Trunks, Trains, Crocodile Tears

As I opened my eyes this afternoon upon awakening from a particularly deep sleep, I looked out the window from my bed and there in the sky was a most beautiful cloud that had taken on the shape of an elephant. It was so magical, I jumped up to grab the camera, resume my exact place on the bed but alas my first shot was no good and by the time I got the camera positioned and focused for the second shot the cloud no longer resembled an elephant; however, I could still see the shape of an animal head, sans the trunk, now looking more like a large dog.

I've always associated difficult times and suffering with transformation. During a particularly difficult time a number of years ago I had a powerful dream that left a lasting impression on my mind. I can't remember the details although I'm sure it's recorded somewhere in my papers, but I was on a train, traveling, and somehow a baby elephant came to me in the dream and offered me great solace, almost as one would imagine a spirit animal to do, or a guardian angel. It was such a powerful and emotional dream that I found myself literally out there in the world in search of a baby elephant the very next day! Well, not a *real* one, but one that's like a teddy bear. I desperately wanted a baby elephant that I could hold just like a child holds a cherished teddy bear or a security blanket. I had no idea where to find one but I didn't care, I jumped in my car and drove until I came to a Toys R Us. I found a large bin at the bottom of a shelf that contained a variety of stuffed animals, but I could not find an elephant. I searched and searched, reaching deep inside the bin, trying to rotate all the stuffed animals around in such a way that I would be able to see each and every one of them before giving up. No luck. Just as I was prepared to go elsewhere or dismiss my quest as something silly and stupid I heard the sound of a baby elephant coming from the bottom of the bin. Reader, I swear to you this is true. I started crying because it seemed so totally unreal. Even now I have to take some deep breaths and get my bearings as I revisit the memory. I reached my hand deep into the far corner of the bin towards where the sound had come and pulled out the cutest little baby elephant I'd ever seen! (Photo attached). (Press on him and voila, you get three recorded sounds of a baby elephant.) At this time in my life I was learning all about nurturing one's inner child, and the baby elephant came to symbolize this for me. They are fascinating animals. Gentle giants, powerful yet vulnerable, social, living in groups with a matriarch, usually the oldest female in the group, a great aunt, a grandmother, a great grandmother. Just like my childhood. All the love and compassion and strength and safety I could find came from my grandmother and my great aunts. As a child, I loathed my father and most men in general. My, how things change.

I rarely win anything free, but I did win a free consultation with a practitioner of Chinese medicine and acupuncture. We met yesterday and it was pretty powerful. She could really see right through me and I was quite delighted by that albeit somewhat unnerved in the sense that deep emotions were beginning to emerge, which meant I felt safe with her and she was definitely hitting on some difficult truths. She says my chi is out of balance and although she has some very clear and specific suggestions for bringing this into balance, it would involve weekly visits plus all the herbs plus a pretty radical change in diet and I'm just not up for all that right now. I want to transition slowly into trying to find the balance myself. I'm going to look at it as a fortuitous encounter but not take on obligations. I do have a whole page of suggested changes I can work on. More importantly, I need to exercise prudence in my money management at this time. I do want to keep her in mind for possible future work when I have more readily available cash.

After finding the baby elephant my journey took me to live for a year in a remote cabin in the wilds of Northern New Mexico. One of the monks at a neighboring monastery who befriended me gave me his teddy bear that he'd had since childhood, and already he was in his late 40's. I was very touched. Many of the village people accepted me and I learned much of their personal histories, especially through a book written by a native villager who now teaches in Coyote. In some ways it was like living in another country, another culture altogether. Years later after moving back to Austin then to Dripping Springs I noticed something in the middle of the highway one day that particularly grabbed my attention. I turned around and found a discarded baby elephant, lying the middle of the highway. How he eluded being run over I don't know. I cleaned him up and now he lives with the teddy bear and my inner child symbol.

Last night after a great workshop I dreamt I was being chased by a crocodile! I fled to my car and with key in hand I tried to open the door but alas the croc was too fast and I awakened with quite a physical reaction which sent my cats fleeing from the bed in a momentary panic. It's all good, but since he didn't bite me, or devour me, and I escaped by awakening, maybe I've made some not so bad decisions after all, of late.

What Would St. Francis Do?

It's been a good if relatively uneventful week. I enjoyed a 3 hour ANY partner yoga and Thai massage workshop with Jeff as my partner and Andrew as our leader this past Sunday, as well as a couple of ANY classes. I had a long chat with Murti today about his upcoming workshop and week intensive at Austin Yoga, Castle Hill, as well as the retreat he and Gioconda are planning in October in Hawaii, which I'm hoping to attend. I enrolled in Keith's Boddhisatva workshop this weekend which I'm looking forward to, dropped by Castle Hill and purchased all my required books for the upcoming teacher training program and enrolled in Murti's events. Yoga and community is good.





Saw my dentist yesterday for my regular six month check-up and his wife and assistant Rhonda really needed to talk about all the difficulties they have been facing of late--an aging parent in a care facility, the devastating effects of Alzheimer's, and a whole range of medical issues she's been having to deal with. I felt so honored that she was comfortable confiding in me, sharing life's difficulties. I realized later that I've been going there for about 28 years. Of course it was impossible for me to do anything but listen as Dr. Heckmann was at work in my mouth the whole time, but sometimes it's best to just listen and let others talk without giving feedback (unless it's asked for). We all need to be heard, with understanding, and sometimes without any feedback. That was good.





I finally found someone who can repair my bath tub/shower without tearing everything out and having to do major construction. He came up with an excellent solution that will preserve the original design yet fix the problem without it all looking like a patch job.





I don't know what to do about all the raccoons we have around here. I started feeding them and now they expect dinner every night---all of them, and they've grown in numbers. Sometimes I count as many as 8. They come around like clockwork. It's so hot out there but I fear I've made a mistake in allowing their population to grow beyond what would be normal for the amount of food nature provides, but I am finding it exceedingly difficult to not feed them. However, we have decided it's probably the best thing to do as they can become dangerous pests. So I've withdrawn food. Well, I noticed one very persistent adult staring at me through the glass, with such a pleading look. They are still wild animals and run off when I approach with food, or step outside, and when this one took off I noticed a significant limp in his/her back leg. I've seen her several times now and wonder if her leg is broken, of if she has a thorn/infection. Dale doesn't know it, but I'm still feeding her. I love all the animals, but did erect a 7.5' wildlife fence around the property to keep out the deer that were eating all our plants. The fence also keeps out all roaming dogs, which is good, but the property is now a haven for raccoons, squirrels, foxes, and neighboring cats. There are so many birds out here too. But about the raccoons, I wonder what St. Francis would do? I suppose that as long as I continue feeding the birds and squirrels, there will always be grain scattered on the ground that the raccons will find.





I made reservations for dinner tommorrow at San Miguel for Dale and I, Gary and Chris, and Richard and Fred. I look forward to that.

A, B, or C

I never know how long it's going to take me to get somewhere, and I mean that both literally and metaphorically. Getting from here to central Austin can take from 30 minutes to 1.5 hours, it all hinges on traffic. Yesterday when I left for practice I had in mind the possibility of 3 different yoga classes in 3 different studios, all beginning at 9:30 a.m. Should traffic be slow, the plan was to get to the closest one in time; if traffic was *normal* then I might just make it to the studio in north central Austin, the one that is further away in distance than the other two. I'm sure there is little logic to this, but such was my thinking. So keeping an open mind I left the house not knowing exactly where I'd end up for my morning practice.

Stephen Levine writes: "The mind creates an abyss, but the heart crosses it."


Certainly I can get totally lost in my mind and that can include the process of making decisions. It easily leads me nowhere. Into an abyss, round and about mazes, puzzling over nonsensical conundrums, in general pretty useless stuff. I like the notion that our hearts are indeed our *second* brain, and in many ways the far more important one. Most times when I follow my heart, something pretty rich happens. All sorts of things open up, and I don't mean just positive, candy-coated stuff. The real stuff, the stuff of life that really lets me FEEL. Laughter and tears and all that stuff. No doubt it would be far easier to follow my mind but I don't seem to ever get anywhere when I do that. Gratitude, love, grace, touching souls, connecting, being a part of, moving deeper into, listening, hurt, pain, sorrow, grief, being totally raw--all things having to do with feelings are associated with the heart.

Traffic was light so I ended up at the yoga studio located in north central Austin. The substitute teacher was just awesome. The class just totally blew me away. It was what I needed and wanted. I'm humbled when awesome things happen and feel that when such richness and ripeness suddenly makes an appearance I'm experiencing grace. Interestingly, I don't know or even think for a moment that had I chosen studio 1 or studio 2, that grace wouldn't have happened there. I think all we can do is open our hearts, and when we do that, we are open to grace, we are open to gifts, to love, and as well to pain. We are open to growth, to living life authentically.

I need to make some decisions: my bathtub/shower area needs to be repaired. It leaks and is causing damage. I don't know if a simple repair will do the trick or if I'll end up needing a whole new tub, tiling, essentially a complete redo. I do know that dealing with house doctors as they call themselves, contractors, salespeople, plumbers, carpenters...can cause me quite a bit of anxiety. Actually I should say I react with stress when I have to do these kinds of things of which I know very little. I just want it done, but there is no wand to wave, no one person to call and say please take care of this asap, thank you. Like so many other things it's a process. You have to do homework and learn stuff you may have no interest in, and hope you don't end up spending thousands unnecessarily. The only thing I know to do is sit with the anxiety and listen to my what my heart says. The sales lady at Moore Supply entices me to buy the deluxe, homeopathic, bubbly, aroma therapeutic, holistic, essential oils-friendly 60 gallon tub. My heart says Oh Yes, my body is a temple, this is really a healthy thing to do, but my pocketbook says No Way. As Jack Kornfield says, in dealing with all things spiritual, mental, physical....sometimes you simply have to rely on you own common sense. I have a folder with a handout that I sometimes refer to entitled How to Make Decisions. Often there isn't a right or wrong involved, but in the end if you feel pretty good with the outcome then I'd say you made a good decision.

I think I'll revisit that handout.

A Simple Perspective--Who Best to Listen To?

I'm not an expert on anything, and the few things that I feel relatively knowledgeable about, well, there are countless people out there that know far more than I do. I'm not an intellectual, nor am I an academician. I say all this because I want to write about a subject that has the potential to be a sensitive one, but I feel compelled to put my thoughts out there, on this blog, because it has hit close to home. So, in the vein of mostly thinking out loud, in typewritten words, I want to send out a caution to all who are in a serious student-teacher relationship.





Quite a few years ago I began taking yoga at one of the very few places in Austin that offered yoga classes, and I mean literally that there were no more than a very small handful of yoga teachers in Austin. I loved it. It was such a wonderful discovery. I was going through one of the more difficult stages of my life and I was hypersensitive, depressed, and very frightened. I found refuge at this beautiful yoga studio, and the small community of people there. In particular I will never forget one very long afternoon when I simply burst into tears and my teacher wrapped her arms around me and held me, for a long, long time, offering unconditional love and comfort. No words were spoken, just her being totally and unconditionally available to me, giving of herself selflessly. But things began to unravel there and I didn't want to be a part of that unraveling as I had experienced about as much unraveling in my life than I could handle at that time. Briefly stated, the yoga studio owner became pregnant and her husband, a Buddhist monk or priest, left her--abandoned her. Anger, sorrow, fear....ensued and penetrated every aspect of her teaching. Understandbly so, but that's all I wanted to know and that's all I came to know. I just never went back and the studio closed shortly thereafter.





It was an important lesson for me to learn that people are people, people are human. No matter how we represent ourselves to the world, no matter what extraordinary heights we may achieve, we are still human. The Buddha taught to always question everything we are told, including his teachings, and if they don't resonate with truth for us, then don't accept them or believe them. We have an innate tendency to place others on pedestals, to look up to wise and learned people, to draw upon their wisdom, their enlightenment, their teachings, and this is a beautiful thing. But we must always keep in mind that even the most enlightened people we know, the wisest of the wise, the master teacher, he/she is human. As humans, we all make mistakes.

"As far as Buddha Nature is concerned, there is no difference between sinner and sage...One enlightened thought and one is a Buddha, one foolish thought and one is an ordinary person."
---Zen Patriarch Hui Neng



In one of my all time favorite books, A Path With Heart (A Guide Through the Perils and Promises of a Spiritual Life), Jack Kornfield dedicates an entire chapter to the topic of teachers, leaders, and gurus (Ch. 18, The Emperor New Clothes, Problems with Teachers). So very often, in fact more often than is generally realized, when a person achieves an elevated status within a spiritual community, and members of his/her flock begin to grow, so does the temptation of the ego, the tendency towards thinking oneself to be somewhat superior, and when that kind of power sets in the consequences are a common theme throughout history--greed and abuse of power (all too often sexual abuse, and the stealing of money). "Power replaces love."



Kornfield writes: "Another student followed a charismatic Indian guru whose powerful love and teachings brought great joy and peace into his life. The student was a gay man, who had lived in a caring and committed partnership for more than ten years, and when the guru later stated that all homosexuality was a terrible sin that leads to hell, the student's life was nearly destroyed. His relationship was torn apart, and the secret guilt and self-loathing that had plagued this man throughout his childhood returned. Finally, with outside help, the student came to see that while his guru might bring him visions and wonderful meditation teachings, he was really quite ignorant about homosexuality. Only when he realized this, was he able to hold both the teachings he so valued and his own life with equal loving-kindness."



This is almost exactly what happened to me, and in one form or another has happened to many others.



"We can see over and over again how one dimension of life does not automatically bring wisdom in other dimensions. Every teacher and every practice has its strong points and its weaknesses."



Andrew Harvey discusses the falling out he had with his guru, a world renowned guru whose name I do not know. One of my all time favorite yoga teachers, someone I admire, respect, love, and care about, fell victim to this very thing. The leader of a spiritual community begins telling his/her flock to not question what he/she is saying. Remedies and cures of a spiritual nature can be obtained through more generous donation of monies, and worse of all, through sexual interaction with the master himself/herself. This is called abuse. And it happens all the time. Because these people are human too.





When things become dogmatic, one should sit up and take notice. When one's leader seems to hold all the answers, and those answers are very clear, those answers are black and white, those answers are the one and only truth, one needs to beware. Something has gone wrong.





There is nothing wrong with the centuries old yogic tradition of having a master and student. In fact, I'm particularly fond of working one-on-one with a teacher. It's a rich and rewarding tradition. This is how precious knowledge is passed on. It's just another way for us to learn and grow from those who have much to offer. In Universities and college we flock to our favorite professors to impart their knowledge to us. We read books by writers we admire, and we learn and grow. I strongly advocate for all these things. But I also advocate for listening carefully to one's one heart, and most especially, listening to one's gut---one's intuition. Intuition is a powerful tool we can all tap into, it is the wisdom that resides in all of us, and if we listen and then follow our intuition, we can navigate through life without falling victim to bad things quite so often. Most spiritual traditions teach that each and every one of us really has all the answers we need inside of us. Easier said than done, but I think there is much truth in that.

Today, Untitled

I feel totally yucky today. Something has gone awry with the functioning of my lower intestines. I feel so tired. I didn't even go to the Iyengar workshop today, the last day, although I did try. Something in me feels out of balance and I can't figure out what. Did I push myself too hard? Do I need to change my diet? Do I need to do a cleanse? Always I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with me, I get totally caught up in that, just totally lost in it before I realize, hey, this is just an old habit. An old core belief. The belief that I'm totally worthless and not worthy of love. It goes so deep. Sometimes it takes all I have to fight it, but usually when I'm worn down by it all something slowly comes back to me that I learned long ago that all those negative core beliefs are just lies. The old story line that I should know better than buy into, especially after all these years of work. Just maybe it's totally okay to feel rotten from time to time. So I feel rotten, tired, weak, vulnerable, lonely...and so does most of the rest of the world. That doesn't make it any easier, but it is a truth. Yesterday, in front of two yoga teachers, a fellow student in the workshop started talking about me and suddenly burst out with "he is just amazing." The teacher said, yes, he is amazing. My face grew really hot and I knew I was blushing red as a beet. It really bothered me that she said that about me, and I kept having those inner dialogs, the monkey chatter stuff, and then it came to me that I was totally rejecting a compliment. That's all it was, nothing more, nothing less, just a compliment, with loving intentions. I certainly thought of her as amazing, and the two teachers are quite amazing, and so why do I find so many other people just fantasically amazing in so many thousands of ways but I can't accept it when someone sees that in me? Ok, here come the tears, the weeping, and the sadness. I just need to sit with it and let it be, rest into it, feel it. So that's all.

Queerily Questioning

I woke up from my nap a while ago wondering why I wonder? Not to be confused with "I wonder as I wander...". I mean really, it is a pretty queer world in which we live, don't you think? Why yes I do, thank you very much. For example, "isn't it rich, isn't it queer, losing my timing this late, in my career?" Bring in the clowns. Very funny, eh? I never really had much of a career, wasn't born knowing by the age of 4 "oh yes, I want to become a concert pianist" or "I knew from a very early age I was born to do great things in this world." None of this ever happened to me. I'm still searching like a lost soul for answers wherever I can find them, and honestly, I don't spend much time even doing that.

We all have our priorities, I mean really, if I can't have my bowl of Fiber 1 in the morning then you might as well put me in front of a firing squad, and take away my coffee and I'll voluntarily put myself in front of that same firing squad. I've taken to walking the long sidewalk outside from my studio to the garage, probably a distance of about 150 feet, one way. At night when I wake up to piss. Barefoot. Actually, totally naked. (I cannot wrap my mind around how in the world people can sleep wearing clothes). I look up at the marvelous night sky and feel overwhelmed and yet joyful, somehow absurdly safe. Which is quite ironic, what? Those bright lights up there that are coming at me at the speed of light are hitting me after about a million years. Is that queer or what? Take your pick--the phenomenon of this whole incredible universe or me walking outside at 2 in the morning star struck and naked, and feeling pretty damn vulnerable. I wonder if wandering bands of armadillos ever attack humans?

If you take time, which is "a conscious dimension created by man", whatever that means, and put it on a clock, not a digital one, but an analog one, and say that this planet's age can be summed up in its' totality by assigning it a 24 hour life span, then we, as human beings, have been here for about the last second. Or is it 2 seconds? The point is, it's a minuscule piece of the circle. Pretty strange for an animal that has managed to nearly destroy the planet, huh? The dinosaurs were here for millions of years and the last theory I heard was that a huge meteor hit the earth like a thousand and one atom bombs and a heavy cloud dust encircled the globe, hence no sun, no grass, no something--saurases anymore. And here I am worried and denying it to all who might ask that I can't do half moon pose. One day in class a yoga teacher, in describing something like a difficult hip rotation said "it really is just ridiculous" and I thought, wow, you just said something pretty funny and pretty profound. It is ridiculous, it is strange, it is queer. Another something I find exceedingly odd is why do so many people like to fantasize about what it would be like to be rich. REALLY rich. Most people that I've met in my life that are pretty darn rich are also pretty darn unhappy. In fact, some are raving mad lunatics who bemoan the tragedy that they were born into wealthy families. They wonder how rich life might be if only they were like the rest of most of the world, NOT rich (monetarily, of course).

I read about a very poor Indian man who went daily to his local temple and prayed before the statue of a goddess to "please, please, let me win the lottery" (in the spirit that this would bring an end to all his suffering). This went on for days and days until finally the statue of the goddess came to life and said "hey you, would you please, please buy a lottery ticket?" You get the point, but in reality isn't winning the lottery close to impossible? I think I've read that you are more likely in your lifetime to get struck by lightening 54 times before winning the lottery. (not Cash 5 or Two Step and some other exceptions). I've also read that a study of big time lottery winners has shown that most find their lives shattered in a bad way, big time. It's just too much to handle for most. They learn that their money cannot buy happiness. Still, knowing all this, I bet most of us would still like to win. Weird.

My nocturnal walks on the sidewalk leading to the garage have me wondering what it would be like to sit my butt down on the sidewalk and try meditating, without moving, until sunrise? Could I possibly do that? Would I want to? I spent a small fraction of 2 afternoons this week picking up trash that someone threw out their window onto our property. Plastic bottles, empty packages of cigarettes, Taco Bell wrappings and drink cups, can after empty can of tree wound paint. That's right, people who would spend their days trimming and pruning trees, painting the cuts with a thick, gooey black dressing so as to prevent any sort of boring insects from infecting the tree would, without thought, toss the equivalent of 2 large plastic garbage bags of trash out onto some unsuspecting person's property. Don't they know it's been over 100 degrees out here in the afternoons and it ain't fun picking up someone else's trash? So as I picked up all this trash I kept wondering what it would be like if I could be out here in this sweltering heat picking up this trash and just be in the moment and enjoy myself? Stop thinking about the who, or what, or why of any of it but just slowly and mindfully pick up the cigarette butts, the rotting jalapeno wrapped in saran wrap, the cans of tree wound goo and just put in the my black garbage bag and say to myself, I can be totally contented doing this right now, in this moment? I tried it and it worked, sort of. Well, it did, sort of. Well, not totally, but I gave it a good effort. Then I found a piece of paper amongst all the garbage with some names and phones numbers listed and made a couple of calls. My messages were like this: do you know who might have thrown garbage on my property? Don't they know it's illegal? Don't they know someone has to pick it up? And so on like that. And yet calmly (well, kind of). The next day *they* sent someone out to the house to pick up all this trash! Excuse me, I said, but in my message I thought I had stated that I had already picked up all the trash? Whatever, it was all very strange.

I'm doing an Iyengar workshop every day this week and still making it to my focus on form class. It's not really an immersion, but still, we are a very small group and get lots of individual attention. I can never get it totally right. Who can? It's a process that has no end, no ultimate goal whereby you can say eureka! I've gone as far as possible with this and now I'm going to be out there amongst all those stars in another dimension totally enlightened.

I highly recommend Vanda Scaravelli's beautiful book Awakening the Spine published by Harper Collins. In her 80's or 90's there are photos of her doing viranchyasana, yoga nidrasana (sleeping pose), kapotasana (back-bend with knees bent on the floor, top of head touching the floor, elbows to the floor, tops of fingertips touching bottoms of toes). It really is just totally ridiculous. :-) But beautifully rich and queer.

Day Bangs and Night Knocks

Regularly, since we built this house eleven years ago, a wide range of birds have come crashing into our windows with a loud bang that sends me running to see what has happened every single time. Even the cats prick up their ears at the sound which can be more than a little disconcerting. One day I watched in amusement, which quickly turned to dismay, then horror, as a beautiful red cardinal, perched on the branch of a very old red bud tree, kept flying and crashing his body into the large, north facing window of my studio. At first I thought he might be trying to destroy or knock down this newly constructed obstacle in a quixotic show of bravado. Thinking that to be an unlikely explanation, I wondered if he was seeing his reflection in the window and, thinking it a rival, was laying claim to his territory in a battle of dominance. No, that's what lions do. Hmm. To the best of my recollection, male Cardinals have always lived in harmony with one another. But as I watched, this determined bird continued to hit the glass over and over until blood began to appear on the glass, and I decided I didn't care why he was doing what he was doing but I wasn't going to stand there any longer and just be an observer. This bird was seriously injuring himself. Why such aggression? I chased him away and hung a large piece of fabric from the rafter directly in front of the window. Mission accomplished until the next day when he was back fighting with his reflection again on the other window. Soon I had ordered colorful banners to hang in front of the suspect windows and watched them blow in the wind as bird after bird continued crashing into windows. Was this a bird flight path? Even today, all these years later, I don't know the answer. Mourning doves make the loudest bang of all and nearly always leave a large imprint as well as a few feathers either stuck to the glass or floating to the ground by the time I arrive to investigate. A beautiful red bellied woodpecker crashed into the window but a few days ago and I watched as he lay on the back porch stunned into near unconsciousness, only minutes later to fly to a nearby branch where he stayed put until he gained back enough equilibrium to take off in flight. (Just this very moment a cardinal flew up to the kitchen window and hit with a light bang of his beak).

Each year we have a pair of painted buntings that come to hatch their eggs and raise their young. Last year I found the mother painted bunting on the ground outside the large pane of glass that frames the view from my shower, dead. I've learned that many birds are knocked unconscious long enough to attract fire ants which begin eating them alive, starting with their eyes. I place the stunned the bird in a shoe box on the patio table until it recovers the strength to fly away. Of course the unlucky ones break their necks and never know what happened. It's a strange phenomenon. I once read that birds crash into trees with some degree of frequency in the wild. How many of us have wished we could sprout wings and take flight? Apparently, it isn't as easy as it looks.

During the year I spent raising my nephew he expressed fear, especially at night, at the sight of the many windows I insisted be part of the design of this house. It was never my intention to have curtains or window coverings but now we have accumulated a few, although most of the glass remains unobstructed so as to bring the outdoors inside. I love that feeling. I was awakened one night by a loud knocking sound. Pretty scary, until I decided that my friend Gary, who never rings the doorbell but always comes to the studio entry and knocks, must be having domestic problems and had come for a visit in the middle of the night. But Gary was nowhere to be seen, after all, it was 1:30 in the morning. This happened more than a few times and I've got to tell you, it scared me and had me wondering if there might be a lunatic on the loose who likes to peek in windows, knock loudly and then run off. While napping one afternoon I was awakened by the mysterious knocking, jumped up and ran outside as fast as I could to see the culprit flying away from the apex of the roof on the far east side of the house, right outside my bedroom. Yes, a woody wood pecker was flying away. He came again for awhile, the powerful pecking of his beak in search of bugs in the wood replicating the exact sound of a person knocking at the door. Strange things happen to those of us who live in the middle of the woods.

I went through a phase that lasted for many years whereby I'd hit my head pretty hard against all sorts of things. When mowing the lawn I'd hit my head on low hanging tree branches--big ones that would have me seeing stars. It happened over and over again on kitchen cabinets, pieces of furniture, I've even opened doors with too much force while moving forward only to get knocked on the head. Cuts, bruises, and bleeding. It was just absurd. By the time the wound would heal, I'd do it again. My therapist told me these were not accidents. I guess I was trying to knock some sense into myself, or trying to get myself to slow down and be present. Rarely am I fully present and I still have to work hard at slowing myself down, but I haven't had a bang on the head for quite a long time. Knock on wood.