heathervescent

My (almost) European Upbringing

My mom was an international flight attendant in the grand age of airlines. Later, me and my brother came along, but she still flew international and sometimes took us along. I remember opening up the cabinet for after school snacks, only to find it crammed with "weird" things like nutella and pignolli and other things I never learned. The bathroom always had that weird British toothpaste. I remember the first time I had sparkling water. My childhood favorites were steak, fries, chocolate mousse and sparkling water. I adored carbonara and refused to believe that spaghetti with tomato sauce was pasta for years. I suppose in retrospect, my name, heathervescent, came 15 years later than it should have.  Now I can drink all the sparkling water I care too.

Enter my first European trip in 12+ years. I hate to admit it, but I was a bit over Europe. I spent lots of travel time before I was 18 visiting this amazing place. I walked around Paris, Athens. Was up at 3am in London and visited all the traditional tourist (and non-tourist) places with my mom, sk8er brother and yours truly as proto-punk. I wandered the bazaars in Cairo and Istanbul (Not Constantinople.) I even ran away from Northern Germany with my best high school friend to Brussels 20 years ago. 

Here I find myself in Brussels - and Belgium again. 20 years after my little international escapade. Being driven through fields on the way to the office. Fields that feel so familiar and yet completely different.

It's a strange sensation. I'm completely comfortable here. I am loving the cool weather and tall green trees more than I could imagine. I love passing the fields. I feast my eyes on the brick buildings. Brick is not a building material much used in my beloved City of Angels. 

I walk the streets, my favorite fluevogs tapping out a rhythm. The boyf would not believe the amount of walking I have done with not a thought. I find myself stumbling through french I had not spoken (except a few phrases I regularly use) for almost two decades. The words and sounds come back. My vocabulary is shit, but I remember how much I loved the way you form your mouth when speaking French. It's much softer than Portugues.

At dinner, the woman at the table helped translate when I didn't understand the waiter asking me how to cool the steak. I think, Bloody in Uma Thurman style, but say rare. Later as we chat, I make the excuse that I am bad at French because I speak much better Portugues. What a surprise, she speaks it too. She with the Portuguese accent and me with my new world Brazilian one. What a surprise. I should be used to these kinds of surprises, but I never am. Delighted every time.

I'm here in this place. I've captured the feeling; but can't describe it yet. The nuance, the difference, the understanding, the comparison. The familiar. The new. It will come. I will describe it one day. I can wait.

 

Failing Pattern Recognition

I used to wonder why my dog seemed to know when the boyfriend (aka S.) got home while we on a walk. At a certain point in the walk, he would stop being interested with the walk, sniffing the bushes or wanting to walk more and instead - huff it back home. Mr Dog would practically drag me the last block home, breaking into a run if possible, down the driveway and up to the front door. 

Yeah, sure, sometimes S. would be home; but sometimes he wasn't. Mr Dog was never upset when he ran back and there was no S. When Mr Dog ran back and S. was home = positive reinforcement that maybe Mr Dog has some secret sense. But he wasn't always right. And when S. wasn't usually home when Mr D and I  got home, Mr Dog stopped dragging me that last block.

I never really got it. Until last week.

I read some research or an article (I forget exactly where - probably here on the internet or in one of my Science/Nature/Science Mags subscriptions) that explained, when a rat was randomly rewarded with a treat 60% of the time he pushed on a bar. He would push it all the time, even the times he didn't get a treat. This helped him maximize the treat - sure he only got it 60% of the time, but that 60% of the time was worth the 40% he didn't get one. 

The study compared this experiment to a similar one done on humans. In the human case, the human tried to figure out what the pattern of reward was to increase the reward beyond 60%. In doing so, the human actually reduced the successful reward to 40 or 50% (I don't remember off the top of my head). So the human, in trying to figure out the pattern, actually reduced it's success.

That seemed to explain my dog's behavior.

Then I started thinking about my behavior - how I tried to understand and recogonize patterns. What if all those so called patterns are actually pure randomness? It's changed the way I've been thinking about some things. 

I think I'm onto something here. I think getting caught up in patterns: trying to identify them, trying to understand them, might not always be so helpful. (Now, of course, there are times/things that do have patterns.) Maybe not everything has a pattern. And maybe some of the more complicated patterns we believe in, may be random or wild cards in retrospect.

 

Farcaster Flyfishing

I'm standing in shoulder high thistles, mosquitoes buzzing around. Two wet dogs are tromping between the muddy bank, the river and the drift boat. I'm holding some poles and my backpack, trying to figure out how to manage to get into the boat. Once I mentally gave up staying dry, I joined the dogs, splashing through the water and onto the boat. 

The boat launch was packed with guys in fly fishing equipment. A line of at least 8 pickups with boats on trailers were waiting to be put in the water. Dogs were running around. Fishing gear was everywhere.  I didn't notice there weren't any women around, until a fisherman mentioned under his breath that it was nice to see a woman fly fishing. I paused a moment, to wonder what I had gotten myself into!

It was Dad's idea. He got into fly fishing several years ago and after lots of research, decided to get a driftboat. The guys who built his boat (the totally awesome team from Boulder Boat Works) were having their first annual get together on the Big Horn in Montana. Last month Dad asked me if I wanted to come along on the fishing trip. Now, I haven't been fishing for at least 20 years. Maybe 30 years. I had lots of reasons to stay at home and work, workaholic I am. Then I realized, opportunities like this don't come along. You never know how long your old man is going to be around. And there's always that Harry Chapin song (Cats in the Cradle) that I vowed never to be a reflection of my life. So I said yes, booked a ticket and packed my bags.  

Back to the Big Horn. I'm in a boat with two guys I've just met and their two dogs. The dogs make me really happy and Chris and Jeremy turn out to be totally cool guys. I chill in the back of the boat as they take turns rowing and fishing. I'm watching them cast and catch, learning to watch the water, read the fish, how the boat moves on the river. There are so many things I'm missing, I realize with an offhand remark about cicadas.

But I'm channeling my zen mind, beginner mind. I've achieved all my goals just being here. Of course I try my hand at fly fishing and slowly get the hang of it. It's physics! I look into the river, muddy clear, and see the river grass (reminding me of the opening Solaris shot) and rocks. I watch the banks, the cottonwoods. I think of Chicken John, Huckleberry Finn and Farcasters. I think about the River Tethys and how that journey may have been inspired by my immediate experience. I have found other inspirations for Simmon's novels - mostly in my beloved Mojave or The Stars My Destination.

Later that night, back on dry land; a group assembles and we drink beers as the full moon rises. So much for the scheduled Perseid showers! But in the light of the full moon, I listen to hunter stories. I am fascinated. I'm the odd man out - first being a chick, and secondly being from Hollywood. But I can hold my own. How far I have come. I drink in their stories. I listen to them talk about hunting elk on the mountain. In my mind I see them spending cold nights, stalking the elk as he backtracks leading them on a circular trail. I see how much they respect the animal. Nature. The Mountain. I'm in awe.

Under a full Montana Moon a door opens and I am transported to another reality. A world so different, so fascinating, so new, so inspiring, so beautiful. The stories reverberate in my mind still. Thank you!

"I went. I went and took. What did I leave in return? My change." - the quotable h

Modern Dangers / Mindshare Reflections

I wanted to share a few reflections after participating in Mindshare and Project Butterfly's conversation around Complimentary Currencies. First, big thanks to the whole team - I thought this was a great panel and was honored to be part of it.

There were the usual few, who focused on the negative, doom and gloom, economic collapse as the end of the world. During the panel, I had a minor epiphany. We as humans have survived more dramatic catastrophes and created more unbelievable possibilities than what we face today.

The human species survived active predation, living in the wild, surviving highly sophisticated killers. (Don't get me started on DinoFelis and the dark African Caves. You can read it directly in Bruce Chatwin's Songlines.) We created language, naming objects we saw, as well as concepts like truth, justice and love. We created written language, using diverse alphabets. We understood/discovered laws of the universe like physics and mathematics.

Compared to those feats, an economic evolution pales. Come on people, we're talking about the method and process of transacting.

This is not rocket science. This is not discovering the laws of the universe. This doesn't have to be predatory. And it doesn't have to include (or exclude) particular values because they are not held by everyone.

Evolving the economic system is something we can do - and do faster and more effectively by working together.

There can be a space for day traders to play the money greed game, and a space for people who are vehemently opposed to this activity. The space can hold for both "opposing views." That's diversity. That's rocks bouncing against each other, shaping and changing each other. That's how we'll discover and learn what works.

Rapid economic evolution. We can do it together. Leave your judgements and preconceptions at the door. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but it's certainly not impossible.

Speaking at Mindshare / Project Butterfly

Are you interested in Complimentary Currencies? Then join me, along with Hollis, Micki and Sanjay to discuss what is happening in the complimentary currency space at this special Mindshare/Project Butterfly event. Details and (cheap!) tickets here. 

 

The Great Plains

Recent air travel has given the opportunity to shift my view of the surface of the earth. There's nothing I like better in an airplane than feasting (and I do mean feasting) my eyes on this planet we inhabit. Right now I'm gazing down on the Kansas plains rippled with river veins. I'm watching a thunderhead puff up into the atmosphere while grey streaks shower rain west of Wichita, dust rising from the plains.

When I lived in the midwest (Missouri and Iowa) I was always so frusterated that everyone thought the place was flat. OMG - so not the truth if you've ever driven anywhere (well, except maybe Nebraska). I moved far away from the big sky, seeking ocean blue bordered by mountain scapes. I searched out river cracked earthscapes in Utah and Arizona, along with my favored dry naked Mojave mountain ranger.

While recently driving up the eastern side of the Rockies, I was reminded of the great plains. I envisioned great glaciers slowly moving across the earth, grinding, grinding, grinding away at the crust. Leveling. Evening out the rough edges. Depositing rich earth. I was reminded of Hexagram 15: the Mountain in the Earth, which perfectly describes the great plains.

Many many years ago, when I returned to an Iowa winter, from a Brazilian summer (and the only tan of my life) I brought with me a new view of my state. I thought of the plains of the Serengetti - exotic and appealing to me - but only because I was half a world away. If I were to stand in that exotic place around the world, I might find the very spot I was in, exotic and appealing. As I drove the gravel roads through the corn and soybean fields, I pretended I was in as exotic place as the Serengetti. And in some cases, I was.

I look back at the great plains (I'm looking at them now, checker board fields, twisting rivers), I think about the ancient slow moving glaciers. I envision the mountain below the surface of the earth - ground down and smoothed out. I feel that strength radiating out. 

Scars

When I was five or six, I was bit in the face by a dog. 

My parents had taken to me visit some friends who lived on a farm outside the small town we lived in in Iowa. The girl was older than me and eager to impress me. We had met once or twice before. She tried to impress me by telling me their dog was so calm, she could step on its tail and it wouldn't do anything. I thought this was a very bad idea. But I was just a little girl, and she was eager to impress me. She grabbed my hand and pulled me outside into the hot, humid cornfield summer, to the shade of a tree where the dog was laying. Again, I said I thought it was a bad idea, but her brother chimed in that it's no problem. I tried to stay back, away from the dog, as she went to impress me. 

What happened was a blur. I saw her step forward and step on the dog's tail. She was saying something like, "look it's fine" when with a growl and leap the dog (who was larger than six year old self) jumped up, knocked me over and bit my face. I was told I screamed, but all I remember is being confused as to how I ended up under the dog. 

Next was all the excitement you would expect: people running outside, the dog running away, being picked up, worried mother, rocking me, holding a towel/ice on my bleeding face in the bathroom. Crying as I sat in the front seat of the car as we drove on empty highways. It was summer, the corn was high and I fixated on the cornrows in the fields as we drove by. The rural emergency room. My body, arms and legs were bound in a stretcher. No anaesthesia was given. The surgery had to take place with me apparently awake. I screamed at the doctors, called them cruel and said I didn't care about the risks of death. They loosened my bonds, and I calmed down. Invoking a quietness and traveling to the future in my mind - what I would do different in the future. It was terrifying watching them work the needle in my skin from my peripheral vision. (One bite was 1/2 inch from my eye.)

I got through the trauma. Two big scars marking my face. I gave up on being beautiful then. The scars opened up new possibilities. Erased the societal pressure to be a pretty. Erased the societal pressure to be anything defined.

I found out later, they killed the dog. Even then, I knew it wasn't the dog's fault he acted the way he did. The dog was just acting like a dog. The girl did a stupid thing. He didn't need to be killed for being what he was.

I haven't thought of this day for many years. My scars are just part of who I am. Thirty years later, they are faded to being almost unnoticeable, even while I see them, acknowledge them every day in the mirror. 

I was only reminded of this day, while reading a favorite book, The Scar, by China Mievelle. Mievelle's book gives me goosebumps and inspiration. Scars and Possibility. Like the floating city, I return to my scars (I have several more) to mine the possibilities. How boring would life be without the scars? A perfect cream filled face vs red puckered possibilities.

Movie Making: The Ultimate Influence

I leaned across the cashier counter where I usually pick up my favorite pineapple fried rice; but today is different. No thai is being cooked up in the kitchen. A table where I usually enjoy the best panag curry in LA had been transformed with white table cloths, crystal and china. Surrounding the scene is an array of vision capture mechanism: actors, cameras, sound operators. And others, those who would take a vision from my mind one night in November and bring it to the screen.

I remember that night. Sitting here at my computer. Darkness surrounding me, sirens sounding in the streets, Steely Dan and Stereolab coming through the speakers. Immersed in my research results, papers strewn over my desk. Sitting back in my chair and rolling the results in my mind. How would this data become the future? What do I see - what do I want to see? I wrote these two paragraphs. It was a story, a vision: realistic, based on possible technology and a positive outlook on the future.

Watching from my vantage in the back, I took in the scene. The actors at the table, the lights, the sound equipment and boom operator, the camera, DP, Director, 1st AD, extras in the back and all the crew. Everyone here at my request - to take a vision from my mind that night, and bring it to the world.

A positive vision of the future.

During a break later, the sound guy came up to me and asked, "When are we going to have this?! I always have this problem when I go out to dinner with my friends (10+ people) at conferences. Even if we all have cash, it's still a hassle because no one has change."

Exactly. This future is coming. I don't know how long it will take to get here, but it's what the people want, and there's a LOT of money businesses and banks can make, if they'll just embrace it.

* photo by Anna Metcalf