Leveraged Intelligence

News Flash: King Tutankhamun No Longer Cursing!

San Francisco, CA,  February 27, 2010:  Famed King Tutankhamun, boy King of Egypt, he of the foul cursing, has reportedly repented since it was discovered that he died from a leg infection and malaria, not as the result of a nefarious plot (nor even a Nefertitius plot), but instead a plot more of the garden variety.  It seems he was a bit embarrassed that it wasn’t a death more exotic.  To quote the King, speaking through Agnes Moredread (after everyone had successfully caused a table to rise and then bump around), “I felt kind of bad killing that guy who came into my tomb and then making that canary be eaten by the cobra and the dog drop over dead.  I mean, it just wasn’t very nice.  So, I have stopped cursing and hope to make it up to someone soon.”

Well, darned if he didn’t pull it off.  On the afternoon of the dangerous Chilean tsunami which generated a wave of .8 ft. along the Pacific Coastline where San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park meets the ocean, an intrepid pair of locals survived by spending the afternoon wandering through the park  somewhat aimlessly, enjoying it immensely.  This unlikely couple were Carol and Conrad Hake, better known as the parents of Carly Hake, international scholar.

After going to see the genuine Dutch Windmill, which Carol had always wanted to see, they wandered to the 55-acre Botanical Gardens, noting the irony that the only section seemingly incomplete and in disarray was the section of native California plants.  To quote Mrs. Hake, “It seems ironic at first … until you realize that this was the only section probably surrounded by plants of other lands and left simply as it was found.  By definition, anything growing there HAD to be a California plant.”  The Hakes have no further quotes after that, for they were found to actually be an uninteresting interview.

Wandering to the DeYoung Museum at 5:00 PM PST, they decided to check on the pricing of the King Tut exhibition taking place there.  Walking to the ticket desk, Mrs. Hake asked the attendant what the cost was of the exhibit.  The attendant replied, “Would you like to go in and see it now?”  She was told that, “no, we simply wish to know the pricing and the time schedule for another day.”  The Hakes had already spent $5.00 at the Botanical Gardens after all.

The attendant leaned over and spoke more slowly, perhaps thinking with some justification that the Hakes were not bright, saying, “No, you don’t understand.  Would you like to go see it right now, FOR FREE?  Someone did not pick up their tickets and we would like to give them to you.”  Bright or not, the Hakes homed in on the word FREE like it was Momma calling them in to dinner, and gladly accepted.

Now, I copy the ticket so that you may examine it:

Not only were the Hakes given two tickets, they were given two VIP passes!  The lines of people waiting to see the exhibit wound back and forth as they do in Disneyland; long lines, tiring lines.  But, being the VIP’s they were, the Hakes were ushered around the lines completely and taken directly into the exhibit.  Ten exhibit rooms of some of the most exquisite carvings, jewelry and furniture to be found anywhere!

Mr. Hake, who was thought to be mute to this point, was heard to exclaim as they disappeared into the night, “Thanks, Tut!  I owe you one!”

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The Wildest Thing I Did in My Youth

Gotta tell ya – when gaelikaa came up with this, my main problem was choosing what to say … and deciding what was appropriate to say … so I decided to just say it! I can’t wait to see what the other characters came up with, so be sure to peruse their takes on this, all published more or less simultaneously.  You can find links to all their sites on the left.  And, now, let the recounting begin:

It was the summer of 1977 when my best friend and I decided to take advantage of Greyhound’s offer of travel to anywhere in America for $50.  I had been teaching all year and while working nine months, I was paid on a twelve-month basis.  When you are young that seems like free money.

So, we got on the bus in Topeka, Kansas and headed for California!  Let me recount for you, chronologically, all the things that happened.  Cross my heart, all of them are true:

• On the way to Denver, the guys behind us were smoking pot.  The bus driver kept thinking it was us, probably because we had hair down to there.  I was getting ready to give the driver what for when my friend informed me that he was “holding,” the term for having a drug or two in his possession, and that we should just let it go.  So we did.  And we were summarily kicked off the bus at the Denver Depot.  At midnight.
• In the bus depot, the manager told us that if we wanted to go to the bathroom, it was best to go together, since a guy had been murdered in the bathroom overnight a couple of weeks before.So, a guy came in and we smoked some really good pot with him out back.  We had to do something with our time.
• We decided that we should make even better use of our time, so we decided to get train tickets across the Rockies to our friends’ house in Grand Junction.  We were on the train by 6:00 – and if you’ve never taken a train across the Rockies, let me highly recommend it!  We would stand between the cars and hang out in the fresh air, taking in the gorgeous views.  Then we settled in a car that seemed really nice – only to find that it was really nice because it was the crew’s car.  But, they liked us and told us we could hang with them.  In return, we got them stoned in Grand Junction.
• In Grand Junction, we got back on the bus with the ticket from the original $50, if you can believe that.  We went to Salt Lake City, where I met a lovely lady with whom I made out all the way to San Francisco.  You need to do something on a bus to pass the time.
• She put us up in North Beach in San Francisco for a couple of days and I really think she and I could have made a go of it – except that I was moving on, she had her boyfriend returning to town and, unbeknownst to me, my future mate was only 25 miles away.  Anyway, that was when I fell in love with San Francisco!
• Traveled on the bus to Southern California.  Met up with my buddy’s distant cousins.  Did our laundry.  Spent some time with them.  They tried to convert us to their brand of Christianity.  So, we exchanged pleasantries, explained how tight our schedule was – of which there was actually nothing, of course – and moved on.
• Took the local bus with no destination in mind.  Decided totally on impulse – because, and I mean this sincerely, when we did that, something a whole lot greater than us guided with uncanny precision, a concept a bit foreign to my buddy’s relatives – to get off at a hole we saw in the fence.  Went through the hole to the beach below.  Found out it was named Capistrano Beach, put down our sleeping bags … and found out later that this was a contested stretch of beach and thus was the only beach in Southern California you could sleep on without fear of reprisal.  Thank you, GREATER POWER!
• While we are staying on the beach, learning to harvest grunion, and partying in general (we were very popular, because we brought no expectations and just joined in), we sleep through a woman having a domestic argument, being shot, trying to run away and being hit by a train that ran by the beach.  She was OK after some patching up in the morning, because people who sleep on the beach seem to be pretty damn hardy, and my buddy and I helped her patch it up with her husband the next day.  We were very good at listening.
• Deciding to take a bus for a quick jaunt, we find a movie we’ve never heard of, go to the first Star Wars movie.  Walked up just in time to be in the front of the line … of course.  The Force was definitely with us and the movie made a crapload of sense.  Dude, we lived like that!
• Take another bus trip to the LA area and miss a connection.  No problem, because even the screw-ups workout for the two of us.  We notice that we are across the street from Disneyland (I’ll be damned!) so, my buddy, who always seems to have an endless supply of something, wheels out some mushrooms to munch and we go get tickets.  Wow!  It really IS the magic kingdom!
• Near the end of the day, out of the blue we meet up with a girl we know from Kansas.  This is a girl whose parents  have decided I am bad for her and that she is not to see me anymore.  We REALLY like each other.  Neither of us had any idea that the other was going to California, let alone anything else.  So, we go back to the Whalers Inn to talk and make out.
• Time to meet up with my buddy’s brother in Tucson.  We head back, find that Hell is actually cooler, but somehow find a place that we can stay for a bit.  I sleep in the basement the first night – and … the wall opens up for me with no chemical assistance whatsoever and I see things that Moses could relate to.  Next morning, I tell my mates that I am not sleeping down there again!
• Head to Durango, have adventures in mountains a bit, sleep on a mountainside – you know, regular stuff.
• Well, it is time to head home.  Now, we split into different groups and I am with my buddy’s brother, definitely one of my best friends in the universe these days, a guy I will be calling Saturday.  But, he and I can’t get a ride hitchhiking for anything.  However, we are picked up by a forest firefighter who is having all his animals and his wife shelling out new little beings.  This guy is magical!  He puts us up in a bedroom to sleep in paper firefighter sleeping bags on a floor that goes right out the window to a patio that he built on a second story into the trees.  Wow!
• We can’t get a ride together for anything.  So, we split up and decide that might help.  It does, but I get caught at the end of a day in Limon, Colorado in a rain storm and sleep overnight under a park bench.  I’m really starting to feel ridden hard and put away wet at this point, but I haven’t been put away quite yet.  Sheesh!  Cop wakes me up, makes me move on.  Later, I find that Mom had to pay a $12 fine for me sleeping there.
• Finally get the remainder of the rides home that I need.  Or, at least close enough that my folks can pick me up.  I have … and this is no exaggeration … 4 cents in my pocket!

That is the wildest adventure of my youth!  But, I still have a few others to relate to you.  Uh … quite a few!

Gentle Humor: Frank and Ernest

One of the beauties of ripening like a fine wine – also known as aging – is the growing appreciation of gentle intelligence.  We have spoken a bit about religion and Christianity lately, but I think it is in the small everyday things that we find peace accomplished, not just in the sanctuary.

Gentle humor isn’t a bad place to start.  Some think that humor must be cutting to be intelligent.  They would miss the intelligence of a Johnny Carson.  And … they would miss the quiet gentle humor of a Thaves.

The Perfect Life

This piece is part of the Loose Blogger’s Consortium series that appears on Fridays.  And, these are a blast.  This topic really was a stumper, Ramana Rajgopaul!

You can find the other members’ names – and they will be tackling this same subject – on the left.

As I write this, there are approximately 6,980,353,928 answers to the question, “What is a perfect life?”  Everyone is born with different circumstances, different abilities and different challenges.  We try to approach the question through so many of our disciplines, to give guidance that all can follow even though each fulfills unique values in life. So, let’s look at three sources.

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Matthew 5:48 – Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. – From Christ’s Sermon on the Mount

The above picture is Bloch’s painting of The Sermon on the Mount

The Sermon on the Mount is the core teaching of Christ’s ministry.  Even for those quite opposed to religion, it is worth reading, as it would seem to be the most succinct guideline to “perfection” from Christ’s pronouncements.  It might also make you wonder how we derived the Christian religion as practiced after you have read it.  It is in the Gospel of Matthew, Chapters 5, 6 and 7.

It is the realization of how far short that we fall that most Christians take as our lot in life and that only through the salvation of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross that we can gain entry to what would be called a perfect life.  However, this seems to me to, in part, be an avoidance of a direct commandment from Christ to His followers.

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Tao Te Ching – Lao Tzu – chapter 16

The following is a translation by Jane English with Gia-Fu Feng.

Empty yourself of everything.
Let the mind rest at peace.
The ten thousand things rise and fall while the Self watches their return.
They grow and flourish and then return to the source.
Returning to the source is stillness, which is the way of nature.
The way of nature is unchanging.
Knowing constancy is insight.
Not knowing constancy leads to disaster.
Knowing constancy, the mind is open.
With an open mind, you will be openhearted.
Being openhearted, you will act royally.
Being royal, you will attain the divine.
Being divine, you will be at one with the Tao.
Being at one with the Tao is eternal.
And though the body dies, the Tao will never pass away.

I’ve always liked the Tao Te Ching.

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The Perfect Height

The best, however, I save for last,  insight that came from a very unexpected source.   When my uncle, my father’s brother lost over Germany in World War II – my namesake – was in high school, he was asked by an older woman how tall he was.  When he answered, “Six feet tall,” she had to correct him.  “Oh no, dear.” she said, “Only our Lord Jesus was exactly six feet tall.”

From this, we can see that we have ONE truly objective measure of perfection in life – you must be precisely six feet in height.  I assume this is true for women also.  It is also clear that anyone currently taller than six feet, unless they were momentarily perfect, discretely jumped from five feet eleven+++ inches to six feet zero+++ inches skipping over the perfect height.  Alternately, you must assume not only that they were temporarily perfect, they were actually Jesus momentarily, which seems unlikely.  However, God does work in mysterious ways.

Somehow, I find this last definition of perfection to be the best I have ever heard.

Stop Wobbling, Dammit

Lin Chi Zen Master once said, "When walking, just walk. When sitting, just sit. But above all don’t wobble!"

Now, let’s look at the two boys from our recent drama:

Just walking.

Just sitting.

Hmmm… not enough.

Ahhhh…. Zen Mastery.

Doubts and Regrets

It is common to think that all lives are filled with doubts and regrets; for to err is human, to come to terms with oneself is to experience remorse for one’s actions, and too much is always unknown.  Outside of religious faith, I had not become acquainted with anyone solidly asserting otherwise until I read in one of the Castaneda books that one of Don Juan’s teachings regarding the warrior’s path was to live WITHOUT doubts and regrets!  I was intrigued, but could never quite resolve in my mind what it meant until …

During this phase of my life, I was doing a lot of meditation as well as having the adventures that make my mother cringe.  Indeed, from the meditation itself many things emerged which were marvelous adventures in their own right; but this is a story of meditation’s good buddy, dreaming.

In the dream, I found myself sitting in the lotus position in what appeared to be an apartment in a high-rise building in the city.  I was gazing peacefully out through a sliding glass door onto a balcony without rails, more like a ledge, that parted in something of a U shape from both sides of the door.  Then I noticed something very interesting …

Emanating from me in two lines which headed toward the balcony were strings of the number two’s.  I sat in puzzlement, for I knew this had meaning, for it was one of THOSE dreams.  Maybe you’ve had them.  A dream filled with meaning, vivid, more real than the waking world you came from.  Between meditation and dreaming, it is hard to tell how long I observed these two long lines, the duality that held me in stasis.

Suddenly, without warning …

A man came dancing gaily past me, executing a light-footed jig as he went, obviously enjoying life to the hilt.  As he went forward, I noticed that the number one’s continuously and dynamically appeared in a string before him – and that every one of his hopping, dancing, seemingly random steps landed squarely and lightly on a number one.  He never missed, never guessed, never lost balance.

And the numbers unfolded before him and went right over the edge of the ledge!!!  I watched him go right off the precipice, falling to his obvious death, yelling as he went.  But, I noticed something a bit odd.  His yell was not a yell of fear.  It wasn’t even good acting and obviously not intended to be.  It was that kind of mock fear sound you make when you are poking fun at someone!

He popped right back up on that ledge, doing a kind of yell in reverse and laughing at the same time.  The one’s started unfolding before him once again.  And, as he danced his jig back past me, he leaned over to say …

… I changed my mind!

That dream is reported as I experienced it and it has been my internal reference on the question since.

This piece is part of the continuing Blogger’s Consortium series with simultaneous posts on the topic being done by Anu, Ashok, gaelikaa, Ginger, Grannymar, Helen, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana – give or take a few!

Faith

Every walking step taken is an act of faith, natural faith.  You have faith in the landing, faith in your balance, faith in the fluid shifting of weight that maintains momentum into the next step.  You never think of it as an act of faith until you trip or realize it can be lost, permanently or temporarily as Grannymar and bikehikebabe in our own group have found out.  Last year, my wife turned and stepped against a raised joint in the sidewalk and fell to a knee – breaking her kneecap and spending a significant stretch in a brace then going through rehabilitation.

Every step taken is a step into the future, a step into the unknown.  While walking takes a little faith, running takes more.  There is more potential for falling, but more reward in the process.  The unknown comes faster, is consumed, is known.  And, there is another difference, for now both feet are off the ground simultaneously.  For brief periods, you are no longer anchored to terra firma.

When I was twenty-one, I took the faith to the next level.  Five of us took off for the Bridger Wilderness in the Wind River Range of the Rockies just south of the Grand Tetons in Wyoming.

That’s me at the top right in this picture.  In fact, this is how we looked at the end of the journey.  Seventy-five miles through some VERY rugged terrain.  Up and down, slippery, steep, unsure footing!  Here is one of the mild parts, a picture of me crossing a shallow stream.

The reason I include this picture is that it was the best illustration of my theme, a continued growth of faith in your next step on uncertain surfaces.  At one point, a gravelly surface gave way under me, leaving me clawing for a hold – only to stop at a ledge with about a 1500 foot drop on the other side!  But, day by day, we all became more fit, more sure-footed.

Then, we hit a point of challenge without choice, the ultimate test for a group of rank amateurs.  We came over a ridge only to discover that the only realistic way down was over a LARGE slope strewn with very big boulders!  It was not feasible to go back and we could see no other realistic way to reach our next destination.

This is where the literal leap of faith came in.  We found that we could not climb from boulder to boulder, we had to jump.  And, further, we found that the gaps were too large to do it without momentum.  So, we did the thing twenty-one year olds feeling their oats do – we ran all the way down, never knowing where the next leap would go until the prior was completed!  One step per boulder became the best way.  Faster, faster, faster.  Ah, the exhilaration.  Confidence grew with every step.  And, finally the bottom, faces split with smiles from ear to ear.

All of this is a true recounting – but, it might as well have been the Metaphor Mountains …

This piece is part of the continuing Blogger’s Consortium series with simultaneous posts on the topic being done by Anu, Ashok, gaelikaa, Ginger, Grannymar, Helen, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana.  This is Anu’s first topic suggestion and I tried to do her youthful exuberance justice by recalling a little of my own.

Big Event Coming!

[Vision] Quest

Many Native American tribes have the tradition of the Vision Quest, a journey into the wilderness alone, usually fasting, before puberty, a rite of passage.  But, it’s more than a rite of passage, it is a voyage of self-discovery, for when you head into nothing the only thing to be found is yourself.  That is how you become a man.  Beautifully, it is now also how you become a woman, for our culture has also entered a vision quest!

Entered under the tutelage of the wise elders, it is designed to bring our child seeking adulthood closer to his/her spiritual base and usually does indeed produce a vision, a vision of meaning and relevance only to the initiate.  Most of us have undergone something similar –dimly similar, perhaps – although perhaps never with such class or spiritual elegance.

It need not end with puberty or adulthood.  Have you ever felt lost in your own wilderness, totally overwhelmed in your life?  Perfect.  You are on a vision quest, so learn, for this is when you are more open (if you let yourself be) to knowledge than any other time.  All of us have elders in our lives, so listen to them.  Grow closer to your true self.  With whatever grace you can muster, accept the next step.  If grace evades you, forgive yourself that it may return.

Then wash the tears of tribulation from your face, return to your tribe, sit by the fire and accept sustenance.  Well done.

This piece is part of the continuing Blogger’s Consortium series with simultaneous posts on the topic being done by Anu, Ashok, gaelikaa, Ginger, Grannymar, Helen, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria and Ramana.  Ginger brought us this topic – and let me tell you, I am impressed with her depth.  She is a fine addition to this tribe.

Corky’s Real Life Tale of Terror!

Hi all you blog folks!

Back when I first started spinning these tales (I think I was talking about our life in Manchester) I think I mentioned that as a child (and adult) I had nightmares. Those of you that have watched the Walton’s on TV probably remember how they all say good night to each other at the end of the show as the lights go off in each room? Well, I would say goodnight to everyone in the house including our pets until my Mom would finally say, “Corky, if you don’t be quiet and go to sleep I may have to come in there.” I knew that meant that I had to shut up but sometimes I didn’t go right to sleep and would roll around in my “fudder” bed and think about all the things that just might happen to be hanging around to get me. What they wanted me for I’ll never know but I figured they did and I’d go to sleep for awhile and then wake everyone in the house with all kinds of noises; mom would come in and quiet me down and then we’d all get some sleep.

I had this aunt Esther that was scared of everything (the daddy-long-legs were all tarantulas to her) and I spent a lot of time with her. She is the one that figured out where Robert came from. My mother was never afraid of anything in her life (one time she was washing dishes during a thunder storm and lightening came and knocked out the light bulb and her only worry was that it was getting dark and she wanted to finish the dishes…….I was hiding behind the couch I think) and she would just give aunt Esther the devil for scaring the kids so much. After all, a red circle around the full moon didn’t necessarily mean that the world was coming to an end very soon. Aunt Esther could whip her weight in wildcats but she was still scared and very, very superstitious. Just a little background on some of the other nuts in my family, lol.

When Con was about 10 months old and we were living and taking care of Joe’s grandmother (she stepped off the curb and broke her leg so needed someone to take care of her) and Joe and I were the ones that were chosen. She was a fine lady and we enjoyed her and she enjoyed Con like he was one of her own babes. She was 80 and I was just past 19 so there was a little age difference and she taught me a lot about lots of things. One of her daughters decided that we needed a little vacation and took her home with her for a couple of weeks. During that time I decided it was a good time to do my fall house cleaning and it was quite a job because the house was fairly big.

I hadn’t had any trouble with nightmares or sleeping for some time but one night, quite late, I leaped out of bed and told Joe that someone was trying to cut my head off and he should help me. Well, you can imagine how it must have affected him…..me running around and around the dining room table trying to get to the front room door and he was coming out of a deep sleep. He swears that when he got up there was something or someone hovering over Con’s bed (in our bedroom) and he went over there to see what was going on. I was still in the dining room but managed to make it to the front door which I unlocked and ran out and jumped off the front porch (skipping all the steps and my knee still hurts from time to time from that flying leap) with Joe behind me trying to get his clothes on so he could go outside and catch me. By the time he got outside, he didn’t know which direction I had gone and didn’t want to leave Con with “the thing” and didn’t know what to do. I had gone next door; beat on their door; got them all out of bed and told them that someone had tried to cut off my head. I came to myself (woke up) and there they were…..circled around me wondering what in the hell was going on. When I finally really came to, I sheepishly told them that I guessed I’d better go home because Joe would be worried about me. I think they were happy to let me go, lol. I met him in the yard and he took me in the house and went back to bed and had quite a long talk (I think he was afraid to let me go back to sleep or that “the thing” might come back)

I stayed in the house for a couple of days until I had to hang out diapers (no driers in those days) and the neighbor lady peeked over the hedge and asked me, very kindly, if I was feeling better and that she thought I was doing too much and should maybe take it a little easier.

I have never been so embarrassed in my life!!! One thing is for sure, Joe swears “the thing” was there and another thing I was happy for……I had just bought new nightgowns from Penny’s…..thank goodness they did not have Victoria’s Secret stores then.

This happening is why I had to sleep next to the wall and get permission to get out of the bed after dark. I talked to my Mom about it and she said that of course there are Poltergeists but they are not to be feared……..that was fine for her, they weren’t trying to cut her head off.

I’ve worn you out so will close for tonight. Our bedroom happened to be the room where Joe’s aunt Margaret had died when she was l0 years old I just thought of that.

Corky