A hunk of iron bigger than Mt. Everest compacted almost instantly to the size of a grain of sand. That's how a recent article in National Geographic Magazine described the collapse of the core of a giant star on the way to becoming a black hole.
Iron seems pretty solid, but if gravity can pull a mountain sized chunk of it into the size of a sand grain, then the mountain of iron is almost entirely space. Space that is occupied by a tiny amount of matter in a particular energy form called iron. Of course, when compressed to the size of a grain of sound, which comes also with a temperature of about 100 billion degrees, it isn't iron anymore. It seems, in a simplistic way, that matter expands into space-occupying forms as it cools.
What is space? Is it a substrate - a medium - or is it just emptiness between things? I need to do some more reading - I haven't kept up well with physics since I was interested in it as a kid. One thing that does seem clear is that there is a lot of it. And, that I am mostly space - compressible, under the right conditions, to something much tinier than a sand grain. Of course, it wouldn't be me anymore - just some extremely hot and compressed matter. I'm one of those cool space-occupying forms.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Friday, February 21, 2014
Handstand
A little over 2 years ago I flung myself upside down, using a foot against the wall to balance for a few seconds before my muscles grew too fatigued to support my weight. Since then I have practiced handstands nearly every day. A little bit at a time, my body has adapted, gaining strength and coordination.
What was once impossible for me is now easy. As I improve, the challenges change - kicking up and balancing without help from a friendly wall, balancing the handstand for 10, then 20, then 30 seconds, slowly lowering the legs out of the handstand with balance and control.
My body has to learn every new thing by trying to do it, failing in some way, and adapting. My mind has to be focused, but not thinking. My sense of where my body is, where the parts are in space - proprioception - has to learn how things work when up is down, and down is up.
It's a slow process, and I can look back over the past two years as a lesson in the value of regular and persistent practice, and the cumulative impact of incremental gains.
Next up - handstand pushups!
What was once impossible for me is now easy. As I improve, the challenges change - kicking up and balancing without help from a friendly wall, balancing the handstand for 10, then 20, then 30 seconds, slowly lowering the legs out of the handstand with balance and control.
My body has to learn every new thing by trying to do it, failing in some way, and adapting. My mind has to be focused, but not thinking. My sense of where my body is, where the parts are in space - proprioception - has to learn how things work when up is down, and down is up.
It's a slow process, and I can look back over the past two years as a lesson in the value of regular and persistent practice, and the cumulative impact of incremental gains.
Next up - handstand pushups!
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Birdsong
This morning was bright with sunlight. As I walked along the street I realized that I was surrounded by birdsong. Though the temperature was below freezing, and snow still covers the ground, bird life had shifted into spring mode.
A few weeks ago, bursts of warm weather brought flocks of foraging robins. But today, the robins were solitary, perched high atop trees and utility poles, staking out their territories.
There was a wide variety of bird calls. I can associate only a few to specific birds - robins, cardinals, doves - but there were many more, seeming to come to life all at once today.
A few weeks ago, bursts of warm weather brought flocks of foraging robins. But today, the robins were solitary, perched high atop trees and utility poles, staking out their territories.
There was a wide variety of bird calls. I can associate only a few to specific birds - robins, cardinals, doves - but there were many more, seeming to come to life all at once today.
Mars Spotting
Last fall I tried to locate Mars on a couple of nights, but without success. I may have seen it, but wasn't confident.
This week Mars is visible in the Southeast, and for the past couple of days, not far from the moon in the early morning. Yesterday I was up early to walk to yoga, but there was quite a bit of cloud cover. The moon peeked through gaps in the shifting clouds, quite dramatically at times, but nothing around it was visible, though closer to the horizon in the East, Venus was visible, if a bit hazy.
This morning I was awake early again - not because I really needed to be - but probably because it is the schedule I have been on for the past couple of days. That gave me the opportunity to go out for another try at Mars spotting.
There's a lot of moisture in the air, so the sky was filled with a thin fog, but I was able to see Mars well enough - a little ways to the moon's upper right side.
Meanwhile on Mars, the rover named Curiosity has photographed Earth.
This week Mars is visible in the Southeast, and for the past couple of days, not far from the moon in the early morning. Yesterday I was up early to walk to yoga, but there was quite a bit of cloud cover. The moon peeked through gaps in the shifting clouds, quite dramatically at times, but nothing around it was visible, though closer to the horizon in the East, Venus was visible, if a bit hazy.
This morning I was awake early again - not because I really needed to be - but probably because it is the schedule I have been on for the past couple of days. That gave me the opportunity to go out for another try at Mars spotting.
There's a lot of moisture in the air, so the sky was filled with a thin fog, but I was able to see Mars well enough - a little ways to the moon's upper right side.
Meanwhile on Mars, the rover named Curiosity has photographed Earth.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
February Morning
Winter is a complex season. I guess that means they all are, but winter is on my mind today. Three things come to mind first about winter -- cold, dark, and snow. But as the shortest day of the year is at the winter solstice, autumn is just as dark a season as winter.
Cold and snow do belong to winter, though late autumn sometimes takes an early turn with them. The overlapping cycles mean that as the snow and cold days of winter carry on, each day is filled with a little more light, and by late February the change is noticeable, and much appreciated.
This morning was glorious. A small amount, perhaps a half inch, of powdered sugar-like snow fell overnight - just enough to lay softly on top of the tree branches and freshen up the snow on the yards and the berms along the streets. The sun was coming up in a clear blue sky, casting bluish shadows on the bright white snow.
My morning walk takes me past, and under, a huge sycamore tree that spreads branches far across the street to the opposite side. As I walked under, I looked up at the patchy tan and white branches stretched across the blue sky. Sometimes winter can be gray, monochromatic, and flat. Today was the opposite - light filled, and deep, contrasting colors.
I could feel the shift in the seasons. Though winter is still deep around us, it is almost two-thirds over, and spring is inevitably coming.
Cold and snow do belong to winter, though late autumn sometimes takes an early turn with them. The overlapping cycles mean that as the snow and cold days of winter carry on, each day is filled with a little more light, and by late February the change is noticeable, and much appreciated.
This morning was glorious. A small amount, perhaps a half inch, of powdered sugar-like snow fell overnight - just enough to lay softly on top of the tree branches and freshen up the snow on the yards and the berms along the streets. The sun was coming up in a clear blue sky, casting bluish shadows on the bright white snow.
My morning walk takes me past, and under, a huge sycamore tree that spreads branches far across the street to the opposite side. As I walked under, I looked up at the patchy tan and white branches stretched across the blue sky. Sometimes winter can be gray, monochromatic, and flat. Today was the opposite - light filled, and deep, contrasting colors.
I could feel the shift in the seasons. Though winter is still deep around us, it is almost two-thirds over, and spring is inevitably coming.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Breath
The breath. It is always with us. When it is not, then we are soon not. As long as we are alive, we are always breathing - expect those short times when we can consciously stop the muscular actions of inhalation or exhalation.
Of all the things we need to stay alive, the breath is by far the most immediate. Nothing is more important to us than this invisible, odorless, air we inhale, extract some oxygen from, and exhale. That the planet's systems refresh the atmosphere with the oxygen we need, and have for some millions of years, is an amazing thing. These life sustaining systems, are, ironically, other forms of life. It is the process of photosynthesis, that uses the energy of sunlight to build sugar from carbon dioxide and water, releasing oxygen in the process, that provides us with the oxygen we need.
Awareness of the breath is perhaps the most common tool of mind-body practices. The ability to focus the full attention of the mind on the breath, in a way, to unite breath and mind into a single thing, is very powerful.
As long as we're alive, we'll be breathing. The breath is a tool for our practice that is with us, and will be for as long as we need it.
I wondered how much air I would breathe in a lifetime. Just a very rough calculation, assuming each breath took in .5 liter of air, 6 breath cycles per minute, and a 90 year life, gave a total of a little over 62 million gallons. On one hand that's a pretty big number, but on another, it isn't a really huge number. How to put that in context?
Water is something that flows in large volumes. Since the Potomac River is near by, I looked it up and found that the average flow is about 7 million gallons per day. A lifetime of breath is about the same volume as 9 days of average flow in the Potomac. That seems like quite a lot. One breath at a time. Inhale, exhale. For 90 years or so.
Of all the things we need to stay alive, the breath is by far the most immediate. Nothing is more important to us than this invisible, odorless, air we inhale, extract some oxygen from, and exhale. That the planet's systems refresh the atmosphere with the oxygen we need, and have for some millions of years, is an amazing thing. These life sustaining systems, are, ironically, other forms of life. It is the process of photosynthesis, that uses the energy of sunlight to build sugar from carbon dioxide and water, releasing oxygen in the process, that provides us with the oxygen we need.
Awareness of the breath is perhaps the most common tool of mind-body practices. The ability to focus the full attention of the mind on the breath, in a way, to unite breath and mind into a single thing, is very powerful.
As long as we're alive, we'll be breathing. The breath is a tool for our practice that is with us, and will be for as long as we need it.
I wondered how much air I would breathe in a lifetime. Just a very rough calculation, assuming each breath took in .5 liter of air, 6 breath cycles per minute, and a 90 year life, gave a total of a little over 62 million gallons. On one hand that's a pretty big number, but on another, it isn't a really huge number. How to put that in context?
Water is something that flows in large volumes. Since the Potomac River is near by, I looked it up and found that the average flow is about 7 million gallons per day. A lifetime of breath is about the same volume as 9 days of average flow in the Potomac. That seems like quite a lot. One breath at a time. Inhale, exhale. For 90 years or so.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Winter Woods
Today is just warm enough to soften the snow a little, but not warm enough to melt a significant amount. In early afternoon, the snow still has a crusty frozen surface from yesterday's melting and last night's freeze.
The sky has been alternating from bright blue to overcast as scattered ranks of clouds move past from west to east.
I noticed squirrels out and about, the first I have noticed since the storm. I suppose they have been denned up, and are now a bit hungry and out looking for their stashes.
After lunch, I went down to the park for a walk. I followed deer tracks downstream along the south hillside. The snow was crusted just enough to support about 80 percent of my weight. As I stepped, it would almost hold me, and then as the last of my weight transferred onto the front foot, 'crunch,' and I would fall through a few inches into the softer snow beneath. Oh well, it's more exercise.
A half mile downstream is a wider, flat area, farther from the main trails. As I walked into the area, I heard wings flapping and turned to see a large bird flying up from the ground ahead to perch in a nearby tree branch. A turkey vulture. Then I saw a crow hopping on the snow. I walked over to see what they were feeding on, and found that it was a raccoon carcass. The vulture waited patiently for me to leave before continuing its recycling work.
As I walked back toward home, my mind picked out, from the stream of information coming in, something that seemed odd. That's how it works so often, ignoring what it sees as normal, and focusing on the unusual.
In this case, it was a piece of dead wood, a couple of inches in diameter, and about two feet long, suspended about head height, parallel to the ground. One end of the stick was resting on a thin branch, but what was holding it in place? Somehow, falling from the larger tree above, this stick had fallen in a way that one end was beneath one branch, and the other end atop a second branch, with just a little more weight on the supported end. I would have loved to have been there to witness that improbable fall - it must have come down at an angle, hit the fulcrum branch, and then flipped up to stick under the upper branch.
The sky has been alternating from bright blue to overcast as scattered ranks of clouds move past from west to east.
I noticed squirrels out and about, the first I have noticed since the storm. I suppose they have been denned up, and are now a bit hungry and out looking for their stashes.
After lunch, I went down to the park for a walk. I followed deer tracks downstream along the south hillside. The snow was crusted just enough to support about 80 percent of my weight. As I stepped, it would almost hold me, and then as the last of my weight transferred onto the front foot, 'crunch,' and I would fall through a few inches into the softer snow beneath. Oh well, it's more exercise.
A half mile downstream is a wider, flat area, farther from the main trails. As I walked into the area, I heard wings flapping and turned to see a large bird flying up from the ground ahead to perch in a nearby tree branch. A turkey vulture. Then I saw a crow hopping on the snow. I walked over to see what they were feeding on, and found that it was a raccoon carcass. The vulture waited patiently for me to leave before continuing its recycling work.
As I walked back toward home, my mind picked out, from the stream of information coming in, something that seemed odd. That's how it works so often, ignoring what it sees as normal, and focusing on the unusual.
In this case, it was a piece of dead wood, a couple of inches in diameter, and about two feet long, suspended about head height, parallel to the ground. One end of the stick was resting on a thin branch, but what was holding it in place? Somehow, falling from the larger tree above, this stick had fallen in a way that one end was beneath one branch, and the other end atop a second branch, with just a little more weight on the supported end. I would have loved to have been there to witness that improbable fall - it must have come down at an angle, hit the fulcrum branch, and then flipped up to stick under the upper branch.
Friday, February 14, 2014
Snow Flowers
In the spring, the dogwood trees come to life, bursting out white flowers for a few days before the leaves emerge.
It's not spring, but when I looked out the kitchen window this morning, the dogwood tree branches were tipped with white. At some point, large wet snowflakes had fallen, stuck to the twigs, and then froze. Why they clustered on the branch tips more than on the rest of the tree, I don't know, but the effect was as if the tree had flowered overnight.
The world is a very interesting place, if it's paid attention.
It's not spring, but when I looked out the kitchen window this morning, the dogwood tree branches were tipped with white. At some point, large wet snowflakes had fallen, stuck to the twigs, and then froze. Why they clustered on the branch tips more than on the rest of the tree, I don't know, but the effect was as if the tree had flowered overnight.
The world is a very interesting place, if it's paid attention.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Snowed In
I looked out the window this morning and could tell that several inches of snow had fallen overnight. When it rains, you know from the drumming on the roof if it is raining hard, but snow comes stealthily. I went out to shovel off the driveway and walk, thinking that it would warm up and the snow would get heavy later in the day.
When I opened the garage door, I saw that it had snowed more than I thought - 12 inches at least - the most snow we've had since the winter of 2010. The storm had been predicted well in advance, but the actual snowfall was at or higher than the forecasted range. It took about 50 minutes to finish. I wondered if I would be sore, or if all the yoga I've been doing the past few years would help me deal with the exertion. All indications so far is that it did keep back and shoulder strain at bay.
No one on our street was going anywhere today by car. By day's end there was a foot path down one side of the street - which is the same thing that occurred in 2010, the last time we had this much snow. The character of the neighborhood seems to instantly change when cars are rendered irrelevant.
A snowflake is such a tiny and insignificant thing, but a billion or so of them add up to a cubic foot, and the billions of billions of snowflakes that fell last night have changed the way we live, for a few days.
When I opened the garage door, I saw that it had snowed more than I thought - 12 inches at least - the most snow we've had since the winter of 2010. The storm had been predicted well in advance, but the actual snowfall was at or higher than the forecasted range. It took about 50 minutes to finish. I wondered if I would be sore, or if all the yoga I've been doing the past few years would help me deal with the exertion. All indications so far is that it did keep back and shoulder strain at bay.
No one on our street was going anywhere today by car. By day's end there was a foot path down one side of the street - which is the same thing that occurred in 2010, the last time we had this much snow. The character of the neighborhood seems to instantly change when cars are rendered irrelevant.
A snowflake is such a tiny and insignificant thing, but a billion or so of them add up to a cubic foot, and the billions of billions of snowflakes that fell last night have changed the way we live, for a few days.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Settling In for the Snow
For several days, we have heard about an impending storm that was likely to bring several inches of snow to the area. As each day passed, the predictions became more focused on a storm to start this evening with heavy snow overnight. We all left work today expecting that we wouldn't be in the office for Thursday, and possibly not Friday either. We will be working though, thanks to the combination of technology and telework agreements. But that's not what I'm writing about tonight.
My topic is the emotional shift that has come from anticipation of the storm - a drawing in, a retreat to the comfort and security of home, and a feeling that a hold button has been pressed on life for the evening. Evening events around the community were canceled, as people turned their attention to settling in, not wanting to risk being caught away from home when the snow arrives.
I feel grounded, anchored, not motivated to do a lot. Rather, I feel like taking care of the essentials and turning in early, to den up and hibernate while the snow falls.
My topic is the emotional shift that has come from anticipation of the storm - a drawing in, a retreat to the comfort and security of home, and a feeling that a hold button has been pressed on life for the evening. Evening events around the community were canceled, as people turned their attention to settling in, not wanting to risk being caught away from home when the snow arrives.
I feel grounded, anchored, not motivated to do a lot. Rather, I feel like taking care of the essentials and turning in early, to den up and hibernate while the snow falls.
A Tale of Two Planets
On Tuesday, I start my day with a walk to the Metro and a trip downtown for a yoga class that is well worth the extra effort. It's not a studio class, but one organized by the teacher for just a small number of students. After work, I ride the Metro one stop down to Takoma Park to meet Pam for another great yoga class with one of my yoga teacher training instructors.
It was cold and clear in the morning, still dark a little before 6 am as I headed out. We've had a lot of cloudy weather this winter and I haven't done a lot of stargazing for a while, so I looked around to see what the sky looked like. Over in the southeast, not high up in the sky, was a bright dot that was much brighter than anything I've seen other than the sun and the moon. I thought, that must be Venus. This was confirmed by a little research later. In fact, Venus is at its brightest this week, according to the Sky and Telescope website.
After work, as I waited on the train platform, the evening sky was growing pale, and the moon hung overhead to the east. I knew that Jupiter was up there in the same area, but the sky was too bright to see it. The train came, and when I arrived in Takoma Park just a few minutes later, the sky had dimmed enough that Jupiter was clearly visible, a little bit above the moon.
The planets are a connection to a larger scale of space and time than I experience in daily life. While far away from the special planet that supports our life, they're related to Earth in the gravity well of the Sun, sailing around in orbital motion for the past several billion years. My awareness of them is recent, reminding me of how my experience of life depends so much, not on what exists, but of the small fraction that I am aware of. What else is out there, just waiting to be noticed?
I'll be watching over the coming weeks to see how long Venus and Jupiter can be my morning and evening Tuesday companions.
It was cold and clear in the morning, still dark a little before 6 am as I headed out. We've had a lot of cloudy weather this winter and I haven't done a lot of stargazing for a while, so I looked around to see what the sky looked like. Over in the southeast, not high up in the sky, was a bright dot that was much brighter than anything I've seen other than the sun and the moon. I thought, that must be Venus. This was confirmed by a little research later. In fact, Venus is at its brightest this week, according to the Sky and Telescope website.
After work, as I waited on the train platform, the evening sky was growing pale, and the moon hung overhead to the east. I knew that Jupiter was up there in the same area, but the sky was too bright to see it. The train came, and when I arrived in Takoma Park just a few minutes later, the sky had dimmed enough that Jupiter was clearly visible, a little bit above the moon.
The planets are a connection to a larger scale of space and time than I experience in daily life. While far away from the special planet that supports our life, they're related to Earth in the gravity well of the Sun, sailing around in orbital motion for the past several billion years. My awareness of them is recent, reminding me of how my experience of life depends so much, not on what exists, but of the small fraction that I am aware of. What else is out there, just waiting to be noticed?
I'll be watching over the coming weeks to see how long Venus and Jupiter can be my morning and evening Tuesday companions.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Lighten Up!
At work today, I launched our second "Fun with Stairs" week. We have teams named for fish, and we count how many flights of stairs we climb in a week. There's a framed photo of Asian climbing fish for the winning team to display until the next time.
I was a bit surprised the first time at the enthusiasm for the friendly contest. I intended it to be just for the three teams in my division, but word got out and two other groups joined in. More of the same this time.
I take this as a sign that activity and comradery are a welcome relief from sitting in a cubicle all day thinking about stuff. I have no doubt that the five minutes spent to climb the stairs from bottom to top is more than made up for by the mind clearing and energizing effects of exercise. So this week we'll lighten up a little and have some fun with stairs.
I was a bit surprised the first time at the enthusiasm for the friendly contest. I intended it to be just for the three teams in my division, but word got out and two other groups joined in. More of the same this time.
I take this as a sign that activity and comradery are a welcome relief from sitting in a cubicle all day thinking about stuff. I have no doubt that the five minutes spent to climb the stairs from bottom to top is more than made up for by the mind clearing and energizing effects of exercise. So this week we'll lighten up a little and have some fun with stairs.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
"What we've got here is a failure to communicate"
Something was 'off' just a little bit this weekend. On Saturday, Pam dropped me off at the yoga studio for teacher training and went to the market. There's a two hour break between the morning and afternoon sessions. I had said that I was planning to come home and take the car back for the afternoon session - I was planning to walk home - it's about 20 minutes. Pam thought I wanted her to come get me. So I walked home, and about 5 minutes after reaching the house, but before I had realized she wasn't there, my phone rang. "It's Pam, why is she calling me?" I thought. I answered. "Where are you? I've been waiting in the parking garage." she said. Oops.
That led to agreement that we needed to be very explicit about plans and expectations. So, for Sunday, we had discussed that I would probably walk home, but would call if I wanted a ride. When class was over, I sent a message that I could stop by the store on the way home and pick up some cheese, which we needed. That led to an exchange about a couple of options -- Pam could come meet me at the store, or she could stay home and work on lunch. I had planned to walk, but Pam thought that would take too long - correct, of course, if the goal was to eat as soon as possible.
I thought that calling was a good idea, as the possibilities were getting a bit complicated. Also, I couldn't find my hat - it turned up a few minutes later in the sleeve of my coat - and what I heard was that Pam wanted to come pick me up because that would be faster. We arranged a spot to meet. I walked there and had just a short wait before Pam came.
I got in the car, and asked if she wanted to go straight home. Why was I asking? Because I didn't know if she wanted to stop at the store to get the cheese. P: "You haven't been to the store?" G: "No." P:"I thought you had been to the store." G: "No. I was going to go to the store, but you said you wanted to come pick me up." P: "I thought you were going to go the store and then meet me." G: "I wasn't going to do that because the timing wouldn't have worked - going to the store would have taken much longer." Etc.
We went to the store. Then we came home. We're still not sure exactly what is going on, but we hope it stops soon.
That led to agreement that we needed to be very explicit about plans and expectations. So, for Sunday, we had discussed that I would probably walk home, but would call if I wanted a ride. When class was over, I sent a message that I could stop by the store on the way home and pick up some cheese, which we needed. That led to an exchange about a couple of options -- Pam could come meet me at the store, or she could stay home and work on lunch. I had planned to walk, but Pam thought that would take too long - correct, of course, if the goal was to eat as soon as possible.
I thought that calling was a good idea, as the possibilities were getting a bit complicated. Also, I couldn't find my hat - it turned up a few minutes later in the sleeve of my coat - and what I heard was that Pam wanted to come pick me up because that would be faster. We arranged a spot to meet. I walked there and had just a short wait before Pam came.
I got in the car, and asked if she wanted to go straight home. Why was I asking? Because I didn't know if she wanted to stop at the store to get the cheese. P: "You haven't been to the store?" G: "No." P:"I thought you had been to the store." G: "No. I was going to go to the store, but you said you wanted to come pick me up." P: "I thought you were going to go the store and then meet me." G: "I wasn't going to do that because the timing wouldn't have worked - going to the store would have taken much longer." Etc.
We went to the store. Then we came home. We're still not sure exactly what is going on, but we hope it stops soon.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
The Destination
Don't know where life is taking you?
Wake up! You are there.
The present moment is the destination that the journey of life inevitably takes you.
Wake up! You are there.
The present moment is the destination that the journey of life inevitably takes you.
Friday, February 7, 2014
The Present of the Moment
To be present, to fully experience the here and now - not reliving the past - not living an imaginary future - is the simplest of things, yet sometimes it seems unattainable. Perhaps that is a clue to the difficulty - the idea that being present is something you can do, achieve, attain.
It isn't. The present moment is a gift - a present of a different sort - the present of the present. You don't achieve a gift, you simply receive it. Graciously.
In fact, your experience in the present IS the gift, the present. Be open to receive it. Devote to it your full attention, and then let it go, because another moment, another gift, is already before you.
It isn't. The present moment is a gift - a present of a different sort - the present of the present. You don't achieve a gift, you simply receive it. Graciously.
In fact, your experience in the present IS the gift, the present. Be open to receive it. Devote to it your full attention, and then let it go, because another moment, another gift, is already before you.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Battery Power
At some point within the past few months, the cumulative tasks that my iPhone was doing throughout the day was causing the battery to run down faster than I wanted. Previously, even when I was using it fairly intensively, I could get a full day out of it. But often now I was having to nurse it along in the evening, and sometimes it wouldn't make it to the end.
After looking at various suggestions of how to correct the problem, I decided to try turning off a lot of the 'push' notifications that have the phone communicating with email servers and social media sites throughout the day so that the information is always current.
This seems to have brought me back to the good old days - when I could get a couple of days of normal use out of a charge. The only difference I notice is that it takes a few seconds to connect and download the latest messages when I do connect. But that's well worth it.
In this respect, the phone is a lot like me. It has more energy when there are fewer things being pushed at it, demanding attention on a continual basis. That's true for me, too. I think I'll see about turning off (or at least down), some of the sources that push things at me.
After looking at various suggestions of how to correct the problem, I decided to try turning off a lot of the 'push' notifications that have the phone communicating with email servers and social media sites throughout the day so that the information is always current.
This seems to have brought me back to the good old days - when I could get a couple of days of normal use out of a charge. The only difference I notice is that it takes a few seconds to connect and download the latest messages when I do connect. But that's well worth it.
In this respect, the phone is a lot like me. It has more energy when there are fewer things being pushed at it, demanding attention on a continual basis. That's true for me, too. I think I'll see about turning off (or at least down), some of the sources that push things at me.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Icy Morning
Last night we had freezing rain that coated everything outside with a layer of ice. It wasn't enough to bring branches down, and it made all the trees shimmer in the morning light. The end of every branch was tipped with a tiny icicle up to an inch long.
I had to pay close attention to my footing on the walk to work, and managed to avoid most of the slippery spots. But if I hadn't been mindful, I could easily have fallen. We're so adept at walking and balance that it's easy to forget that gravity is always there, pulling us downward. There's no grace period - you don't lose your balance and then fall. "Losing your balance" is what we call it when we fall.
But today, I didn't fall. I just felt a little slipperiness underfoot in a couple of spots, and I enjoyed walking through the ice covered landscape. I can't explain why I find the shimmery ice beautiful, but I do - even if it is inconvenient and somewhat hazardous.
There's also the fact that in the brief time that the ice coats the world, it is a dominant presence. You can't ignore it, or it will make your car slide into the ditch, or cause you to fall. But it's also very fragile. A little time, a slight warming breeze, and it just melts away, ephemeral.
I had to pay close attention to my footing on the walk to work, and managed to avoid most of the slippery spots. But if I hadn't been mindful, I could easily have fallen. We're so adept at walking and balance that it's easy to forget that gravity is always there, pulling us downward. There's no grace period - you don't lose your balance and then fall. "Losing your balance" is what we call it when we fall.
But today, I didn't fall. I just felt a little slipperiness underfoot in a couple of spots, and I enjoyed walking through the ice covered landscape. I can't explain why I find the shimmery ice beautiful, but I do - even if it is inconvenient and somewhat hazardous.
There's also the fact that in the brief time that the ice coats the world, it is a dominant presence. You can't ignore it, or it will make your car slide into the ditch, or cause you to fall. But it's also very fragile. A little time, a slight warming breeze, and it just melts away, ephemeral.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Metro Motion
A couple of evenings a week I ride the Metro train from Silver Spring to Takoma Park after work to go to a yoga class. It's still during the rush hour, so the trains are close together, and nearly empty out on the end of the line as they head back into downtown D.C.
I hopped on the train today and decided to make the several minute trip a balance exercise. I settled into a comfortable stance, feet a little wider than hips, knees slightly bent -- a position from which I could move in all directions in response to the motion of the train.
I put my awareness at my solar plexus and let my body respond to the motion without trying to anticipate a particular motion or consciously control my body. I was actively working the whole time, there's a surprising amount of bumping around as the car moves down the rails, through switches and around a bend or two, in addition to the acceleration and braking forces at the ends of the trip.
The effect was quite energizing, as my core and leg muscles were put through a good workout, responding to a variety of forces from different directions. It was also very clearing and focusing mentally, and I brought that energy and focus to the yoga mat for an intense practice. I also sensed that the 2 or 3 other passengers on the car may have thought I was nuts.
Metro Motion - a quick and effective full body warmup!
I hopped on the train today and decided to make the several minute trip a balance exercise. I settled into a comfortable stance, feet a little wider than hips, knees slightly bent -- a position from which I could move in all directions in response to the motion of the train.
I put my awareness at my solar plexus and let my body respond to the motion without trying to anticipate a particular motion or consciously control my body. I was actively working the whole time, there's a surprising amount of bumping around as the car moves down the rails, through switches and around a bend or two, in addition to the acceleration and braking forces at the ends of the trip.
The effect was quite energizing, as my core and leg muscles were put through a good workout, responding to a variety of forces from different directions. It was also very clearing and focusing mentally, and I brought that energy and focus to the yoga mat for an intense practice. I also sensed that the 2 or 3 other passengers on the car may have thought I was nuts.
Metro Motion - a quick and effective full body warmup!
Monday, February 3, 2014
A Mixed-Up Day
I woke up last night a bit before 2 am, and my first thought was that I didn't know what day it was. After a brief moment of thinking there might be another day of the weekend left, I realized that in fact the day coming in a few hours was Monday - back to work.
I lay there for several minutes in complete silence. The furnace wasn't running, no cars passed on the road, and I was actually concentrating on trying to hear something. After a while, the furnace came on and ran for a while. When it shut off, I heard the sound of rain pattering on the skylight in the closet, which is a very effective rain sound transmitter.
Dawn brought one of those days that is hard to dress for. Not too cold, but with temperature forecast to drop. Raining, but with snow forecast within the hour. Perhaps 5 inches or more. I headed out with my winter coat covered by a waterproof shell, waterproof shoes (but not winter boots) and an umbrella.
I was surprised to see how much it had rained. Perhaps the melting snow had first saturated the ground. Water was standing in all the low lying spots, which I'm sure will be good for the spring amphibians. The umbrella proved very useful on the walk to work.
I was having lunch across the street. Just before leaving the building I looked out the window to see if it was still raining, and instead saw snowflakes steadily falling. I rode the elevator downstairs, and walked outside into a light drizzle. The snow must have just lasted for a couple of minutes. Once again, I was glad for the umbrella.
When I left work in the evening, the rain was gone, the temperature was in the mid 30s, and a light breeze was blowing up the sidewalk. It felt nice - cool and refreshing on my face. I was well dressed for warmth so had no shivering feeling.
As for the 5 inches of snow - all I saw where those few fleeting flakes falling past the 13th floor window around midday.
I lay there for several minutes in complete silence. The furnace wasn't running, no cars passed on the road, and I was actually concentrating on trying to hear something. After a while, the furnace came on and ran for a while. When it shut off, I heard the sound of rain pattering on the skylight in the closet, which is a very effective rain sound transmitter.
Dawn brought one of those days that is hard to dress for. Not too cold, but with temperature forecast to drop. Raining, but with snow forecast within the hour. Perhaps 5 inches or more. I headed out with my winter coat covered by a waterproof shell, waterproof shoes (but not winter boots) and an umbrella.
I was surprised to see how much it had rained. Perhaps the melting snow had first saturated the ground. Water was standing in all the low lying spots, which I'm sure will be good for the spring amphibians. The umbrella proved very useful on the walk to work.
I was having lunch across the street. Just before leaving the building I looked out the window to see if it was still raining, and instead saw snowflakes steadily falling. I rode the elevator downstairs, and walked outside into a light drizzle. The snow must have just lasted for a couple of minutes. Once again, I was glad for the umbrella.
When I left work in the evening, the rain was gone, the temperature was in the mid 30s, and a light breeze was blowing up the sidewalk. It felt nice - cool and refreshing on my face. I was well dressed for warmth so had no shivering feeling.
As for the 5 inches of snow - all I saw where those few fleeting flakes falling past the 13th floor window around midday.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
A Winter Reprieve
The temperature today raced past the forecast high in the mid 50s and reached 61 by mid afternoon. I spent some time sitting by the creek, soaking in the sound of the water rushing out of the pool and between two large rocks on its way downstream. Behind me, the water gurgled with a little less intensity as it ran down a riffle of gravel before pouring into the pool beside me. Closing my eyes, I imagined, from the sounds behind and before me, that the water was flowing right through me.
Afterwards, I took a slow walk up one side of the creek to the next bridge, then crossed over to head home. As seems to be the normal pattern, with the warm weather came a flock of robins.
The woods along Sligo Creek were quiet and still, but for the energetic bustle of the transient robins.
Some were using shallow spots in the creek to bathe. Most were spread out across the forest floor, foraging in the thick layer of fallen leaves. There was a constant rustling sound, and small patches of leaves were tossed into the air as the birds rooted beneath for things to eat. It was quite entertaining to watch the little eruptions popping up all around.
I walked further on and checked on three black walnut trees that I planted several years ago. They're all alive, but I need to install new, and somewhat larger wire cages around them to keep the deer from eating them as they grow.
Afterwards, I took a slow walk up one side of the creek to the next bridge, then crossed over to head home. As seems to be the normal pattern, with the warm weather came a flock of robins.
The woods along Sligo Creek were quiet and still, but for the energetic bustle of the transient robins.
Some were using shallow spots in the creek to bathe. Most were spread out across the forest floor, foraging in the thick layer of fallen leaves. There was a constant rustling sound, and small patches of leaves were tossed into the air as the birds rooted beneath for things to eat. It was quite entertaining to watch the little eruptions popping up all around.
I walked further on and checked on three black walnut trees that I planted several years ago. They're all alive, but I need to install new, and somewhat larger wire cages around them to keep the deer from eating them as they grow.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Forecasting a Prediction
Today slid right by. Some things got done. Others didn't. Not to worry. The evening was occupied with dinner - making, eating, and cleaning up - almost 3 completely enjoyable hours.
I replaced a switch today. Now the disposal in the kitchen sink works again. It hadn't worked for some number of months that I don't know, but Pam probably does. The plumber who installed our new water heater last week had looked at it. When I got home, instead of finding the disposal working, I received a message - the plumber says it's an electrical problem.
I would still have been stumped since the problem could have been wiring, the circuit breaker, the disposal itself, or the switch, but I thought to see if I could find my electrical multimeter. Indeed, it was in the cabinet where I thought it might be. I was surprised to find that it didn't need a new battery. I haven't used it for some number of years that I don't know, and Pam probably doesn't either.
I set it to measure AC voltage, and stuck the probes in an electrical outlet that I knew worked to make sure it was reading correctly. Then I turned off power at the breaker box, and took the switch out of the wall. After repowering the circuit, I quickly ascertained that there was power getting to the switch, but no power on the output side when the switch was turned on. A trip to the hardware store for a new switch and a few minutes of swapping wires and screwing switch and wall plate back into place, and the problem was solved.
Actually, the trip to the hardware store was just a stop on the way home from a trip to the wine store. After a long stretch of freezing weather, and an overnight low in the 20s, the temperature this afternoon was near 50, the sun was out, and it was quite pleasant. There were lots of people out, some still wearing heavy winter wear, and others in shorts or skirts.
The wine store has a small parking lot that on weekends is so busy that they have an attendant that directs traffic. After he found a spot for me, we were both walking back toward the front. I mentioned how nice the weather was, figuring it would be greatly appreciated by someone whose job was outside all day. But no. He said he didn't like it, and would have preferred that it would have stayed cold, since it was going to get cold again in a couple of days and probably snow - it should just stay cold until winter is completely over.
My preference was to just enjoy the nice day we had. Knowing that more winter weather was forecast seemed to keep my parking lot friend from enjoying a very pleasant day.
Forecasting is big business - we all seem eager to know what the future holds. But most of the time, if I think about the value of knowing, it isn't all that important. I also find that the expectation that is put in my mind by a forecast can hinder my response to what actually happens.
I knew that forecasting was completely out of hand when I saw an item on the AccuWeather site forecasting, several days in advance, that Punxutawney Phil would see his shadow tomorrow, thereby predicting 6 more weeks of winter.
I replaced a switch today. Now the disposal in the kitchen sink works again. It hadn't worked for some number of months that I don't know, but Pam probably does. The plumber who installed our new water heater last week had looked at it. When I got home, instead of finding the disposal working, I received a message - the plumber says it's an electrical problem.
I would still have been stumped since the problem could have been wiring, the circuit breaker, the disposal itself, or the switch, but I thought to see if I could find my electrical multimeter. Indeed, it was in the cabinet where I thought it might be. I was surprised to find that it didn't need a new battery. I haven't used it for some number of years that I don't know, and Pam probably doesn't either.
I set it to measure AC voltage, and stuck the probes in an electrical outlet that I knew worked to make sure it was reading correctly. Then I turned off power at the breaker box, and took the switch out of the wall. After repowering the circuit, I quickly ascertained that there was power getting to the switch, but no power on the output side when the switch was turned on. A trip to the hardware store for a new switch and a few minutes of swapping wires and screwing switch and wall plate back into place, and the problem was solved.
Actually, the trip to the hardware store was just a stop on the way home from a trip to the wine store. After a long stretch of freezing weather, and an overnight low in the 20s, the temperature this afternoon was near 50, the sun was out, and it was quite pleasant. There were lots of people out, some still wearing heavy winter wear, and others in shorts or skirts.
The wine store has a small parking lot that on weekends is so busy that they have an attendant that directs traffic. After he found a spot for me, we were both walking back toward the front. I mentioned how nice the weather was, figuring it would be greatly appreciated by someone whose job was outside all day. But no. He said he didn't like it, and would have preferred that it would have stayed cold, since it was going to get cold again in a couple of days and probably snow - it should just stay cold until winter is completely over.
My preference was to just enjoy the nice day we had. Knowing that more winter weather was forecast seemed to keep my parking lot friend from enjoying a very pleasant day.
Forecasting is big business - we all seem eager to know what the future holds. But most of the time, if I think about the value of knowing, it isn't all that important. I also find that the expectation that is put in my mind by a forecast can hinder my response to what actually happens.
I knew that forecasting was completely out of hand when I saw an item on the AccuWeather site forecasting, several days in advance, that Punxutawney Phil would see his shadow tomorrow, thereby predicting 6 more weeks of winter.
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