When The Child Was A Child

I saw this film when it was new, beside a beautiful young woman with whom I did not yet realise I was in love.

She was also a German speaker, and afterward, shuffling through the autumn leaves of Northwest Portland, she taught me to say „Als das kind kind war“ properly.

Or any road, as properly as someone who doesn't speak German can say it.

I served her tea in my apartment, her eyes imprinted on my soul, and we parted without kissing.

Re-watching this opening scene almost 40 years later, it's like prophecy – the filmmaker's patina of memory, the palpable Zen in the poetry, and the young man as yet too distracted to be awake to it.

At least I had a better excuse in that place and moment.

WW: Nacre sunset

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Sun shower

(Not real interested in coming back inside today.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

Anzac Day Meditation

Died aged 18 near this spot.
April 25th, 1915.
Did his best.

Australian tombstone at Gallipoli.


(Photo courtesy of Chris Sansbury and Unsplash.com.)

WW: More oyster mushrooms

(Still Pleurotus ostreatus. I've posted on these before, but it never ceases to amaze me how attached this species is to the saltchuck. Rare just a few hundred yards inland, if you can smell the bay, this choice edible isn't just common, it's riotous. Something in the chemical signature of sea air.

The above photo documents just a few feet of downed big leaf trunk that's covered with them. And it's not the only host in this patch of woods, either; if I'd been of a mind, or just greedier, I could have had gallons.

But I only took about five stems, and am busy deciding what to do with them. [Among other things, oyster mushrooms are great breaded and fried, and make a worthy substitute for seafood or chicken in veganised dishes.]

A spring blessing that never gets old.)


Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

Quitting On Principle

A friend recently posted this meme on social media. His immediate intent was the current political situation, but in fact, it's really standing policy in any circumstance.

Sometimes we commit to things that take us down paths we wouldn't have chosen had we foreseen them. In the past I've incurred damage when I felt I couldn't back out of an initial commitment; that it was universally binding.

They rarely are. And even in matters where backing out implies a penalty, you're free to choose the penalty.

We tend to confuse anticipated blowback with lack of agency.

I had a teacher when I was young who told us that there are only two have-to's in life: you have to die, and you have to choose. Everything else is choice.

"What if someone points a gun at you?" we said.

"You can still refuse to do what he says."

"What if he shoots you?" we objected.

"Then you chose that. And if you do what he says, you also chose that."

I remember that some classmates had trouble with this notion, and petulantly rejected the teacher's point. But Zen agrees with him. Choice is always yours.

And any road, as I write this, guns aren't in play.

But I wouldn't bet on tomorrow.

These are karmic times. At such moments it's important to maintain a firm understanding of right and wrong, and what you owe.

What you have to do, and what you choose to do.

WW: Gyrovague beach ball

(This lone beach ball rolled past my front yard during a windstorm last week, from unknown origins and pursued by no person. As I was then occupied, I was unable to run after it and corral it. Next day I was in the back yard, and here it came again, travelling in the opposite direction this time, along the lane behind my house. I have no idea if it ever returned to its home, or if its erstwhile owners even know it's missing, but St. Benedict, any road, would not approve.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.