The Road Most Traveled

Spring's here! I can tell because women are wearing open-toed sandals, and because there are mountainbikers on the trails.

I love early spring. Women, birds and critters are cute, open-toed or otherwise. Mountainbikers crush last fall's dry leaves to powder, and get rid of spider webs to boot. Creeks fill up, the air is fresh, the sun gets stronger and the views are scenic. It's my favorite time of year for hiking, and I look forward enthusiastically to my early Sunday morning hikes. Eventually, as the temps get higher, I'll switch to cycling on Sundays and begin bicycle commuting weekdays.

Today, I did my favorite hike for the first time this season. My own 2-hour, 6-mile, Walden. The 700 ft climb is gradual, the path is well-maintained and wildlife abundant (huge buck crossed yards away), and the world is serene and quiet. My thoughts were mine. It can't get any better than this.

This is my road most traveled.

- © 2008 by Willy

P.S. This machine's working better!
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Sensing

From boyhood, I've been very nearsighted, and almost blind without my glasses (5 spherical). Of course, I need my glasses to drive, bike, use the PC, and watch TV, but not to read nor to work out. Matter of fact, there are advantages to taking my glasses off when on a cardio machine or while lifting weights: it's easier to wipe the sweat off, and I can concentrate better, shutting off the world around me. One problem is that people think I'm unfriendly.

Without glasses, I can only see motion and color, so from a distance I can only recognize two of the guys (and none of the gals) because they shave their heads. If I see a blurry moving figure with light reflecting off their heads, it's likely to be either Charlie or the new guy. And I can tell it's Charlie if there's another moving figure with him, since he's a personal trainer and the new guy isn't. So, there's some sensing that gives me a 50-50 chance of it being Charlie, but there's some intelligence used too that brings that chance to 100% being Charlie.

The same process is used in missile algorithms. The dumb seeker can see only motion and contrast, but the computer inside carries "rules" that increase the probability of what it sees as being the target. For instance, similarly to the Charlie discussion, if the seeker (first rule) finds motion and color/contrast but (second rule) it's only one moving spot, then it may not be a tank, since tanks usually move in packs, and then (third rule) size, color, shape, heat (or whatever) is pursued.

If your dumb eyes tell you that your significant other is (first rule) coming towards you, but (second rule) she's spewing bile, and (third rule) normally doesn't want anything to do with you, then that's not really a significant other. Duh!

- © 2008 by Willy
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My Song

A bird does not sing because it has an answer... it sings because it has a song.

That's just the way he is, and that's all he is.

So, what am I? Even though I have an answer, no matter the question, can I shut up and sing instead? What is my song?

I am unrivalled in technical matters, but am lousy at and a co-dependent in romantic relationships, and am working on it. My goals are to accept the past and to avoid worry and regret for today.

My song is a litany of success in technical contributions and tutelage. I'm kind and helpful to others. I motivate, tutor, mentor, teach and otherwise educate others to stand on their own two feet, grow and contribute... whether at home, work, college, societies, church, gym, bike, trail, or store. I do sometimes have trouble recognizing that I can't teach a pig to sing, but it eventually dawns on me. I'm sold on doing acts of kindness because I have received them myself, but expect nothing in return other than my own enjoyment.

I like my song, and I'm a happy man. I have an awful lot to sing about: the great career with work I enjoy, living in a terrific part of the country that permits hiking and biking to the max, control over my life, and great friends and family.

[The reader (me!) should remember that I continue to sort out how I feel from different perspectives, and thus the apparent repetition. I'm going to get it right, yet. This is, after all, my therapy.]

- text © 2008 by Willy

P.S., "I gotta be me!" -Sammy Davis Jr.

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Soul Or The Machine

The Navaho Indians believe that when a craftsman makes a basket or sand painting, his spirit actually enters the object, and he becomes part of it.

Not called craftsmanship, but when a parent raises his children, he puts a lot of blood, sweat and tears into that kid, and he becomes part of them... and them of him. This is after considerably more hours than the Navaho craftsman took.

A garaged Street Rod, lovingly built or restored through years of toil and many trips to the junkyard. A home-built airplane from a kit. Gorgeous oiled-oak kitchen cabinets from lumber. A new prototype missile. A modern relationship.

All of these are the same element in common: all are lovingly built by a craftsman who puts his heart and soul into the project, as well as untold years of work. And the differences are that hearts and souls can only be broken by relationships, not by baskets or machines.

By dismissing the object, you dismiss the man and by breaking the relationship you break his heart. On the other hand, their mother did not value our children and gave them up a long, long time ago. Similarly, but more recently, the Ex did not value our relationship and gave it up long ago too. No craftsmen, neither one cared... the Philistines.

I understand now. He who cares not, hurts not, whether it's an object or a person.

- © 2008 by Willy
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