You Won't Believe What Obama Has Been Doing!

You haven't heard yet?  What, with the constant bombardment by every type of media, you aren't up to date on the latest Obama failure?  So, I have something new to tell you?

Well, give me a minute, then, to explain how appalling this situation has become.

I have read and listened to enough divisive language in the last few years to last a lifetime, and I am pretty sure that many of you feel the same way.  It is the inflammatory rhetoric of our media and politicians that is alienating Americans and creating animosity between those who would otherwise be friends.  And it is all done for money:  more clicks, more viewers, more listeners, and more subscribers bring in the  dollars. The media really doesn't seem to care about maintaining an environment in which we rationally and respectfully discuss policy and issues in order to find a workable solution.  

During these past few months I have been hosted by many political types such as:

--Those who totally avoid news and politics--"I can't change anything, so why should I care?"

--Those who are immersed in right-wing media--"All liberals lie."

--Those who are immersed in left-wing media--"Republicans have no use for facts, so how can we have a discussion?"

--Those who avoid all media except FaceBook--"(Insert meme here)."

But…and this is an important but:

They all seem to really love America.  Yes, regardless of their politics, they love their country.  

We have heard for some time about the concept of "Real Americans," and if you have paid any attention to my blog "About" section, then you know that my purpose has been to meet these real people.  Everyone who is an American is a real American, and despite the accusations to the contrary, no one is more American than the other.  They merely see the world differently, whether due to cultural background, life experience, or education level.

My host who opposes all welfare programs--"Let's do away with food stamps, subsidized housing, and free health care!"--fed me, gave me a room in which to live, and nursed me when I was under the weather, as did everyone who took me in, regardless of their political or religious viewpoints.

The self-identifying racist responded to my questions thoughtfully, perhaps considering the meaning of his own words for the first time, thanking me as I bid farewell.

The black business owner from South Carolina shared his love for his state, despite his admission that he must constantly demonstrate that he "knows his place" in order to maintain a broad customer base.

Yes, friends, I have been meeting lots of people and I have heard statements that challenged my ability to remain neutral (because, after all, I AM on a listening tour).  But once the politics are cast aside, there is a shared reality of kindness, warmth, and generosity.  This is real America, not the one the media creates.

I must confess that my blog is not here for the purpose of seeing how many clicks I can get (although it is nice when you take the time to read it).  Nor is it here to spew my irritation at those with whom I may disagree.  Rather, it is here to share my journey, my adventures, and my mostly positive reactions to the world around me.  

Oh…about Obama?  I don't know, but I'm sure that somebody somewhere is saying something that might make you mad…if that is how you want to spend your time.  Me?  I'm just tripping...

julie

...and thanks for the click (Cha-Ching!).

Warning: Pizza Hazard Ahead

After the thrill of skydiving, I headed back to Portland to spend the weekend with my new friends and to embrace this fabulous state for just a while longer before heading to Canada.

On the first night my hosts decided to take me out to a favorite--Otto, a popular pizza establishment--where they were certain I would be delighted with what they called, "the best pizza in Portland…" if not everywhere. Now, to be honest with you, my dear reader, I am not much on pizza. I mean, I like it okay, and I am always willing to partake…but I generally only eat one slice, two if I am starving to death. But I'm all about the local food, so I was excited and appreciative that my hosts were willing to share this meal with me. 

Check the menu.  Can you pick out the one we ordered for me?

Yes, we ate mashed potato pizza only because I wanted to try it. They were not thrilled about the idea, but their kindness and generosity overwhelmed their better judgement…and so they indulged me (Thanks, guys!  You are filled with goodness and love.) I think they knew I couldn't help myself.  

As a Southern girl with Irish roots, I view mashed potatoes as a staple of living. Never was there a trip to the grocery store that we didn't automatically throw in a 10 lb. bag of potatoes. There is a special place in society for mashed potatoes--alongside meat loaf, fried chicken, country fried steak, fried pork chops--oh hell, next to any meat that goes on the plate.  

Or maybe just have a plate of potatoes for lunch.

On a pizza? To my chagrin, not so much. Mashed potatoes need to be served drenched in butter or gravy (preferably butter), and they need to be eaten one mouthful at the time, with nothing else to detract from the satisfying warmth of a home-cooked meal, overflowing with the fats and salt that require a two-hour nap on the couch afterwards. Accompanied by bacon and scallion, this was more like having a baked potato (another favorite) drizzled on top of a pizza. Despite my disappointment, it is a popular pizza, recommended by many, but I have another recommendation.

The margherita pizza. I could not get enough. No, really, I couldn't because I had insisted on ordering the mashed potato, thereby reducing the number of delectable slices on the table.

The pizza at Otto is thin but layered with flaky crispness. The toppings are light and flavorful. Every bite was a delight to my senses--the taste, the smell, the texture. Never in the history of this old woman have I desired another slice so passionately, so voraciously. I took a menu, I noted the word, "Otto," in my phone, and I swore that I would never, ever forget this place that surprised my taste buds and gave me a newfound reverence for pizza.

Or maybe it was the fabulous people with whom I had shared this experience.

Or maybe I was just tripping…

julie

Back to the sign for which I was(n't) looking…

After two peaceful nights of quiet meditation near Mt. Katahdin in Maine, I packed up camp and headed back to Portland.  But only a few miles down the road I saw a sign…the one meant for me.  I did not hesitate; I turned my sweet car to the right and arrived at the place I was intended.

I met some lovely people:

An airplane pilot...

A "catcher"

A couple of Australian dudes and another customer

My attachment

Check them out at Jump and Raft.  

You know what happens next…

Upon landing, I was so excited that I quickly recorded a video. 

The first 35 seconds after leaving the plane--falling through the air, laughing and grinning, joy in my heart--it was the best thing ever! I hated it when he pulled the cord; why couldn't he hold out until we were closer to the ground?!

If you are ever driving down a highway and see a sign that says, "Skydiving," you really should accept that it is intended for you.  

I love signs.

j

The Sign for Which I Was(n't) Looking

Author's note:  For best results when playing videos, please use headphones…and turn it up…and for the sake of humanity, watch on the largest screen possible. Thank you.  

"I'm waiting for a sign."

Do you see it in the clouds?  Right over there…it's obvious.

Many people make major decisions only when they perceive a sign from a god or perhaps, the universe.   I have found, however, like John Lubbock:

"What we see depends mainly on what we look for."

Yes, we generally see that for which we are looking. 

I wonder why we need a sign?  Is it because we are afraid of taking responsibility for our decisions, or is it that maybe, somehow, we don't trust ourselves?   Hmmm... 

Me?  I love signs.  Not the mystical kind…I'm pretty sure the universe does not concern itself with my life…I mean…have you seen the size of this world?  

  

Pretty powerful video, yeah?  You didn't watch it?  Go back and watch it; I'll wait.  It puts all of our major life dilemmas  in perspective, and I seriously doubt whether or not the universe is trying to guide me using signs that are not of my own making.

But I digress.

When I heard this song (below) on the radio back in 1990, I was ecstatic, and I said to my friends, "Oh, man!  This was one of my favourites back in middle school!"

I was immediately shut down.  "No, this song was just released by Tesla; there is no way you know it from middle school."

Check it:

I am pretty sure that today is the first time I have seen 90's Tesla, and to me, they look like a 70's band...but I digress...again...

Hmmm…I insisted that I sang along to it in my early years, but no one would listen.  They laughed at me.   They made fun of me. They suggested that I was high (I was not).   And because in 1990 none of us were carrying around oracles, I humbly bowed out of the argument, doubted my own memories, and suffered embarrassment for being such a foolish young woman.

Now, writing a blog about a sign, recalling that horrible day of disgrace, I realize I must rectify this almost forgotten, misery-laden episode of my past. 

So…thanks to Al Gore and the invention of the internet, I bring you:  

 "Signs" (1970), written by Les Emmerson, lead singer of the Five Man Electrical Band. 

So there!  I don't remember who you are, but you were wrong. "Signs" was around when I was in middle school!  (And did you notice the shoutout to my blog on that headband?) 

But I digress once more.  As I was saying, I like signs--especially now that I am traveling into the uncharted…oh, sorry…very much mapped out, photographed, googled, and reviewed roads, towns, parks, landmarks, etc. of America.

So from Florida to Maine--despite the vast number of signs that I saw, studied, used, and/or ignored--I still had not found the one for which I was looking.  (Full disclosure, I wasn't actually looking for it, but when I saw it, I knew I had found it.  I guess it was a sign.) 

If you recall from my last blog (I know it was a long time ago; you don't have to tell me that), I had fallen in love with Maine and was working to get over it.  (Oh, you didn't know the object of my affection?)

But I have taken much too long to get to the point (especially if you watched the videos, and I prefer that you did!) so I will tell you about "the sign I was(n't) looking for" next time when I'm not tripping...

julie

It really was an awesome sign--I'm sure it was put there just for me. I can hardly wait to tell you about it. In the meantime, learn some signs from one of my favorite songs…and don't forget the headphones!

"Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, performed in sign language by Stephen Torrence

Meditating the Lust Away...Or Not

Love at first sight.  Will it last, or is it merely a temporary thrill that will vanish as quickly as it appeared?  

I headed north to camp near Mount Katahdin where I would have no electricity, no internet, no FaceBook, no text messages, and no phone calls.  I was on a mission to give myself to nature, to sit still, to silence the voices in my head, and to meditate amidst the beauty of our world.

Upon arrival at Penobscot Outdoor Center (located between Millinocket, ME and Baxter State Park), I was thrilled to discover that I would indeed find solitude--the place was deserted.  (Note to readers:  If you do not like crowds, camp on the Wednesday following Labor Day.) 

The note on the door instructed me to roam the woods to find my preferred campsite and/or sit on the dock by the pond to take in the views.

I did both.

After finding a ready-made tent (it would be a late check-in), I settled myself, cross-legged, on the dock.  I inhaled deeply, relaxed my body, and waited for the calm.

But it was too beautiful; I needed to snap a picture.

Okay, hands, rest yourselves...Oh, hell, I'll take another picture.

Enough.  Enjoy the tranquility.  But my hands!  They must be doing something!  Picture.

This wasn't working.  My body could not stop, so I gave in to the camera…

About an hour and a half into my quiet time, Dave arrived (he has the same hairstyle as mine--shaved gray on the sides, color on top), took my money (thank you, Helene for your donation), and I unloaded the Prius to set up camp.

Dinner time.

And back to the pond to meditate.  

Forty-five gazillion sunset pictures later, I returned to camp to prepare for bed.  As the temperature dropped, I unpacked and crawled into my sleeping bag (thanks, Lynzey, for insisting I purchase one for freezing temps); I retrieved my book, Lighting the Way:  Nine Women Who Shaped Modern America, by Karenna Gore Schiff; adjusted my head lamp (best invention ever); and began to read.  It was 9 PM.  I usually go to sleep well after midnight.

But you know what?  I fell asleep. It is easy to see why folks used to go to bed at nightfall; without technology, my mind seems a bit less occupied.

The next morning, after introspection on what is now my dock...

...I went on "Dave's Tour."  He drew me a map of places to visit, and I raced to the Prius, ready to merge with my surroundings and calm the lust that had penetrated my being.

First stop, the view from a bridge where I spied Appalachian Trail hikers and heard their excitement at the sight of the mountain.  "Is that it?" one shouted to his friend?  "Yes, yes! We are here!" My heart swelled in their joy and my love grew.

The bridge:

Next stop:  The rapids - I missed seeing the rafters...

A few miles down the road:

The hydroelectric power station...I roamed around, because nobody was there...

Hello, danger...good to see ya.

Looking down from "Danger:  Loose surface area"...

After three hours of driving, stopping, hiking, and taking in the beauty, I was famished, so I hit the road to treat myself to a cup of lobster bisque at River Drivers Restaurant and Pub.  I drank the last drop.

I love driving...

Cravings satisfied, I returned to my dock...

...where I once again sought to still myself.  But my yearnings only increased.

I bid farewell to Pockwockamus Pond and headed back to camp. Despite my inability to sit still, my mind had been deeply affected by this place--this planet, our home.  And I was more in love than when I arrived.  

Or (you know what I'm gonna' say) maybe I'm just tripping...

julie