“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge – myth is more potent than history – dreams are more powerful than facts – hope always triumphs over experience – laughter is the cure for grief – love is stronger than death” – Robert Fulghum
Music: Bad Day by Daniel Powter
Roadrunner Cartoons: Looney Tunes, Warner Brothers
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Art, Humor, Philosophy | Tagged: cartoons, Robert Fulghum, Wile E Coyote | 
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Posted by cedardweller
I am not a religious person, but I have strong, non-dogmatic spiritual beliefs drawn from several of the world’s religious traditions. My beliefs give me a comfortable certainty of continuance after death, but I am free of the need to define continuance in detail.
I am also not a big fan of rituals – funerals, of course, being one of my least favorites. I understand all the traditional grief-resolution arguments about funerals; I have planned some and attended many – some beautiful, some bordering on ridiculous. The most ridiculous are those with the strongest discontinuity between the deceased’s life and the subsequent eulogism. Nonetheless, I have a reasonable tolerance of other people’s need for ritual. I understand I’m the oddball.
Griz and I, however, have both made specific requests in our wills for NO FUNERAL. One of us will probably have the luxury of expecting this request to be honored. We have both requested cremation with our ashes to be scattered at sea - if such can be easily arranged and if sea-scattering is still legal. I suppose the scattering might provide an opportunity for ritual if any survivors feel inclined – not much you can do about it from the ash side of things.
Though I have not specified it in my will, I have discussed alternative ash disposal methods with those close to me. For the record, beneath a big cedar tree is a current favorite. But my attachment to the ultimate disposition of this mortal vessel is so minimalistic, that down the toilet or into the compost heap would not offend. One of my environmental goals, after all, is to leave no visible footprint. However, if the compost heap is where I land, I would like to request no brussels sprouts be grown from that particular soil. I have never acquired a taste for brussels sprouts: it’s odd really – I love most varieties of cabbage. Perhaps I’ll evolve through that particular distaste on the “ash side of things.”
I did not watch the Michael Jackson memorial at Staples Center; but, of course, I have been brushed by the news bytes and commentary – pro and con. Participating in such a super-bowlesque extravaganza for ANY reason is almost beyond my comprehension, but I don’t deride those who did. It seems a fitting element of grief resolution for the family and friends of a talented musician who lived virtually his whole life in the public eye. Music and entertainment are integral to his siblings’ lives as well – this family needed this.
A friend directed me to the video of Jermaine Jackson’s touching rendition of Smile. I was particularly moved because Smile was one of my father’s favorite songs – something I didn’t even know until I was caring for Dad at the end of his life. Smile was originally a song of my father’s generation.
Music, family ties, loss and grief are cross-cultural and cross-generational. Even someone as ritualistically flippant as me is moved when I’m reminded of the profound universality of our humanness.
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Family, Hermit's Rants, Philosophy, Spirituality, Television | Tagged: bereavement, funerals, rituals, cremation, Michael Jackson memorial, Jermaine Jackson, no funeral | 
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Posted by cedardweller
In this week of cascading celebrity mortalities, and the resultant gnashing and wailing by media and fans, I was initially embarrassed that I live in a culture of such profound celebrity worship. But then empathy kicked in.
After all, the families and friends of the celebrities suffer no more or less than the countless other ordinary families who this week must face the loss of a loved one. Premature and unexpected, or the anticipated death of an elder – loss is loss.
Perhaps when we mourn deeply for a celebrity, someone we don’t really know, we’re facing down our terror – practicing for the inevitable death of someone truly close; or perhaps we’re further resolving a grief we already carry. Grief is a necessary and unavoidable part of the human experience, no less real whether we grieve for a close loved one, a beloved pet or a cherished celebrity. We should not judge the validity or import of another person’s grief, but rather remind ourselves of the common path we travel.
This beautiful poem was written by my cousin, Janelle Olney. Janelle was an oncology nurse for many years – not just serving cancer patients, but also counseling their families:
The Letting Go by Janelle Marie Olney
Here you wait, in this room of hissing machines, and whispering loved ones.
Touched by latex covered hands, you open your eyes long enough to say “I’m still here.”
I know you’ll be leaving soon.
On the street below people go about their day, unaware of this unfolding drama that dwarfs their mundane concerns.
Something this momentous should trigger lightning strikes, or cause the very stars to darken in the sky.
But it’s only death come calling. Stealing in on quiet feet and taking you away.
An empty chair at the table.
An empty pillow on the bed.
An awful empty hole in the hearts of your wife, your children, and those who will always remember you were here.
Death is so cruel in its ordinariness.
People die every day, and two are born to take their place.
But ordinary is not a word that will occur to those whose lives will soon be torn apart by the letting go of you.
Janelle’s loving son, sisters and parents were kind enough to share this poem with us at Janelle’s funeral, three years ago. Janelle’s death was accidental – she was 48 years old.
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Family, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology | Tagged: bereavement, celebrity deaths, Janelle Marie Olney, poems about death, Poetry | 
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Posted by cedardweller
Possibly about dental hygiene.
Seriously – the title of this photo is BeaRRRSS, by Daniel Hernanz. If you are a fan of wildlife photography or just photography or just wildlife, you should definitely check out Daniel Hernanz’ photostream on Flickr.
Dani is an exceptional talent. He has my greatest admiration and was kind enough to let me use this image.
His work is a far cry from my personal wildlife photos – a unique collection of blurred images and animal rumps disappearing into the bush.
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Posted by cedardweller
I am fortunate to have been raised in one of those families (immediate and extended) in which laughter was as integral to the family dynamic as love. As a youngster, I thought positive humor was everyone’s primary coping mechanism. It wasn’t until the school years with feedback from others that I realized my family might be a little different. School chums visiting for the weekend would go home with sore stomach muscles, reporting to their parents that my family never stopped laughing. I got labeled as a character quite young – nothing to be ashamed of.
We were not a wealthy family, but we did have fun together, sometimes even in the gravest circumstances. We were not spared the standard roster of dire events – lost loves and fortunes, premature deaths from misadventure; chronic, serious and terminal diseases – you know the drill. We just used humor to place life’s ups and downs in perspective. I should add that laughter was not used as a weapon in my family, only as shared commentary and commiseration on life’s predicaments
As you grow-up in one of these laugh factories, you do learn to temper your humor when outside the family fold. It’s best to avoid having to apologize for your laughter. There is much to be serious about in life; and many people take offense if you don’t honor the gravity of their station and circumstances. I admit laughter is risky and can be inappropriate in some situations: job interviews; church services-especially funerals; during sex with a new lover, for example.
Some people don’t seem to enjoy laughter all that much. They equate laughter with silliness and unnecessary frivolity. Sometimes laughter is silly, sometimes it is frivolous; most often it’s an intelligent, healthy response to life’s unpredictability.
Griz and I (my current family) have a lot of fun together, too. Laughter is a large part of our bond. Much of the mate-seeking process for us characters is to find someone who gets (tolerates) our sense of humor – and gets it well enough to live with it day-to-day. If you’re lucky like me, you find another, compatible character.
Taking life lightly is probably my principal attraction to Taoism. Although I do not define myself as a Taoist per se, Taoist teachings do resonate with me. Perhaps I was a Taoist last time around. I like the following description by the late John Blofeld. For a relatively short description, I think Blofeld succeeds at capturing what I consider that “twinkle in the eye” of the Tao:
In one sense, the Tao is the originator, container, substance, and goal of the universe – thus nothing lies apart from it. Shapeless, invisible, intangible, it is the creator, substance, and being of a myriad transient forms, of which you and I are two, Mount Kanchenjunga forms a third, the garden dung-heap a fourth, the moon a fifth, and so on. The Tao seeks no praise, no worship. The Tao is. In another sense, the Tao is the path one follows in order to be transfused by the inimitable perfection which realization of the goal bestows. Moreover, since there are many kinds of sentient beings at various levels of understanding, the Tao comprises different paths, some long, some short. All lead eventually to the goal.
What goal? Blissful consciousness of perfect identity with the sublime Tao. From this consciousness flows such harmony between reality (the Tao) and its transient manifestation (say, you or me) that henceforth one can act with pure spontaneity in dealing with all life’s exigencies, like a tree bending towards the sunlight. Fear and anxiety vanish; for, in an ultimate sense, nothing can ever go wrong. Light and dark, up and down, health and sickness, life and death are all part of the interplay of transient phenomena whereby the Tao manifests the Tao. Your birth added nothing to it. My death will take nothing from it. Nor, in fact, are birth and death valid concepts, except in a wholly relative sense, for, since every atom of my body, mind, personality, etc., is the Tao, nothing came into being at my birth, nothing will cease to be when I die. So ha-ha-ho-ha-ha! Having realized what I really am, I can face all that may come with laughing equanimity, never sure that a change for the so-called worse (including death, ha-ha-ha) will not turn out to be a change for the so-called better. If it does not turn out that way, that’s fine too, for a realized Taoist is too wise to take opposites such as better or worse, at all seriously. I am soon to become an emperor – ha-ha-ha-ha! I am destined to be lousy beggar – ha-ha-ha-ha! It’s all a game. Any part will suit me fine. You are going to give me a thirty-two course (plus side dishes) Chinese Banquet? Thanks, I’ll enjoy that. We have only a bowl or two of inferior quality boiled rice for dinner? That will go down very nicely. We have nothing on which to dine? Splendid, we shall have more time to sit outside and enjoy the moonlight, with music provided by the wind in the pines.
You see how enviable is the lot of people who have realized the Tao! Nothing can upset them. Youth passes – so does spring. Old age comes – so do winter’s lovely snowscapes and the kettles bubbling over glowing charcoal. I’m bursting with energy, so I’ll jog or climb Mount Hua. I’m too ill to move, so I’ll enjoy my warm bed and meditate. My wife loves me, “O what joys behind hibiscus curtains!” My wife has left me; how peaceful it is now. Old Wang has a delicious concubine. I have a charming blue-eyed cat. Reagan is delighted with his new aeroplane. I have fun with my old bamboo raft. I find that I can sleep in only one bedroom at a time and that my old wadded gown sits lighter than fur. While you sit watching pictures on your color TV set, I stand gazing at ripples in a moonlit pond, thanking the gods for not interrupting with commercials. You are a funny creature; so am I – ha-ha! Who isn’t?
(c) 1983 John Blofeld, from the Introduction to The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain translated by Red Pine
1 Comment | Family, Philosophy, Psychology, Spirituality | Tagged: family sense of humor, positive laughter, private sense of humor, Taoism | Permalink
Posted by cedardweller
I was walking up the hill just after sunset last night when I noticed a bear watching me from just beyond the shop (about 60 yards away). The bear had just entered the cleared area from the forest, he was perfectly still and because of the diminishing light, I hardly noticed him in the shadows.
He was staring at me and I stared back, initially asking myself “is that a bear or just low-light shadow play?” Once I focused more carefully, there was no doubt. I walked (swiftly) back down to the house contemplating whether to bother with the camera – light was fading fast.
This forest-to-meadow margin area is where we see most bears. They use the meadow northwest of the shop for forage, and as an easy path to water as uphill streams begin to dry at this time of year. My assumption was: by the time I get to the house and back up to the shop (100 yards one-way), the bear will be moving away.
But no, this young bear (350 pounds?) was lingering in the meadow fairly close to the shop. Apparently he’d found the rodents abundant and there are some small patches of clover in bloom there.
I got a few photos, but none of them turned out well – poor light was a factor, but the emotional state of the photographer played a bigger role. This young bear, who was obviously aware of my presence, was not moving away like I expected. He kept an eye on me, and even moved toward me several times.
It’s just so much easier to be cavalier about the bears when they’re moving in the opposite direction. They seem awfully big when they start taking an interest in you. Knowing they can run 30+ mph doesn’t help the nerves. I have the greatest admiration for the good wildlife photographers.
In the light of day, I worry about this young bear’s future. If he has no innate fear of humans, he’ll find trouble sooner or later in this rural-to-suburban transition area. We made sure our garbage cans were well-sealed last night – and turned on the seldom-used little electric fence which surrounds them – don’t want to be responsible for encouraging bear bad habits.
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Posted by cedardweller
Rhododendron blooms
Swift, vibrant splendor – then GONE!
This year’s reminder.
Most of our rhododendrons are pretty shabby this year as a result of our unusually tough winter. They’ll all need a careful pruning after bloom.
Blossoms on the reds seem particularly short-lived. One rainfall and they’re past prime – and this is Western Washington, after all, so you know what that means. I bemoan their fleeting glory every year – hence, this morning’s haiku. I think the bees prefer the reds, too. They work feverishly – knowing only NOW!
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Posted by cedardweller
Actor Tom Hanks created a truly Memorable Hermit 
in the 2000 motion picture Cast Away. Hanks’ character, Fed-Ex manager Chuck Noland, is the only survivor of a plane crash and is forced to survive alone on a desert island for four years. His transition from a portly, time-obsessed urbanite to a tan, bearded, slightly-emaciated athlete is dramatically presented in one scene change. (A one-year hiatus during filmmaking gave Tom Hanks the time to lose 55 pounds.) The film tracks Noland’s acquisition of survival skills as well as his return home after being missing for four years.
The film is food for thought on many levels. Noland is clearly a different man after his four years of solitude. The life he left behind has also changed – people have moved on without him, including the love of his life.
Naturally, I was most fascinated with the challenges Noland faced while on the island. Contemplating how you would fair facing similar circumstances is part of the movie’s fun. The daily challenge of survival at a subsistence level is a lot different than choosing a comfortable level of solitude with access to modern amenities.
Would you (as Chuck Noland does) anthropomorphize a volleyball for someone to talk with? How long would it take before you decided to risk all and leave the relative, though uncomfortable, safety of the island to challenge the sea on a rickety raft?
Personally, if there was any other life on the island (birds, rodents, or even non-toxic reptiles), I’d like to think I’d try for a relationship with one of them over talking to an inanimate object. On the other hand, you don’t want to ultimately face having to eat a creature you’ve befriended – no protein in a volleyball.
As much as I treasure solitude, surviving at a subsistence level holds little appeal for me. It would be a laborious challenge alone – not a game like we see on television’s Survivor and Lost which were both developed after Cast Away’s success.
Although I can find genuine contentment in relative simplicity, and I’m fairly certain I could do well without much human interaction, trying to survive without books might launch my raft off the island – a library or die.
Leave a Comment » | Hermits, Most Memorable Hermits, Movies, Reading, Television | Tagged: Cast Away movie, Hermits, Most Memorable Hermits, solitude, surviving alone, Tom Hanks | Permalink
Posted by cedardweller
That’s one of my favorite Mark Twain quotes.
A friend recently suggested I may be a bit too obsessed with the weather. I won’t deny it. In fact, I’ll readily admit I am a lot obsessed with the weather. I’m one of those people who susbcribes to a personal weather forecast for my lat/long. I regularly check for impending showers on the Doppler radar.
My friend’s suggestion did set me to contemplating why I’m a weather addict though. I believe there are several reasons:
1. I live (and have lived most of my life) in meteorologically dynamic Western Washington. This area is a weatherman’s dream or nightmare. Big forces (Pacific Ocean, continental shape) combine with smaller, more immediate, geographical forces (Cascade & Olympic Mountains; Strait of Juan de Fuca & Puget Sound) creating weather systems which are channeled in infinitely variable scenarios over the dramatic geography. Even in spring and summer, stable air masses are short lived. The layered look in outdoor apparel may have been invented here – if you are an outdoor person, you need to be prepared for almost any weather, almost every day.
2. I crewed, lived aboard and cruised on small sailboats for about 20 years - primarily between Puget Sound and Alaska. Take this area’s dynamic weather, add a small boat on the large sea, and you up the ante on your weather obsession. Although I did crew on a couple of sailboats where the standard policy was “no-matter-what-the-weather,” I tried to avoid that Deadliest Catch weather whenever possible. You avoid deadly weather by giving yourself a flexible schedule, educating yourself and by staying in tune – not just listening to forecasts, though they become elemental; but also watching the clouds, sea conditions and barometric pressure. I believe weather awareness becomes innate to most long-time boaters – on sailboats it’s even more critical. Wind is your primary propulsion – to use it, you have to be out in it. Watching the weather becomes integral and habitual – a hard habit to kick.
3. And now – though Griz and I have a perfectly comfortable house and a large heated shop – we live in the forest. It is a rare day when we are not outside for projects or pure pleasure. Weather continues to be integral to our lives. Keeping an eye on the forecasts and the Doppler radar allows me to take best advantage of the day. I admit, weather is rarely as critical now as it was when we were living aboard. We hardly notice some big storms that set people talking – after all, how big can a storm be if it doesn’t move your home. But there are some weather risks associated with living among tall trees. We expect periodic power outages and it really isn’t very wise to go for a casual walk in a big wind. You also have to be cautious in moderate wind – one reason old evergreens get so old – they shed unnecessary branches to reduce their sail area for the big storms. Big limbs can be just as deadly as a whole tree if you aren’t alert. Unless it’s very calm out, I leave the iPod behind on longer walks. Listening for that distinctive crack (or unexpected rustle) is just part of being forest smart.
4. And the most recent development in my weather obsession comes from many years of a life outdoors and many years of life in general. Mid-life brings with it little reminders of every injury and repetitive stress in your history. Many of those little reminders seem accentuated by weather change. My body’s more sensitive to voluntary abuse than when I was younger: I’m more uncomfortable in (and resist tackling the hardest jobs in) extreme heat or cold. Fortunately, I can still do most things I did when younger – but my body makes more noise in the process and with some activities, it’s wise to pace myself. Keeping an eye on the weather allows me to set that pace or if necessary, take a day off. Wisdom of us ancients: “Nothing wrong with a snow day – even in the middle of summer.”
What do you think has the most influence on my weather obsession? I want to try out the POLL option of this blog software. Since this blog has a limited following, there may not be many respondents, but to my friend who started this: I expect at least ONE response. (You know who you are.)
2 Comments | Home, Nature, Sailing, Weather | Tagged: Weather, weather and aging, weather obsession, Western Washington weather | Permalink
Posted by cedardweller
It’s a fair assumption that most intentional hermits are introverts – like Griz and me. There may be a few extrovert hermits about, but they are likely unintentional hermits – living in solitude by accident or sacrificial choice – hiding from the law, castaways on uncharted islands, last-man-on-earth characters like Will Smith in I Am Legend.
Introverts as a whole (not just hermits) are considered a bit odd by many people, though introversion and extroversion have equitable and complementary benefits. Introverts are a minority though - making up only 25 to 30 percent of the population. The consolation is this: the ratio gradually switches as IQ’s rise – introverts make up 70 to 75% of individuals with IQ’s in 160+ range.
Sigmund Freud’s the guy to blame for declaring introversion a negative pathology. He considered introverts sexually-repressed narcissists who prefer their internal fantasies to real-world engagement. Unfortunately, Freud’s opinion tends to echo on even though Carl Jung improved the introvert image and removed the sexual element altogether in his theories of psychological types.
The primary difference between extroverts and introverts is this: extroverts are motivated and energized by external events and interactive creativity (highly-social) - introverts are motivated and energized by ideas and internal creativity (not-so-social). A very well-done, more exhaustive discussion of the differences is available here. Most of the world’s great leaders have been extroverts. Most Einsteinesque “fathers-of-invention” have been introverts.
Recent neuroscience research on brain activity (using PET scans) indicates introverts and extroverts actually use their brain architectures differently. Extrovert brain activity tends to be most active in the sensory processing regions of the brain. Introvert brain activity is more focused in the frontal lobes. This supports the external manifestations: extroverts seek a lot of stimulation and sensory input; introverts tend to take a little input and run with it internally – pondering things and getting their jollies from recontextualizing and reformulating. Hence, the contemplative hermit spirit.
Of course in reality, very few of us are absolute introverts or absolute extroverts. Most of us fall somewhere along the continuum. And even if our brains are working one way or the other, the external expression of our socialness (or lack thereof) may change at times over our lifetime as circumstances and needs evolve.
Even living as a hermit is as much about opportunity as it is about desire or inclination. For most people in today’s society, the hermit lifestyle tends to be a choice of mid-life and beyond: after education and the primacy of income development; and (unless celibate) after mate-seeking and child-rearing – all fairly social activities no matter how you’re using your brain.
Introversion is no better or worse than extroversion – it’s just a different expression of the same humanity. The world is a better place because our differences work in concert. Even if it was a brilliant, pondering introvert who invented the wheel, if it weren’t for a few extroverts seeking the thrill ride of using it to get from there to here, humanity may have died young, contentedly spinning donuts in the cave.
2 Comments | Hermit's Rants, Hermits, Philosophy, Psychology, Science | Tagged: hermit psychology, Hermits, introversion-extroversion, introvert-extrovert brain activity, introverts | Permalink
Posted by cedardweller
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