Maebius Musing

(warning: A Looooong glimpse!)

Last weekend (April 12-13th) my son and I went on a trip to the 4-hour-away-now hunting cabin I used to frequent when I was younger. My dad, brother-in-law and his son, and some of the old “hunter gang” were there, plus a few kids I had not seen before. We had a fun time! *** -No Girls Allowed- ***

In talking with everyone, we realized I was last at this cabin around the age of 15 or 16, which is around half a life ago! The other man there, my age, had two kids with him, and while we were never really that close (being simply sons of our father’s friends) it was nice to reconnect on a mutually understood ‘weekend campfriend’ level and discuss random life events and swap parenting stories.

There were 6 younger boys there, ranging in age from 3-14 with all but the teen being under 9 yrs old. They had fun catching salamanders, having adventures in/on/around the broken down pickup in the side yard, and a few impromptu ball-and-bat games that bore no resemblance to anything World Series. The older men, in addition to the three of us 30-somethings, were the three “grandpas” and the group rounded out with “Uncle Bud” who was father to one of the older grandparents there. Bud was fully blind, and had the timeless manner of a different way of life. He was spry in his steps, slow and warmth in his wisdom, and quick with the wit of a practiced cynic.

We joked to him, after catching enough salamanders to feed a third world country, that his rocks on the trails were all overturned, so he should be careful, yet a quick hike to the nearby spring still saw him shuffle with remarkable spryness that defied his years and lack of eyesight. He KNEW that cabin and the woods around it. He may not have viewed it clearly for years, but it was his land, not by property deeds, but in spirit. (Having visited the property for more years than even my own father was alive, this could, I suppose, be expected)

The weather was perfect, with a bit of cool drizzle the evening we arrived, yet cleared up and sunny for Saturday. While I am not really into the hunter-mindset, it was with a fond nostalgia that I watched most of the others go through shell after shell of ammunition. No soda can or plastic water-laden bottle was safe from the .22 rifles. A box of orange clay-disks soared and shattered above the field in a flurry of shotgun pellets. Even yours truly, who has not fired-off anything remotely boom-sticky, took 20-gauge to shoulder and blasted 3 out of 4 clay skeets.

And those flying targets felt good. The shotgun rested tight; the bead steady as I swung towards the sailing clay; and a gentle tug on the trigger. #BOOM# missed the first, then three more broke apart like I had been doing this for years. Pull…aim…Boom. Reload. Pull…aim…Boom. Pottery fragments flew apart. It felt magical.

There was the not-quite-as-fun moments, like breaking up the inevitable child-argument (anyone with young kids knows that playtime sometimes requires adult intervention). There was the late night, sleeping in the room full of military barrack-bunks surrounded by either snoring old men, or wrigging dream-held kids and listening for the ‘THUD’ of gravity finding one outside the cots. There was the alternately cool and over-hot of the woodstove that made dressing a delicate dance of t-shirts and wool undergarments (often within hours of each other). And yes, there was the diet of crackers, soda, and grilled meat for meals (with the standard meat and eggs for breakfast). By sunday night, I wanted something green and leafy. *grin*

Still, even with the ‘challenges’ of camping, it is part and parcel of the experience. Such weekend outings need the minor bumps to make the entirety of the days a wonderful blessing to have attended. It felt deeply -fun- to be with the guys and just do whatever. They shot their guns. I tried a few shots myself. We hiked through the woods, drank directly from the spring, and cooked marshmallows over the coals. We slept in the next morning, and feasted on hearty sustaining camp-food. It felt magical.

And thinking back, as I did my daily meditations today, I realized it was magical.

Perhaps it was reconnecting to the primal hunter mindset. Yet, in some sense, the same thing happens when I visit the old Zen-porch crowd. In that group, no guns are blasted against cans, yet the bond is the same. It goes beyond words and eases into a comfortable silence watching some movie or game. And even in that group, I am blessed that the women are liberal-minded enough that any wise-cracks about their gender, or other male-centric topics (such as gastric processes) are accepted and retort-worthy in their own right.

This past weekend was, to glance quickly at it, a bunch of guys just hanging out at the woodland cabin. To glance closer, it perhaps was a bunch of guys attempting to connect with some primal hunter mentality. As I think a bit deeper on the weekend, it was more powerful, and yet more simple. We bunch of guys hung out at the woodland cabin.

It was something I had not done for a long time, and is sadly missing in a lot of mundane life in today’s culture. I begin to see a hint of why the AODA’s current leader frequently talks about fraternal organizations. There was a sense of deep connection between everyone there. Something unspoken, and brushed off as “girly-talk” if even dared to be mentioned by one of the kids. Yet it was there.

Thirteen men and boys, together in one place for two days. Four generations from varied backgrounds, and two states, sleeping within feet of one-another, sharing the same table, and vowing-without-saying to leave politics, religion, and our outside lives behind for a day. To just enjoy the weekend and Be.

I loved it.

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Well, in case you needed to calculate it yourself…

((19*t+u-w-(u-(u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)+(32+2*x+2*y-(19*t+u-w- (u-(u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)-z)mod7)-7*(t+11*(19*t+u-w(u- (u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)+22*(32+2*x+2*y-(19*t+u-w-(u- (u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)-g)mod7)+114)\31

Happy Easter!

also, for you non-anglo-christian inclined readers, if ye be reading:

Happy Purim (Jewish holiday)

Narouz (Persian New Year)

Eid Milad an Nabi, (Happy Birthday Prophet Muhammad)

Small Holi, (Hindu Festival of Colours)

Magha Puja ( Buddhist “Fourfold Assembly” day)

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In more muse-worthy discussion, spring is officially here in my neck of the woods..er… field?

Every year in March, I start fretting about our garden, and watching outside to see if the nearby farms are ready to start preemptive plowing. I feel like winter is going away, and we need to get outside and do stuff, plant stuff! Yet I know that in early (and late) March, there is still a good chance of snow, and late April is really when things get in the ground around here. In fact, as I type this, mere hours away from our big Weekend involving guests at the house, dining at a huge annual buffet, and egg-hunts, it is below freezing and snow is accumulating on the cars again. I’ll have to de-ice the doors before driving home from work!

I’ve attributed this early anxiety to my being raised farther south than where I live now, and the general climate being slightly ‘off-schedule‘, compared to my fondest childhood memories. (Perhaps my friend Nettle has similar experience, having migrated south to the Big City?) Where I grew up, it really was time to start serious browsing of seed catalogs, and the big amish farms started, if not full plowing, then getting the equipment hitched up and tightened. Within one or two weeks, things will be blooming down there. Around upstate New York now, the trees are only considering the possibility of budding out.

Lately though, in the past few years, started to drift away from specific date-centric celebrations of seasons (with the exception of solstices, equinoxes, and birthdays, etc). More and more, I am building a set of internal correspondences for general seasonality and celebration. The subtly spiritual side of being in-tune with the world around me has taken it’s cues from the local area, rather than the printed dates on my desk. Most notably felt was this past Imbolc, where the feeling of coming spring remained aloof and distant in the midst of our wintery weather.

As a timely example, I can say with authority (at least to my own heart) that spring has arrived. Not because this ball of rock oribting the sun has swung around to a certain point. Not because of the clock on my computer reading off dates similar to 03/21/xx. I know it is spring because of the geese.

This past week, I have seen flocks of waterfowl across the sky in growing numbers. It’s hard to picture, but perhaps even more geese than crows are visible on my evening drives home. Yesterday, I looked out at our pond to see four Branta Canadensis floating around! To me, that is a stronger sign than any easter-themed flowers, eggs, and chocolate.

Going solely on the calendar, especially in terms of Easter celebrations, which tend to fluctuate all across the month of April, seems a tad bit silly as a measuring stick. For the rest of the country, and probably a more useful truism in the European climate which helped create the iconic imagery for these festivals, this time of year is reflected in the return of nature’s growth.

Perhaps this observation is a result of being more in-tune with the place. I’ve lived here, going on a decade now. (Wow, has it really been that long?!!) I’m starting to get used to the changing seasons in a way that is meaningful to my innermost mind. Logically, I still cling to the habitual time-frames I grew up with, and habits die hard. Beyond that though, I think that the semi-conscious thought of marking local signs like our pond-dwellers to the seasons is my brain’s way of re-connecting without having to break up those old habits.

For whatever reason, it’s working, so I won’t dig too deeply into the reasons, other than to acknowledge the observation and enjoy it. Spring is here. The geese came home.

What a great worm moon!

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Firstly, I’d must say sorry for missing the New Moon musing this month. We had work insanity, family illnesses, and the general bustle of pre-holiday preparations going on. I completely forgot to post something, although I had thought of an idea to muse about. However, that topic will be saved for a later draft, since the article below hits a bit close to home (figuratively speaking).
http://www.newsweek.com/id/76929

In summary:

This is the real world of eating and nutrition in the rural United States. Forget plucking an apple from a tree, or an egg from under a chicken. “The stereotype is everyone in rural America lives on a farm, which is far from the truth,” says Jim Weill, president of the nonprofit Food Research and Action Center (FRAC). New research from the University of South Carolina’s Arnold School of Public Health shows just how unhealthy the country life can be. The study, which examined food-shopping options in Orangeburg County (1,106 square miles, population 91,500), found a dearth of supermarkets and grocery stores. Of the 77 stores that sold food in Orangeburg County in 2004, when the study was done, 57—nearly 75 percent—were convenience stores. Grocery stores, which stock far more fruits and vegetables than convenience stores, are often too far away…

I have periodically worried about the fact that my friend Nettle can walk a block and a half to a farmer’s market and get local produce, organic meats, and such from farmers who live relatively close to the city. Likewise, the urban area she lives in has at least two awesome stores within easy range. Trader Joes (which while not ‘local’ foods, is often organic or FairTrade semi-sustainable food products), and Whole Foods Market which hosts plenty of healthy groceries, albeit for slightly more cost than your average Twinkie[tm].

Where I live, the nearest grocery store is a good six miles away (11 miles if we go to the “big one in town”), and while they lately have improved their organic/Natural/Healthy section over the past two years considerably, I lament the fact that the fruits and veggies there all are shipped from California, Florida, CUBA?!, and other semi-tropical locations. It is only VERY rarely that local products are displayed prominently (sweet corn for example, or pumpkins, even strawberries-in-season are usually found to be imported if you look closely at the packaging!?!)

Luckily, we have been blessed with a bit of land, and do our small part to grow a selection of veggies, but so far have not made a transition to “survival foods” and only grow enough for a nice treat when the various things get ripe. Though we do stock up with making Jelly and cordials/syrups from the Elderberry bushes, jar up pickles using our cucumbers, onions, and garlic, and salsa and “sauce” from the tomatoes/pepper/garlic/etc, or dry herbs (teas mostly). Thus, we do manage to enjoy the “fruits” of our labor over the remainder of each year.

Still, the over-hyped and recently Hip trend to be “Green” is something not really seen in my area. Farmers still struggle to roll out huge tracts of subsidized soybean and feed-corn fields, the local native American tribe buying up land using their nearby casino-corporation and has allowed some land to just sit fallow for a few years now. It is rare to even see road-side wagons with “fresh Produce”. I know of two farms which offer their spoils, and do frequent them for things we are not growing ourselves, but otherwise, this rural area is too caught up in other things and just can’t really offer the same benefits and healthy choices that folks in the city can.

It’s not just the distance to the grocery, or the ease of mass-transit in the cities. There’s something inherently flawed I think in the cultural structure. Not sure what it is, not sure how to start changing it, but I can confirm the basic connotation in the Newsweek story above are based in fact.

We are slowly expanding out knowledge of gardening, and each year brings a few more/different fresh produce to our table, but that knowledge goes no further than my wife and son. with needing to work a daily job to afford the bills currently, there’s no way to turn full-farm and try to get a local producery established. friends I knew started a community co-op, but it faltered due to lack of prospects. The working team got organized, but other than that immediate circle of friends, the outside customers just did not materialize, mainly for the reasons listed in that article. Distance. Time. Hassle. cost?

I have approached our neighbor who raises dairy cows in the thought of getting a quart or two of milk from time to time, fresh, raw, and yummy, but was met with such a look of confusion and fear that I’d even Suggest such a thing, I backed down quickly and have not found any other locals willing to even debate such an idea. The general gestalt seems to run towards selling your goods out for the subsidies, and home-gardening a bit for some nice treats in summer…. “I hear there’s that All-natural store in town that sells that type of thing”…. *sigh*

My musing is…where can I go from here without rallying against the world and being “too hippy-green”? Or is simply doing what we are doing and learning to take care of ourselves the best idea for now?

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We took a short, local family vacation earlier this week. Saturday-thru-Wednesday. It was wonderful!

We decided to go camping in a nearby state park, which combined the two main “vacation strategies” we have each year, Camping, or Beach-swimming. While Delta Lake is not quite the ocean, it’s a big body of water you can swim in and build sand sculptures around. Works for me! Pixsley Falls state park is a tiny little place, somewhat off the beaten track, but within 20 miles of our house. Close enough for a quick jaunt home if storms destroyed out tent (they did not), but far enough away that we felt like we were out on vacation and away from the usual chores and such of everyday life.

As promised, here’s a photo-montage of some highlights. Unfortuantely, later vacation stuff was sans-camera due to forgetting extra batteries…so you, gentle reader, will suffer through text. *grin* Read on after the jump…. Continue Reading »

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Vacations are a wonderful time to step back, relax, and ponder great mysteries of life…or simply ponder nothing and re-ground. It’s a time to avoid the daily stress of work, and do whatever the heck you feel like today. Very zen, I suppose, living more in NOW than the usual “first this, then this” routines I do at work.

And this vacation was perfect for that type of thing. We went camping (details see post above). Nothing planned other than arrival and departure. The filler space was at our leisure, and it. was. good.
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Lately, with the hectic work schedule and summery weather outside, I have done less esoteric musing, and more being outside playing lately. Sorry for those of you after daily updates here. Life is being lived, not written up these past few days.

And speaking of life, we have a new digital camera to document all those little Life moments! I’m still learning the basics, and having trouble figuring out how to easily make thumbnails of the pics to put online instead of making tiny copies of each and every image (thus doubling th# of files on my site). so, if you’d like to see some random pictures, check out the rest of this blog entry… WARNING- links included below, but following them is not safe for dialup!

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