Satori

I haven't been feeling very bloggy lately, my apologies. Too busy with work, and then too busy with GDC, and now I'm just all off-kilter and sick. So that's what this entry will be about. :-)

But first, you must go to this page and observe some anti-war protest at City Hall. Makes me happy that it's going on: happy to be in San Francisco, happy to be close to it, surrounded by like-minded folks. If I felt better I'd join them, and bathe in that intoxicating feeling of fighting for what you believe is right, but today my stamina is only powerful enough for an apple-fritter adventure. The protest does sound fun. But for now my sights are set on a doughy mound of deep-fried happiness.

Been inside the house for the past two days. Cocooned in blankets and pajamas, sipping green tea and orange juice, slaying kobolds and counter-terrorists at the computer... it feels comfortable and yet I'm still off-balance. Is it the cold? Is it GDC? I think both. It started before the conference, that feeling that I'm not quite connected to my life, that my feet aren't in the earth and my lungs have forgotten the fresh air. Instead my brain is pre-occupied with organizing information into bite-size presentable chunks, my spirit wound up in an ego-induced drive to look good, and my fingers and forearms are tired and burning from too much pounding while the rest of my body languishes from disuse.

Stepping out into the air reignites some monkey-brain and I take a deep breath of what seems like crisp, fresh air. In reality it's filled with exhaust from the cars on 9th Street and pot smoke from the protestors garrisoned in their car next to me, but to my bored indoor lungs it feels like a rush of opiates. My mind stirs.

I always forget that when I'm bored or depressed, going for a walk in the city clears that away. Something about being distracted by others, by the environment, moving my limbs, getting the blood going – it clears away the cobwebs and resets my state. Of course, I know this. But of course, I never remember until I accidentally wander outside on a quest for take-out eggrolls or a mug of hot tea not made by my own hands.

Walking up the street I notice homeless men outside the Quaker house. They haven’t been there before, that's odd. I wonder if they'll ask me for change. I only have six dollars, enough for my morning bounty and not much more. I don't mind people asking me for change, not really, but the frequency of requests does get tiresome. I appreciate that our mayor is inspired to do something about it, and I wonder in that moment what I can do to help.

Then I notice the jackhammers – actually it's less of a noticing than a dawning realization that the constant thumping I've been hearing for weeks actually has a physical embodiment that I'm going to have to walk past – and I stare at them as I wait for the red blinking "stop" hand to switch to a friendly green "go" hand. I wonder, what's their day like? I hate the noise, I wish it would stop, but the folks in orange do this for a living. How is it to get up early in the morning, get together with your mates to patch up a street, and endure the jackhammer pounding for hours upon hours, surrounded by people who are pissed off at you for doing your job? Must be rough. I vow to be more friendly next time I see them.

Indeed, Market street is a-buzz. Lots of people at the F-train stop, going toward the Ferry Building where the march will begin. I pass by a couple wielding a dolly, laden with backpacks, and at first I think that they're homeless. Their load seems precarious and so they pause, which gives me time to see the "PAX" signs and "Peace" buttons. Good for them. One of them looks like David Suzuki. You never know, we are in San Francisco...

Finally about to reach my destination, I take an unusual vector through the Ramada Hotel to avoid another person waiting to ask me for change. Why give them the opportunity to be let down? My mind is singularly focused, and my course through the revolving doors is fortunately clear. No line at Starbucks. Another odd event at this time of the morning. - Nope, I'm getting tea, I don't need an espresso, thanks for asking. Huge pink happy sugar cookie flowers in the display case. "IT'S SPRING!" they seem to announce, beckoning me to purchase them. It makes me smile. But today I'm after their neighbor, Mr. Fritter. Sorry, Happy Flower. You will survive to see another day.

An extra-long glance from the person at the counter. I love that look. It's either "you’re attractive" or "you look like a freak". Either way, it's a pleasant acknowledgement of another person's existence. But I'm sick, I have a head cold, I let it roll over me and joke with them about my burning desire for an apple fritter. It wasn't really about the tea, but I'll have one of those, too, a grande please.

On the way back, mission accomplished, out again through the Ramada and narrowly avoiding a collision with a man whose chest hair bursting from the top of his buttoned shirt reminds me of the fur on the hat of a winter coat.

Walking more slowly now, crossing the intersection again, cars paused askew across the crosswalk, dodging the woman with her daughter who looks at me somewhat frightened – maybe they're not familiar with the neighborhood - I smile back. A young fellow interrupts my thoughts at the corner – is he Indian? Chinese? Difficult to pinpoint. He's looking for a convenience store where he can purchase some soap, some towels... I point him to Walgreens, from the direction I just came. Nice fellow. The absence of the expected follow-up question "do you have some spare change I can use?" is noted and appreciated.

Turning left onto my street, multiple cars with protestors gathering their courage and signs, then left again, then home.

Brain a little clearer now.

It's a simple morning ritual, but always filled with things and thoughts unexpected. Returning home, I'm reminded of how much I've sat at the computer the past few months, past few years really – okay, since I came to California over four years ago – and how I have gone to that well too many times. The computer is very intellectual, it is stimulation and correspondence that is brain-based and that encourages me to think and wonder. And I love things intellectual, I'm drawn to them. But it's easy to forget about and ignore things physical, like being with people and the world, exploring and enjoying the environment. These things take walking out the front door.