Huan

"In the autumn and winter, water freezes into ice. When the warm breezes of spring come, the rigidity is dissolved, and the elements that have been dispersed into ice floes are reunited.

"It is the same with the hearts of people. Through hardness and selfishness the heart grows rigid, and this rigidity leads to separation from others. Egotism and cupidity isolate us.

"Therefore, our hearts must be seized by devout emotion. We must be shaken by a spiritual awe in the face of eternity - stirred with an intuition of the oneness of all living beings and united through this feeling of fellowship."
- "Huan," the 59rd hexagram of the I Ching

Happy Valentines Day, everyone.

From Weed

Since Peter R. did all the driving from Portland, Oregon down to Weed, California (350 miles), it was up to me to drive all the way back.

It was a long day.

To Weed

The Willamette Valley of western Oregon separates the Coast Range from the darkly forested ridges of the Western Cascades. Both the Coast Range and Willamette Valley formed about 35 million years ago on a slab of old seafloor on which most of northwestern and western Oregon is built.

Today, I traveled the length of the Willamette Valley with Peter R., a colleague from Atlanta visiting Portland. We left the city around 8 am and after getting through the rush-hour traffic headed south on I-5 toward Eugene, Oregon.

In the geologic past, before faulting opened the valley, the Coast Range to the west extended eastward to the Cascades. Today, the valley narrows to the south until Eugene, where the two mountain ranges once again meet.

We continued south on I-5 past Eugene through the merged ranges. Near Roseburg, Oregon, we first encountered the Klamath Range, where the mountains become higher and more rugged. Further south, as we approached Medford, Mount McLoughlin, a large, steep-sided volcano, came into view, promising even more exciting vistas ahead.

In Medford, we stopped for lunch and I had a bowl of what is quite likely the best chicken soup I've ever tasted at the Kaleidoscope Pizzeria and Pub. Continuing on, we gained considerable elevation as we traveled further south still, until we reached the Siskiyou Mountain Summit which, at 4,310 feet, is the highest point on I-5.


Soon afterwards, we entered California. The Klamaths are basically the northern extension of the Sierra Nevadas, offset to the west from the rest of the moutain range. Traveling through the Klamaths in California, Mount Shasta (14,162 feet) soon presented itself, first in teasing glimpses over other mountains, and then finally in plain view.


We stopped for the day in the intriguingly named town of Weed, California. However, it turns out that Weed got its name from one Abner Weed, the founder of the local lumber mill, who bought the Siskiyou Lumber and Mercantile Mill and 280 acres of land in 1897 for the sum of $400.

From various points in and around Weed, we were provided magnificent views of Mount Shasta until the sun finally set.

Karma

Ever since I've resumed blogging, I've been meaning to write a "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" post about my activities during the little hiatus. While this isn't that post, I do want to share a brief account of one of those activities, and describe how today's news relates to yesterday's post.

Longtime readers of this blog will recall that I had long been doing volunteer work on behalf of several Atlanta neighborhoods to preserve a local park. The City wanted to pave a bicycle trail through the park, and while I and most of my neighbors were all for bicycle mobility and the recreational opportunities the trail would provide, we didn't want to have to give up our park and the little greenspace remaining in the area, especially when viable alternative routes were available.

Tanyard Creek Park is a beloved neighborhood amenity for recreation and socialization. It's also a green buffer for seriously impaired Tanyard Creek, which suffers greatly from all of the upstream urbanization. The park is also the last remaining undeveloped field from the Battle of Peachtree Creek. Almost 6,500 casualties resulted from one day of fighting there (compared to 4,200 coalition losses over almost five years of fighting in Iraq), leading Union Major General J.D. Cox to state, "Few battlefields of the war have been strewn so thickly with dead and wounded as they lay that evening around Collier's Mill."

So I was quite pleased that after several contentious meetings, after all of the differences between the City's plans and the neighborhood's vision was noisily articulated and amplified, we finally found a common ground for a trail route that met both the City's requirements and the community's acceptance.

The problem was getting all of the various agencies that had regulatory authority over some aspect or another of the trail to permit the alternative route, but to our relief, we got "green lighted" all the way. It appeared that we had managed to save the park, while still supporting the bike trail and the City.

Or so we thought. To our disappointment, we were called to a meeting last January and told that the City had performed its own analysis of the alternative routes, and decided that despite the clear community consensus, to proceed with the route that goes right through our park - the route that they had wanted all along, from the very beginning - and to abandon the alternative route identified.

Needless to say, we were not happy to hear this. When we tried to appeal the decision, we were told that the City's decision was final, and that a binding vote had been taken among City bureaucrats, without any neighborhood representation.

Well, funny thing. Karma can be a real bitch. Today, it was announced that the Georgia Supreme Court ruled this morning that the funding mechanism for the whole Beltline project, including the trail through Tanyard Creek Park, is unconstitutional, basically stripping the project of its funding.

Just yesterday, after seeing Mount Hood loom magestically over the City of Portland, I posted the text of the Po hexagram, including its statement that "those who rule rest on the broad foundation of the people. They too should be generous and benevolent, like the earth that carries all. Then they will make their position as secure as a mountain is in its tranquillity."

A mountain rests on the earth. When it is steep and narrow, lacking a broad base, it must topple over. Its position is strong only when it rises out of the earth broad and great, not proud and steep. The city government of Atlanta, in its prideful arrogance, thought that its will could rise above that of its citizens, only to find karma knocking its steep and narrow peak back down on its ass.

Of course, no one really wins here. There is no "us" and "them," and no "win" and "lose." The park won't suffer the trail, but we won't get a bicycle path at all now. We won't get the Beltline mass transit, and we won't get the new parks included in the Beltline plan. We share in the City's misfortune - their karma is ours, too.

As I said, karma can be a real bitch.

Po

"The mountain rests on the earth. When it is steep and narrow, lacking a broad base, it must topple over. Its position is strong only when it rises out of the earth broad and great, not proud and steep. So likewise those who rule rest on the broad foundation of the people. They too should be generous and benevolent, like the earth that carries all. Then they will make their position as secure as a mountain is in its tranquillity."
- "Po," the 23rd hexagram of the I Ching

The good weather of yesterday morning continued throughout the day, and I used the opportunity to drive up to Washington Park overlooking the city. The park is located up in the hills visible behind the buildings in yesterday's post, and contains a zoo, a Japanese garden, an experimental rose garden, and the Hoyt Arboretum, and probably other attractions I have not discovered yet. From the vantage point of the park, one can observe the City of Portland in the Willamette Valley below.

The big pink building, sometimes called "The Big Pink Building," is actually the US Bankcorp Building near Portland's Old Town. My office is almost next door, but at seven stories, the building is not visible from Washington Park.

But the real treat of the day was seeing Mt. Hood in the Cascade Range across the valley. As I walked through the rose garden, the mountain first presented itself to me above the nearby condominium and office buildings which compete with one another for views of the mountains.

Walking around, I was soon able to view the mountain from different vantage points (perception depending upon perspective). From the Overlook Trail in the arboretum, the mountain seemed to float above the earth - the mountain above, the earth below - reminding me of Po, the 23rd hexagram in the I Ching, the Book of Changes.

Depending on where I was standing, the mountain appeared either near or far, high or low, hiding behind buildings or towering over them.

Zen Master Dogen once said that mountains walk, and at times it felt that Mt. Hood was walking along its own trail parallel to mine, but separated by the valley between us. Washington Park is connected to 5,000-acre Forest Park, which in turn connects to other parks and wildlife sanctuaries, and contains more than 60 miles of trails. If my short walk through Washington Park's rose garden and arboretum provided such different perspectives of the mountain, how much different would it appear if I were to continue walking along the miles of Forest Park trails?

Our perception depends upon our perspective, and our perspective is constantly changing. Why, then, should we cling to our one-sided views?

Up On The Roof

After some heavy downpours earlier this week, the rain has let up somewhat, reminding me that the blue sky had always been up there somwhere behind all of the clouds, waiting for my patience to allow it to emerge.

I got my camera and went up on the roof of my building and snapped a few pictures.

There's a hot tub on the roof of the building and some guy was up there trying to figure out how to turn on the jacuzzi jets. I found the "on" button, just a non-descript little bump on the wall, and hit it for him as he jumped in.

While he was enjoying his early-morning soak, I continued to survey the surrounding Pearl District from my rooftop.

This might be a great neighborhood if they ever finish building it.

This might be a great day if I ever stop clinging to my desire for the clouds to stay away, and accept the sky for being what it is: up there.

Awnings

Let's get the obvious out of the way: it rains here in Portland. A lot.

According to NOAA, 5.83 inches of rain has fallen here since January 1, which actually is 0.20 inches less than normal. But a more telling statistic, based not on government data but my own observations, it that it's rained every day. Or at least every day since I've arrived.

Which is not a problem - I'm not complaining. I've bought a waterproof shell and have gotten reasonably accomplished at walking around warm and dry in cold, wet weather, a skill at which I believe I will only continue to improve.

But my point is that it's no secret that it rains here a lot. Everyone knows it. "The rainy northwest" is practically a cliche. So, since it rains so much, I wonder why stores and businesses along Portland's streets don't have awnings.

Wouldn't it make sense for a business to put up awnings, not as a public service, but to attract customers? Pedestrians would tend to loiter under the awning for protection from the rain, and would be more likely to then notice the "Sale" signs, or the window display, or the quality of the merchandise. Sales would skyrocket, the awnings would pay for themselves, and everyone would win.

But instead, every storefront is open to the elements, and pedestrians are totally exposed to the rain as they walk past the businesses. I don't understand.

Maybe they're worried about the city's rampant homeless using the awnings for overnight protection, but that shouldn't be a problem - the awnings could be rolled up at night for the dubious purpose of depriving the needy of shelter.

Maybe they're worried about the wind, but that shouldn't be a problem either, what with modern design and engineering.

Maybe they're afraid that awnings would be an insult to the prowess of the local population at keeping warm and dry in the cold and wet.

Maybe they've never seen awnings, but that doesn't seem likely.

I've got so much to learn . . .

Don't Blink

Superbowl. Super Tuesday. Fat Tuesday. There's nothing more I can add to what's already been said elsewhere.

My friend Bill sent me a link to this video for the "Color Changing Card Trick." Watch carefully and see if you can figure the trick out.

There's much that we see and much that we think we see, but there's even more that we miss. We see smoke on the other side of the mountain, but don't realize there's fire. We see high beams coming around a curve, but miss the car in the road. We hear the thunder, but ignore the rainstorm.

On the color changing card trick, did you see the gorilla? Tell me, where is Bodhidharma right now? You've stumbled past him without even realizing it.

The Prius

I'm exfoliating layers of the Atlanta experience like some sort of self-destructing onion, slowly revealing the Portlandian core inside. But before I get to that core, I first have to go through the brand-name layers, the corporate shells that have to be passed through, or better transcended, before the real identity emerges.

So for now, I'm buying my coffee at Starbucks, my clothes at REI, and my groceries at Whole Foods, and thinking that somehow makes me "Portlandish." I'm staying in Alimony Flats and walking in the Oregon morning rain to work. And this weekend, to top it all off, I rented a Prius. I might as well have been wearing a Dennis Kucinich button for all my former colleagues back in Atlanta are concerned.

The Prius is actually a pretty good car for this town. It's small and agile enough to get around the narrow streets, and the designated parking space at my "corporate condo" is really more a sobriety test than a place to park your car - it's got two concrete columns entirely on my side of the white stripes, and the space is just wide enough for both side-view mirrors to clear, but absolutely no more. The Prius just barely fit, but if I had rented a Jeep Cherokee instead, I would have been swapping paint with the columns. An Escalade wouldn't have even cleared the low ceiling, much less dreamt of slipping into the space.

The fun of driving a Prius is watching the mileage meter. It tops out at 99.9 mpg - can't indicate anything higher - and I frequently pegged the 99.9 mark. But approaching a stop light, the mileage drops down to say, 35.5, then 19, and finally 12, which actually isn't bad for most cars but feels pretty consumptive after 99.9. I took it out onto I-5 and drove from Columbia Blvd. down to Tualatin and back, and successfully got the car up to 70 mph several times, for those who care about such things. But for Portland, where the highway limit is 55 and you'd be lucky to hit 35 on the city streets, it's got all the power you need, and who wants to give the oil companies $100 a week, anyway?

I picked the car up after work Friday and turned it back in this morning on my way to the office. $52, and an eighth of a tank. At those rates, I'll probably do it next weekend, too.

The First Case

When you see smoke on the other side of the mountain, you know there is fire, even though you haven't seen it. When you see headlight beams in advance of a curve in the road, you know there's an oncoming car, even though you haven't seen it yet.

We can't "see" the future, but we can see the signs of arising conditions. However, our minds are often confused and stuck to perceptions that are different from reality. If we can clear our minds of these pre-conceptions, we would be able to better perceive these arising conditions for what they are, not what our minds project them to be.

Zazen is the practice to clear our minds. Zazen is the practice to directly see arising dharmas. Zazen is the practice that allows us to get the closest to "seeing" the "future."

Alimony Flats

This has been my first non-working Saturday in Portland. During my stays here last year, I spent my Saturdays and Sundays in the office, feverishly working against a deadline to get a report out on time. But today, I was able to sleep in guilt free, brew a pot of coffee and watch CNN in my boxer shorts.

I'm staying for the next 30 days in a furnished apartment (my company calls in a "corporate condo," but it's not a condominium and there's nothing corporate about it). It's located in the heart of Portland's Pearl District, a mixed area of expensive condos and apartments for low-income people just north of W Burnside and west of NW Broadway, or as Chuck Palahniuk calls it, "Alimony Flats." The picture above was taken from my living-room window this morning.

The Pearl District has the largest concentration of art galleries in the city as well as restaurants, nightclubs and small shops. However, the only food store in the District is Whole Foods, located six blocks to the south and two blocks to the west of my apartment. I walked there in the rain Wednesday night after wandering all over the Pearl looking for a food store, but all I saw were brew-pubs, galleries, boutiques, salons and sushi. I finally went back to the apartment, found the Whole Foods address on the net, and headed back out in the rain to get my groceries.

That rain continued all day Thursday and Friday, but this morning it turned into a wet snow that didn't stick to the ground. Walking around in the Oregonian weather in my Georgian jacket and sweater, I realized that I didn't look like the other people here in Portland, specifically, they weren't wearing Georgian clothing but instead were walking around wearing ski jackets and mountain gear. They also didn't look as cold and wet as I felt.

So I hiked four blocks to the west and and two to the north to the REI store, and bought myself a better coat for this weather - a Mountain Hardwear Conduit Softshell, as well as a Blur-brand hooded pullover sweatshirt and a pair of "Mount Denali" gloves. Patagonia has a store right behind my apartment building and North Face has a store a couple blocks from here, and I'm told that Columbia Sprotswear has an outlet store in nearby Sellwood, but I selected REI for its greater variety of brands. After I changed into my new, regionally appropriate wardrobe, I walked back to Whole Foods for lunch and then headed over to Powell's Bookstore and bought two books on Northwestern geology, a copy of the Blue Cliff Record, and Chuck Palahniuk's "Fugitivies & Refugees," subtitled "A Walk Through Portland," in which he calls the Pearl District "Alimony Flats."

Alimony must be a thriving business here in Portland, because there's new construction going on everywhere you look in the Pearl. Cranes are everywhere, like this one visible over the roof of my apartment:

Or a Palahniuk puts it, everyone looking to make a new life migrates west, across America to the Pacific Ocean. Once there, the cheapest city where they can live is Portland, so the city is filling up fast with the most cracked of the crackpots, the misfits among misfits.

Apparently now including a 50-something Zen Buddhist from Atlanta, Georgia.

A Vow

I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.
I will not post boring and repetitive texts.