heathervescent

Kicking Dust

The wheels turned off the pavement to dust. We bounced over the transition. The road was level, no washboarding and I accelerated painting a trail of dust to the mountain. I follow the girls names, zigzagging and fish-tailing the back, never mind the sloshing gasoline.

The dust line ends at my gallows gate. Beyond it is a metaphor and a lot of hard work. I roll the wheels beyond and stop. The road noise is swallowed by the sweltering heat. And it is sweltering.

I pull the thermometer from its packaging and watch the red line rise. Inside the house it stops at 108. Despite this number, the desert is alive. The wind blows, hot as an oven. There is the constant hum of insects and the birds we've displaced chirp and twitter. 

We sit inside, in that heat, drinking effervescent wine. I look around at the bare beams, the crumbing insulation, the buckling floor, the jerry-rigged windows. My eyes soak in the view, looking for clues in the rusty nails, the window frames. My mind works the ratiocination. My imagination creates stories of the past, possibilities of the future. My body suffers in the heat and calculates the effort of these possibilities. For now, enjoying the cool bubbles.

Coyote Fear

I am constantly amazed at how resilient we humans are - and yet so fragile. How beautifully contradictory.

As the boyf was out of of town, I decided to take the opportunity to spend some quality time in the desert at LoriLisa, my little scrap of Mojave wasteland. I knew it was going to be hot: 90+ degree hot, but I was not dismayed. My plan was to work in the evenings and mornings and lay low during the hot afternoon. 

I headed out early afternoon on Friday in time to arrive for a spectacular combination sunset and moon rise. Truly only planetary bodies can compete with the expansive geological scale of the desert. Mountain ranges eroded into prehistoric effluvial plains. It was over one of these ranges a blue-ivory moon rose from the desert haze. I was racing the clock. Flooring the pedal that flogged my combustion engine faster. I could not reach my destination fast enough.

Behind me the I saw the red-orange rays of the sun setting behind a past range. In a moment, the pavement gave way to sand and my tires kicked up a line of dust as I headed to the far edge of this sparsely populated civilization. We were bumping and jumping through the washes and fish-tailed the back tires a bit just for fun. 

The tires stopped, the radio silent, I stepped out into the cooling desert.

 * * *

We sat in my front yard, splayed out on a retired bedspread watching the planets shine and the moon rise, getting smaller and whiter as the night progressed. That's when the coyote's started their howling. I had forgotten to pack my pistol and had only my small knife on me. When packing for the trip, I had considered exit strategies for mere human (redneck/meth-head) predators - and had completely forgotten about natural ones. It was a lesson in city living. It's gotten to me. I felt tamed. 

Out in these places I have heard the lone or two coyotes calling out his brethren, often far far in the distance. Not this time. This was a large pack - I would expect at least 7 or more. And it sounded VERY near. Intertwined with the coyote's barks and howls, I could hear a dog. It was easy to hear the difference. I expected the pack to visit LL any moment. For hours the coyotes barked in the near-distance. We watched and listened to the desert, no safety of the firelight. (I had opted against a fire because the moon was so bright.)

The planet set and the moon carved an ecliptic pathway across the sky, outshining the milky way and all but the brightest stars. The howling subsided and that's when I noticed the strange rasping sound of the wind in the creosote bushes. My vision was shifting and everything took on an underwater illuminated pointillism.

Moonshadows lept from my fence posts, my house, my legs. I was not quite brave enough to do my midnight walkabout - one of my plans for the evening - with that pack of coyotes and my pistol left at home. So I strayed not far from my land. 

The wind caressed my skin - soft warm and comforting. The upside of an unbearable desert day is a warm night. What does one do out here, I pondered? What can one do, but watch and think and see and listen and be silent. To be present. To feel the wind. To see the moon shadows. To hear the coyotes. To smell the air. To taste fear and comfort. To be present in the moment for hours.

Fairfax Morning

I'm accelerating as I take the left turn onto Fairfax. I glance over and I notice the dog pressing and leaning into the passenger seat. He's learned to lean with my race car driving, even I take it down a notch when he's with me.

I shift up and put my foot down on the accelerator.

I decide to stop at Mani's for coffee. Then I look in the mirror. I've skipped applying make-up this morning in my rush to get into the office prior to our long engineering meetings. I think, darn, what is the fun in stopping in for coffee if I look like I just rolled out of bed. I think, if I lost 30 pounds, I would be mistaken for a star. And I remember, several years ago that was indeed the case.

However, I've got a long engineering meeting ahead of me and I need some nourishment lest I lose focus or get irritated. So I tell myself, if there is a spot immediately out front, I'll stop. There is. So I don my huge purple Versace shades (brand names just end up in your regular wardrobe after living in LA for a few years), put the car in neutral and slide into the spot. The pup is still chilling in the passenger seat. 

As I jump out, I notice a guy sitting at a sidewalk table. He stands out to me. Something about him shines. I'm feeling self conscious in Navy: boots dress, jacket, and fumble with my coins at the parking meter. It's so obvious he's checking me out, that he states the obvious aloud to me and his dog. I must be a whirlwind of energy. As I leave, I ponder dropping my business card, but I don't want to necessarily indicate I'm interested in him... too bad I don't have one of my purple tornado stickers with me.

* * *

I'm sitting at the traffic light, my hands folded in my lap like a buddha meditating. I am in some ways. My gaze softens, I take in the entire scene around me. The 99 cent truck trying to pull out into traffic. The white SUV in front of me. The black mazda sportscar to my front left. The orb is quietly pulsing on my stereo. The light turns and traffic moves. Without thinking my hand connects with my stick shifter, my left foot engages in a dance as I accelerate through the levels. I feel glazed wood under my hands. The woman who ordered my car opted for the luxury package and my dash, wheel and stick are walnut. I feel a soft lick. Pup's attention is on my hand. He knows where the action is and he wants to be in it.

How WE Create I

If you are interested in my Humanity Plus Summit Talk and missed it, well, technology is in your favor. The presentation slides are up on slideshare, a rough document of my talk is here, and the streaming video can be found here (you'll have to fast forward to 25:39.)

 

I'm pretty happy with the way the presentation went, even though I got a little flustered when the time guy told me the times. (The timer clock on the podium was very wrong and it showed me as having more time) so unfortunately I rushed through the end of the slides. But I felt it was a solid talk about a topic (Identity Creation) that I think about an awful lot. I got a decent enough response that I'd like to talk about this topic some more and dive into the nitty gritty in the future. Thanks to everyone for the support!