Mindless mindfulness

Once again this morning I heard the term mindfulness. I’ve had a vague notion what it was about, but I decided to look it up.

Mindfulness is a mental practice that emphasizes moment-by-moment awareness of thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations, and the surrounding environment. It encourages individuals to observe their internal states without judgment or reactivity, fostering a state of calm and clarity. 

Ah, so basically not having your head up your ass?

I think I’ve been mindful most of my life without ever being taught about it. I suspect it’s the natural way of being—the demeanor—for some people. Calm, observant, not overly distracted.

Decades ago some coworkers were getting heavily into meditation. They talked me into joining in with them. I asked the guru-like person leading the meditation, “In what ways does one change when they meditate?” 

“It can reduce stress, help manage anxiety, relieve depression, and enhance emotional well-being.”



“I’m an easy-going guy. I’m not particularly stressed, anxious, or depressed. I think my emotional well-being is okay.”

He replied, “Then you probably don’t need meditation.”

Now, I was a mental and emotional mess when I was a kid, mostly because I was new at this Life thing. And I was powerless. And frustrated. And easily embarrassed. But things changed in my twenties, largely because I had control of my life. And largely because of my demeanor.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad there are things that help stressed, anxious, depressed people with racing minds. I would love it if everyone was at peace with themself and the world. Do whatever works for you. For me, it’s usually taking a nap.

Covering my lower half

I’ve worn jeans nearly every day the past 50 years. I had eight pairs when I started as a nomad. After I lost nearly 100 pounds during cancer treatment I donated my fat jeans and resupplied with new ones three sizes smaller. 

But a strange thing happened as I became less skeletal and had to go up a size. I bought other types of pants, like chinos, hiking pants, and lightweight cargo-ish pants, not jeans. They just seemed to be what I wanted rather than jeans. Was it an age thing? I don’t know.

Finishing the laundry

A few days ago I dropped off some clothing at a charity thrift store. That left me with just one pair of jeans. And I hadn’t worn that pair in a couple of weeks. Younger me would never have imagined this happening.

Home for the holidays

The fly armada

History review: In 1588 the English navy faced 130 massive Spanish warships. England defeated Spain, and one of the reasons was the English ships were smaller and more maneuverable, and smaller targets as well.

The present: Warm-ish weather in the low desert of California means my doors and windows are open and the flies are out. The large flies are relatively easy to swat, but the tiny ones zip all over the place, landing for fractions of a second.

I know, I’ve complained about flies before and y’all have suggested various solutions. I’ve tried them and either they didn’t work in my case or were a greater inconvenience than the flies. But complaining helps me cope.

Lag time

In case you’ve forgotten your astronomy lessons

YAY! Winter Solstice! We’ll get a couple minutes more sunlight each day, and the light will be more direct, therefore more warming.

So, if things are supposedly getting warmer, why are January and February usually the coldest months in the northern hemisphere?

It’s because of a thing called seasonal lag. Come on, Spring, don’t be a slowpoke! Get your ass in gear and catch up with our expectations! Right?

Ah, if only it were that easy. See, the planet is a giant heat sink. The oceans and land soak up heat all summer. Then they slowly release the heat through late summer and autumn. By the end of December the northern hemisphere has nearly run out of warmth. It takes a while for the increasing sunlight to bring things back up to full operating temperature.

But the planet isn’t really to blame. It has no choice, because of astrophysics, thermodynamics, and stuff. We get all cranky about lingering winter because of the calendar we’ve laid atop the natural system.

However, I have a ridiculous solution. We should build a massive network of inter-hemisphere HVAC ducts that send warming air to the cold hemisphere and cooling air to the hot hemisphere. We could call it the Big Blow Job. The ducts could also serve like pneumatic message tubes for humans. Enter a portal in one place and, svoooop-clunk, pop out somewhere else. No more horrible airline seats.

Wheeeeee! Argentina here I come!

Forget all the climate disruption and ecological damage the system would do. It’s a small price to pay for human comfort and the end of confusion about what the temperature should be.

Or we could get all zen about it and throw the calendar away. What day is it? There is only today. When will it get warmer/cooler? When it does.

So today I’ll enjoy the pleasant low desert weather.

Livin’ a life of luxury

I came across this statement and felt it applied to my nomadic life:

 

Things people like that I don't understand

Left to right: Arizona, Colorado River, California

I was walking in West Wetlands Park in Yuma today. As I strolled I thought about how the only people in a place like this in the middle of a workday are park maintenance guys, moms with little kids, and retirees like me. 

Then, almost on cue, a retirement-aged couple bicycled past. They were dressed in identical cycling clothes—the spandex kind emblazoned with the graphics of some pro cycling team.

Sort of like this AI-generated image

First, I don’t really get why some couples dress alike. It’s fun for them, I guess, but it’s just kind of weird to me unless they’re going to a costume party. (A slight divergence here: My then-wife’s friends decided to throw a birthday party for her. They thought it would be fun for everyone to dress like her. She had a rather distinctive style. If they had judged the costumes, I would have won, because I wore her actual clothes.)

Second, why do so many hobbyist cyclists wear team outfits? I guess it’s sort of like sports fans wearing their team’s jerseys. Or is it a form of cosplay where they imagine they’re in the Tour de France or Olympics? Or did the bike shop sales guy talk them into it? “You’re going to need some padded pants, you know. And you shouldn’t wear, like, a T-shirt, because you’ll be soaked in sweat. I highly suggest this fetching ensemble. And we have color-matched shoes to go with it.” I mean, if one just wanted function there are plenty of plain bike pants, shirts, onesies and such. (And spandex does no favors for lumpy septuagenarian bodies.) But… I guess they like it. That’s all that matters, even if I don’t understand. It’s none of my business. And, no doubt, other people have plenty of opinions about my choices.

Will this change be for better, or worse, or neutral?

Well, Robert Marshall, the very old owner of BCM Mail and Ship in Quartzsite, has passed away. Frankly, I was surprised to see him still behind the counter when I picked up my package there last month.

There’s a notice on their redesigned website that the business has new owners. The new site lacks some of the features the old one had. I emailed them to learn about changes. It is (at this time, anyway) still at the same location, using the same addresses. Okay. So at least there’s no immediate need for me to do changes of address with various entities.

In the past, when they notified me of mail arriving, I could go to a link and see scans of the envelopes or shipping labels. Then I could instruct them whether to forward, hold for pickup, or discard them. Now they will scan only if you ask, and there’s a $5 charge. Then, if you want any of it forwarded, there’s another $5 charge. Um, I don’t like that. About the only important mail I get is the very occasional letter from Social Security, Medicare, IRS, or State of New Mexico. Everything else can be tossed. (I’m lookin’ at you, AARP.) And when I’m in the general Quartzsite region in winter I might have a package shipped there. My needs are small.

Another mail service had opened around the corner from BCM last year, and I wonder if that is affecting prices and services. A quick look at their site shows they nickel and dime you, too.

Oh well. Life keeps changing.

Good morning from Huntington Beach, CA

Considering how health and beauty conscious California is, it’s pleasant to see the walkway sign was modeled after an average human physique.

I guess I’m always prepared

I was checking the national weather forecast when I video came up about the number one mistake drivers make in winter weather. Take a second to guess.

He said it was that they leave the house without adequate clothing in case you get stuck and need to spend the night in your car.

Well, my car has all my winter clothing. It also has food and water. And heat. So I’m good.

But to me, the bigger mistake is simply being anywhere dangerously cold.

A break from the desert

Although I'm not ready to go to Baja (and I'm having second thoughts about it) I am ready to be by the ocean again. It's not amazing beach weather, but it's pretty good for the middle of December.

I spent last night camped just outside Borrego Springs, on the western edge of the desert. It got down to freezing overnight. Brrrrr. Then I cruised up and over the coastal mountains on nice and mostly deserted two-lane roads. The last few miles had some annoying traffic and badly timed lights, but it's a small and temporary price to pay for time at the beach.

Rerouted

I hadn’t been to Los Algodones since last winter. There have been a few changes since then.

First, the tribal parking lot has upped its price from $6 to $10. And now there’s a machine that accepts cards and spits out a receipt, although there’s an attendant who takes your card and does business with the machine for you. If you want to pay cash they no longer give change.

Second, they’ve changed traffic flow a bit. You used to make a right turn and then a left after paying. Now you just continue straight.

On the Mexican side of the border they’ve changed the entry point. Now, instead of continuing more or less straight, weaving around a couple of buildings, and ending up on Calle 2 (yellow line), you follow a new walkway along the border fence to Calle 3. (pink line) I had to reorient myself a little. However, as a helpful local informed me, you cross back into the US the old way, off Calle 2. (green line)

The line at Customs & Immigration still trails back along the shaded sidewalk on Ave. Mariano Maria Lee, and there are the usual vendors (perhaps more of them). There’s still an agent at the first gate checking to see if you have your passport, and there’s still the turnstile. But now there’s only one door into the building being used, and they ring a doorbell when the next person may enter. Mmmm, okay. There have been as many as four agents on duty, but at this time there were only two.

I know the best time to get in and out of Los Algodones is early in the morning or in the evening, but I went at about noon anyway, when the line is usually the longest. It wasn’t the worst line I had been in, but it was still 47 minutes until I was out the door. I timed it.

So it was one of those familiar-but-different situations. But isn’t that pretty much the way life unfolds anyway.

The new you

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a short story about a hardware store owner who always got the leading roll in his small town’s theater productions. Although he was a quiet man, on stage he totally became the characters he played. It was made into a movie entitled "Who Am I This Time?"

I saw a brief video today where a psychologist talked about what we might do if we’ve gone through a rough experience that has left our life in shambles. We could think of it as an opportunity to start over with a clean slate. Who do you want to become? What do you want your life to be?

I’ve never loved my given name, and I’ve never felt any attachment to my family name. There have been times I considered changing it. When I married, my wife, who also didn’t like her name, and I considered both of us changing our names. We never went through with it, though.

When I became a nomad I realized I’d be meeting new people and making new friends. These people wouldn’t know anything about me except what I told them. I could use any name. I could fabricate my entire history if I wanted to. I had a clean slate.

I didn’t do it. I’m not good at deception or keeping my stories straight. But I still became a different person. It’s inevitable when one lives this life. I think the new me is better. I feel better.