Scout Sends me a present

Some of you may recall Katie’s recent therapeutic talk with me about how to deal with today’s tribulations. Katie is my 10-year-old mixed Terrier rescue who speaks Human with considerable skill.

Scout, our other mixed Terrier rescue, was not to be outdone. He is pictured below, over the top as usual, doing his fetch-the-stick-thing. Turns out, he apparently fired up my computer, located a Hummingbird photo on my website, attached it to an email, and sent it to me. Be forewarned – Scout can be a bit pedagogical at times. Perhaps a trait passed on from his United Kingdom lineage?

The Hummer shot appears above, our conversation below:

Me: Thanks Scout, is that stick for me?

Scout: Sure is.

Me: Maybe you could put it back in the woodpile now and bring it back in November when we could use it in the fireplace.

Scout: Fire hydrant!! Where? Where?

Me: No, no – I said fireplace – I know Human is your second language and it can be very challenging …

Scout: (Adopting a most serious, scholarly air) all languages that are not your native tongue can be very complicated. Did you know that, Franz Boas, the anthropologist who visited the Inuit people in northern Canada in the 1880s, claimed these folks had dozens of words for snow?

Me: Actually, I had heard that – also heard there was some controversy around that claim.

Scout: No, it’s actually true, once you understand how polysynthesis works, attaching prefixes and suffixes to root words …

Me: Let’s back up a little – what’s your point?

Scout: You know of course that language develops dynamically to suit the needs and ideas that are most vital to its users – people in the Artic need to know the difference between ice that is safe to walk on or whether you’ll sink through it …

Me: You’ve been busy my computer, I see? And thank you for the photo of the Hummingbird.

Scout: Katie taught me how to Google. But here’s my real point: do you know how many different woofs we have to describe a fire hydrant?

Me: Now I know why I’ve been seeing so many ads for dog treats and chew toys …

Scout: Wish I had my own credit card …

Me: This conversation is descending, appropriately, into doggerel …

Scout: Just trying to distract you a little. You do spend way too much time on the computer. Reading, over and over again, about all the terrible things that have happened, as well following all the pundits who’re predicting all the negative things that will happen.

Me: It’s important to keep up to date and be prepared to make the changes necessary to improve things.

Scout: Of course, but I think you’re barking up the wrong tree – can you change the past, or predict the future?

Me: No but we need to learn from the past, and plan for the future.

Scout: You know how many words we have in Dog for the past or for the future? Our canine etymologists will tell you – we four legged friends never developed a need for the fine points of time – going back or forward, I mean.

Me: You all do tend to take everything in stride, don’t you? Once heard someone say: Handle every situation like a dog. If you can’t eat it or play with it, just pee on it and walk away.

Scout: A bit crude and not entirely on point here.

Me: How about: “You can trust your dog to guard your house but never trust your dog to guard your sandwich.”

Scout: Well if one lives only in the moment, it would be difficult to know who made the sandwich in the past, and for whom it was intended.

Me: Hmnnh. I’ll give that a little thought – as much as it appears to deserve.

Scout: Sometimes Humans can be a little dense. I’ll spell it out: Don’t you think if you spent a little more time being present in the moment, you might be a little smarter to learn from what has happened, and a little stronger to deal with what may happen?

Me: Perhaps, but what does all this have to do with the Hummingbird you sent me?

Scout: How many Human time hours did you spend in the garden trying to photograph our little friend?

Me: Maybe most of an afternoon – three or four hours.

Scout: How long did it feel?

Me: I don’t know – somewhere between a minute and a week …

Scout: See – the present is timeless – were you happy? Were you worried about stuff you’ve done, or not done? Anxious about what you may have to do tomorrow or next week?

Me: Think I’m starting to get it. Thanks for the present. (Phone rings.) I better take that call. Don’t let anyone eat my sandwich on the table.

Scout: Ok. (Doggy smile)

Escape to the Garden with Alice

When the walls start closing in, go nearer in the garden to get farther away from it all.

That’s advice I sometimes give myself to deal with cabin fever.  On the surface the words don’t make a lot of sense – conceivably they could be a line from one of Lewis Carroll’s fantasies?  Perhaps I’m channeling him – his real name being Charles Dodgson – same first name and similar initials you know, and he was a photographer as well. 

Well, to more crisply translate my self-advice: I can often find distraction by shooting closeups of flowers.  There is a wonderland of visual diversion in the outsized images of floral intricacies. Okay, one more related digression: there actually is a rare neurological disorder known as Alice-in-Wonderland Syndrome involving false visual perceptions of one’s own size or the size of external objects.  Who knew?

So, take a lesson: when cabin fever strikes you, remember Alice’s adventures all began in a beautiful garden.  And after she swallowed the shrinking potion from the bottle on the table, she might have encountered an oversized Peony like this one.

Katie and Dog Talk Therapy

Most dog owners think their pet is very smart.  My pup Katie is more than exceptional.  And so, when I found her sitting in my office chair working on my computer, I was not overly surprised.

What did startle me a bit though is that she had opened this photo and had enlarged it full screen.   She’s clever and can understand most of what I say, and believe it or not, she also has a form of telepathy that works the other way around.  Of course, I had to ask what she was doing and why.  The gist of our communication follows below.

Katie: Oh, this photo?  Scout and I thought you needed a little distraction – you’ve been a little grumpy lately.

Me: Well yeah, there’s a lot going on … 

Katie: We know, your TV’s been on CNN 24/7 – we thought Jake Tapper was a new adoption.  What happened to the lawn channel you used to watch so much?  All those guys walking around with a bag of sticks.  Don’t understand why they only toss the sticks occasionally?

Me: You’re right. The Masters has been postponed, probably all the other majors.  No March Madness.  And, while there may be no crying in baseball, I get a little weepy that it’s disappeared.

Katie: we get it – we’ve been watching it all with you. These are really very scary days for everyone.  You need a little distraction.  Why don’t we take you for a walk?

Me: Yes, let’s.  I have to say though I feel guilty distracting myself when I think about those heroes on the front lines in firehouses, hospitals, pharmacies, food stores, etc. Those who keep on keeping on, in the face of personal peril.

Katie: Did I hear you say fire hydrants?

Me: These are depressing days.  Our lives are completely disrupted. Did you hear that one in three Americans in a recent poll said that the pandemic is having a serious effect on their mental health?

Katie: That’s natural -- social distancing is not good for social beings, whether you’ve got two legs or four.  But don’t you think it’s all about finding a personal balance between stepping up to accept reality, and stepping back sometimes for relief in a little distraction?

Me: You are one clever puppy.

Katie: True.  Recall that I did pick you to pick me at the shelter years ago.  Do you remember how I calmly and continuously kept eye contact with you while the others were frantically wagging and barking?

Me: Ok, devious doggy, why did you open that particular photo on my computer?

Katie: Look at it for a while and tell me how you feel.

Me: Well that was an early cool morning at Eagle Lake up in Maine.

Katie: You’re telling me where and when it was.  How did you feel?

Me: I remember a feeling of absolute quiet and stillness.  Not a ripple, not a cloud, not a breeze, not a sound.  Like time had completely stopped.

Katie: Peaceful, right?  And now are you mindful – your thoughts are not so racing and jumpy?  Can you feel your shoulders dropping and your neck muscles loosening?  Are you aware that your breathing is deeper and slower?

Me: Wow.  You’re a canine genius

Katie:  Yes, I know.  Now let’s try and think of some of the visual cues that steer you to calmness when you’re taking photos.

Me: Ok, as I said, stillness.

Katie: What else?

Me: Ok I see what you mean. Well, I like to photograph things that are massive, long-standing, stable, enduring, predictable, ageless, infinite, endless.  Things like mountains, horizons, vistas, sunsets and sunrises, tides and waves. Still expanses, especially bodies of water, seasons, flowers, the sky and stars and clouds, the colors green and blue. Catching wild animals doing what they do, and close-ups of complex things and beings …

Katie: Whoa cowboy, very good.  Sometimes you just need a little help in focusing.  Get it?  Am I not too funny? 

Me: You and Scout do make me laugh.

Katie:  By the way, while you were busy in the back yard swinging those sticks, I put that photo and several others up on your website here:

https://www.charlesdaviet.com/katies-choices

 You might want to send them off to your pack — the pictures might give others a little lift.

Me:  Very thoughtful of you.  Thanks.

Katie: Sure.  Now let’s go for that walk.  Can we go into town?  Lots of fire hydrants in town …

Bluebirds are beloved, but they're not really blue

I know it's not really spring, and Bluebirds aren’t yet here in the northeast on this Valentine’s day but bear with me.

With a little googling you can discover that the bluebird is a symbol of peace, hope and happiness, good luck and prosperity across many cultures, and for thousands of years. Try the phrase bluebird of happiness, and you’ll get a plethora of postings. Plays and poems abound about these birds. They’re in Russian fairy tales and Native American folklore. And songstress Judy Garland has them flying over the rainbow in the Wizard of Oz, “where troubles melt like lemon drops.”

Two years ago, the bluebird photos on my website prompted loads of positive feedback. Among the best reactions: “thanks for sharing your soul stirring little blue friend.” And now today, I’m very pleased that some of these photos have been chosen for a worthier cause. They’re being displayed along with other art at Memorial Sloan Kettering in the hospital’s chemotherapy center in West Harrison, NY, in partnership with ArtsWestchester. I mention these organizations in case you might want to learn more about their good works, or perhaps even support them. This joint project aims to bring a little distraction, comfort and wellbeing to hospital patients and visitors through the work of local artists. Here’s a photo of my Bluebird images on display at MSK:

And if you’re still with me, it’s true bluebirds are not really blue. Turns out there’s no blue pigment in their feathers. Birds who show off red and yellow may do that from pigment, often resulting from what they eat. Think pink in flamingoes and their diet of shrimp. But blue in birds is a “structural color,” meaning it’s all about microscopic holes in their feathers that act as prisms with sunlight, cancelling some colors and letting the fantastic blue that we see shine through.

Still, bluebirds are kind of a miracle, and they’re still beautiful flying over the rainbow. Where troubles melt like lemon drops.

Ted Spies Pi in the Sky

Ted: Are you back again, Traveler?

Traveler: Indeed, I am, Ted. Even though you are an artist, I knew the pi symbol in the sky would get your attention. After all, mathematics is the only language advanced intelligent beings from disparate worlds can rely on to communicate.

Ted: So now you’re talking to me inside my own head? Not a voice inside a tree?

Traveler: Since you survived our last discussion, I didn’t think you’d go mad this time if I just echoed around in your skull. But I should keep the English accent – jolly good fun, yes?

Ted: Your last visit really wasn’t much fun. At the end of that conversation you left me with the impression that your little experiment with life on Earth might be discontinued. Left me feeling like a little rat in a large intergalactic cage, with your hand on a looming lever …

Traveler: Now, now don’t get your knickers in a twist …

Ted: (Rolling his eyes): Why’re you back?

Traveler: Well, a lot has changed in the Universe over this extended interim since we last talked.

Ted: It’s only been a little over a year since …

Traveler: We can’t compare your experience of time with mine very easily. Your Mr. Einstein had an inkling about that but he was still quite naive. Anyway, let’s just say great changes have occurred and new interest has developed in your human ways here on XR17-242656.

Ted: You mean you can learn something from us?

Traveler: In a way, yes. You have to appreciate in most areas under our dominion, except on the far fringes of the Universe, most situations – you call them problems – have been, well, resolved.

Ted: You mean …

Traveler: Hard for you to understand but since Dark Matter, as you call it, has been worked out, and so all the fundamental questions have been answered. There is no longer competition for resources. No more wars. No more disease (but there are still accidents though that’s a subject for another day). No more getting old and no more death, at least as you perceive it.

Ted: Wow. That would be great, here. Here on Earth I mean.

Traveler: Be careful what you wish for, as they say …

Ted: Well what’s the problem then?

Traveler: We’ve noticed a small, but clear increase in the number of beings asking to be, how shall I put it, asking to be disconnected.

Ted: Huh?

Traveler: Again, it would be easier to explain mathematically but let me try to use your “words” with analogies to your world. If you evolved to be you, independent of an impermanent container, without worrying about disease and demise, possessed of infinite knowledge, all mysteries explained. All equations beautifully balanced – all variables accounted for. Would that be …

Ted: Whoa! Dude. That’s a bit heavy. Need to think about it.

Traveler: Exactly, we’ve travelled so far, over such an expanse of time and place. We can remember the origins of course, but we can’t experience them. Kind of leaves some of us without a centering location, a foothold, or something like that. At least that’s what some of our counselors theorize.

Ted: So, you know everything and therefore can’t experience wonder or awe? No more curiosity or astonishment? No miracles?

Traveler: Might be difficult to find a mathematical expression for those concepts. Perhaps this will indeed turn out to be a useful visit to your world.

Ted: Pretty sure I wouldn’t want to give up wonder, but couldn’t you just pass on a few hints to me about a few special mysteries?

Traveler: No, Ted, you know the rules about that. But it’s been a useful conversation, thank you. Perhaps we’ll talk again.

Mind Adventures While Hunting the Summer Hummer

Mighty are the preparations for capturing the Summer Hummer.

First you need the perfect day -- enough sun on the Bee Balm to allow 1/800thsecond shutter speeds to catch this speedy creature in his aerial acrobatics. And, hopefully, shade on the chair where you will sit and wait for hours for just a few thirty-second hummer visits.

Next, just the right adjustments on those three knobs of friction settings on the tripod ball head so you can track his erratic movement, trying to keep him centered in the viewfinder. The lens has more image stabilization settings and so does the camera, deep, deep in the menu system. Aperture priority to provide greater control of depth of field. Finally choose just the right pixels on the viewing screen for perfect focus and exposure metering. And pick the right frames per second selection.

An hour passes. You’re somehow aware, and not aware, that you are concentrating, so focused, so intensely absorbed. Are you mindful, or are you mindless? Are those two states endpoints on a continuum or maybe just the same thing?

But now you’re ready and you wait, wait and wait. Forty-five minutes go by without you being present. Then you wake up and remember you’re eight feet away from the flowers and Mr. Hummer doesn’t trust this close invasion of his space – so you move back four feet.

And it works – he appears behind the Bee Balm at first. Then boldly moves to the singular flower stalks where you can isolate him against the bokeh blur. Come on. Stay there. Hover. Sip the nectar slowly. You want him to be commanded by your thoughts. Can’t he just settle there more than a second? Click, click, click, click. Click! To your disappointment he zooms up and away, beyond the towering fir trees at the back of the garden and disappears in a moment. Nothing moves, then some other bird sounds begin to register, peony fragrances pervade, and you can feel the breeze again. You’re aware you’ve been holding your breath and you inhale again.

Another half hour passes – you continually scan the 10-foot patch of red blossoms, back and forth. Looking high, looking low. Finger flicking on the shutter button. Waiting for that surprising blur announcing his next arrival. Could come from anywhere. Begin anywhere. Are you aware of your anticipation? Or oblivious to it?

Can’t tell if I’m unconsciously detached and disconnected while waiting or rigidly riveted and totally aware. Even though everyone is touting the benefits of mindfulness these days (learning the benefits of separating yourself from your thoughts), the fact is I’m just having a whole lot of fun being connected to now.

Whoa! Here he comes again …