Zinnia seeds are in the window planter — hopefully they will welcome the hummingbirds.
Stay tuned to this station for all of your big hummingbird energy news.
🚨Hummingbird Migration Update🚨
The ruby-throated ones are about to cross into the great states of Illinois and Indiana.
There it is. Linseed oil soaked in for a day. There’s something of magic and mystery in that oak.
White oak bed frame progress —
dry fit before sanding and pre-drilling
Torching the wood for a shou sugi ban finish. After burning I wire-brushed the charred oak then drenched it in boiled linseed oil. Last steps will be to apply a few coats of conversion varnish to fully seal it.
Waits, who is 7, had his first jiu jitsu class last weekend, which was also his first organized sports thing. We are generally not a sports family. Nothing against sports at all (I’ve actually become a genuine Cleveland Guardians fan within the last year and listen to a lot of baseball podcasts and games on the radio).
Also, my boys and I aren’t around other families who sport. I assumed that when Waits started school two years ago that I’d meet parent’s of Waits’ friends that I would 1. become friends with myself and 2. would eventually jump into the tee-ball league with Waits and those other families. But, as you know, making friends as an adult does not come with ease, and none of Waits’ friends (that I’m aware of) are doing organized sports.
Which brings us to martial arts. I wanted to find something for Waits that was body-centric as well as confidence/skill building. Of my two boys, Waits is less likely to jump off of, say, a coffee table. Murphy, who is 5, may very well be on the roof of his preschool at this moment, alone, enjoying some candy that he snuck into school in his tiny pants pockets. Waits would never sneak something into school. I’ve tried to get him to do it (I am serious). “Buddy put this toy car in your pocket,” I’ll say as we get ready to leave the house. “Dad - no. That’s breaking the rules,” he says.”
One other example that accurately describes this kid is this spelling assignment he did last week in his first grade class:
That’s pure Waits.
In thinking about what kind of group activity Waits could dip his toe into, I thought through what sorts of things involved the whole body, develop confidence, a growing sense of self, and maybe some good John Wick energy. I knew (and still do not know) much of anything about martial arts, but I remember reading that jiu jitsu seems to be less about attack and more about control, or something along those lines.
After showing Waits a few jiu jitsu videos on my phone, I asked if he wanted to try it.
“Yeah — as long as you stay with me and if we can leave if I don’t like it.”
“You bet, pal.”
I encouraged him to do his best to get through the first one-hour class, that he could do all of it even if he didn’t like parts of it. “But if you absolutely hate it, then we can leave. BUT - I think you can make it through the full first class.”
Dipping our toes, testing the waters.
We got to the gym and he was excited, which excited me. Everything was new — the clothes, the room, the people. There’s a boxing ring next to the martial arts space and a weight room which was clean and looked like you have to know what you’re doing to use it. Championship belts and medals lined the walls. Everyone was fit. I felt like me: a 40 year old dad who makes furniture. Waits and Murph asked a bunch of questions about all of yhe equipment and I just kept saying, “Man I have no idea about any of this, but we’ll find out.”
The first ten minutes of the class were all about stretching, jumping-jacks, kid cartwheels and push-ups. Waits was the only new kid and the youngest, both very evident. My dad-heart was aching. I wanted to jump in, help him with the movements, encourage him as he fumbled along with the other kids who knew the drills. Even writing that sentence stirs up the longing to save him.
During those ten minutes he looked over at me and gave me the thumbs down. His face downcast. I couldn’t tell if he was crying. I gave him the thumbs up, forced a smile, and said “Keep going my man! You’re doing great!” And he was.
The warmups ended and they transitioned to watching the teachers slowly walk through that day’s grappling moves, explaining each step with every reach and turn. These teachers are absurdly flexible and fit. I watched, felt fat. So it goes.
The kids then paired up to try out the positions. I learned at the end of class that they pair new students with experienced ones so that the new kids don’t get hurt. Waits was with a kid who had a grey belt (Waits’ belt was white). The kid was shorter than Waits but was probably two years older.
When they began to practice the grappling moves, and Waits’ face glowed.
My face shone even brighter. I was and am absolutely tickled.
For 40 minutes they ran through the positions with teachers coming alongside them to adjust their hands and feet. Waits’ grappling partner was patient and kind. I watched him help my boy along the way with more maturity than I’d ever expect in a 9 year old. I don’t know his name, and Waits forgot to ask, so we just call him Grey Belt.
After the class was over Waits ran to me and asked when we could come back. I asked him if he had the money for the class and the uniform, he said he didn’t, and I said oh ok I guess I’ll cover it this time.
🚨HUMMINGBIRD MIGRATION UPDATE: KENTUCKY HAS BEEN BREACHED.🚨
Here come the ruby-throated hummingbirds.
I’ve been tracking hummingbird migrations daily for a month, watching them follow the nectar as the flowers bloom. I was tickled when they started heading East from Texas along the gulf coast. Enamored at the crossing of Tennessee, beginning a trek north. And last night, dear reader, hummingbirdcentral.com updated their map as a good citizen reported a sighting near Bowling Green.
“3/27/2023 — Male Ruby-throated Hummingbird sighted. Singular at front porch feeder 9 am. On-time arrival.”
I’ve been researching to purchase a new feeder for our home. I’ll report back with findings and procurements.
White oak bed frame in progress — half lap joints at the corners. Next is routing out rabbits for the steel stretchers, drilling holes for fasteners, fitting the feet, and then torch the whole thing for a shou sugi ban finish.
When we are young we need to be seen, validated, built up so that when the time comes that we fall hard, we’ve had such a solid foundation that it doesn’t kill us.
Then, when we’re old(er), we come to a point that we no longer need to be seen because we know that we are seen, infinitely, constantly, by a power greater than ourselves. It is at that point, because we do not require being seen, that we can finally see — see, admire, delight in, reward, honor, and bless everything around us.
I don’t know when that happens. At 30 years old? 40? 55? Gotta get through those teen years and our 20s. Very little in those years can bring us to our knees in despair.. Things hurt after 30, like lower backs and loss.
Grandiosity
For so long, beginning when I was born and maybe back to the birth of the universe (how’s that for grandiose?), I (and others) have squelched the fires of my own grandiosity. “Be small! Be less! Be quiet!” And so on. But now, at this age, I am leaning in and being more — not more of what I am not, not more of someone else, but more of what is true that has been in me all along.
This poem speaks to that good grandiosity.
Poem in Three Parts by Robert Bly
I.
Oh, on an early morning I think I shall live forever. I am wrapped in my joyful flesh, as the grass is wrapped in its clouds of green.
II.
Rising from a bed, where I dreamt of long rides past castles and hot coals, the sun lies happily on my knees; I have suffered and survived the night, bathed in dark water, like any blade of grass.
III.
The strong leaves of the box-elder tree, plunging in the wind, call us to disappear into the wilds of the universe, where we shall sit at the foot of a plant, and live forever, like the dust.
My pal Robert lost a pawn in his chess set. He asked if I thought I could make one to replace it and I said yeah, I think I can at least get in the ballpark. It won’t win any replica awards but he was happy with it and so am I.
Success! Reinstalled the carbs and it started right up. Took it for a ride with a huge smile on my face. Such a relief.
Rebuilt & synced the carbs for my 1982 Yamaha Virago XV750. First time doing this work. Labeled everything because I don’t know much at all about any of it. Learned a lot with youtube and the manual.
“Bewilderment” by Rumi
There are many guises for intelligence. One part of you is gliding in a high windstream, while your more ordinary notions take little steps and peck at the ground.
Conventional knowledge is death to our souls, and it is not really ours. It is laid on. Yet we keep saying we find “rest” in these “beliefs”. We must become ignorant of what we have been taught and be instead bewildered.
Run from what is profitable and comfortable. Distrust anyone who praises you. Give your investment money, and the interest on the capital, to those who are actually destitute.
Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough.
From now on, I’ll be mad.
