Into the forest

When I was doing a nutritional program a few months ago, I had to do something called 'bite it, write it.' Whatever I ate for a two-week period, I wrote it down to see where I could improve my eating habits. This is what I am doing right now, for the next few days. If I feel it, I'm writing it down. But it will not be seen in this corner. It's too personal for public consumption. I'm in the forest now. It's dark. My sword is full of light, to help me see what lies ahead, and what lies inside. I'm scared, but I push forward.

Begin

So the most difficult thing is always to keep your beginner's mind. There is no need to have a deep understanding of Zen. Even though you read much Zen literature, you must read each sentence with a fresh mind. You should not say, "I know what Zen is," or "I have attained enlightenment." This is also the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner. Be very very careful about this point. If you start to practice zazen, you will begin to appreciate your beginner's mind. It is the secret of Zen practice.

Shunryu Suzuki-roshi (1905 - 1971)

hat tip here

Answering the call

Every ounce, every drop, every scintilla, of pain, anger, anguish, suffering, vibration, every tear, every cry to God in the middle of the night, all the negative emotions I will feel this week I will not run from. I will embrace them, feel them, touch them. Even when they weaken me, and drop me to my knees, laying me low. I will not seek them, they will come to me. And I will have to cross swords with them. I will not be vanquished by them.

Enough

I am enough. Strong enough, loving enough, giving enough, funny
enough, silly enough. Enough is there, ready. Look and see--when I
look in the mirror, I see enough. See me.

A friend described themselves as a lotus flower. They may not believe
me, but I feel the same way--able to grow in the worst water. Almost
like, looking at a mirror. A mirror I've supported, nourished, better
than anyone has before.

Holding the center

My day turned sad at the start. Now, I am determined, not angry, but determined. But, as always, open and ready. Always open, always ready. I don't crumble. Waver a little, but never crumble.

They're back

Those funny, scary vibrations I felt weeks ago. They are back. And I now exactly why. This has never happened to me, these vibrations I feel. I know I will feel them all week, especially at night. It's almost like a sixth sense.

Screw it

To hell with the vow of silence. I'll write when I damn well feel like it.

I'm thinking

I see couples around me and think, all these knuckle-headed guys with beautiful women, and I'm alone. Someone find the justice in that, please?

Vow of silence

Now, I'll be quiet.

Until it hurts

I don't know what more is required of me. I gave everything I had. But if I must give more, more I will give.

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I feel like a river. Full of power and ever flowing. Ready to give life.

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Giving, water, heart, spirit. This is the core of me, the core of who I am. Whenever I feel broken, or sapped of spirit, these things kick in and boost me. I'm never down for long. I want these to give someone else.

Never lost for long

This is the way is sometimes goes. My heart gets broken and I get sad, really sad. I then get angry, with her a little, with me, with the strictures of society and its limiting views. Then I get determined. To do better, to not succumb to sadness or anger, to continue on the path for the treasure I seek. Always, always, I continue to walk on the path. I may get pushed out into the woods, chased by a bear, nicked up by briars, but I always find the path again. Always. It's the compass that keeps me on the proper path.

I hate being angry and sad. They are unnatural and awful states for me to be in. They feel dark, unwelcoming. They try to sap my strength, wear me down, make me surrender. They want to keep me bottled up. Maybe sometimes I should stay bottled up, to save myself the grief. But the sadness and anger that can sometimes come with opening the bottle is better than keeping the bottle closed. The anger and the sadness come, I work through it, and keep moving, never shackled by it.

It's like a couple of Nike commercials I've seen this football season. You see one star, on offense, running through, over and around defenders, in all kinds of weather, determined to stop him, but they can't. Then you see a defender, running through over and around offenses, in all kinds of weather. They can't stop him, as much as they try. The runners keep moving. I have to stay on the path toward my treasure.

I want someone to share on the path to the treasure. To understand that while I'm flawed, I still have enough strength to carry them past the bears and the briars. A lover, a friend, a partner, a confidante on the path. That's what I want.

Ok, I lied

We're not going dark yet. Sorry. I am a whirlwind of emotions right now. Sad, angry, frustrated, determined. I have to put these somewhere. I should be still and quiet, but I can't bottle myself up like that. I want to scream and jump up and down. I want more than what I have now, the intangible that I know is reachable. What do I have to do to reach it?

The storehouses and reservoirs of strength and determination I have amaze (there's that damn word again) me. They channel my--well, extreme distress; anger is a harsh word--into something constructive and positive.

Harbor

Even in the face of turmoil, the compass called my heart never fails to point in the proper direction. I just want someone to see all of it. Maybe someone does, and I need to open my eyes.

Be still

I need to be still and let dust settle.

Happy new year (early)

This corner will go dark for a few days. I need to hit reset. Again.

Wound up

I'm a little frustrated now. Everyone for weeks has been telling me that I'm an amazing guy, and any woman would be lucky to have me. If that's the case, why am I still alone? I want my search to be over. I want to hold someone's hand for longer than a couple of dates. Why is that so much to ask for? I deserve more. I know I'm enough for someone. Why can't anyone open their eyes and see that?

There is a presence that has gone away. I hope this presence returns, but I don't know. I know I will miss this presence as it reconnects with itself.

Open/close

Right now, I don't want to be closed up, unable to roam, to observe. Through tears, I want to be open and ready, not closed and retreating. It's so easy to ask, why me. I am trying hard to not even ask the question.

Now

The one true moment in life that matters is right now. This moment.

(hat tip here and here)

More waters

It's raining now. Usual for a cold December night, but the sounds of the raindrops again transport me back to Brussels, and walking back home on a cold night, the note from the jazz bar still dancing in my mind, like those raindrops off my head.

Life-giving substance

Even though I don't swim, I still enjoy being near the water. This is one reason why.

The middle of the road

Is the middle of the road easy? Hmm, not as easy as it seems...

Wake up call

Most of the world is still asleep, taking in its long winter's nap. Some of us, well, it's back to the grind. Things should be calm, since the rest of the world is napping. Good day. Let's go get 'em.

Merry Christmas

R.I.P., Mr. Peterson

Thank you for your music, Oscar Peterson. You will be missed. And thank you, Canada, for providing him.

Full of it

Right now, I feel full of it. Not this kind of it. But full of possibilities. The sun is out. The air is crisp. What little thing can I do to make my life better right now?

Cheerio

How can I spend a little Christmas cheer to folks who need a lift? Simple. Just continue to do the things you've been doing all year. What we call Christmas cheer now is humanity throughout the year. Don't just give it now--give it everyday.

Don't wait

A good friend of mine has the right idea--don't wait to make New Year's resolutions. If you want, or need to, make a change, now is the time. Right now. So I don't quite agree totally with this article. But I do agree that execution of our goals is the key. Move toward the goal you seek. The obstacles in your way will test you, see what you are made of.

Touch me

I feel this great need now to touch someone. To feel another's warmth close to me, to feel its soothing powers.

Hackers

You can hack a computer, hack a car, heck, hack a tree limb. But how about hacking yourself?

Cryin'

This year, I've cried more than I ever have. Tears of pain, sadness, joy, wonder.

This year, I've been moved more than I ever have. It's been hard, but good for me.

Dreaming while you sleep

I've been dreaming a lot over the past few days. The problem is, I can't remember them. Is my conscious trying to cleanse me?

Listening, again

To this, I'm carried away to Paris again, on the wings of Bill Evans' hauntingly beautiful, soulful piano. I wish I could see the Eiffel Tower right now.

What life is

(Or one of the things it is)

Life is about attitude. What's yours? And...don't mail it in.

It was only a matter of time...

I'm not the biggest movie-goer in the world. (I still need to see American Gangster). If the movie's not good, I can get antsy sitting in the dark. But this one, for obvious reasons, I may have to make plans to see.

Every day

Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life.

Seneca (4 BC - 65 AD)

It's here

Every year, about this time, it happens. The hurly-burly of parties, last-minute shopping, wrapping, running around, begins to wind down. Like a blanket of fresh snow, calm falls over us and the land. That long winter's nap we've read about. Christmas time is here, according to some friends.

Contented/OK

Right now, I feel good. Tired, after a long week, but good. Sleep tonight should be good. I feel like I've earned it. At this moment, while I look at my little Buddha statue, it's ok.

A germ

We often think of germs being harmful. I have a germ, that I'm growing myself. And my hope is, it'll be the opposite of harmful...

You see!

Terrell Owens knows what the deal is!

What's cookin'?

I really need to expand on this, but I like this post (and this one) on how to cook your life. Think of rice, and you'll start to get the picture.

In the meantime, chew on this poem, from Donald C. Babcock...

The Little Duck


Now we are ready to look at something pretty special.

It is a duck riding the ocean a hundred feet beyond the surf,
and he cuddles in the swells.
There is a big heaving in the Atlantic.
And he is part of it.
He can rest while the Atlantic heaves, because he rests in the Atlantic.
Probably he doesn't know how large the ocean is.
And neither do you.
But he realises it.
And what does he do, I ask you.
He sits down in it.
He reposes in the immediate as if it were infinity – which it is.
That is religion, and the duck has it.
I like the little duck.
He doesn't know much.
But he has religion.

Congratulations

To Tony Romo for making the Pro Bowl. He's had a great year, and deserves to be recognized. But...

Mr. Romo, in the future, when the Cowboys play the Philadelphia Eagles, could you kindly refrain from bringing your girlfriend to the game? I understand you want to show her off, see her pretty face on national television.

But I want a Super Bowl.

I want to to see you hoist the Vince Lombardi trophy over your head. I want to see Jerry Jones take his fourth world title. I want to see Terrell Owens cry tears of joy over finally winning a title.

That's not too much for a fan to ask, is it?

(Well, I'd like a suite in the new stadium, but one thing at a time.)

Lessons in adversity

Sen. Joe Biden can be a bit long in the mouth. His heart is in the right place, but his mouth sometimes can't catch up. His presidential campaign has been hit with a couple of self-inflicted gaffes. But he human like the rest of us. At the end of this story, there are three good life lessons he learned through heart-breaking hardships. Three lessons we can all remember.

Be still

For tonight, be still. Hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. Close your eyes. Let stillness fall around you.

Can you imagine?

It's two o'clock in the morning. You're sitting in your apartment in Paris, watching the city sleep in the cold night air, an orangish glow wrapped around it. Off in the distance, the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. You grab a drink, turn on the radio to TSF Jazz, and out comes Johnny Hartman crooning away to Ain't Misbehaven. You put your feet up, take a sip, breathe deeply, and wonder if such a beautiful moment can come again. Yes, it always does.

If you've never heard Johnny Hartman, you'll missing one of the great voices. You have to listen to him.

Another drive

In writing the last post, I remembered my first trip to Montreal (I haven't been back in a long time--I should really go soon). It was New Year's Eve, years ago, I wanted to do something different (the year before, I was in Times Square). The drive to Albany was uneventful--the Catskills looked great with snow. But about halfway through the Adirondacks, it started to snow. Now, I was in between exits--a long way in between--and I'm starting to think, climbing ever higher into the mountains, that this may not have been too bright.

Nevermind. Ten minutes later, the snow didn't seem bad, and I pushed on. As I got past Plattsburgh, the landscape became rather bleak--flat, featureless, desert-like. The view didn't change much over the border, except for all the Cuban cigars shops just inside Quebec. Electrical transmission towers marched relentlessly alongside the highway. Winters here must be hard, I thought. Am I ever going to reach Montreal? Chugging along, I'm mindful of my speed (I don't want to be stopped by the police--my French is awful). Then, off in the distance, I see a black hump poking up into the gray sky. What is that? Am I seeing things? I get closer, then I realize--it's Mont Royal.

A new city is about to be discovered.

On the road again

Years ago, there was a TV show called "Trapper John MD." It was a sort-of spinoff from M*A*S*H, involving one of the doctors from that show. One of the characters in the spinoff--a hotshot young doctor named Gonzo--lived in an RV in the hospital.

The show came to mind yesterday afternoon as I was on the road yesterday. I was maneuvering through traffic, and came upon an RV, with a small car in tow. The car was absolutely caked in snow and salt from its travels. The license plate, with a familiar tagline--"Je me souviens"--told me where the pair began its journey. Where could these people--you hardly ever travel alone with an RV--be going?

A little further down the road, the picture became a little clearer. Up ahead, there was an identical RV, towing a shed on wheels, also from Quebec. The plot thickens. Here's my guess--the pair probably left from there yesterday morning (from around Montreal, maybe?), slogging through snow, down the Northway and eventually onto the Garden State Parkway. The last I saw of them, they were heading for the New Jersey Turnpike. That would put their trip to that point at about seven hours or so.

Where next? Hmm. They might have stopped in Maryland overnight (a shopping center parking lot would suffice). This morning, a good stick-to-your-ribs breakfast early, then back down I-95 for a day's drive. My bet? They are snowbirds heading for Florida for Christmas and New Years. By now, they ought to be in South Carolina or Georgia, in search of another parking lot or truck stop to bed down for the night. The RVs probably have satellite TV, so they'll fire up the kitchen and cook a nice meal, and relax. Tomorrow, the final push to the holiday destination. And, in a couple of weeks, reverse the process back home.

Safe travels.

Damn the calendar

I don't care what the calendar says, I feel younger, more energetic, more mischievous, than that piece of paper tells me.

Fairness

I'm still working to see if this is true. I know it is, right now, though, I'm a little shaky.

Hold back

I give everything I've got to everything I do. It's my natural position. Giving less is new, foreign, to me. I rebel sometimes. It's hard for me to close myself off, to hold back when all I yearn to do give everything of myself.

Straining

I'm on a new routine, one that is more "normal"--closer to what most people deal with. Tonight, I'm restless. I don't want to go out, but I don't want to stay inside. So I went for a drive. I have a bundle of energy, and I can't put it where I truly want, so it has to go somewhere. It's a strain, having this ball of mass, ball of stuff, and not being able to do anything with it.

Keep walking

We all experience fear. It's a natural component of life; it just is. But with fear, you should recognize it, observe it, and then, walk through.

Bon mots

I want the words and I say, and write, to soothe, excite, provoke thought, provoke a smile, elicit a laugh, cause a chuckle, shed a tear, carry you through the day, care, love, give comfort, wrap around you like a blanket, make you reach higher, dig deeper inside, be still, roam free, or simply to be.

I ask my words to do a lot.

A small bone to pick

I like this article about living a peaceful life. There are many good, common sense pointers we sometimes forget, so a gentle reminder is never a bad thing. But...

I have an issue with point 6. Moderation is fine--gluttony sucks--but I don't want to sacrifice living well. That's the key--sorry, a key--to life. Everything you do, do it well.

A mully

A mulligan in golf is a do-over, a second chance. They're handed out, normally, in a friendly game, when someone slices one into the rough or shanks one into the sand.

Here's something--what if life handed you a mulligan? You drove one square into the sand, and you're presented with a chance to tee it up again. Do you take it? And if so, what do you do with it?

(This was inspired by a sports-radio host who talks a lot about life, and is one of the best radio people out there.)

Take me back

It's funny how a song can take you back to some long ago time. I was listening to Pop Life by Prince, earlier, and it reminded me of a family reunion I went to in Pennsylvania 20 years ago. The memory that sticks out is of me and my cousins eating at a Howard Johnson's on a Saturday night.

Now, I'm listening to Madonna's "Live to Tell" (I think, the best song she's ever done), and I go back to a band competition I went to 22 years ago. It's a famous festival, and I remember being on the bus, coming back to the hotel late at night, climbing over the hills, and seeing, twinkling in the dark, little dots of light, civilization, nestled in the hillside.

Some songs float you back in time, along a lazy river.

Updates

To the tumblelog include....

a lot zen
a lot of light
a little eating right

Check them out here.

Great hands

Should be allowed to write on you.

Give light

Shine your light on the world, shine a light so the world can see.

Running

I spent a lot of time running in a dream last night. Running away from a Chuck Norris lookalike. What was I running from?

Dancing...?

Why has this song been dancing in my head for past couple of days?

The sound of snow

Snow usually doesn't make a sound. It falls silently, but dramatically altering the landscape.

But, if snow made a sound, what would it sound like? I submit track 9 of this CD. Close your eyes, listen to the beginning, and tell me if you can't see snowflakes floating from the sky.

Two concepts

To chew on...

Well done is better than well said

Underpromise, and overdeliver

No champagne tonight

The Steelers (the favorite team of one of my uncles) lost. Hell, I might just go get the Champagne, just for grins and giggles.

In other news, the Cowboys posted another comeback, this time against the Lions. The best thing that happened to Tony Romo was losing the way he did in Seattle last season. Adversity, losing, tests who you are, and makes you stronger. He's recovered well. He hasn't stopped believing.

Coming home

I'm heading home from the city, listening to jazz as I ride the rails.
Movement is a wonderous thing.

Make a list

Write down the five things that matter to you right now.
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In life, moments matter, experiences matter, not stuff.

I promise you

If the Patriots lose to the Steelers Sunday, I'm buying a bottle of
Champagne, to celebrate with the Dolphins.

The urge to take wing

My commute takes me by a big airport, one I've flown out of often. I love coming down the hill from the north, where I catch a fleeting glimpse of the field, stretched out and ready to give and receive. Today, on my way home, I caught this strong, really strong urge to hop on a plane and go somewhere, anywhere. To see what else is going on in the world. If only, to be on a plane above the clouds again.

Fires

Passions and desires well up in me. In one arena, I struggle with this, to contain them. They remain, as strong as ever. I let them be as they are, wondering if they will subside, if the fires will become embers. At the same time, I swim willingly, freely in them, knowing I may get burned. To be scared, and free, at the same time, is liberating.

Cold goodness

I just went outside to clear the snow from my car. The silence, the cold, the darkness, all felt good to me. To see the stars, after a night of light snow, a blanket to wrap myself with.

Lush sound

Grace, elegance, sophistication, playfulness. Thy name is Bill Evans, thy album is this, and thy song is "Beautiful Love." Gorgeous.

Jazz and life

This is a great, great, article. Give it a read. But, I'd argue that it's about more than productivity.

Much of life is improvisation. It's not just wildly making stuff up as you go along. Perfect example: Kind of Blue. Miles Davis gave his band a framework in which to play, and allowed them to use their skills and creativity to paint sounds. The result? A masterpiece, and one of the best-selling jazz albums of all time (and a great CD for a jazz newbie).

I picked off some good points from this...

• Flow--is about finding the rhythm and moving with it.
• You can't improvise alone. Your songs, words, movements actions are all responses to others around you and the environment around you. You are never truly alone, even if physically you are.
• What's the old saying--rules are made to be broken?
• Trust your instincts.
• Limits force creativity. What can I do in this defined space?
  
• Take the mundane and mold it and shape it into something magical. Breath new life into the routine.
  
• Another old saw--in jazz, there are no mistakes, only opportunity.

The last point is a key--mistakes are learning experiences. Hard ones, but good ones. Use them.

As a bonus, here's the first track from Kind of Blue, "So What"

The magic of white silence

To watch snow, at night, fall gracefully to the earth, under cover of darkness, inexorably, yet silently remolding the landscape, is a joy to behold.

It's not much

But, it's a start...

So much

There is so much I want to express--my love, my compassion, my sympathy, my care, my concern. I remain ready and open to give. I've never been so ready and open in my life. Despite it all. I write this not from a position of sadness, but of ultimate joy.

Child-like

Have you ever looked at someone and wondered what they were like as a kid? Good, quiet or bad-ass?

Re-discovery

This morning, I rediscovered strength and beauty.

Good morning

It's the start of a new day. Let's see where it takes us.

Global warming

I'm all for the environmental movement. There is something really strange happening with the weather--that much you can't deny. We all should be aware of how we interact with Mother Nature.

But what I'm afraid of is a creeping correctness that will stifle simple adventure and exploration and coming together. Case in point--The U.N. is holding a meeting in Bali to discuss climate change. Problem is, the participants had to fly in, adding to carbon emissions in the atmosphere. And yes, people are complaining about it.

My worst fear is that one day, plane travel will strictly limited. Much to the detriment of us all. It's a tradeoff--the emissions that spew out of the plane on its way someplace, and our insatiable need to explore, see the world for ourselves. Humans are a curious lot--we need to know what is in our surroundings to make sense of the world. The internet is a great tool for finding the recipe for creme brulee, but it's another thing entirely to eat a creme brulee on the Boul. St. Germain in Paris. You have to feel life.

Danger

I did something very dangerous at work today. I meditated. For one minute, at my desk, I sat still. Let the noise of the place turn into a buzz in the background. Observed myself breathing in, breathing out. Felt my heart pumping. A minute's respite can do wonders for the soul.

A good story

To remember.

And children ask the best, toughest questions.

Powerful words

Here, from LaVar Arrington, a former teammate of Sean Taylor. When I heard Arrington's words on the radio this afternoon, I cried--they touched me deeply. As Arrington asks, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity.

I love you.

In the air

In the still and calm of the morning, thoughts settle to the earth like a leaf, blown from a tree, floating to the ground.

The path

Oh Great Master,

Is the journey worth it? Worth the pain, the trials, the vicissitudes?

I guess I'll have to find out, won't I?

Yes, I will.

Compass

I want to be fulfilled. I want to fulfill others. Plain and simple.

The art of life

Part of life is eating well and drinking well. Note, I didn't say eat like a glutton, and drink like a lush. It's about sumptuousness. The surroundings. The company (even if you're dining solo).

It's about a sage turkey sausage omelet with American cheese and spinach. Every bite a dance, a ballet for the sense of taste. A mimosa (or two) to chase it down heightens the feeling of reverie.

It's about a drink at a most luxurious bar. The martini, one of those specialty drinks, was a tad sweet, but the luxe surroundings wash over you and tame the sweetness.

It's a bison steak, which was fine. But the small piece of bread, unadorned by any butter, melted in the mouth smoothly, decadently. The eyes close, luxuriating in the sensation of goodness.

To savor the nice, small, fine moments of food, of life.

Fashion tips

I'm an OK dresser---conservative, but sharp. I like clothes that wear well, classic styles that stand well against time (example--Bass Weejuns--and yes, I put pennies in the slots.) If I had a uniform, it's the black Eddie Bauer sweater I have on, jeans, and loafers. Casual, comfortable. In a word, me.

That said, I have three fashion bones to pick...

The low-rider jeans thing with women has to end. Now. Being a guy, an atypical one, I want a sense of discovery, mystery with a woman. I prefer not seeing everything hanging out. And a little more material accentuates what a woman has.

When I see a couple out, invariably, the woman is dressed well, beautifully. And the guy is dressed like a slob. I exaggerate on the guy's side, but men need to make the effort to look good for their lady. Is it too much to ask for?

I like tartans. I love the patterns, all of which carry a story. I have no problem at all with kilts having tartans, but I'm having trouble wrapping my head around pants with tartans. I can't do it. Somebody can, though.

Thoughts of light

More on this, from here...

The Warrior of the Light always manages to balance Rigor and Mercy.

To attain his dream, he needs a strong will and an enormous capacity for acceptance. Although he may have an objective, the path that leads to that objective is not always as he imagined it would be.

That is why the Warrior uses a mixture of discipline and compassion. God never abandons His children, but His purposes are unfathomable, and He builds the road with our own steps.

The Warrior uses that combination of discipline and acceptance to fuel his enthusiasm. Routine was never the leader of any important new movement.

-----------------------------------------------------------
And this, too...

When somebody wants something, the entire Universe conspires in their favor. The Warrior of the Light knows this.

For this reason, he takes great care with his thoughts. Hidden beneath a whole series of good intentions lie feelings that no one dares confess to himself: vengeance, self-destruction, guilt, fear of winning, a macabre joy at other people's tragedies.

The Universe does not judge; it conspires in favor of what we want. That is why the Warrior has the courage to look into the dark places of his soul in order to ensure that he is not asking for the wrong things.

And he is always very careful about of what he thinks.

Young at heart

The past couple of months have been tough on me. There have been times where I've felt tapped out, worn out, stretched farther than I had ever been stretched before. Usually, if you've been worn out, you feel old, used, in great need of rest. Yes, I've felt the need for rest, and I have taken the opportunity. But I feel younger having gone through what I have experienced over the past few weeks. It's odd, yes, but through tears and sleepless nights, I have felt energized by this. I've gotten strength from having something terrible happen to me. The strength also comes from knowing, innately, naturally, what's inside this bag of bones. I understand, innately, what I have to offer, freely, openly.

What counts

The new job I'm taking isn't important to me; my life is. Happiness in my life is the main goal. If that's not there, the job isn't much of a salve.

Lights below, lights above

A few weekends ago, I went to Brussels. A trip and a city I thoroughly enjoy.

The flight is always good, despite the food and the lack of sleep. I'm not the best flier. Takeoff--that moment when the plane, finally gaining enough speed, slips the surly bonds of the earth and reaches into the air--leaves me jumpy. Then I look out the window. There, below me, is a carpet of light that stretches far and wide. And soon, darkness, save for the light of the moon, helping to guide our way. Then, as the morning light edges over the horizon, sights once thought to be only a memory--terra cotta roofs, canals, an atom of iron--welcome you back.

Doors opening

The Washington Metro system is the second-busiest in the U.S. and a neat ride. The ceilings are vaulted, evoking the monumental city above it. The system is easy to use (though the farecards can trip people up). When the train approaches the station, lights on the edge of the platform blink. And when that train stops, a woman invokes, chirpily, two words all Washingtonians know.

My doors are open. Even if they don't appear so. Push through. I'm on the other side.

Dreams

Last night, why did I dream about...

• riding my bike through my hometown at night (for the second night running)?
• continually driving uphill?
• getting feedback from someone I hadn't work with in five years?

Interesting...