- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
- Nothing is absolutely certain.
Fun With Sharks
Great White Shark
It all started last year when the National Geographic Channel put on their annual SharkFest. There s something so beautiful, yet so menacing about these predators of the sea that I am enthralled.
When I first moved to Los Angeles, I used to love going to the beach and going in the water. Some ten years ago, I stopped going—mostly because the ocean was getting more polluted, and my blepharitis began bothering me increasingly during the summers.
Although I never encountered a shark in the water, I was always conscious of the life in the ocean. There were all the large strands of kelp and, from time to time, dead fish.
I live only two miles from the beach, but I have yet to visit the sands of Santa Monica Bay this year. When it gets hot, I do go to Chace Park in the Marina to enjoy the sea breeze while picnicking and reading. There I get the smell of the sea and also get to watch the sea lions and gulls the alight on the shore.
As for the sharks, I would rather see them on television. No in-person shark encounters for me!
Which?
How about both?
Wisdom?
I make no special claim for myself, but as I age I no longer get involved in self-destructive activities that devour my time and my life.
Dropping Off to Sleep
Before I retired, I had difficulty falling asleep. That was primarily because, in all my jobs, my bosses were megalomaniacs who were experts at fomenting stress in their work force.
Then something interesting happened. It suddenly became cheap and easy to go downtown. The opening of the Expo Line (now the E-train) from Santa Monica to the L.A. Financial District. I wasted no time in getting a senior citizen TAP card, which meant I could whiz downtown in 45 minutes for a mere 35¢ each way.
One Thursday, I went to the Central Library at 5th & Spring Streets. I noticed that there was a free half hour mindful meditation session at 12:30 PM in one of the two meeting rooms. I attended and suddenly things seemed to change for the better in my life. I was still working, but it was apparent that the accounting firm would close at year’s end.
It suddenly became easier to fall asleep. Martine usually fell asleep around 11:00 PM, and I followed a little more than an hour later. I still chewed a 3 mg Melatonin tablet, but I started to fall asleep by using mindful meditation. I started off with three deep breaths, followed it up with an inventory of my body, from the blepharitis in my eyes to my tendency to develop ingrown toenails. Next, I would concentrate on my breaths and incorporating the outside sounds of traffic and aircraft.
Usually, I would be out within 30 minutes. Sometimes it would take longer; sometimes, shorter. I had difficulty only if I had a long drive ahead the next morning, which wasn’t often.
The key: With mindful meditation, I have a way of neutralizing stress.
Bedtime
I usually go to bed shortly after midnight, unless there’s a great movie on TV. I wake any time between seven and ten in the morning, depending on how much sleep I feel I need.
Forest Road 300
The One Major Part of Arizona I Have Not Visited
I am fairly familiar with the desert portions of Arizona, with the sole exception of Phoenix, which I have little interest in visiting. One non-desert part of the state I would like to see is the Mogollon Rim, which runs for some two hundred miles (322 km) as a series of high cliffs in the east central part of the state.
Running along the rim is Forest Road 300.. According to an article in Arizona Highways:
Measured in thousands of feet and hundreds of miles, it’s [the Rim] a massive wall of rock that begins near Arizona’s border with New Mexico and stretches diagonally across most of the state. Through the lens of a camera, a set of binoculars or your own baby blues, the views from the top of the Rim are stunning, and on a clear day, you can see all the way to Mount Lemmon.
The vistas steal the show, but there’s a lot to see along Forest Road 300, which can be approached from the east, near Woods Canyon Lake, or from the west, just north of Strawberry. This listing is written from the west, and it begins with an uphill climb through a thick pine forest—the Mogollon Rim is home to the world’s largest stand of ponderosas. After 1.2 miles, FR 300 intersects what used to be the General Crook Trail, a historic wagon route that was used in the 1870s and 1880s to provide logistical support for General George Crook in the U.S. Army’s war against the Apaches.
From reports I have heard, the road is being paved, to the accompaniment of complaints from the 4×4 community. I don’t know if my Subaru is up to a long isolated ride on an unimproved dirt road, but I’m willing to give it a try.
I hope that Martine and I can pay a visit to the Rim and various other parts of the state early this autumn.
Comfort
Daily writing prompt
What strategies do you use to increase comfort in your daily life?
- Most nights, I get eight or more hours of sleep
- I use mindful meditation to calm me down
- Most of the time, I prepare my own meals
- If I feel my body needs it, I take a nap
- Very important: I avoid getting sucked in by the news on TV
Death of a Crow
Martine at Chace Park
It was another warm day, so I decided to drive to Chace Park in the Marina . stopping at Trader Joe on the way to pick up a salad and beverage for a picnic on the way. I had only a few pages more to read of Virgil’s Georgics and hoped to finish the book while enjoying the sea breezes.
It was not to be. A crow was flopping around on the ground, unable to fly. Several passersby had stopped and were loudly discussing what to do about the poor crow. There were as many opinions as there were people. Eventually, a homeless person picked up the bird and placed it a few feet away in the shade.
What did I do? Nothing. Crows are wild creatures. Any intervention on my part would have terrified the bird at a point when it was dealing with its own problems. I was not about to make a pet of it so that I could brag to my friends that I had “rescued” it.
I was outraged that the people in the park had in some way profaned the final moments of one of God’s creatures.
Perhaps many people would feel that I was being hard hearted because I chose not to interfere. Perhaps I was being kinder to that bird by leaving it alone. After all, I actually like crows.
Future
Nothing. I am 80 years old, and thus—as they say in chess—well into the endgame.
Tarnmoor 
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