Ottawa Trip

I spent a few days in Canada this week. Taking a break from some of my more heartfelt serious posts lately, I'd like to post about some observations from my trip to Ottawa, Ontario. I was in town to visit the office of a company that my company acquired a year ago. They're just now getting integrated, and it's a product line I wasn't very familiar with, so welcomed the opportunity to learn directly from them face to face.

Units

Canada uses metric, and the US uses archaic imperial units. As an engineer and scientist, I am familiar with many metric units. That is, I know 30 degrees C is hot weather and I have a good feel for centimeters. I can do some conversions quickly; for example  F=2*C+30 roughly (good enough for non-scientific work) and 1 Gallon is a bit less than 4 Liters. That's great when you're in conversation, but I found my brain is securely fixed in imperial units.

When I hopped in the car Tuesday morning, the gal on the radio said the temperature was "minus 25". (oddly they don't say "negative 25" as we do in the States). I couldn't immediately translate this to F, but I knew it was DAMN COLD!

Extending on this, the next night the unitless forecast was "-20 and 2-4 of snow". In metric, this is pretty darn cold, but only a bit of snow (2.54 cm is an inch). But in imperial units, if it was -20F outside and  you're getting 2-4 inches of snow, it's a much worse world!

I had to refill the rental car with fuel on the way back to returning it. Gasoline costs about 1 CAD / Litre. I have absolutely no idea how much that really is. The CAD to USD conversion is close, but fluctuates, and I don't have a good feel at all. While I like the nice round number of $1/L, it felt fairly expensive to me at the time. Turns out, it's really close to current prices in the States, a bit under $US 3/gallon.

So I was entertained by my complete lack of real-world unit conversions between metric and my imperial-based brain. (Plus I really like writing the word Imperial since it makes me think of Darth Vader sitting in a committee meeting defining units.)

Politeness

Canadians are renown the world over for being a polite people. I found no exceptions here in Ottawa. When driving, most people used turn signals, slowed down to allow others to merge, pedestrians followed the signals at intersections -- it was quite nice. Although I was warned by a local that this doesn't follow through all of Canada. Apparently drivers in Montreal are just as bad as in the US.

I ate dinner a couple nights at a bar, a lunch at a Tim Hortons, and dinner at the airport. All of the servers were more than friendly. The counter gal at Tim's had a heavy north-African accent and was very apologetic. We had some challenges communicating, not just because of her accent but because of the Canadianisms too. I had no idea what "double-double" meant when she was asking about my coffee. Turns out it means two sugars, two creams. I like my coffee black, and it was an entertaining thing as it seems this is a popular choice up north. Regardless of our difficulty talking to each other, it was a very friendly and kind two minutes.

The patrons at these establishments were also very kind from their interactions with each other (making sure people had seats and enough space) to striking up general conversations with strangers. Maybe I just met some nice folks and that isn't the total norm, but I'm happy to stereotype in this positive manner. I have traveled regularly all across the US and often sit in silence next to grumpy fellow travelers and deal with disgruntled servers just waiting for their next smoke break. It's a refreshing change of pace.

Cultural Mix

I was surprised by the international feel of downtown Ottawa. Many people were bilingual in French and there was an incredible mix of "minorities". I am not educated on the racial heritage mix of the area, but had presumed Canada to be full of Caucasians. This was an erroneous assumption on my part and found a very wide mix of skin colors and accents. Maybe that's just part of being in a city, although Ottawa isn't exactly a huge city.

The Girls

Something stood out to me with women's fashion in this area. Even in freezing weather, many women still wore skirts with leggings. It appears that wildly patterned and styled leggings is a "thing" up there. A broad mix of boots/shoes, leg warmers/skinny jeans, etc. was easily observable around town. When you wander NYC or Chicago in the winter, it seems everyone has the same dress code -- long black coat and the warmest thing you find in your closet. It was unexpected to see such flair in women's winter fashion, as well as an apparent complete disregard for the temperature.

The Highlander Pub

To get a little specific, I have to recommend this place if you're ever in town. Their vegetarian food options weren't anything to write home about (but it's a Scottish themed bar, including kilts, and Scotts aren't really known for their vegan dishes!), but the service, the beer, and their selection of Scotch was absolutely fantastic.

Here's a link to their website: www.thehighlanderpub.com, which includes pictures of the bar. If you enjoy Scotch, sit at the bar and have a chat with Dave the bartender. He really knows his stuff to a T. On both evenings, once I made a selection, he turned around, thumbed through some random book on the shelf, and handed me some written details on that specific Scotch. His knowledge is unsurpassed in my experience. I really enjoyed a 12 year old Arberlour, but had some difficulty describing it. The adjectives Dave pulled out were spot on regarding the flavor, the body, and the after taste. Further, he's just a downright pleasant guy and very chatty when he wasn't running around keeping everyone satisfied.


In all, I had an enjoyable few days visiting our office up there. I kind of hope to get back there again, but preferably in the summer months. Direct flights are limited, and I drove 2 hours south to Dulles for a direct flight. I won't be doing that again, and in fact will likely just drive the 7 hours next time. In the end, it works out pretty much as a wash in terms of time and cost - plus then I'll have my Jeep up there for the snow!

A Heart Full of Love

Have you ever had that feeling? It can come from many places, but only if you give yourself the opportunity. My personal experiences of this feeling have greatly multiplied over the last year. They have come from events like meditation, singing Kirtan, holding or talking to a child, spending quiet time with someone you care about, watching a sunrise/sunset or even just driving down the road. But you have to be open to receive it. 

The feeling I'm talking about one is where your heart literally feels full. Like there's not enough space in your chest to hold it. It's a feeling of deep connection and resonance between your inner self and the rest of creation. It's a feeling of openness too. Like your heart is directly connected to something else, something greater than you. This isn't quite traditional American emotion love of another individual. That's a more specific feeling, different from this one. When you love a Significant Other, for example, you may be willing to take risks to protect them, to share deep inner thoughts with them, to feel a solid connection based on shared experiences. But that's different and more narrow than what I'm talking about here. Opening yourself up to another person may be a good start, but it's not the end point - you need to open yourself up to everything, to nature, to the world, to the Universe. 

Verily, I cannot find the words to express it more clearly. I hope that you have had the opportunity to experience this at least once in this life so far. It's painful to think that many people out there have never grasped this feeling.  Holding a peaceful mind and a compassionate heart allows you to find this experience in more places and more readily, in my experience.

I do know for certain that there are actions that make this feeling simply impossible. Some examples:

• Being angry - anger at another person or events precludes any possible positive inner emotions to be realized
• Being unkind - differentiated from anger, because you can be unkind in your actions even if you're not angry
• Violence - I am willing to bet not a single human on this planet has held love in their heart during an act of violence. You cannot aim to injure another living being in the name of Love. If you can hold a gun in your hand and feel Love, you have some serious issues that need to be resolved. There may be feelings of power and dominance that narrow minded people attribute to love, but this is self-loving. And one of the causes of personal suffering. 
• Revenge - If another has harmed you or someone you love, revenge is a common modern reaction. "You hurt mine, so I shall hurt you." This is folly. Additional pain and hate does not heal or resolve the initial action. This is a viscous cycle and nothing to do with Love. 
• Over-indulgence - This could cover many things from drinking and drugs to money and physical possessions to sexual or other personal gratification. Yes, there are use cases, in my opinion, where partaking in these events is harmless. Alcohol and mild drugs can ease social tensions and temporarily relieve personal suffering. Most everyone in a modern society needs some money and possessions. Sex and some selfish acts are obviously fun and lead to temporary happiness. The over-indulgence or uncontrolled attachment is where the problems start.

When the true goal is the end of suffering and helping every living being find eternal happiness, these are roadblocks and distractions. One must aim to live their life in harmony with nature and other living beings. This brings you closer to feeling, as best as we can in these temporary earthly bodies, that resonance and connection of the vibrations of the Universe hidden from our plain sight. 

Realize, too, that you don't need to be sitting on a beautiful warm beach watching the sun rise to achieve this ecstatic feeling of Love. You can find it driving down the road, being in tune with the present moment, with the Now, and viewing the leaf-less trees on a bitterly cold winter day. But you have to be personally open and available to receiving it. Then when it strikes.... Oh my! What joy and happiness! Tears well up in your eyes, your heartbeat quickens, and the vibrations of the Universe pass freely through you. Ecstasy. It's available all the time. You just need to put aside the angry mind, the fear and hate preached by so many vitriol people in this world. World peace starts with inner peace. Loving Everyone starts with Loving Yourself.

 

A little tangent here as I was working through these thoughts:  I am not Christian, and many of the words I've used above are from Eastern traditions and not modern Christianity. However, I firmly believe true Christians think of this experience in a similar way. These people are Christians who look to the words and teachings of Jesus in the New Testament and other resources to find the message of Light and Love he consistently preached. Very little of this can be found in the Old Testament world of a vengeful and controlling supreme being. There primary tools in the Old Testament is fire and brimstone, fear and revenge. And the "Christians" who pull from such sources to argue against science, who expound hateful messages against people who are different from them, who self-righteously claim they are due to inherit the kingdom of heaven while shoving anyone else to the side, these are not people of Light and Love. These are not true Christians. These are people full of self-love and are only increasing suffering in the world around them. And they will never find their heart so full of Love that they just need to sit for a moment and weep in happiness. I feel sorry for them.

“The moment you understand yourself as the true Self, you find such peace and bliss that the impressions of the petty enjoyments you experienced before become as ordinary specks of light in front of the brilliant sun.” -- Swami Satchidananda, The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

Credit for the image

On real-world chanting

I am quite familiar with the concept of chanting mantras. I have done this as part of meditation and of course it's part of Kirtan as well. However, while I've read a lot about this practice, and done it myself, I'm not really sure how it's "supposed" to be done. That is, while I have found benefits using chants in my own way, I've never been taught if there's a proper way to do it, or if there are typical ways in which this is used outside of meditation.

Last week we ran across a movie called Hippie Masala on Amazon Prime.  It was free, and we were looking for something hippie-related, so turned it on and got about half way through that evening. It's a fascinating semi-documentary about Europeans who took hold of the hippie counter-culture movement in the 1960s or 70s and gave up on Western society to live a more basic life in India. Many who followed that path returned home a few years later, but this is a story about some of those who stayed forever in India.

What caught my attention was one man in particular (pictured above), who while in the process of some menial task (lighting his pipe, which was a multi-step process), started simply chanting out loud while doing it. His particular chant is one I'm familiar with (Om Namah Shivaya). Only his take was slightly different. He would say "Om Namah Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya..." with the repeated Shivayas trailing off in volume before starting again from the beginning. So here I finally found an example of someone who's chanting to maintain mindfulness during a task. The documentary wasn't full of commentary (in fact, the initial commentary is fairly degrading, calling hippies "freaks"), so you kind of had to piece all this together. Thankfully I'm familiar enough with the culture and practices that it all made sense to me.

So what's the takeaway for me? I've been chanting more, and more often out loud. For example, I was frying a few eggs for lunch the other day. I am very picky about my cooking eggs, and when things don't go right (broken yolks, whites running into each other, or other things that tend to set off my OCD), I get frustrated - which of course leads to a negative mind coming into play (i.e., in the Buddhist view). So I was frying my eggs, 3 in a smallish pan, and when they started colliding I immediately sensed frustration building. So I chanted. I literally used the repeated Om Namah Shivaya the guy in the movie was using. The primary effect is that you separate yourself from the task. I am not the eggs. I am not the cook. This task isn't about me at all. It's just something that needs to be done to satiate my body's hunger. Attachment to things and activities is a core cause of suffering (more Buddhism). By bouncing out of that mindset and simply performing the task, no matter how poorly my cooking experience goes, it doesn't really matter.

Kirshna devotees do a lot of chanting during tasks like this. My understanding of their concept is that you're not cooking eggs to eat at all, but instead you are performing tasks (cooking, eating, cleaning up) and all of these tasks should be devoted entirely to Krishna (essentially and literally, devoted to God). By chanting mantras (or Sloka or Stotra), they are consciously dedicating their present actions to Krishna.

For me, I have too many scientific and atheistic views I'm still attached to for me to think about this as a dedication to an anthropomorphic deity. However, I am in a place where I've recognized the power of living in the present moment:  not ruminating on the past or worrying about the future (c.f. Ram Dass, Eckhart Tolle). And so my chanting a mantra during a task allows me to recognize the process for what it is. A task to accomplish without attachment. My eggs ended up edible (although required some extra folding to fit on my bagel), and I had no feelings of frustration arise from a less-than-perfect egg experience. I've since expanding the use of this and a couple other mantras when performing tasks like cleaning up, taking a shower, shaving, folding clothes, etc. I already have been doing this in a way when driving as I listen to Kirshna Das and similar Kirtan-style music almost exclusively (except for the occasional flip to NPR). The results are immediate. Unpleasant tasks just become tasks. Driving in heavy traffic just become driving to Point A, and I'll get there when I get there.

In reviewing the literature, there are recommended mantras for specific tasks. I haven't gotten that far yet. But I do have several go-to chants that allow me to pop out of attachment and "watch the watcher" with ease. If you find yourself feeling frustrated and angry over little things, don't keep feeding the negative mind. Let yourself watch the watcher. Do it consciously at first, but you'll find it comes more and more easily to you with a little practice. Once you know that feeling, chanting a mantra could help get you there faster, or preemptively before you even have a chance to slip.

Om Namah Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya

Om Namah Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya

Om Namah Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya Shivaya

I got a chill

On the way back to York from a Buddhist meditation class in Lancaster, my companion had the Jeep window rolled half way down as she enjoyed a cigarette. I was chilled, not wearing a jacket. But the heat was on, blowing strongly towards our feet. Yet the cool 50 degree air (which will feel very warm in another month or two) swirled around my neck and made me cold.

I quickly snapped into the thought process of recognizing that I was cold and uncomfortable. Yet there are countless others out there who are much colder than I am. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all be free from being cold! Then I thought more deeply about this realization. Yes, I was uncomfortable and chilly. Yet my feet were actually on the verge of feeling too hot with the heat blowing forcefully from the vents. Further, I would be warm again soon. Once the cigarette is out and the window is back up, the rest of the car will warm up quickly. And we were on our way to a diner to get food. It'll be comfortable inside the restaurant surely, and my food will be hot.

At the same time, though, in this little grown-up farm town, there are people out on the street who have felt the cold move in with the sunset and who don't have anywhere else to go. They don't own a car where they can crank up the heat. They don't have a house and warm bed to sleep in tonight. They can't even afford the cheap diner food to warm their belly. Countless beings are experiencing much more suffering than I am. My neck is cold. I'm not as comfortable as I would like to be. But I have no right to complain or to feel unhappy about it. Think about the person who's trying to find a comfortable spot to lie down and rest out of the weather, wearing a worn out coat and shoes with holes. I have a closet full of coats and shoes in perfectly good shape that I don't wear simply because I don't like them any more. Time to empty out the closet and give away those things that could make someone else's winter evening a touch more bearable.


Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.  And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. -- 1 Corinthians 13, Paul of Tarsus

The Egg

Ran across this story somewhere (maybe imgur). I did not write this and take no credit, but found it touching. And I thought about several times after I read it, and believe it deserves a wider audience so I'm reposting. The author is Andy Weir and his post can be found here. 

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn't have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you've gained all the experiences it had.
“You've been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn't understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn't that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you've done, you've done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you've lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

Random Thought

I am stuck in traffic on the way to the beach. We were heading south, in the morning, as the sun was to left. Already kind of high even though it was still early. But dawn had cracked at 5 am. 2 lanes north and south, both ways clogged up. We were far enough south that the grass had that piedmont close-to-the-beach feel. A little too wide blade, a bit rough, that darker green. Not really any sand in the soil here, but definitely beach type grass. We were getting close. You couldn't smell the salt air yet, but you knew it would be close. Anticipation was high. This was vacation! What would the hotel look like? How would the condo be laid out inside? Would there be a tall counter with stools? What would their plates look like? Would we have a view of the ocean? What table will we play cards at in the evenings? It was all just around the corner. You could almost smell the sea now. Taste the salty waves. Feel the warmth of the sun and smell the sunscreen. It'll be hot, but not too hot. The water will be warm but not too warm. It's all just around the next few turns. Traffic stood still. The cars were late 70s or early 80s. Lots of angles and length. Heavy but not fast. Metal windshield wipers. Lots of reds and browns and whites. Whitewall tires. That warm asphalt smell mixing with gasoline and tires. I was in the back of a white station wagon, with red interior maybe 5 years old. A striped shirt and shorts. I couldn't wear my swim trunks yet - there'd be a ritual involved once it's finally time to change and be ready for the ocean. Or maybe first the outside pool at the condo. Where you could see the ocean over the boardwalk and people walking below. Once the traffic moves, I'll be able to smell the air. To hear the gulls. Open the door and get out because "you're there." Are we there yet? Yes.

 

Check in at the lobby. He does this a hundred times a day, but I'm only here once in the summer. This is my only check-in at the beach. The you get the key. Two. With the number on the brightly colored plastic tag. Do we go up first and see it? Check it all out? Or go back to the car and get a load of bags? But there's so many bags, and the room won't be empty when we bring them in. But we're parked in the way. Other people need to check in. But this is my check in. We can't be in the way, so we get the big rolling thing to carry the bags. You can hang stuff all across the top of the gold arc, but we never had anything to hang. Just stack and stack. Carry a couple of the small ones. Navigate to the elevator. What color will the carpet be? What color are the chairs? What kind of TV do they have? Is there a cabinet full of books and board games? We hog the whole elevator and click the 12. That's pretty high. Not way up top, but above the parking garage and lots of buildings. There's lots of orange and white. White plastic furniture. An orange and white theme. With some yellow in the kitchen. Sunshine colors at the beach. The bathrooms are green and blue. We are ocean view, and we can see the ocean. We're high up to feel the wind and see the waves break, but can't hear them. It's sunny, glaring off the ocean. No wind down there, no whitecaps. Birds arcing listlessly. The carpet is fuzzier than I'd expect for the beach, but it's kinda neet. There is a high counter in the kitchen with white plastic bar stools. This will be home for now. No grass to mow or boring days. Something different every day. Different restaurants. The smörgåsbord, the strange art place on the corner, the noisy bars that overflow onto the boardwalk. The great seafood place that we won't go to. Walking through the hot sand at lunch time to get a pork sandwich, and remember they have sales tax. The post-sun and salt and sand shower. The color develops on your skin in a couple hours. The boardwalk at night. So different. You can still hear the waves, but it's glow sticks and kites. Couples walking in the sand, hand in hand. People are red and brown, but with shirts and dresses on now. But still flip flops. Who would ever even bring sneakers to the beach? The silly T-Shirt shops. The arcade with the same games and same schedule. First to skee-ball, then a little air hockey. Finally we can play quarter video games while they play pinball and laugh.

 

What if a bad storm comes in while you're sleeping? Will the ocean suddenly swell up around the building? Would it collapse? What if it gets really windy when we're this far up? These buildings have been here so many years, I'm sure they'll last tonight. The sun is so low on the horizon. It's such a softer yellow, and so bright reflecting off the water. It's so warm on my skin already, it'll be hot today. Until the one that's different. When you pack up all but one swimsuit and one other regular outfit. For the drive home. The smell disappears quickly, and you're facing the setting sun in the west. We'll be unpacking the car before the blue fades from the sky. Back into my own bed. My sheets, and my clock by the bed. My shower, but no sand to wash off or bathing suits to wring out. The flip flops will stay out. For a few days at least. Until you're outside playing a game and need to run fast. On the softer skinnier grass of home, where underneath it's mud and not sand. Where the roads get just as hot, but there's no salt air moving over you. But it's all worth it. Even if it's over too fast, and you'll miss it later, you have to do it. It's all waiting, just around the next turn.

Head Shaving

A little aside here from my recent posts on life philosophies!

I've been shaving my head for 4-5 years now. Early on, I settled on using a foaming gel by "edge". Since I use an electric razor for my face, I don't have much experience in shaving creams, but this worked pretty well for me.

One annoying bit is traveling with shaving cream. Obviously, it's way cheaper to buy the larger cans - but you're not allowed to take 7oz containers on an airplane. This means also buying a supply of smaller (under 3oz) cans to take on the road. Somewhat annoying is that those cans take up significant space in the 1 quart clear baggies you're allowed to take through security. But most importantly is that you can't see how much product remains in the can!

I was in Boulder early this week for a couple days for work, and when I went to shave one morning I found the travel can only had a single squirt left... Not nearly enough to shave with. Ugh!

I could just go "fuzzy" for the rest of the trip, but that wasn't ideal. So I immediately searched online for shaving cream alternatives. There are some downright silly suggestions (peanut butter!!), but near the top of the list is hair conditioner. I obviously don't travel with this stuff, but the Hampton Inn provides little tubes of Neutrogena products - lotion, shampoo and conditioner. So why not try it?

I was pleasantly surprised! Maybe even amazed at the results. Here's my summary:

1) It doesn't foam up like traditional creams and foaming gels. This was a little disconcerting at first, but I'm happy I pushed through. By the end of the 4-5 minutes it takes to shave, it was difficult to see any conditioner on my head at all. The only real issue here is tracking areas that you've already hit or not. But in a well lit bathroom, it's easy enough to see the stubble (although, maybe an issue for light skinned folks with light hair). The lack of foam actually seems like a positive since there aren't huge gobs of foam all over the razor.

2) You need remarkably little. To comfortably foam up my whole head, it would take a silver-dollar sized blob of gel in my palm to cover everything. With the conditioner, I used something close to a nickel-sized blob. Significantly less.

3) The razor rinses more cleanly. Conditioner is a greasy substance - at least it feels that way to my hands. Rinsing the blade between passes was very satisfying since pretty much all you see in the sink is hair stubble rather than lots of foam. I'd usually have to rinse the blade with a hard stream of water along with some banging against the sink to free it up. With the conditioner, rinsing was much faster and required far less sink banging.

4) After-feel is also very good. My regular gel contains vitamin E and my scalp isn't dry, so I've never noticed a real issue with this. But after shaving and a quick head rinse, my dome felt noticeably soft and smooth. Which means both that the shave was nice and close (even with a blade that wasn't close to new) and my skin felt soft in a healthy way.

I'm impressed. No idea how well this works on a face, for anyone with thicker hair follicles or on other body parts (since I've never shaved my legs!), but for my thin Caucasian hair, I'm really liking this option and may stop buying shaving cream and opt instead for a decent conditioner.

BTW, for aftershave, I highly recommend straight witch hazel. I've tried a couple fancier things made specifically for your head, but witch hazel is very cheap and gives me a nice crisp clean feeling. It travels well with a little 2oz bottle too. Further, before heading out on the town for an evening, a splash of witch hazel freshens you up nicely.