It’s the time of year when the Religious Right or as I like to call them, the Christian Fundamentalists, start complaining about why they can’t have their nativity scene on the front steps of the local government building. They will tell you that our government is trying to change the values our country was built on and that they are trying to take religion away from the masses. Groups like the ACLU are run by atheists and all they want is for you to stop praying and quit believing.

The fundamentalists are missing the point. In fact I argue that the separation of church and state is what gives religion to the people and ensures that they can celebrate Christmas not X-Mas and have nativity scenes at their church.

As a liberal, ACLU supporting American Citizen, let me tell you I support keeping Christ in Christmas and your right to celebrate it that way and I am glad that my tax money and my government aren’t interfering in how you or I choose to express our spirituality.

Merry Christmas

Bill

Being both a son and a father, I can’t help but get emotional every time I hear the lyrics to the Simple Plan song, Perfect. This song speaks to what every child has to go through, in trying to live up to their own lofty reverence that they hold their parents in. As children our parents are gods. They know everything and can do anything. As children we think our parents are being too hard on us expecting us to be gods like them. It is not until we are parents ourselves that we realize our parents are just regular people like us, with their strengths and weaknesses and that all they want for us is to be happy and have a good life. This song is from a son’s perspective who hasn’t seen the other side yet, and having raised two boys I can so relate to the pain he is feeling having seen it in my boys’ eyes.

Peace Out

Bill

Perfect – Simple Plan

Hey Dad look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according
To plan?
Do you think I’m wasting
My time doing things I
Wanna do?
But it hurts when you
Disapprove all along

And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I’m never gonna be good
Enough for you
I can’t pretend that
I’m alright
And you can’t change me

Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I’m sorry
I can’t be Perfect
Now it’s just too late
And we can’t go back
I’m sorry
I can’t be Perfect

I try not to think
About the pain I feel inside
Did you know you used to be
My hero?
All the days
You spent with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don’t
Care anymore

And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I’m never gonna be good
Enough for you
I can’t stand another fight
And nothing’s alright

Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I’m sorry
I can’t be Perfect
Now it’s just too late
And we can’t go back
I’m sorry
I can’t be Perfect

Nothing’s gonna change
The things that you said
Nothing’s gonna make this
Right again
Please don’t turn your back
I can’t believe it’s hard
Just to talk to you
But you don’t understand

Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I’m sorry
I can’t be Perfect
Now it’s just too late
And we can’t go back
I’m sorry
I can’t be Perfect

Another beautiful morning sunrise on the way into work. I sure have a tough commute, don’t I?

Good Morning!

Peace Out

Bill

Irena and I are reading the Life of Pi by Yann Martel and Irena pointed out a passage to me that expressed beautifully how I feel spiritually. I do not offer this up as any kind of absolute truth, but rather a peek into how I feel about my place in the world. It is a long read, but well worth it. It uses a Hindu frame of reference, just as I would suspect a Christian would use what they are familiar with, but he goes beyond that framework and speaks for me in a far more eloquent manner then I could ever express.

Peace Out

Bill

“But religion is more than rite and ritual. There is what the rite and ritual stand for. Here too I am a Hindu. The universe makes sense to me through Hindu eyes. There is Brahman, the world soul, the sustaining frame upon which is woven, warp and weft, the cloth of being, with all its decorative elements of space and time. There is Brahman nirguna, without qualities, which lies beyond understanding, beyond description, beyond approach; with our poor words we sew a suit for it — One, Truth, Unity, Absolute, Ultimate Reality, Ground of Being — and try to make it fit, but Brahman nirguna always bursts the seams. We are left speechless. But there is also Brahman saguna, with qualities, where the suit fits. Now we call it Shiva, Krishna, Shakti, Ganesha; we can approach it with some understanding; we can discern certain attributes — loving, merciful, frightening — and we feel the gentle pull of relationship. Brahamn saguna is Brahman made manifest to our limited senses, Brahman expressed not only in gods but in humans, animals, trees, in a handful of earth, for everything has a trace of the divine in it. The truth of life is that Brahman is no different from atman, the spiritual force within us, what you might call the soul. The individual soul touches upon the world soul like a well reaches for the water table. That which sustains the universe beyond thought and language, and that which is at the core of us and struggles for expression, is the same thing. The finite within the infinite. If you ask me how Brahman and atman relate precisely, I would say in the same way the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit relate: mysteriously. But one thing is clear: atman seeks to realize Brahman, to be united with the Absolute, and it travels in this life on a pilgrimage where it is born and dies, and is born again and dies again, and again, and again until it manages to shed the sheaths that imprison it here below. The paths to liberation are numerous, but the bank along the way is always the same, the Bank of Karma, where the liberation account of each of us is credited or debited depending on our actions.

This, in a holy nutshell, is Hinduism, and I have been a Hindu all of my life. With its notions in mind I see my place in the universe.

But we should not cling! A plague upon fundamentalists and literalists! I am reminded of a story of Lord Krishna when he was a cowherd. Every night he invites the milkmaids to dance with him in the forest. They come and they dance. The night is dark, the fire in their midst roars and crackles, the beat of the music gets ever faster — the girls dance and dance with their sweet lord, who has made himself so abundant as to be in the arms of each and every girl. But the moment the girls become possessive, the moment each one imagines that Krishna is her partner alone, he vanishes. So it is that we should not be jealous with God.

I know a woman here in Toronto who is very dear to my heart. She was my foster-mother. I call her Auntieji and she likes that. She is Quebecoise. Though she has lived in Toronto for over thirty years, her French-speaking mind still slips on occasion on the understanding of English sounds. And so, when she first heard of Hare Krishnas, she didn’t hear right. She heard “Hairless Christians”, and that is what they were to her for many years. When I corrected her, I told her that in fact she was not so wrong; that Hindus, in their capacity for love, are indeed hairless Christians, just as Muslims, in the way they see god in everything, are bearded Hindus, and Christians, in their devotion to God, are hat-wearing Muslims.”

Excerpt from Life of Pi by Yann Martel

Who better than Anthony Perkins to spend your Halloween night with?

Irena and I went and watched Psycho at Benaroya Hall with the Seattle Symphony providing the movie’s musical soundtrack. Being the movie buff that I am, I must say that I never really focused on the musical soundtracks, unless there were specific songs I enjoyed. Watching the movie with the symphony live, gave me a new perspective on the role of setting mood that the soundtrack provides. Nothing like some screeching violins to warn you to be careful in a shower.

Side note: Big guy with raincoat and surprise underneath wins best costume of the night award!

Peace Out

Bill

Inspired by a bumper sticker (which read, “All men should read Twilight and take notes!”) and Irena’s validation of that statement, I embarked on the four book vampire series that has all of the high school girls a twitter, Twilight.

Twilight Series

Twilight isn’t the kind of story that will tax your mind, but it is entertaining enough. I’d say it is like the diet version of Ann Rice’s vampire stories. I did like the twist of the shape shifting wolves mixed in with the vampire angle and found myself eagerly turning the pages at the end to see how the story wraps itself up. For me, Twilight is what a Disney fairy tale would look like had a 16 year-old girl wrote it.

The other cool aspect of this series is that it takes place up here in the Pacific Northwest in a small town called Forks on the Pacific side of the Olympic Peninsula.

As far as the note taking is concerned, there are some obvious fantasy qualities about Edward; being the most beautiful man in the world and super non-human strength saving Bella from all types of doom, but I think what ladies connect to is that Edward always puts Bella first, even when it makes him uncomfortable. In particular Jacob, who is Bella’s best friend and pines for her, presents a challenge for Edward, but eventually he realizes his and Jacob’s places in Bella’s life and makes peace with Jacob and his own emotions.

Notes taken

Peace Out

Bill

My morning ritual consists of a 20 minute walk from my former house, now known as the storage unit to the ferry dock. Every morning I listen to books on my iPod. I just finished the Black Swan and man talk about a real brain exerciser! It wore me out thinking about probability and statistics and how they are used and abused in predicting events. I needed something a bit more entertaining for my next listen. To the rescue is one of my favorite authors, Clive Barker.

I started listening to Mister B. Gone. Here is the Publishers Summary of the book:

The demon, known only as ”Jakerbok”, is a major force of evil then and now. He taunts the listener to “Burn this audiobook” throughout this satanically autobiographical monologue, for he has embedded his very self inside each word….as a long-dormant vehicle for the dark forces to finally conquer all things good and holy in this world.

A one-man (or, rather a one-demon) narrative, in which this medieval devil speaks directly to the listener, is sure to become an instant classic for all fans of major “good vs. evil” literary works. This is the first known time that the voice of a major demon has ever been realized in audiobook form, in which it speaks directly, as in a poker game, to the listener.

Featuring shockingly crafted dialogue and details of the epic hell that the “author” can – and promised to – unleash if this work is circulated, the storyline of this short fiction has Jakerbok explaining his “roots” in this world to the listener. He goes back centuries, to his childhood traumas at the hands of his own parents, who are themselves super demons.

The story then tells the saga of how Jakerbok rose from being a “minor” demon to a “major” demon. It culminates with his insidious plot to “invade” the minds and hearts of all humankind everywhere via this very book, which contains the ancient demon’s actual power deep within every word.

©2007 Clive Barker; (P)2007 HarperCollins Publishers

Like it says in the summary, the book starts off with a very unique twist as the demon tells you to stop reading and burn the book. I think what I like most about Barker is his eloquent dialogue. He has such a creative way of describing an event that always sucks me in and places me right in the middle of the story.

What does it say about me as the two books I am reading right now are about vampires and demons? Must be getting close to All Hallows Eve!

Boo

Bill

PS The artwork in my banner and the namesake of my blog, Shadwell’s Jacket is taken from my favorite Barker work, Weaveworld.

One distinct memory I have from when I started playing ultimate as an old man was Richie ‘Sky’ Milder, yelling from the sideline as I ‘ran’ down the field, “Rambob, take that toolbox out of your ass!” Not a pretty mental image, but it was apropos.

I think the best way I can describe trying to run with an old body is that my legs never felt loose. My leg muscles were always bound up and they no longer responded to my mental commands. There was no second gear, let alone overdrive. Had I never been able to run fast, this would probably have never bothered me, but being a shorter person, with a one inch vertical leap, my one advantage in any physical sport was speed. It was something I could always rely on. You might be able to out jump me or have better skills, but I will out run you! Or at least I used to be able to, thus my challenge now of playing without that advantage.

I bring this all up because last night my legs felt great for the first time in probably 15 years. I am not saying I can run like I used to, but it no longer felt like I was carrying that toolbox around. The pessimist in me says that the planets aligned for a night and I did a really good job of stretching and I should enjoy this moment because the toolbox will be back. But the optimist says that the three miles I am walking each day on my daily commute to work is loosening the legs back up and after a few weeks of ultimate I am getting the carbon burned out of the pipes and maybe, just maybe there is a second gear now!

Peace Out

Rambob

PS OK, so here is the story on Rambob. One of the things I used to enjoy doing in my earlier days of ultimate was let my wild alter ego express itself. The nickname Billy Bob came from an April Fools tourney where we went as clones and everyone had Bob as their name on the back of their shirt. Billy Bob stuck. I used to also face paint up quite often and accessorize my uniform with crazy bright red sunglasses or my daughter’s cute fuzzy kids watch. On one evening in Arizona, I found an Army action figure on the sideline and taped him to my shoe, so he could experience ultimate. My teammates dubbed him Rambob (Rambo Billy Bob combo) and again, another nickname stuck.

Wicked

Irena and I had an incredible day in the Emerald City figuratively and literally. On Saturday we made our way around the sound to take in the 2:00 showing of the play Wicked. When I had first heard of this play, I thought it was a retelling of the story that we had grown up with, but in fact it is really a prequel, telling the story of how the three witches from the movie came to be. The play was at the Paramount Theatre  which is such an incredible venue and our seats afforded a great view, although I wish the lady in front of me was a little shorter .

The play started with Glenda, the good witch floating down in a bubble (excellent stage work to provide this effect) to inform everyone that the Wicked witch was dead. As she is about to depart, someone asks her about the rumor that she and the Wicked witch had been friends at which point she launches into the story of how the two had met.

It is a heart warming and funny tale, that just like the recent Star Trek movie, whenever a line from the original was used, the crowd would go crazy. After seeing this play, you will never watch the movie the same way again. It is moments like Saturday, where I am entertained by the incredible imagination and creativity of the arts, that makes me feel good about the human condition and how I will always have this venue to exercise my mind and my heart.

After the play, Irena and I fought the traffic, parking gods and my frustrations with them and journeyed to our dining destination, Lark. Lark describes the experience of eating there as, “Lark’s version of small plates is intended to inspire communal dining with waves of courses coming to your table, a blend of simple, seasonal, classic, and adventurous dishes.” I think they hit that mark pretty well. (for a more detailed synopsis of our dining experience, visit Shadwell’s sister site, Tao of Chow)

We thoroughly enjoyed our meal, capped off with an incredible Pear Tart dish and some good coffee, and after an incredible day in the Emerald City, we clicked our heels together three times and found ourselves back home.

When I stepped on to the field last night to play my first point as a member of Grover (all the teams are named after Sesame Street characters. We were playing The Count) in the Tacoma Rec Hat League, I reached a personal milestone of having played ultimate in four decades of my life, 20s, 30s, 40s and now 50s. I didn’t even touch the disc the first two points as I settled in to the horizontal stack offense (one that I learned in my last rec league in AZ) and learning who was who on my team. Finally I caught a pull and started an offensive flow that has me touch the disc about 3-4 times and our team scores.  That was cool.

I played moderately throughout the night, playing about every 4th or 5th point, subbing in on O as much as I could to limit my defensive liability to my team. One defensive moment pretty much sums up my ability at this point as I was trying to cover a player, probably at least 25 years younger than me in the end zone. I anticipated his first cut, reacted to his second and then watched his third cut play out perfectly to the corner of the end zone as he received the disc for the score as I stood there and tried to untangle my feet!

I am a relatively conservative handler when I play ultimate and pride myself  in minimizing turnovers. A successful night for me is zero turnovers. My rust showed through last night as I both threw a flick into the ground and dropped a pass as I was already looking down field before I had secured the catch.

We won our game, coming back from a two point deficit at half to win by two, 19-17. Near the end of the game, I foolishly tried to dive for an errant pass that was actually intended for a teammate of mine. I got a piece of the disc, but couldn’t reel it in as I hit the turf. The not so eloquent landing knocked the wind out of me and this morning I am feeling the effects of forgetting just how old I am.

It was a lot of fun and it was good to feel the endorphin rush again.

Peace Out

Billy Bob