Some more thoughts on the final adventure from a rational mind.

As beautifully articulated in the last post by Elizabeth (Betty) Waite, death is the final adventure. It is permanent.  For some it comes much too soon.
I am agnostic.  I find some comfort in the thoughts of Aaron Freeman below.  Energy exists and can be measured but not destroyed.  Where that energy goes and what form it may take after death is the great unknown.  We will all find out in the end.
"You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy is created in the universe and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, ever vibration, every BTU of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid the energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point, you'd hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off you like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue in the heat of our own lives.
And you'll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they'll be comforted to know your energy is still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone. You're just less orderly. Amen."


This is a transcript of a speech given by writer and performer Aaron Freeman on NPR News "All Things Considered". You can listen to it here.

Gone too soon

A beautiful post from my friend and writer Elizabeth Waite. 


Too often we see people choosing a permanent solution for a temporary problem.  I have seen it in my life. I see this in some of the school claims that I manage.  We have all been touched by this. 


Pain passes if you are patient.

My son's friend, Stephen, killed himself a week ago Friday.  His funeral was yesterday.  I hadn't spoken to the parents since I'd heard the news. They were neighbors of mine for 18 years. 

I was never close to the parents.  My ex husband got them in the divorce 15 years ago, and although we were always friendly, we were not bonded neighbors.  Our political and spiritual differences were stark and divisive. When I approached them, their child lying with folded hands in a coffin two feet away, my heart broke in half for them.  I clutched the mother to me, tears streaming down my face, saying the only words I knew to say.  "I'm so sorry this happened.  I can't imagine your pain."

I hugged all of my son's friends, hugged Stephen's brothers, hugged a few of the parents who came to be supportive.  When it came time to listen to the memorialization of Stephen, the tears continued.  Vague references were made to how Stephen died, but mostly, the stories were about his helpfulness, his industriousness, his intelligence and problem solving abilities.  I know his parents were proud.  I was proud.

The congregation in the church was mostly divided, with the pews on the left side occupied by Stephen's friends and the pews on the right by people his parents' age.  I debated whether or not I should step to the podium. 

Public speaking has never frightened me.  But this was different.  This was not about Betty, this was about those kids on the left side of the church, the young ones who I knew struggled, some with the very issues Stephen struggled with.  I pulled out my spiral notebook, always kept in my purse in case of inspiration.  I decided that if I jotted down notes and could mentally put them into a form that might be useful, I would speak.

I remembered a poem I had written when I was in the depths of despair 12 years ago, my heart broken, my spirit crushed.  That poem might work.  I made a list of the things I remembered about Stephen, things that fit with the tragedy lying in state three pews away.  This is what I said, speaking almost entirely to the left side of the room:

 

"My life is an ocean

with waves of tears

and spaces of glassy calm.

My happiness radiates

evaporates

and fuels the cloudy storms.

The salty sorrow of my tears

rains down with deep delight

replenishing, renewing

the ocean of my life.

The pain is stark, searing my heart.

I stumble on my path;

Eviscerates, capitulates,

and then, in time, does pass.

Pain passes.

Stephen chose a permanent solution to a temporary problem.  Pain passes, if you can just be patient.  When you are young, everything feels so permanent.  You feel lonely and it feels like you will be lonely forever. 

You won't be. 

You fail a test and you feel like you will fail at everything forever, but you won't. 

 
You will find success. 

You drink too much and do something you regret and you feel like you will never learn, but you will. 

You will learn. 

You get your heart broken and feel like you will be alone forever, and the pain will never leave. 

But it will. 

Pain passes. 

If you can just be patient.

Stephen spent 18 of his twenty years a block away from our house.  The Quigleys had three boys of the same age as my three sons.  Their phone number was 1 on our speed dial because if I couldn't find my sons, chances are they were at the Quigleys, and vice versa.   Saturday mornings involved wading through half a dozen little boys draped all over my family room furniture, with one, two, and sometimes three Quigley boys.  My sons often stayed at their house, too, accompanying them to this very church on Sunday mornings.

Stephen was industrious and polite.  I think he shoveled the snow in my driveway more often than my own sons, because he would actually do it and not whine about it. 

When I moved from Wyoming 6 months ago, his brother was one of my helpers.  Stephen had broken his foot, and Facebook messaged his apologies.  He stopped by with a bunch of Kevin's friends to say goodbye to the Waite estate after the last of the boxes were loaded onto the truck.  I hadn't seen him in over a year.  He had grown so tall, towering over me.  His hair was blonde, his face had filled out to the face of a young man.  A beautiful young man.  I almost didn't recognize him.  I hugged him when it was time for them to go, told him I was proud of him.

Stephen has now tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge.  He knows now what we can all only wonder about.  Stephen never shared his troubles with me.  I hope that the fruit of that tree has finally brought him peace."

Afterwards, I was throwing my plate away after sampling all of Stephen's favorite foods, lovingly prepared by the ladies of the church, Stephen's mom pulled me aside and hugged me.  Her speech had been a thank you to all of the other women of the church who had been a mom to Stephen. 

"Betty, thank you for sharing today.  You know, you were one of Stephen's mom's, too.  I didn't say it earlier, but I should have.  You were there, all these years."


I hugged her, fighting back the tears again, nodding.  "And you were another mom to mine.  It takes a village.  Thanks for being part of mine. And my children's."

And now, life goes on.  That's the hardest part to figure out how to do.  Life goes on.  And there but for the grace of God, go I.

Need to brush up on my skills

It is tricky, good thing that the internet is there to show the way

Thanksgiving thoughts

 "This Thanksgiving, be grateful the universe’s physical constants are so precise that a slight variation in any one would render your existence impossible."

Day Seven of the ride

“The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready.” – Henry David Thoreau

There were a few moments from day 6 where I was feeling a little sorry for myself and missing some human companionship.  I got over it.  I wait on very few.  No one is waiting on me.

I am looking forward to this day.  To the Tetons! and into Yellowstone National Park.  I also want to ride the Bear Tooth pass.  I have fond memories of both places.  I was there as a kid twice, once early in my marriage and again with my sons.  I imagine myself sitting on the deck of the Old Faithful Lodge watching the geyser explode. 

As usual it is farther than it looks on the map.  I keep hoping that I will see the Tetons but it is not until I cross Togwatee pass and am heading down to the valley do I see the Tetons.  I stop as a scenic overlook to snap some pictures and take a break.  It is a fine view.  Some bicyclists, a middle aged couple,  pull in to the overlook whom I passed earlier.  They were riding across the country.  They were not taking the easy route.  The pass we just came over was 9600 feet.  They were heading to Seattle. 

 

Do they not know that it would be much more efficient if they just strapped a motor on those bikes?  They have more mountain passes to conquer.  What they are doing is impressive.  I prefer my ride.

I ride down the valley and into Jackson Hole.  A neat town, but expensive.  Again, there are a lot of cool spots in the world but then they get discovered and too many people lessen the attractiveness (screw it up) of the place. I think of California as a prime example.  But I digress.

Here is my lunch spot.

 

Vermin Supreme: When I'm President Everyone Gets A Free Pony

I love politics!  Free ponies

Thought for the day

Day six continued

“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and enjoy the journey.” – Babs Hoffman

I ride out of Rocky Mountain National Park and into Estes Park.  Estes Park is full of development and traffic.  It is still a pretty area but congested.  That is a problem with nice places.  Too many people move there and then it becomes not so nice.

I head east towards Loveland.  I realize I am going the wrong direction but the mountains interfere with travelling in an efficient manner.  I ride down a Highway 34.  It is a scenic two lane highway that follows a river.  I am stuck behind a pickup towing a RV trailer for what seems like forever.  I get frustrated  to go so slow on such a nice road.  It has been a long day already.   He is apparently a proud ex-Marine.  Semper fi. 

After a suitable period of reflection (not a bad life travelling around in an RV at a leisurely pace), I get a break, kick the bike down a gear and blow by the Marine.  It is great to be freed from slow moving vehicles.

I regroup at a McDonalds in Loveland.  They have Wi-Fi and I am tired and need a break.  I review the maps.  Damn, it is over 500 miles to Yellowstone.   That seems more than a little daunting.  There are forest fires in Glacier so that is off the table.   I briefly consider continuing to head east to Minnesota to stay with my mother.  I would get a nice bed, some good cooking and a very pleasant environment by the lake.  She is also lonely and would like my company.  It would be easy.

That visit will wait.  The adventure will continue.  It is time for my second wind and to make some time and distance.

Full speed ahead, I will do this.   I am a road warrior, a machine.   I am back in the plains where the deer and the antelope play.    I see  antelope and more plains.  At one point,  being bored  and  on a lonely stretch,  I crank it up to 100 mph.  As some of my packing is suspect, I decide this probably is not a good idea.  Six hours and 300 miles later, as the sun is setting, I arrive in Riverton, WY and find a nice hotel.

A better timeline

Latin is hard.  I previously have posted about shenanigans of the ex-wife and her boss and used the term quid pro quo.  I am pretty sure some do not understand this term.  Some have trouble following my logic and timeline through the posts.  I can fix that.
Perhaps one of the advantages of keeping a land line, with the same number, is that occasionally I get inquiries on the ex-wife, Marie Hanna and her new husband, and boss, Raymond Lambert.  A few have stumbled onto this blog. 
Sometimes I rant.  Sometimes I vent.  In my opinion one should not act unethically and run a personal fiefdom at taxpayers expense.  If you do run a personal fiefdom you should produce results other than enriching your corporate sponsor.  I dislike hypocrites am happy to share what I know and why I am surprised they are still employed at Ohio Connections Academy.
First you start out with some clandestine business trips together. By the way they are married at this time.
http://dangerousdavidworld.blogspot.com/2013/03/women-are-sneaky.html
Then you go house shopping together.  Marie C. Hanna is still married.
http://dangerousdavidworld.blogspot.com/2013/06/lets-go-house-shopping-marie-and-ray.html
Then you move out and get promoted to superintendent of Ohio Connections Academy by Ray Lambert to for your excellent performance. Then for a little gratitude, or payback.  Marie Hanna buys a table and sends it to Raymond Lambert's house in Batavia, Ohio.
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7646236209855165689#editor/target=post;postID=5985890008965023554;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=208;src=postname
Eventually you file for divorce.  At he divorce hearing you have your secretary, being paid by Ohio Connections Academy, testify.
Why does all this matter?  Failing to properly educate students cost each student $50,000 in lifetime earnings.  You cannot get those years back.
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5970436030035544472#editor/target=post;postID=8776098659141932362;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=85;src=postname
The results Of Ohio Connections Academy. 
http://logicalconsequence.blogspot.com/2014/10/a-375-gpa.html
I hate to see this charter scam perpetrated on the taxpayers of Ohio.  I hate to see unethical behavior rewarded with six figure salaries. 


To sum it she slept her way to the top of a failing school.


As one of my neighbors elegantly stated, "do not shit where you eat".

Thought for the day

Two types

More INTJ stuff- Abused in Fiction

Some good stuff here:


http://mandywallace.com/the-character-most-writers-get-wrong/


The magic elixir: perceived arrogance + perceived lack of emotion + perceived unpredictability + intelligence = prime fictional villain.

INTJs Are Wicked Smart

• “Smart” doesn’t really explain the INTJ’s thinking, though. Because they don’t just memorize data. They break it down to its principles to understand how it all works together and what it implies about every other fact. This makes them incredibly insightful by other people’s standards.
• Objectively, INTJs have the highest collective IQ of any other type.
• Their Se function constantly and unconsciously gathers data from their environment providing the INTJ with accurate “impressions.” These “impressions” sometimes appear uncanny or bordering on the prescient to others. It isn’t magic, of course. It’s just data gathering and analysis. But because the INTJ discards the data once he’s formed an impression and shares only the outcome of his thoughts, it seems to others that the INTJ picked up knowledge that he could not have because nobody shared it with him.
• You can probably guess that teachers love the INTJ, but people with secrets don’t.
• To some, this intuitive quality can be very intimidating. And it’s prime villain material because a foe who “knows everything” seems unbeatable. (This doesn’t mean the INTJ actually knows anything at all, but it’s how some perceive them.)

Videos too!


One of the best insights into the INTJ mind comes from YouTuber, Cztanu. He’s an INTJ who creates video advice for INTJs and the people who want to date or understand them. He covers topics like: how to know if an INTJ is interested in you, warnings to the INTJ’s lover, how to keep an INTJ interested, and what’s up with INTJ communication delays.

Day 6 Rocky Mountain National Park

The start of another beautiful day.   The parking lot is about half filled up with motorcycles.  I meet a rider from Germany.  He has rented a Harley Davidson and is pursuing a dream.

 I started by backtracking back through Granby, Colorado.  Some new developments are going up there and there is a fancy new McDonalds.  I hate to see the blatant commercialization of some of these small towns.  Developers, please be a little more subtle.   This is a little unsettling to me.  An example of hypocritical thinking by me as I think to myself that I would enjoy a nice little mountain retreat in one of these developments.

I only had a couple of scares on my trip.  Heading towards the park some idiot in a big pickup truck decided to make a left turn in front of me.  I hit the brakes pretty hard and cleared with no problem.  Fucking idiots, ruining my Zen (not sure if I really know how to define Zen but at times I think I can feel it), sense of security and serenity.   I am sure this is all part of my brain development.  Scientists believe that the extra concentration needed to successfully operate a motorcycle can contribute to higher general levels of brain function.   There are actual studies on this.  My brain is working pretty well.

I get to the park and pay my entrance fee.  You start out in a valley.  It is green and lush.  On my prior trip I had seen lots of elk in the valley.  Nothing on this trip or they are hiding very well.  Lots of other motorcyclists doing the same thing I am.  Many are working their way towards Sturgis, South Dakota.  It is an interesting way to travel.

I climb out of the valley.  Again, outstanding views and scenery.  I keep going up and up on wonderful switchback roads.  The bike does this without much effort.    Surely, the top must be near.  It is not, I keep climbing and climbing.

You go above the tree line and see snow on the top of the mountains.  There is an alpine visitor center which I stop to enjoy the views.  It is crowded at the top of the mountain.

I travel on.  It is cool and comfortable.  The road is busy.  I see three elk grazing high above the road.  They know how to get away from people.  There is nowhere to stop for a photo.  I file the memory away in my brain.

This is a wonderful park with a wonderful  road filled with spectacular views.  It takes me most of the day to get through the park.  A day well spent pursuing Zen or some such nonsense.

I make judgments but it save time

I couldn’t do it.  I do not have it in me.  A character flaw?  A lack of interest and will?  Poor upbringing?

While in Winter Park, on my motorcycle adventure, I observed perfection in dress.  A man was  at the trendy fish taco restaurant, looking perfect, preppy, pretty  and complete.  He had a white sweater with the sleeves wrapped strategically  around his neck.  Clean Birkenstock shoes, creased khakis, and beautiful  hair.  Each hair was exactly where it should be.  He looks prettier than the woman he is with.  The ultimate preppy look.

I laughed to myself.  Seriously, a white sweater?  How does he get it to stay in place?  Tacos? One splatter?  That would end badly for me.

I could never be that pretty.  Never be that vain. I would fail miserably.

Give me good enough.  Give me some sweat and an adventure.  Give me horsepower.  Give me the same good food.  Give me deep thoughts and good company.  Please don’t give me preppy clothes or expect perfection. 

I realize I am not like some men.  Some are entirely foreign to me.  Not to sound too arrogant, but I prefer substance over form.

I realize I am judging.  Can he change a tire or chop down a tree? 

Perhaps he has it all, form and substance.  I doubt it.


That is unfair.  I know it and judge myself.  I am guilty of making these stereotypes.  But it saves so much time. 


Here I go judging again.....

Back in the USA

Why Not.  Why not is the title of this blog.  Dealing with life on my own terms and writing about some of it.  It is a different and better way of looking at things from my perspective.  Writing and sharing what I want.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” – Mark Twain

Mark Twain was a wise man.  I admire his wit and wisdom.  He was a world traveler.

My broad goal, acquire experiences.  Why not, in twenty years I may be dead, if not sooner. Or not.

I took a trip to Spain and Italy.  This view alone was worth the trip.

 

 

I ate well, slept well, and saw many wonderful things.  It was all good.  I got along well with my traveling companion. Planes, trains, cruise ships, taxis and a many miles on my own two feet.

 

Now back to work…..