Thursday, August 27, 2015

How High Should We Stretch, How Far Should We Go?


Quieting the voice of limits and stopping

How high should we stretch? How far should we go? Are the limits a greater force than the demands to do more? How great could we be? How much could we do? How far could we ride? How fast could we go? How happy could we be?

This voice: you should stop. You're tired. Just rest. There's no need to continue. It's too much. Close your eyes. Give in. Where does that voice come from?

Another voice: keep going. Stretch farther. Do more. Help. Give. Grow. Be. Love. Go beyond. Limits are only in the mind. Reach higher. Each day is a gift. Connect. Challenge. Listen. Strength. Where does that voice come from?

Why? Do what you can do, but how do you know what that might be if you don't try? Keep trying.

 

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Leave It All in the Free Box at Kennedy Meadows


The acquisition of adapter plugs has exceeded the reasonable carrying capacity

In the book and movie Wild, the main character Cheryl Strayed, who is hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, meets a man at a place called Kennedy Meadows who helps her understand that she is carrying way more stuff in her monstrous backpack than she really needs. He guides her to divide the stuff between what she really needs, and suggests that she can put whatever she doesn't need into the free box for other hikers, in case they might find those things useful.

Over the years of acquiring headphones, at some point, I began storing the 1/4" adapter plugs in a ziplock bag in my desk drawer, which captured my attention tonight right after watching the movie. Eight? Really? I have accumulated eight of these things?

How many 1/4" adapter plugs do I actually need? I hardly ever use one, let alone eight.

I feel like hiking the PCT some day. It's at least a possible on the bucket list. I think I'll make a necklace out of gold-plated 1/4" adapter plugs to wear on the PCT hike, to remind me not to pack too much stuff. Travel light, pack only what you'll actually need, only what you'll actually use. I that can be done in general, and in this case, specifically, without keeping eight 1/4" adapter plugs in a baggie in a desk drawer.

If some day you come across an odd, gold-looking necklace of 1/4" adapter plugs in the free box at Kenndy Meadows, you'll know I've been through that way.

 

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Mutual Operant Conditioning and Mimetic Desire


I felt a compelling desire to photograph the ducks for my blog...they, too, felt a compelling desire...

On a wondrous hot August morning commute, I noticed a group of adolescent ducks paddling in formation in the canal. Thinking of them as a hopeful sign of Autumn's approach, and as the third set born in this area this year, I felt a desire to pull my bike off to the side of the path to snap a few quick photos.

...they made directly for me as soon as they saw me stop, expectantly, and hauled out onto the bank...

Faster than my lightly caffeinated brain could grasp, though, the ducks acted on their own conditioned desire, implanted I assume through previous experience of quacking up on this bank and having someone feed them. My conditioned posting of photos to this blog conditioning a desire to pause to take the photos triggering a conditioned response in the ducks to haul out on the bank and waddle way too close...stemming from your desire to look at duck photos posted by a cyclist-blogger, stemming from...

Right about here I recognized a coordinated duck handout assault in progress...

Closer they approached, seemingly fearless, driven by hunger and strong conditioning...

...and when I didn't feed them, which was not my plan, they began pecking at my shoe. So I left.

Girard held that all desire is mediated, triangular, not of our own doing, but according to the other. Cyclist blogger with a camera, adolescent duck gang, blog readers. What do we effectively or truly desire, and why, and who is mediating and reflecting that with subtle and not so subtle cues (not queues, or is it) into action or being?

We watched Blackfish this week, and yes, it's certainly about the morality of the operant conditioning of large wild animals in captivity for profit, but isn't it also about the conditioning by profit of the owners, the conditioning of the audience by the thrill of the show, and the motivation of desire of all the humans in different roles and different perspectives by money, or other motivations, of other minds? In layers, in mutual reinforcing networks of mediation, motivation, scapegoating, desire, action, and cultural scaffolding? 

Pointing to a single connection in that vastness and saying there! that's it! seems a bit short-sighted. It may be proximate, but it's certainly not ultimate, or singular, or non-mediated, or innocent/guilty.

I don't think it's a good idea to feed ducks at the canal, lest they make a habit of doing rather stupid things like this. I wish the world were safe so that they could always act thusly without danger, but of course, the world is opposite of that. On the other hand, the pattern is already set in this crew. Nothing I do will make it worse, and perhaps I can make their lives, now, a bit better by taking some duck chow down there tomorrow morning and spreading it liberally. Their eager quacking conditioning me to repeat again, and again. Here, have a blog photo.

I do pray for that world where these gentle ones can quack without fear of cruel violence.
 

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Hammerhead!


Hammerhead In My Bike Lane

The Rusty Fish of D.A.L, trying to capture the contrast, semi-successful

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Helmet Visors in the Rain with Eyeglasses


Under-the-visor view of a rain shower

Sun predominates almost all my commutes. Therefore, a helmet with a visor has proven very helpful. The one happens to be on a Bell Super helmet, which I really like, but this is not a review of that helmet so much as brief mention that the sun visor also seems to work surprisingly great at keeping rain off my eyeglasses.

Rain during my commute is rare. Pouring rain even rarer. So I think this may have been the first time since I've worn this helmet that it poured rain. It felt wonderful, this cool water pouring on me on a hot August afternoon. Deliriously sensual. Like, I wanted passing vehicles to drench me.

The rain started when I started. The sky was dark, so I wore my usual glasses, not the tinted cycling ones. I noticed immediately that the visor spared the glasses from both direct rain and subsequent fogging. They stayed totally clear the whole ride. This was in contrast to the last, memorable storm, during which I lacked a visor, and a mixture of water and sunscreen pouring into my eyes and across my glasses essentially blinded me. That downpour was heavier and more relentless than this one, but I still felt like the visor made all the difference.

Another view from beneath the visor, that odd combo of pouring rain and sunshine

After the rain, glasses totally clear to see this

Almost double, thanks visor!

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Showing Heat: Cicada, Bunny, Cactus, Apache, Hawk


Dried, recently-deceased cicada, funeral dirge provided by the droning of thousands of his cousins

August, and it's hot in Phoenix, but show don't tell. Five things from today's commute that seemed to communicate, or symbolize, or emphasize, the season and its heat.

The teeny tiny bunny I mentioned on Twitter, browsing in the shade, cowering from passing cycle commuters

Barrel cactus, note the late summer dried flowers and fruit around its crown

Not positive this is an Apache. But hot, sharp, chop chop chop sound as it sped overhead.

Hawk, not a sign of summer innately, but photo taken right after hawk seen splashing like a fool in irrigation water

The sound of the cicada is positively the summer song of my commute. I hear it everywhere just now, even inside my house, zzz zzz zzzz zzz zzzz zzzzz. I started off the commute wondering how I would show the heat. Being open to the world on my bicycle provided numerous answers.

I really enjoyed glimpsing the hawk splashing in the irrigation water. He may have been after smaller birds, but I don't think so. In the heat of the afternoon, I think they were all just splashing around in there together, seeking a cool down. I caught him spreading his wings and rising up from the water, startlingly large in his outstretched wings, making a quick jump to the nearby grapefruit tree. zzz zzz zzzz zzz zzzz zzzz.... summer.
 

Sunday, July 12, 2015

A More Vivid Light by the Nighttime Shadows


Summer Sunday evenings the streets are nearly empty, and feel like mine

They are not mine, but they feel like it, these empty Sunday evening streets in the summertime. Although it's still quite hot out, once the roasting sun is set, the air gentles down to a softer feel, and the "dry heat" mantra starts to make additional sense. I hang close to the canal to feel the cooler breezes that sometimes float off it.

There's a compulsion to ride at night, alone, glancing at the lights reflecting off the canal, staring a little too long at Venus hanging up there brilliant in the sky. A light made more vivid by the nighttime shadows. As my sight grows accustomed to the night, I turn off my lights, and ride along in the darkness, running along the water. There's no time, there's all time, there's a volcano of time erupting around me, freezing me in the position of a smiling cyclist, sculpted in position for tourists to come and stare at, for all time.

Even if I don't blog for a few days to take a summer break, you can find me there, the volcanic statue of cyclist-me, down by the canal, my final expression: grinning, spinning, looking up at the stars.