Exactly

Because Someone's Unclear on This

Happy Autumn

Like Joel said, Here's to an autumn unlike any other!

Coming Along

With the help of so many great people, the house is really coming along.

Much thanks to (in no particular order)...
Steve & Michelle Davis
Adam Klein
Brad, Birgitta, Maddax, and Vienna Clark
Glenn Krake
Amos Lanka
And our SF loaders...Trav, Jean, Joel, D&B, and Nathan

These people have unloaded our stuff, painted our walls, dreamed about hacking down (er, trimming back) trees, bought us breakfast, bought us dinner, flew, drove, bought coffee.

So, thanks everyone.

Fresh paint is still going on the walls and there are still boxes to be unpacked, but all in all, it's feeling pretty good. And Autumn begins tomorrow morning. And there was a perfect rainstorm followed by a double rainbow. Wow. I mean, wow.

Telltale Signs

Oktoberfest

Inheriting Someone Else's Story

That's what it feels like.

We arrived (Amos and I) to 908 SE 35th Ave, Portland, Oregon around 9pm. After a long, long day of driving (13 hours), I was a little emotionally drained.

It'd been a couple months since I had last seen this place. Rooms were shaped a little different than I remembered. Paint colors shifted, the floor was dirtier, fixtures were gold-colored? What? My mind had glazed over such things.

Walking around this evening, I had questions for the previous owners/tenants (whom I may never get the chance to speak to) about why they chose to put this light switch here instead of there. Why there's Pergo on top of hard wood in one of the closets? What about the caulking in the master bath...is it reliable? And the many small decisions they made that just "worked" for their life.

We are inheriting their story, their idiosyncracies. What a strange thing to realize.

I am grateful that I am here. I do miss my wife and son. I feel a tad overwhelmed at what work needs to be done, but it will come along. Deep breath. Going to sleep. Tomorrow I'll be greeted by good friends. G'night.

Breakfast with Amos at Carl's

Big Truck

That'll be my sweet ride tomorrow. Tonight we pack it and pray
everything fits.

Soundtrack to My Existence

Thanks Nathan for turning me onto M83. This song is me.

The Cyclical, Linear Nature of Things

Can’t stop what’s coming. It ain’t waitin’ on you, that’s vanity.

That's from No Country for Old Men. Lisa and I watched the film for the first time this weekend and found it compelling and enlightening. I mean, wow, What characters! What dialogue!

And this particular line stuck out to both of us. Perhaps because it points at a basic question that we both might have...I know it's a question I have.

Can we do anything?

I have asked the Universe publicly and privately in what way does our path go: linear or circular? Are we to believe that history cycles and some of us simply choose to be salt (and others are without trying), merely preserving the world? Or is history "going somewhere" and is that somewhere more beautiful or more destructive? Or both? Can a possibility even exist?

Changing the World is a notion most of us are familiar with. It's what we're all asked to do these days. And I'm not cynical enough yet to believe that it's all vanity. But perhaps a good deal of it is.

But where it really gets me is understanding myself. Should I expect to "progress" beyond who I am now, moving in a linear fashion? Or will I circulate all my life, with only circumstances change in order to make me feel like each experience is truly unique?

I dunno. But I have a feeling that it's a question that I'll ask most all my life. And I will say that the model of spiral dynamics (that Wilbur points out in A Theory of Everything) certainly does offer a third way that is very compelling, though a tad complex to explain.

Hmm.

The Fruit Waiting For Us

Our friends the Clarks drove by our new house today. They snapped some shots of the fruit growing in our backyard.

Unfortunately, no wine grapes (yet), but Birgitta said these white seedless grapes tasted superb. I think Maddax and Vienna seconded and thirded that opinion.

I'll look forward to tasting them myself in a matter of days.

Looks like there's a good deal of pruning that needs to take place for them to produce good fruit next year. An opportunity to get to know some grapes. Finally. And on my own piece of land.

And walking further back on the property there is apparently a fig tree. Mmm. Mmm. I cannot wait.

The Future Awaits...

On Moving

I sometimes forget how emotional moving can be. In my world, I generally try to plan pragmatically. I sometimes forget the inefficiency of emotion. I seldom budget for it.

Tonight I am packing stuff up by myself in a house that we're very familiar with. We've been guests here. We've been counseled here. We've cried, laughed, sat around shooting the shit, drank and smoked. Looked out on the Bay, on the fog, at the fireworks. Three house shows in this home.

And that's all before we lived here. Now we've been here for the summer of 2008 and it was magical...one of the best possible ways for us to leave the Bay area.

But I digress. See how inefficient emotions can be!

Moving causes me to remember where I've been, how often I've moved my wife and child and friends and family members. A rolling stone. I think of how I've hurt people with my departures, how I've freed people, how I've confused people.

My sister texts me to see the nearly full Harvest moon. That same moon pulled my son into our world two years ago. My son, born here in this locale, will he always be connected here? To the smell of eucalyptus (my eyes tear up as I remember this smell)? the sounds of Mission activity?

Thing is–and this is probably why I forget the emotions that come with moving–we all end up staying in touch. We live in a different world than our parents were born into. When folks left their families, even just decades ago, it could mean significant distance, but these days, we all move...and we all still see each other.

Are you still with me? I have some more moving to get to, so I should get back to that. Thanks for indulging my nostalgia.

Going to See the A's

A Bachelors's Breakfast

With the kiddo and wife out of town, who can stop me from these?

Our New Address

908 SE 35th Ave
Portland, OR 97214

Everything else will stay the same...it's strange to carry 714 and 760 phone numbers around for so long...years upon years! These area codes have crossed states, countries, oceans with us. And I just cannot imagine getting rid of these numbers.

But I am aware of what they represent: detachment from any one locale. It's the lifestyle of the translocal. Everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Sounds zen, but it could just be hypocrisy for someone who talks from time to time about context and connection with a particular area.

But for now, I'm a pragmatist, not a philosopher. At least in this instance. I will keep my 714 number and Holly, her 760. Perhaps someday we'll crossgrade to 503. We'll see.

Feeling the Fall

There is a melancholy that comes with (or from?) the autumnal shift. It still may technically be weeks away (is it?), but I feel it already. The shortening of the days, the wind, the sound of the leaves. And in my interior, I feel the shift. The turning toward warm foods, coffee in the afternoon (which was unthinkable just a week ago!), and my heart longing for fall-time memories with my son and wife.

I love fall. It is a complicated relationship though. It makes me sad, but from that sadness, I feel life. I reach the limits of production in summer and fall is harvest. Actually, I don't know how true that actually is. Most of production continues on into fall for us. But there's some rest, some inward hibernation that is being plotted.

Today it was clear to me that we're leaving the Bay Area fall to embrace the Portland fall. I do hope we love it. And I hope it loves us.

We closed on our house yesterday and I leave in the big PENSKE next Wednesday...Holly and Pax joining a few days later. A new kind of pilgrimage...a more permanent one.

So strange how life shifts. The seasons...thank God for the seasons.

The Customer Is Always Right

Where the hell did this idea come from anyway? That, my friends, equals the commodification of all things. It is the suspending of one's unique nature to sell, sell, sell.

And it's simply not true.

Oops! says the Toyota technician

Turns out it'll only be $6000!

HOLY SHIT

Toyota just told me it'd cost $8000 to repair our Prius.

Santa Ana Winds

I cannot believe it's already Sept. And what an Indian Summer it looks to be. That makes me happy. In two weeks, we'll be moving to a tree-rich neighborhood where they will shed their skins and make colors we dream of.

Perhaps someday we'll complain about raking "those damn leaves," but for now the idea seems just dreamy. Just dreamy.

And today's warm winds made me feel content. And I took deep breaths and drank fine with good friends.