Meghan PostWerk NonDestination ScapeLand

Megan worked yesterday with her father Jim Snell of Forward Edge Pathfinding, 19 NASCO shipbuilding managers, 1 gov't overseer (Dave), Steve (cage fighter for fun, aussie or uk), and Nikki. On the Navy base near the Pacific Fleet trolley stop. +$250, eventually, minus $5 fare.

The day before, Thursday, finished top-stitching quilt. Quilting threads and foot pocket remain to do. Walked to La Mesa to visit Scott Fraser (frasercycles.com?), and to see if two cracks in aluminum pack frame could be welded. He let me weld a bit of steel. I left a beet and $20.

I've got to asking people if I can pick their figs.

On the way, dropped off grandma's cans and plastic at RePlanet (+$6), got old frame backpack from thrift store (-$7, Kroc employee discount).

That thriftstore pack was ultraheavy (appearance and construction of torture device), but I took the bag, stripped all zippers, pockets, and fit it to my bare newly mended frame. Base weight of pack itself may now be close to two lbs. Down from five. Madly roughly sewed Thursday night by light of elastic headband-clipped single-LED WalMart booklight (to preserve the good effect of low light of getting me to sleep early) so could demo pack setup on trip to Navy base. Earlier had hacksawed off bottom bar of pack--may cut more still. Mod works, demo trip was helpful.

Who was I before I was an employee that day, and why m'I here now? "For even Hayduke sensed, when he faced the thing directly, that the total loner would go insane."

Lowgrade kemmer. Le Guin _LHOD_. PK Dick, _Castle_, novelist knows reader [some of them] has testicles and fear. Transvestite who was not. Gendered lenses. Heinlein's _Stranger_'s reverence of the difference. Vs. buddha, Thich Nhat Hanh ideals.

On to listening to librivox's reading of _Ulysses_, Joyce.

Working is so disruptive. Massively ambiguous. Well, here it was exacerbated by elements unique to Friday's program. And its post-post apocalyptic location, which has, even so, postive elements in the form of the group PT, physical training, of base residents.

Afterwards, stopped by Pt Loma on my $5 transit daypass, enforcing new smoking prohibitions at transit stops, to visit grandparents there, but did not stay the night, returning here by 1030pm.

Trolley ride, entranced by day of physical work in brightness, sat straight, still, watched mind watch gender. Undeclared or contrary gender features trapping attention most. One sat just in front, back to me, costume approximating woman, but style out of place (male trans?): brightred nonround darklensed glasses; white blouse, stiff, rumpled, wrinkles even to top of back; shoulder-length hair chemically frayed, beaten, bleached, with dark roots getting longer; three mismatched in size & type bracelets on right wrist: one thick, rainbow, bead; seven-jeweled long, not wide, ring on middle finger, and other rings too. Hand well knuckled, angular. Albino-ish hair, and hairy enough on back of arm. But starboard cheek, face, looking out window, too smooth.

What is the story here? Feeling around my gendered mindspace in trolley. She leaves at OLT, and by plump legs, rumpled short skirt, eventual friends she found: two no doubt males, Petco Park-/SDSU frat-ish, & another like her: she.

That was the ride to Point Loma. Point Loma to SDSU, two other women (with men) not made elsewhere as here, socal, sd. But not women as you, I or many-- others consider their complements/partners/companions in gender. "Gender" a spectrum/label/concept, I no longer list as male. Whatever it is.

More uber non-roadie (fixed, no helmet, courier, indie types) bike geeks than I've seen before. [Critical Mass day]

Yes employee-hood can be traumatizing. No one is telling me what to do. Generally I know, and how do I work with Lead Nikki, and her partner Steve, and Brent, company owner (by email). We must wait much this program, so I practice belly breathing.

Hmm. The second part of program, the straight belaying is straightforward.

[Employeehood may bring] A shift in being, from sensing self to sensing others- lead, coworkers client, and [which] even [happens with] Scott when working with him on welds and communicating, considering, giving exchange.

[The shift occurs] Primarily with unfamiliar people. And, though I may be putting this on everything, [involves] a kind of fear. Tho I believe I heard once that fear was a primary emotion/motivator/theme in many lives, and at the time wondered how, or when, I ever felt fear.

I may be more aware now, knowing non-fear from sitting, wilderness time, non-manicness, long times of non-employeehood and times of self-employeehood.

So,

how about a motivation map, sort of like I imagine a mind map to be.

Go to forest -> make light gear -> most recent non-paid focus.

But what's behind Go to forest?

no cars, machinery, amp sound. More beauty. Good people. Cleaner water, air. Limits on some of my self destructive habits- food, computer use. Limits requiring simple life. Challenge of living well without owning land? Time to spend with any I meet.

behind challenge course work: money and getting out of my shell and working with others sometimes in a very meaningful way. And I may someday learn to communicate with as much directness and clarity (no ambiguity except that intended) as Nikki, yesterday's lead.

but [what is your] deeper, larger vision, and why is some work so disruptive? The Challenge Course work is not always as I wish we lived.
I see the men and one woman, some with ravaged neglected bodies- doing boldly the contrived challenges. The catered lunch, Mil. Welfare & Rec (?), was mostly trash. Soda provided & drunk by some; food, fruit, & cans landfilled. Periods of breathing lighterfuel, sewage, lawn engine aerosol (minus sewage, features of non-employee out-of-forest near-apartment life too).

[Here considering unwished for effects of playing in writing. How mindful/right is this speech?]

The deeper challenge course constructing could be embedded in each one's postpostmodern life - as Jardine encourages us to sew for ourselves, so can we develop lives that [one cliché too many] our whole being, and are non-routine with constantly evolving future projects and self. Integral practice, ultimate blackbelt, preparing for adventures [and earthcare?]: concepts pointing that way.


I'm only guessing, but I may be approaching the Norte American Mount Kaliakos, or whatever the sacred Nepalese/ Burmese / Himalayan mountain that Satish Kumar visited and many others circumambulate repeatedly may be called.

In my del.icio links under PCT you could find the story that was on the front page of the LA Times on Weds, "the trail is his destination", about George Woodward (sp?)/ Billy Goat, who endlessly walks the PCT, CDT, AT, etc, now up to 32,000 miles. Age 69. Friendly on trail, walking, gruff when off and still.

That's it. I've mentioned and contemplated recent areas of focus.

With the pack renovations, and now a more thorough dry run of using what I would carry . . .

Will this be entirely a post-work day of nonprogress to the forest of no destination?

Peace,

function to best function in the future

Every scale of self concept and perspective seems to work with that view of what it means to function. Circular but for the future focus. (One of the holacracy influences pointed me this way -- requisite organization.)

I have no mission compelling me on to the forest. Once there, what shall I do?

That may not matter. Just need a good enough story to get there.

How can I begin to function?

My current function is rejection of or at least differentiation from what many consider to be functioning.

Got to reading about self in form of Abbzug in _The Monkey Wrench Gang_. Earlier recent reads: _Man in The High Castle_. _Demolished Man_ already mentioned.

I worked today on the Kroc challenge course, and saw some of my old students from two years ago.

I had chained myself here (Acorn & Seminole) many of the previous days, so as not to lose alternate days to exercise, meditation. To progress on the quilt. Probably two more days on that.

Dad's half sister Brenda and her mom Peggy visited yesterday, Sunday. Grandma Ann and Peggy got to commiserate about/remember my dad's dad.

FUNCTIONING

My dad meets most everyone's definition of 'high functioning'. Even the ecogeeks. (they're making a family farm in TN).

If I have any claim to functioning it is only in refusal to participate in destruction of the future. And perhaps as serving as a model of a certain quality of conscience.

Those recognized as great 'reduce ambiguity', and enable future-focused functioning in many lives beyond their own. What should I do? Sew (Jardine). Sit (Buddha). Take every step in peace (Thich Nhat Hanh). Help make a family farm . . .

I am a festival of escape and ambiguity.

Transitions that occur:

well, by whatever route, beginning the task of defining the future one wishes to function for.

So, I function for a future where people do not lock themselves into self- and other-destructive lives in order to own land, houses, cars, in order to be loved, in order to survive.

I guess (ambiguity) that's enough meditation on this topic for now.

Having done for the day my attempt to be thoughtful, aware, not mindlessly escaping, to organize my thoughts about my behavior, I shall return to reading or some other not as functioning as sewing activity. Tomorrow will sew, though body would benefit from day of exercise.

I did order a pass for the parks along the PCT. Functioning. But may look at going north in Los Padres NF: Santa Barbara to SLO.

Grandma Ann came out to chat.

There's no future focus in endless preoccupation with hourly changes in the temperature. Simply to have something to be concerned about. And hardly any in the fear that makes one so eager to maintain a certain appearance.

Philip K Dick has that fear as a recurring theme. And I see it in myself.

More ambiguity, ever more.

I rarely high-five people. What does it mean? What do I mean with it? Yet I've learned (from the very experienced facilitators) it's a good, fun trick to break through my detachment when the climbers on the challenge course return to the ground, and for us all to smile more.

More ambiguity.

"We communicated well."

I let it go. These great young kids preparing to be counselors. I did not plan or lead this program. We did not get the eye contact, the firm handshake, diction, volume, posture. I let it go. They'll get it. Not from me--not even the best example, except of a human attempt.

So I let it go, and I think, then, they get / got the quality of mind presence behind that stepping back. Feeling the grouped individual awarenesses in that moment. Rather than reacting, seeking to affect them. There is so much more for you, for us, we won't be immediately sharing it all.

And more ambiguity. Individuals composite, and I, too. Sandy, I know you. Edward Abbey wrote part of me before I was born. Chris McCandless lived part of my life more thoroughly than I may ever. Wilber followed/took a questioning thought in my mind far away to where I care not to follow.

50 million decisions to make while quilt-making. Mind shuts down. Lay comatose on the floor. Go off, escape, forget, later resume.

Do I make use of the extra insulation? The kicker. Will I go to the Sierra?

Can I reduce weight of pack itself?

It's about 70 degrees. No more quilt-making in 100 degree weather?

What is most important?

Peace,

Function. Where is our edge?

Writing is different now. I think I have audience - the feedburner count. [Not displayed so I'm less affected by the numbers. Some attempt at writing something worthwhile is made. And I want that, different from when I've written to the void and to my future. Now, sometimes, people react and respond. I may think more carefully about how I wish this to affect us.]

Doing little today on sewing, so far. Many developmentally other-abled at the Kroc Center, as usual, this morning. I get to wonder how and to what degree I am other than they.

Some twitch, shout out, random. Another man, independent, speaks circular, somewhat angry, fearful thoughts out loud. Usually when no one is close by.

Stepping back, the hubub of everyone's thoughts can be sensed, imagined. And now, reading an old, chauvinist, sci fi text[& wondering what is the value in it--it was on McCafferey's syllabus] where this is the case (Bester, _Demolished Man_).

Listening to Verne's _Mysterious Island_ also raises questions of functioning. And how could one craft a mind-[/self-/identity-/life-/functioning-]expanding realm, what are the differences or possibilities most do not consider now? Where is the edge and how can it be explored?

One edge is staying still, and not moving. Not that I will never move, but to not move while everything and everyone except the very old or hurt or aboriginal or monastic is moving very far very often-- if you can hold to that non-moving edge, a near opposite to the edge Verne's world was exploring [and an opposite to much of what captures our imagination (a local who became famous for his expeditions to remotest Africa was recently eulogized in the local paper). Further, the more I walk around and explore, the more resources of a certain kind, such as fruit trees & neighbors, become available. The value of action and exploration is apparent on some level]--if I can hold to that non- or slow-moving edge, another realm is there.

Another edge in functioning must have to do with attention. As in _Mysterious Island_ and _Demolished Man_ there are grades. The developmentally other-abled, the ?-abled but forever reproducing thoughts and habits of others or old habits of their own, where I often am, and creatives who open, explore, and solidify new habits, thoughts, and realms entirely--all of us some of the time.

Jardine, Verne, Bester (<), have opened worlds for me. Lizzie Driver and Mark Smith, LibriVox readers, have done this for me with their voices, while reproducing others' thoughts. Typing here I do this too.

Decisional difficulty. Who has a vision she can act on?

Bewildered. I walk around for figs, and I feel fear[, I am the invader, the stealer of fruit meant to grow and drop but not be eaten by the people who drive cars]. Not sovereign.

Am I selling by writing here?

This does seem to be a question of function. Regardless of what we say or think we do, what is being done through us?

Here's a scifi edge. From seeking hypermobility, culture transitions to 'not moving' as status.

Only the robots, the slaves, the forever mindlessly running (cf. Ellison, _Invisible Man_) drive. S-

That only plays out well as long as moving is miserable, which, outside of the great footpaths and water routes, for me at least, is more or less true now.

The compelling edge-vision may need to say something about human/all existence growth and development.

How does the mind spend its time?

Tomorrow I expect I'll be cutting and sewing the Jardine ray-way quilt. Sewing is transformational and at least as interesting as TV, as Jardine offers in _Beyond Backpacking_. Now I've begun to think about all the things I can make and modify.

And listening to Lizzie Driver read more of Jonathan Swift.

The rest of the day today? Laying here under my shade tarps reading more to remind myself I still can read to myself?

Peace,

? Bewildered.

Hello! Since you're my main company, I thought I'd write an update. Tho won't say as much using only thumbs. I started sewing Sunday. I'll be sewing by hand probably. See my del.icio links for some of the story. Then, what to do while hand sewing what could take months? Well I found out how to listen to audiobooks on this. And I've only been using solar power to charge this, and so far, so good. Keeping phone in offline mode, such as when typing this or when listening to audiobooks may have helped.

My month of unlimited prepaid data is coming to an end in a day or two. But I'll still get email on this - I just forward non-spam on as mms messages to the phone. And reply by mms to the email. $5/mo for 200 msgs. Plus, I still have 836 or so left from the 1000 I paid $10 for, and these roll over, not expiring till July 10.

A lot more has passed through my mind as potential things to say here. The one that may sum them up: "Bewildered" as a possible title or part title for this blog. Not that I don't have moments when "*".

Learning more about the domestic sewing world has been an eye-opener. Hellomynameisheather blog and Blissful Living are two examples of the posher version. People spend hours sewing for meaning, pleasure, not money. No one you know? There are signs they exist. I managed at least an hour today, in spite of at least a few hours of fiddling with the best way to play librevox audiobooks on this.

I'm camped out just outside the back door under a 5'x7' blue tarp suspended from the edges of the house and the _Dr Who_ shed. I never recovered from some respiratory issue, perhaps left over from the Barcamp disease, and my recent late night tech fiddling depravities made it worse at one point. Staying outside seems better for me and is more like how it is in the forest. The weather has been very nice, if a little San Francisco foggy at times, and I fear the fig trees have been delayed.

My friend who got me to look more seriously at Permaculture wrote to share how transformative he has found nonviolent communication to be - Marshall Rosenberg may be the name of the main author there.

I have been increasingly unmoved these days. Recent parings-down have been of my Internet life and past selves and causes. You know of my feed reduction already. More recent has been filter reduction. Now I'm minus perhaps 75 filters-- of people who no longer send me email, or of the many lists I no longer subscribe to.

[Just back from a break to get the rest of _Mysterious Island_ on here, to get computer started converting _Gulliver's Travels_, to order 2Gig mem card ($11), to see if any more ripe bananas for cheap in Vons (no, mornings are best), to walk around and find orange trees (score 4 but pickings slim without bike tho plenty unpicked trees behind fences), to get some things started cooking. Now, to eat.]

So, I also got rid of many labels I used for the filtered mail - all that is left representing many of them is 'walking sangha' - no more carfree, green, permaculture, monasticism, etc. I did not vote in the primaries.

That's enough for now.

Peace,