CAVEAT DVMPTRVCK

Caveat: The cat in the Christmas tree

There is a cute cat that lives at Doug and Jodi's, named Boots.  He's very social and friendly.   Here he is, lurking in the Christmas tree.

Caveat: World of Goo

My friend Mark gave me a copy of a computer game called "World of Goo."  I showed it to my nephews, and it's been a huge hit.  Nephew James, age 5, spent hours playing it this morning, and my brother-in-law Eric got into it too.

I drove down from Brenda and Eric's at around midday today, and will spend Christmas eve and Christmas day with my sister's in-laws in Denver's southwestern suburbs.  I have a pretty long-lasting tradition of spending Christmas with my sister's extended in-law family, mostly in Phoenix in years past, but I've missed the last few years, being in Korea.  This year, it's at Jodi and Doug's here in Colorado.

Caveat: Fun in snow

So I saw my 3 nephews and niece today, all together.  There was a lot of playing.  It snowed all day.

Here are James and Jamison having a snowball fight.

Here is Sarah making snow angels.

Caveat: A heavy fog embraced the brown fields and trailer parks of Kansas

It made the drive very monotonous, to see only the mist and the vague outlines of billboards swishing past.  400 miles. 

Now I am in Denver.  Tomorrow, I must do some Christmas shopping, I think.

Caveat: Back on the road for the shortest day of the year

After that long break, I'm driving again.  I went from my friend's in southeastern Wisconsin as far as Kansas City today -- I'm going to Denver for Christmas, and although the southern route (via Missouri and Kansas) is a few hours longer than the northern route (via Iowa and Nebraska), because of the winter storms on the satelite, I made the choice of taking the southern route.  Plus, I always have a special feeling for Kansas City, even though I rarely stop there.  I had a lot of relatives there at one time, though most of them have redistributed over the years -- it's my mother's birthplace, and her mother's too, I think.  So it's a kind of maternal-line homeland.   Plus, I just think it's an interesting and attractive city. 

Caveat: I broke a neuron

I'm back from my 11 day "meditation retreat."  So strange... Really, it was basically ten days as an initiate buddist monk in the burmese theravada tradition.    Very strict, very intense.  Very quiet -- no talking except once-daily interviews between instructors and students.  No access to computers, cellphones, music, books, paper, pencils or pens.  Etc.

My friend Bob, before I left, said to me:  "I don't know what to say to someone leaving on a meditation retreat.  Maybe:  'Break a neuron!'"  (analogous to "break a leg!").

So, I broke a neuron.   But just one.  

Caveat: Rescuing the cat

Upon leaving the meditation center, my fellow meditator Richard decided to rescue the stray cat (see posts from day 6 and day 9).  I offered to drive him into Chicago, where he lived, since he didn't have transportation planned that could include the transport of a stray cat.

We took the cat in my truck, and we talked a lot as we drove down I-90 into the city.  Richard lives in Hyde Park, which is the neighborhood in Chicago where I lived 24 years ago (24!).  I only lived in Chicago for a short time, but it has always been one of my favorite cities and places.

We got take out from Harold's Chicken Shack, which is a chain of Chicago south-side fast-food joints that I remember very fondly from when I lived there.  The branch we went to didn't exist when I lived there, but it was located in the same exact shopping center at 53rd and Kimbark where I used to work.  Here is a picture of Kimbark plaza, and the CVS pharmacy at the far end used to be a hardware store, where I worked.

Here is a picture of the Harold chicken.  Note the delicious slices of squishy white bread that are served to soak up the juices of the fried chicken.

Then we went to Richard's apartment, smuggled the cat in, and had some lunch.  The cat seemed very content.  Richard lives on the 24th floor of a high rise near Lake Michigan.  The view from his apartment is amazing.

I drove past 62nd and Kimbark, where I used to live, but the neighborhood is unrecognizable from 24 years ago -- I think the Univ of Chicago has redeveloped the area substantially.

Finally, I drove back up toward Wisconsin.  As I passed through downtown, it was beginning to snow.  Chicago is such a stunningly beautiful city, to me.  I found an old Psychadelic Furs song on the radio.  I crawled through Sunday traffic on the Kennedy Expressway.  I felt very joyful.

Caveat: Bhavatu Sabbu Mangalam

[this is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.]

Here is a list of the entries I have written (or will write over the coming days) about my experience at the Vipassana meditation retreat.

Day 0	Day Zero
Day 1	Happiness is serious business
	Which nostril?
Day 2	False Joy
	True Dogma
Day 3	Touch of Desperation
	O blessed itching sensation
Day 4	Foucault's Fun Farm
	Adhitthana
Day 5	The pain in my ass
	The fetishization of misery
Day 6	.........................ddddddddddddddssdfrwwafff.cat
	I <3 My Monkey Mind
Day 7	A muskrat chases a goose
	The Body Without Organs (you wish!)
Day 8	Salvation through proprioception
	Fantasies of the real
	The parable of the secret gift
	A constellation of capsaicin
Day 9	Sanctimonious metaphysical nonsense
	Snort-love
	An ant on the wall. Pushing back.
	1-800-SUICIDE
Day 10	No vibrations. No Christ. No love.
	Gnarled, twisted, naked tree. Snow.
	개구리도 움츠려야 뚼다
Day 11	Bhavatu sabbu mangalam

Here is a picture of the retreat center, taken this morning after I got my camera out of storage.

Caveat: 개구리도 움츠려야 뚼다

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 10(c)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

The phrase in the title to this post is a Korean proverb:  "even a frog must crouch before it can jump."

Caveat: Gnarled, twisted, naked tree. Snow.

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 10(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: No vibrations. No Christ. No love.

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 10(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: 1-800-SUICIDE

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 9(d)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: An ant on the wall. Pushing back.

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 9(c)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

I am in the bathroom, and I notice an ant.  The ant appears to be damaged.  Wounded.  The back legs don't seem to be working very well.   I worry that maybe I stepped on it accidentally, or hurt it some other way.

The ant is trying to climb up the wall.  It will make it up one foot, maybe two feet.  And then it will fall down to the floor.  It will walk a little way along the base of the wall, and the climb the wall again.  And fall down.  It did this 5 or 6 times. 

Trying.

Trying.

Trying.

And then it walked along the the base of the bathtub, around behind the toilet, where it stumbled into a spider web.  It struggled, there, for a short time.  And then stopped.

Shortly before, I'd returned to my room after 5 o'clock tea.  I was restless, and frustrated, and sad.  I was looking forward to doing push-ups in my room.  This was, perhaps, the first time ever that I'd looked forward to doing push-ups.

Stir-crazy: I did 150 jumping jacks, and 30 push-ups.

As I did my illicit exercise (it seems it's not technically considered desirable to have aerobic exercise during the intensive meditation course), I thought about "the world pushing back."

What does this mean, the world pushing back?  We can't stop wanting things.  We can't stop feeling aversion to things.  Desire and aversion are what let us know that we're alive.  That's the world, pushing back. Just like being down, doing push-ups:  the world pushes back, hard.  That's gravity.

I'm not sure what I'm getting at.  I guess I just feel that to speak of eliminating desires and aversions is ridiculous.  It's like choosing to be dead.  You can only let go of your attachment to the outcomes (results) of actions brought on by desires and aversions.  But that's important.  I think about David White's discussions of the philosophy of non-attachment as outlined in the Bhagavad Gita.

Caveat: Snort-love

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 9(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

..

I took some pictures after the course ended and I got my camera out of storage.  This is the cat coming out of her barn where she was hiding from the wind

This is a close up

Caveat: Sanctimonious metaphysical nonsense

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 9(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: A constellation of capsaicin

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 8(d)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

I am feeling pretty gloomy. 

I have been putting a pinch of cayenne pepper in my tea in the afternoons.  I like spicy things, and red pepper in tea (in tiny amounts) can be good. 

I sat and looked at the dregs of my tea, and the little red flakes of cayenne floating there.  It looks like constellation of stars.  The world is interesting.

Caveat: The Parable of the Secret Gift

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 8(c)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

One thing I spend my time doing, as I sit and let my monkey mind wander, is that I invent parables and stories and jokes.  I made up this parable.

There was a class of children and their teacher.  The teacher was strict but well-meaning.  One day, he told the students he was going to give each of them a gift.  But he warned them:  "This will be a personal gift, just from me to each of you individually.  Do not share your gift with your peers or talk about it with each other.  It's to be between each of you and me, alone."

The next day, he brought a small, elegant box for each of his students.  He passed them out carefully to them, make sure that each received the correct box.  Then he told them that they could look in their individual boxes.  "But you must look carefully and privately.  Do not share the contents of your boxes with your peers.  As I said, this is a personal gift, tailored and unique to each of you individually."

The students all opened the lids of their boxes and peered discreetly inside.   There was one student, how worked hard in class but didn't always get great results looked into his box and realized it was  empty.  He looked around at his peers, and saw all of them smiling happily, seemingly satisfied with their secret gifts.  He tried to put on a smile, and imagined that some of them, too, might have empty boxes, and that they too were pretending to be happy for the sake of appearances.

The teacher began to talk again, and he described the types of the gifts he had given, in general terms.  They sounded very wonderful.  The student felt more and more frustrated and sad, but he kept his equanimity.  Equanimity was an important trait, according to their teacher.

Then the teacher said, "some of you may not have received a gift.  If you don't have a gift, you must not feel disappointed.  You should not become depressed or feel dejected.  You may get a wonderful gift, but what you have now is what you have.  Keep your equanimity."

The student suddenly felt overwhelmed by the exact feelings his teacher was telling he should not have.  He suddenly lost all self-control and equanimity, and burst into weeping.  It simply wasn't fair.  And somehow, having his teacher insist that such unfairness must be borne in equanimity was a kind of last straw, and he completely lost it.  He wept and wept.

Caveat: Fantasies of the real

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 8(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: Salvation through proprioception

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 8(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: The Body Without Organs (you wish!)

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 7(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: A muskrat chases a goose

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 7(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: I <3 My Monkey Mind

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 6(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: .........................ddddddddddddddssdfrwwafff.cat

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 6(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: The fetishization of misery

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 5(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: The pain in my ass

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 5(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: Adhitthana

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 4(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

"Adhitthana" means "strong determination."

Today, we have been told that we should be "sitting with strong determination," which means sitting still:  not changing position, not changing posture, not opening up hands.

Why is this?  I understand it.  It's discipline.  But it's very difficult.  The first time I try it, I struggle so much with the pain and ache in my legs and back, that I'm not really doing any kind of meditation of any kind.  Just sitting, with strong determination.

The second time goes better.  I spend some time on anapana -- observing the respiration on my upper lip.  Observing.  Observing.  Pain in my legs, but not unbearable.  Cross-legged, sitting.

There's a kind of exhilaration when the hour finishes.  I feel accomplishment.  Not sure that's the objective.  But by the end of the hour of sitting perfectly still, I also feel these weird spots of "non-sensation" in parts of my body:  mostly in the hands and arms.  It's not numbness, but there's nothing to feel, so it's like a hole in the self-body-map.  All it takes is slight flexing of the muscles in the hand, and it feels perfectly normal.  So strange.

Caveat: Foucault's Fun Farm

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 4(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: O blessed itching sensation

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 3(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: Touch of Desperation

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 3(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

The main teacher of the Vipassana movement, whom we watch speaking in videos each evening, has a strong Hindi accent.  When he talks about our practice of "anapana" (meditation on feeling our respiration on and around our noses and upper lips), he uses the phrase "touch of respiration" -- but his accent renders this "touch of desperation" to my ears.  And that's a bit how I'm feeling.

Caveat: True Dogma

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 2(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: False Joy

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 2(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

At 4:40 PM, I find my Buddha-nature in my left nostril.  But it's a false alarm.

Really, all that's happening is that I'm calming down.  My mind is still wandering a lot.  And we're watching our respiration.  And I noticed that earlier today, when my mind wandered, it was mostly agitated, worrying, negative thoughts.  But this afternoon, I found that my mind would wander to positive things -- daydreams, happy things.  And at the same time, I'm watching my breathing.  In the morning, it was mostly in the right nostril.  And this afternoon, it has switched to the left nostril.  So there must be something happy in my left nostril, QED. 

I realize this is fallacious argument.  Also, having happy distracted thoughts instead of negative distracted thoughts still isn't matching the objective, I don't think.  The idea is to detach from both kinds of distracting thoughts.

All the same, it put me in a very cheerful, joyful, almost elated mood, having all these happy distracted thoughts.

Caveat: Which nostril?

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 1(b)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: Happiness is serious business

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 1(a)" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

Caveat: Vipassana Day Zero

[This is a "back-post";  it is a work-in-progress, so it may change partially or completely, with materials added or taken away, over the next several days or weeks.  This is "day 0" of my stay at the Vipassana Meditation retreat.  For general comments and summary, see "day 11."]

I am going to a "meditation camp" by an organization called Vipassana.  "Vipassana" is the name of the meditation they practice, something popularized by a teacher named S.N. Goenka, ethnically Indian but born and raised in Burma.  I would classify it as a sort of neo-orthodox theravada buddhist trandition, though Goenka and his followers like to claim it is "non-sectarian" -- more about this claim later.

I am not allowed to use computer or writing materials, but each day I will compose one or more titles to blog entries, that I can remember and use to cue memories later on, and then write down after the retreat is over.  

The camp is in Pecatonica, Illinois, about 20 minutes west of Rockford.   The site is very beautiful.  I signed in, put my cellphone, etc. in storage, attended an orientation and introduction, and got settled in the dormitory.

Here is our daily schedule:

4:00-4:30 AM.  First gong.  Wake up, shower, etc.

4:30-6:30 AM.  Meditation.

6:30-8:00 AM.  Breakfast.  Personal time.  (I already know, this will be "nap time" US Army style.)

8:00-9:00 AM.  Group meditation.

9:00-11:00 AM.  Instruction and meditation.

11:00-12:00.  Lunch.

12:00-1:00 PM.  One-on-one interviews with the teacher.

1:00-2:30 PM.  Meditation.

2:30-3:30 PM.  Group meditation.

3:30-5:00 PM.  Instruction and meditation.

5:00-6:00 PM.  Tea.  (There will be fruit but no meal -- students are encouraged to fast after mid-day.)

6:00-7:00 PM.  Group meditation.

7:00-8:15 PM.  Discourses by the main teacher (via videotape).

8:15-9:00 PM.  Instruction and meditation.

9:00-9:30 PM.  Questions and answers with teachers, or personal time.

9:30 PM.  Lights out.

Caveat: Whitewater, Wisconsin

I stayed with my friends Bob, Sarah and Henry last night.  They got about a foot of snow over the last 24 hours.  Here are some pictures I took of the snow, this morning.

My truck:

Henry and the snowman:

My snow dog that I made:

Caveat: Ummm

I will be completely "offline" for the next 11 days.  I'm going on a meditation retreat.

No, I haven't become a buddhist.  Or anything like that.  And, actually, I've felt somewhat embarrassed telling some of the people who know me that I'm doing this, but in fact it's something I've wanted to do, and have been planning, on and off, for not just years, but decades.   I guess I feel embarrassed because it doesn't really match the cynical, anti-spiritual persona I present of myself.  Well, anyway...

I will be off the internet, off cellphones, not even taking reading material, for this next week and a half.  If I come out a weird cultist, I'm counting on everyone to do some kind of "intervention" quickly.  But as my friend Bob said, earlier today,  I came out still myself from the Army, and lots of other crazy things... no reason why this should affect me any differently, right?

"I will always retain my inner core of pure cynicism," I retorted.  But it's been shading toward a weird, optimistic sort of cynicism for some years now, I would add.   The positive-thinking cynic?

Caveat: Pretty Good Continent

I visited my "friends-from-Korea" Joe and Christine this evening, in Bloomington, Indiana, after driving across from Philadelphia and staying in a motel last night south of Pittsburgh.

Joe said something funny:  "I keep following your blog, waiting for you to stop moving, but you keep moving."   I've been traveling a lot, definitely.   North America seems like a pretty good continent.

More later.

Caveat: Chévere

Visité con me amiga Asima hoy, en Filadelfia.   Siendo puertorriqueña, ella es suele usar la palabra "chévere," que es un argot caribeño para decir "cool."   En este foto se ven unas máscaras "vejigantes" que me intriguían...

Ésta es la casa donde vivía durante mi primer año en la Universidad de Pennsylvania, en la 43rd con Baltimore.  

Caveat: Michelle's Ghost

I stopped and had dinner with my friend Basil last night, in Morgantown, where he's enrolled in a graduate program in TESOL.  It was weird seeing someone from my "life in Korea" while driving around the US, but he's a very cool guy and in some ways he was my best friend during my time in Korea. 

Today, I stopped in Quakertown.  It was snowing hard, and eastern Pennsylvania is very beautiful.  But there are personal ghosts of a difficult past, resident in the names of highways and towns, in the vistas of rivers and in the office parks alongside freeways.  I'm trying to make peace with some of these ghosts, and the ghost of ghosts is Michelle's ghost.  I went to the house where she took her own life, in June of 2000.  I wasn't there -- we were already separated, although divorce wasn't something we were talking about seriously, at that point.  But we'd been talking on the phone about once a week, all that spring and early summer.  So I knew "where she was at" and I knew things weren't going well.  When I got the call from her mom that she had died, I had already bought the airplane ticket to Philadelphia -- I had intuited something terrible was happening, perhaps. 

I flew out, and it was chaotic, nightmarish.  I spent long hours in that house in Quakertown, where I'd never actually lived, since she and Jeffrey had moved in there after I'd gone to Los Angeles to stay with my father.  All my "stuff" was there, along with hers.  I had to sort it all out, without offending the debt-lawyers who wanted to liquidate assets.

So, today I visited that house in Quakertown.  I sometimes have had a strong feeling that Michelle's ghost is following me around in the world.  But other times, I've thought that if she has a ghost, it's more likely tied down at that house.  Stranded.

I parked my truck and got out and walked around.  I talked to Michelle's ghost, telling her that I wanted to come visit, to tell her how Jeffrey was doing, what I'd been doing.  I opened the passenger door to my truck, and I invited her to join me in my travels.  I don't know that she came along.  I don't know that she was there.  I'm not really a believer in ghosts, but I do believe in powerful psychological symbolisms.  I guess.

Here is a picture of the house in Quakertown.

Caveat: Somewhere in Ohio

My extremely disorganized, whirlwind tour to the East is well underway.   I'm basically driving to Philly for the weekend, with side trips to New Jersey, West Virginia and Indiana squeezed in where they best fit the itinerary.   It snowed continuously all across Wisconsin, driving down last night, but Chicago was clear at midnight and beautiful.  And now I'm in Ohio, near Oberlin, which makes me remember my year in politics, 1984, when I worked for the Mondale campaign and ended up at some conference/rally in Oberlin during one hectic long weekend.   That was a long time ago, eh?

Caveat: Kafka Teaching at Hagwon

I woke from a vivid, angry dream.  Was it from all that exertion, yesterday, moving my stuff?  Is it because I'm stressing over the fact that I haven't heard back from Curt about the job?  Not sure...

I dreamed that I was starting my teaching at some new hagwon.  In the dream, it's Curt's, but it doesn't look like Curt's (which I've visited and know very well what it looks like).  The place is VERY disorganized, and resembles a theme-park more than an Ilsan hagwon.  On my first day, they hand me only a class schedule, not even any books.  I'm late to my first class, because I don't hear any bell.  And all the classes after that are in a row, with no breaks, and I can't find them.  I walk into random classrooms, and ask, "is this...?" to find out if it's the correct class.

The kids are recalcitrant, and then they begin to lie.  They answer "No" when it should be "yes" to my question.  And then, I lose the piece of paper with the schedule I'd been given.  I go back to the staff office, and no one there is willing to admit they work there.  No one will give me a new schedule.  There's some guy cleaning the floors, but when I start to talk to him, he runs away.

I'm climbing ladders and going down seemingly hidden passages to find classrooms, only to find they're empty, or already with another teacher.  One teacher asks me, "why are you teaching here?"  There's a group of kids sitting in what looks like a sidewalk cafe, but they're clearly supposed to be in class.  I begin to yell at them, and they just laugh.  I go back to the office to try to find out what class they are -- are they mine?  By the time I get back to the sidewalk cafe, they're all gone.

Very strange dream.  Shows a lot of anxiety over the teaching thing, huh?

I woke to find snow on the ground, outside.  After yesterday's efforts, I'm majorly unmotivated.  Snow is beautiful, but inconvenient to run errands in.

Here's the truck, in Mark & Amy's driveway, covered with a dusting of fresh snow:

Caveat: Jared, 7 ... Storage Unit Full of Stuff, 1

I win!  I win!

Well... not really.  But I was productive.

I downgraded my storage unit to a smaller size, today.  And moved all my stuff into the smaller unit.  I counted 117 round trips, walking between the two units, about 100 yards apart, carrying all my stuff.  And that's not counting the trips my friends Mark and Amy and Martin and Charlie made when they came to help toward the end of the day. 

But I got everything moved, on schedule, and everything fit.  I have 50 boxes of books, 20 boxes of old notes and files, 30 boxes of who-knows-what-kind-of-junk, a refrigerator, a couch, bookshelves, tables, many plastic bins of clothing, etc.  A lot of stuff.

Now I feel very tired.  I think tomorrow I will start driving East.

Here is a picture of about 50 boxes of books, arrayed in spaced piles 4 high, in preparation for the journey on a 2-wheeled dolly over to the new, smaller storage unit:

Caveat: NOIZ

Speaking of silence... when written in all caps, if you invert the name "ZION", you get "NOIZ".    Cool.  Huh huh.

So regular life is an upside-down canyon of red rock?

Caveat: Bored in Las Vegas

I know there are some ways that I am quite strange.  One thing that happens, when I'm traveling alone, is that I will go off on long walks for no good reason, or as an alternative to some much more convenient means of transportation.  So this morning, I walked from my hotel on the Las Vegas Strip to the airport, even though a taxi would have probably been less than 8 dollars.

Las Vegas doesn't really interest me much.  It's not that I don't like kitch -- I love it.  And it's pure americana, in some respects.  But it's very hard for me to find stuff to DO in Las Vegas:  I don't gamble, I despise dining out alone, and going to shows or movies alone can be kind of depressing too.  I guess all of this could be summarized by stating that Las Vegas might be a fun town, WITH someone, but it's stunningly dull for someone who's alone.

I went on a long walk along the strip last night, looking at lights and signs and people-watching.  And I slept a lot, in my pyramid-shaped hotel that I got for an incredibly low rate (because they expect you to spend your money gambling and watching the shows, of course).  And I got up this morning and strapped on my luggages and walked to the airport.

Here is a last look at Zion, taken yesterday upon departure:

Caveat: "입을 다스리는 글"

"입을 다스리는 글" is a title to a proverb (or prayer) that was on a piece of cloth that I gave as a gift to my friends Juli and Keith in Oregon.  I have been feeling somewhat embarrassed because I had not conveyed to them very accurately the true meaning of the saying.   Here is an updated and hopefully correct translation for all the world to see (and thanks to my friend Jinhee for her help translating).  My friends Juli and Keith may not want to have it on their wall given the new meaning, or they may decide they like it.  I spent some time thinking deeply about it today, and decided I like it, after all.

 

입을 다스리는 글

말해야 할 때 말하고 말해서는 안될 때 말하지 말라 말해야 할 때 참묵해도 안되고 말해서는 안될 말해서도 안되고 입아, 입아 그렇게만 하여라

A note on controlling one's tongue.

One should speak when necessary, and not speak when one should not. One shouldn't stay silent when one should be speaking, and one should not speak what one should not say. O tongue, my tongue, I pray you do just that.

I think silence is very important.  It's my vaguely quaker upbringing, shining through, perhaps.  We went hiking this morning up into a "slot canyon" in the eastern part of Zion National Park this morning.  There were six of us, walking and tromping and scrambling and climbing and tossing rocks into pools to make fording them possible, and talking.  Lots of talking.  Finally, we were relaxing on the face of rock above the canyon, and Jay wanted to have a prayer.  And I butted in and said, how about a Quaker-meeting minute-of-silence.   This was approved, and at last, we were seated, gazing at the sky and rock and trees, and it was silent for about 5 or so minutes.  It was very beautiful.

So keeping one's mouth shut can be nice.  There are definitely times for that.

Here are some pictures from this morning.

 

 

 

 

 

[this is a "back-post" written 2009-11-30]