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Synchronous Positivity

I’m baking a big pan of granola as I’m writing this post. I made granola way back in the early 1970s in order to qualify as a Real Hippy, but I didn’t get serious about making granola again until five years ago when our friend Abigail took me through her process of making granola, which I have since modified to fit my improvisational tendencies. 

So today I was in Corners buying ingredients to make granola and I ran into a man I know in the bulk foods aisle and he asked me what I was up to and I said I was buying the fixings for granola.

He slapped his thigh and said, “Dang. I used to make granola. Loved it. Don’t know why I stopped. I gotta get back into it.”

I encouraged him to do so and then brought my basket to the checkout counter where the checker started ringing up my bags of nuts and seeds.

“You making granola?” he asked. I said I was.

He smacked his forehead and said, “Man. I used to make granola all the time. I have this great recipe. Don’t know why I stopped. There’s nothing to it. I’m gonna get back into it.”

Coming out of Corners I ran into a guy named Guy. He saw my heavily laden baskets and said, “Looks like you’ll be eating well this week.”

I said I was making granola and he stomped his foot and said, “Shoot. I used to make granola all the time. So good. Don’t know why I stopped. I’m gonna start again. Nothing like homemade granola with fresh-picked berries.”

Moral: Sometimes we just need a little reminder to find the path again.

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This week we had five minus tides during daylight hours and the weather was fine, so we got down to the beach multiple times to get our feet in the cold water and groove with the beauty.

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When one is an aficionado of low tides at our ever-changing town beach, one sees many of the same people who are also aficionados of low tides, and many of these people have dogs, most of those dogs friendly. When I first moved here twenty years ago, the town beach was officially a No Dogs Off Leash beach. Over time, as the state parks budget declined and enforcement of the dog rules lapsed, and then with the breakdown of everything during the pandemic, the beach became a Many Dogs Off Leash beach, and remains so.

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This year’s beach configuration features a huge sandbar accessible by crossing Big River, which is wide and deep this time of the year so one must swim or paddle on a surfboard to get across to the sand bar. By May or June we will be able to wade across the river and get up on the sand bar and walk to where the breakers reach the shore.

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Canadian Geese winter over here in Mendocino and I got a picture of a handsome specimen bathing on the other side of the river near the mouth.

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The unseen spirits use the sand as a canvas to leave messages for those capable of interpreting their symbology. This sand message says Big change is afoot. Don’t be afraid, be excited.

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Seen from above this piece of driftwood enticed us to go down the steep stairs to Portuguese Beach where we discovered the piece of driftwood was actually…

the hand of God gesturing toward the east where the world is born anew each morning.

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I saw this grebe at the mouth of Big River swimming slowly upstream. An hour later I saw him a half-mile further upstream paddling along having, I intuited, a wonderful time.

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Sometimes the river resembles the pelt of an ocelot.

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These pretty blooms grace our orchard every spring, emerging simultaneously with the plum blossoms and shortly before the apple blossoms burst forth.

Fin

Ceremony of the Child from Todd’s piano album Ceremonies.

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Sorrow and Joy

I’ve been deeply sad and worried about the war being waged against Iran by our government and the government of Israel, and sad and worried about Iran fighting back and doing great harm to others as they defend themselves. I am sad and worried about the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people by the Israelis. And I am sad and angry that our government is a war machine and an enemy of the environment, an enemy of the survival of our species.

As a result of my sadness and worry, I haven’t been sleeping very well. As many of you know, sleep deprivation is no fun, unhealthy, and makes us prone to accidents, not to mention extreme crankiness. Lack of sleep amplifies my sorrow and worry, and life ceases to be enjoyable.

All Buddhist teachers echo the Buddha and suggest the cause of my suffering is my attachment to the situations I’m sad about. The way to lessen my suffering is to realize I don’t need to be attached to situations I am not directly involved in. I can feel compassion for those who are suffering without joining them in the depths of their suffering. Indeed, I can help, in a metaphysical way, by doing things that bring me joy and joy to others.

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When I was twenty-one I traveled to Mexico and Central America with a marine biologist and his family. I was fluent in Spanish at the time and was the main spokesperson and translator for our little traveling troupe. This was in 1970 when gringos were a rarity in most of Mexico and Central America.

One day in a remote part of southern Mexico, we found ourselves in a small village where the crops had failed and many of the villagers were starving. We didn’t know this when we drove into the village in our converted milk delivery truck. The men of the village came to greet us thinking we might be bringing them food in response to their calls to the government for help.

When I understood the situation after speaking to one of the men, and I sensed these people were so desperate they were likely to attack our truck and take what food we had and possibly do us harm, I made the decision to leave immediately, which turned out to be a good decision as we were pursued out of the village by an angry mob intent on detaining us.

Two hours later we were in a large town where no one was starving and we had a nice meal in a café. When I mentioned to our charming cook and waitress what we’d encountered in the village just two hours away, they both grew solemn and said, “Yes. It is bad there. Many of those people have already gone elsewhere to find work and food.”

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In some of Isaac Bashevis Singer’s short stories, a person living in a village where disease and hunger are rampant leaves the village and walks to a neighboring valley where the farmers are flourishing and have so much food they are happy to share.

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Sorrow and joy are inextricably bound and inform each other. My goal in the days ahead is to curtail my worry while informing the sorrow of the world with as much joy as I can. I believe if I pursue this goal with an open heart I will sleep better.

fin

Incongroovity piano solo from Todd’s album Incongroovity.

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War and Spring

When I heard the news about America and Israel attacking Iran I was too upset to stay in the house so I went for a walk. I remembered the first anti-war march I went on in 1963 when I was fourteen. My father and I and a few thousand people marched on Market Street in San Francisco to protest American military involvement in Vietnam, what would become known as The Vietnam War.

Most people in America hadn’t heard about the war in Vietnam in 1963 and several times during the march someone among the people watching from the sidewalk would call out to the marchers, “Where’s Vietnam?”

That war ended twelve years later in 1975 after taking the lives of millions of Vietnamese people and the lives of tens of thousands of Americans, mostly young men. Over 600,000 American men moved to Canada to avoid going to that war.

For two days after this latest war got started by our terrible president and his terrible minions, I went to Peter Temple’s studio and worked on an album of songs with Peter Temple and Sarah Larkin and Sarah Ryan. The Sarahs are both marvelous singers and harmonizers, and Peter is a wizard of a sound engineer. We had a good time and did not talk about the war, though several times during the recording sessions I thought about the war and the innocent people suffering and dying for no good reason.

Peter has two cats who like being in the studio with him.

Saw my first big bumblebee of the spring in our garden a few days ago. Bees give me hope.

Soon we should be seeing baby quail born of beautiful mother quail.

Our prune plum just sent forth her first blossoms. Some years our prune plum tree produces lots of plums, some years not so many. We will hope for great blooming and pollination and fruiting. And we will hope for a speedy end to the bombing and needless killing.

Fin

Broke My Heart from Todd’s CD 43 Short Piano Improvisations