, which is what we did.
There is a quarter-mile trail leading from the main parking lot to the beach. A hike connects you to incredible vistas where you can watch the waves, the landforms, the seabirds and the vast Pacific Ocean. I could have spent the whole day out there but daylight was getting shorter and we wanted some time on the beach after hiking.
The other hikers quickly thin out after several patches of thick mud. Even on a rare sunny day in October, there are no “crowds” to complain about.
I went with my birding friend, with another friend who has captivated me, and with her puppy.
Shy people like me celebrate and marvel the rare instance of being “adopted” by an outgoing person with a network of connections. This has happened to me twice. Yet in both cases we became equals because I reciprocated her social gifts with special things that I brought but had hitherto underestimated or failed to recognize that I possessed them. And this time it was I who connected people and organized the outing. Both of my friends praised me for connecting them and “getting them out there.”
We hiked and touched and looked. And my friend got many photos of her adorable puppy, who we carried in a pack for most of the way. That puppy was seeing everything for the first time. She will have a life full of love and care and of day trips like that.
We raced the setting sun to get back to Short Sand Beach. We watched the sun set over the clear horizon and ran with the puppy on the hard strip of sand near the water.
I visited this same park a year ago. I took LSD before setting out and enjoyed branching, recursive cogitations on ecology, evolution and the wondrous clash of the living and nonliving spheres. I had a great time.
But I was alone.
In the past, I placed undue emphasis on knowledge and understanding. I thought that was the key to life and contentment. I thought that non-attachment to people and things was a sort of freedom.
I still believe it to an extent. But I now see other people as playing a central role in my life. My 2020 started with a scary event that made me reconnect with old friends. I repaired relationships. I strengthened new ones.
I chose my place to live (the Pacific northwest). I chose my paradigm for understanding the world (science and rationality). And now I am choosing the people who will complete and enrich my life.
I’ll visit Oswald West State Park again each year to watch the sunset and mark the tempo and milestones of my own development. And I’ll bring along cherished friends.
“If your opponent draws a circle to exclude you, you draw a larger circle to include him or her and unite the two of you against a higher and greater threat.”
The above is a paraphrasing of something an American civil rights activist named Pauli Murray said decades ago:
“I intend to destroy segregation by positive and embracing methods. When my brothers try to draw a circle to exclude me, I shall draw a larger circle to include them. Where they speak out for the privileges of a puny group, I shall shout for the rights of all mankind.”
For an intactivist, broadening the efforts means that when your opponent wants to protect only one sex (genetically and phenotypically normal girls) from non-therapeutic genital cutting, you expand the circle to include males, incompetent adults, and the wide continuum of intersex children.
It means that you expand the terms you use, from circumcision (which is narrower), to non-therapeutic genital cutting (which is broader).
You could go further and view non-therapeutic genital cutting as only one example of a wide variety of gruesome body modifications, which have been practiced throughout human history.
You take the broader perspective and see cutting of infants as a vestige of an ignorant, bloody, tribal past. Whereas the future is one of enlightenment, elevation of the individual, and wholeness.
It means that when we advocate against circumcision of male infants, it’s not just about the foreskin of men. We are waging a wider struggle for the right to bodily autonomy and bodily integrity.
I am so grateful for the many online communities that are advocating for an end to non-therapeutic genital cutting of minors. I hope they’ll continue drawing many circles to include others and defend the rights of children.
I have found many small joys in the past week:
The dangerously unhealthy wildfire smoke has cleared from Portland’s air, so I exercised in the park.
I celebrated a friend’s graduation at Mount Tabor, an extinct volcano within city limits. She has been a good friend, has worked hard, and will be an excellent teacher.
As a kid I devoured the novels set in the expanded Star Wars universe. The original Thrawn trilogy by Timothy Zahn were the best-written and most epic and imaginative. This YouTuber has brought those original stories to life. I have to say, I enjoy these fan-made shorts more than the most recent movies. I love seeing Thrawn, the Ysalimiri, the Nogrhi and Mara Jade vividly on screen. To me, these are the true stories of the years following the Battle of Endor.
Now, someone with creative ability and drive and an obvious love of the series has made those key scenes (and Thrawn’s glowing eyes) viewable.
In The Bhagavad Gita: A Walkthrough for Westerners, author Jack Hawley makes this dense, ancient epic more accessible.
I lifted two important lessons from the audiobook: one, atman, the notion of the true inner self. And two, the idea of making the small big, and the few many.
When I walk a trail and observe some natural phenomenon, I feel that I approach the essence and the pervading principle of life, even if I can’t fully articulate it. And when I look at a bird or bug or leaf, I see the big in the small.
I saw this while sheltering indoors from the wildfire smoke. It is peculiar and fantastic.
During key scenes the music dealt out a feeling of warped, escalating tension. I linked it subconsciously to Akira, another movie that made a profound impression on me. Sure enough, the composer (Oneohtrix Point Never) acknowledged being inspired by Kaneda’s theme.
This guy is like a smarter, harder-working, more talented, more consistent, more creative, more successful version of me. I read all his new content and browse the archives. Here is a good example of simple, career-changing advice (if you can only apply it).
These little stories are a nice break from the lessons. They help me practice my French intonation and they are fun.
It is developing as expected and should add to the many March birthdays in my family.
She and her wife got sperm from a good friend of theirs and had a successful pregnancy on the first try. BOOM, done.
I have a rack and panniers for a “utility biking” kit. I feel confident taking it everywhere, and I have. It allows me to spend many hours outside, enjoying the last sunny days of summer and fall.
I positively identified these little guys for the first time. They are tiny and inconspicuous, but when you do notice a flock of them, they are a lot of fun to watch. They will swarm into a bush or tree and then fly to the next one single file, one at a time.
“The mind cannot miss what it never knew, but the heart can ache for what it never felt.”
You can read all covid-19 coverage without a paid subscription as long as you make an account. This is how I have stayed informed without going into covid overload.
This is good prep for hikes in more remote destinations. I pack light and even leave my cell phone behind. The whole trip is about 20 miles. It takes me through Saint John’s, across the bridge, through the Ridge Trail, down Leif Erikson Trail, down NW Thurman Avenue, across the Broadway Avenue bridge, and then up N Vancouver or N Williams Avenue home.
When you walk for that long, you inevitably solve certain problems and make certain decisions that need to be made.
I tend to see Steller’s jays, northern flickers, barred owls, and hairy woodpeckers.
Mycena acicula, Orange Bonnet mushroom identification. I saw them while letting my rats play in the grass (they won’t go very far from me though).
In one ride the following occurred:
In my most recent assessment I marked three positive things:
I remain debt-free (and I will continue to refuse to take on debt).
Most of my net worth is in income-generating assets (total stock market index funds) instead of cash or a house or low-yielding bonds.
I have a cushion that will allow me to make my next decisive action toward a life of my choosing (much like my move halfway across the country two years ago).
Finally, a quote from the play Julius Caesar: “Countrymen, my heart doth joy that yet in all my life I never found a man but was true to me.”
I spent the last day of summer at a lovely swim spot on the Washougal River.
Naked Falls is a series of pools and small waterfalls on a clear, cool stretch of water. There are secluded gravelly areas downstream for those who are willing to scramble over logs and rocks for a bit.
We found a good spot away from the most crowded area. By climbing a bit, you can be away from people. But even at its most crowded, and on Labor Day, I estimated there were fewer than 80 people in this large rocky area.
I had a great time swimming, jumping into the various pools, and enjoying snacks and drinks. It was my friend’s birthday and he served as the videographer, which is a valued role in any group. I climbed onto a rock and posed as a merman.
We watched teenagers jump into the water from crazy-looking heights. We got Mexican food in Washougal and discussed cancel culture, depraved reaches of the internet, and appropriateness in comedy.
As we left, the wildfire smoke looked more and more menacing. This was just a hint of what was to come, as fires grew all around the state during the workweek. We felt safe at the time, but that was the last day for at least a week when you could safely be out in forested regions. In fact, right now I am indoors with all windows closed, waiting out the worst air quality in the world at the moment.
This was a good way to end the summer. And I’ll visit many of these places again in the fall to enjoy seeing how they’ve changed.
I drove with a friend to this well-loved spot. We headed out well before noon on a Friday and so we were able to beat the crowds. To enjoy a place like this it’s essential that you arrive before everyone else who has the same idea.
The trail is short and on private land. You drive as far as you dare on the deeply pocked gravel road before finding the unmarked trailhead and climbing down.
The waterfall is in the middle of an “amphitheater of columnar basalt.” The lichens and mosses are beautiful and we were there at just the right time of day to see the whole area filled with sunlight despite the lower and lower angle of the September sun.
The water was very cold but I was determined to swim out to where the falls meet the water. As I approached, the cold water, the loud beating of the water’s impact, the spray, and the current all made me want to turn away. I am not as strong a swimmer as I would like. I went as close as I dared and then swam back. My friend also went in the water and we managed to avoid drowning.
I caught a large garter snake and it peed on me a lot. We saw a baby one too.
I want to check out every nook and cranny like this in the Pacific Northwest. At the same time, I acknowledge the impacts that the press and fray of people have on these places. For my part I never leave trash. I poop at home instead of in the woods. I don’t burn things. I camp and hike on hard surfaces. I do all the recommended things to minimize my impact.
But there is inherent impact and ugliness in the crush of human visitors and their cars, trucks and SUVs. Interestingly, many of these popular spots are completely devoid of people during weekdays or during the off season. In those times the outdoors near the metro area seem more vast. The more you seek out remote spots, the more impact you have, in a way. It’s difficult. It’s definitely possible to “love a place to death.”
I saw a black phoebe hunting for bugs in a marshy area in North Portland.
The bird is a small flycatcher that perches in prominent low areas and bobs its tail constantly.
I am familiar with its cousin, the eastern phoebe. I often enjoyed watching the eastern phoebe hunt when I lived in Minnesota. The two birds are in the same genus.
YouTube has a number of good videos on its behavior.
The Sibley Guide to Birds captures my feelings:
“The joy of small discoveries is part of the great appeal of birding, and patient study is always rewarded.”
When I saw the busy little hunter, I had no idea what it was other than supposing it was in the flycatcher family. Sure enough, the guide confirmed my impression as well as details such as:
I find that new birds fit into a broad and nuanced conceptual framework. There is a spot for each one in my head, almost like the gaps in the early versions of the periodic table where the properties of the missing elements were predicted. I only need to get out there and see and study them and place them.
I returned to the same spot and saw the black phoebe again. Seeing (and confirming) this little bird was a joyful moment for me. I look forward to observing more in the field.
My precious rat, Pepper. She is the shyer and more affectionate one (compared to her sister Salt) and is more likely to be still and accept pets and scratches on the scruff of the neck.
pseudoisaac 