How to Live a Life, Advice from Lake Temescal Frogs
My good friend Prashant finally took the GRE Bio and Genetics and Blah-bitty-blah test that he's been studying for hardcore for the past two weeks and has been unable to play.
I invited him out for a bike ride and wander in celebration of his freedom.
We ended up lunching at Baja Burrito and totally keying into the local bird action all the time from my house until we came home late that night.
A mystery bird landed on the telephone pole and we were trying to distinguish it in the harsh light of late afternoon/early evening. Our two guesses were Western Scrub Jay and Northern Mocking Bird based on size, shape, and body posturing. The bird was perched on a telephone wire outside of the front of my house. We circled it slowly on foot and found a better angle to view the color: a striking blue at the shoulder and down the wing - a Western Scrub Jay it was. We were still curious about the differences when a Northern Mocking Bird landed right next to the Jay! Total syncronicity.
The Mock was a couple inches shorter and smaller in body diameter. It had a more slender head and delicate facial features as well. Totally Sweet.
We then ate (I got a Wasabi Fish Burrito - tasted like warm sushi and beans with wasabi mustard, really delicious), trying to figure out if we were seeing male House Sparrows or Chestnut-Backed Chickadees. Based on size (not so round) and association with a female House Sparrow, we identified them as House Sparrows. They kept landing on the reed fence surrounding the outdoor eating area (beyond the reed fence was a parking lot behind the businesses and homs that is prime for converting into a park), we figured they were checking for any food scraps as folks left their trays behind.
We then wandered about and talk shifted to biking up to Lake Temescal. We didn't really know where it was, so I threw out the option that we could always knock on someone's door and ask. We didn't have to, as we came upon a wonderful local elder who gave us explicit, fantastic directions around the windy, labyrinth of streets in the hills. In thanks for her pleasant conversation and freely given aid, Prashant gave her a shiny sticker of a blue jay that he got at the Dollar Scholar from our trip to Portland. She smiled and placed it on her wrist, where the lines of the thumb and the middle finger meet when the hand is sent out flat.
Biking up the long hills on my single speed was so much fun - like knitting, it was slow, I weaved back and forth (in order to reduce the steepness of the incline I experienced), and got great satisfaction from the progress.
After stopping at a vista point on the corner of ____ Prashant, tell me the street______ to take in the glory of the 70's color gradient of bright, nearly fluorescent blue to the bright burnt red-orange of the clouds still being illuminated by the set sun, we continued downhill for some fast freewheeling coasting for a mile or two and then climbed up into the hills again to reach the lake.
Once at the lake, we surveyed the scene from a high vantage point upon a 10 foot craggy rock about fifteen feet west, uphill of the lake. A couple birds were calling back and forth across the lake to each other.
We saw two small lights moving on the northern edge, about halfway down the oval-shaped lake. We decided to investigate.
On the way there, we were greeted by the start of what I assume to be the daily evening frog chorus. Their blissful sound was peace.
As we approached the bridge that led the path over the little creek that the frogs were lining, they sensed the slightly nervous vibes of our presence and quieted down. in less than 5 seconds, not one frog was singing.
I mentioned quieting down our heartbeats and thinking positive, calming thoughts such as something like, "It's cool. Everything's okay. We're supposed to be here." and smiling inside. After doing that for a minute or so, a few brave frogs trusted us enough to start croaking wildly again, and after half a minute of a few more frogs slowing joining in, the whole crew was singing again - haha, it was glorious, :D.
I wanted to hang out with the frogs and get to know them, so I made my way down the embankment. For a second I thought of "fox walking" so as not to disturb them, then I remembered that no, I'm supposed to be there, too, and instead moved through the reeds as if they were good folks I haven't yet befriended at a close friend's party - with a soft touch, a nod of recognition, a humble intent to move by, and a smile on my face.
The frogs felt my ease and it seemed to us all that yes, I was supposed to be there, heh. I reckoned this because they didn't stop singing even though I stepping within 5 feet of them. When I finally got within arms reach of one, only that frog would nervously hush up while the others carried on.
I figured it was basically the same thing as if I sat a little too close to a stranger on the couch at a party. Especially if I while I was sitting too close on the couch I was also intently staring at that person with my full attention on them, heh. No wonder why the frog felt awkward and stopped singing, heh.
I had to relax and remember the big picture: That I was sitting on the edge of a gorgeous lake, with LoTs of rad creatures around (including me), not just the one frog in front of me, and that I'd get to know that one frog better if I just relaxed, enjoyed this unique event, and hung out for awhile.
So I did my best at that and really loved that they had accepted me into their company and were singing with me in their midst. Thinking of the times I've played music with folks, I understand that creating sounds with a group of your close friends is a pretty spirited moment. Intrusion by outsiders or even girlfriends can totally throw off the sometimes fragile dynamic between us musicians that keeps us in sync with each other's creative process. So the frogs' singing with me in their midst inspired in me such a feeling of connectedness and comradery - like we were all singing together, which at times, was the case, :) as I let out a number of my best croaks, heh.
Only now did I just realize that their singing with me in their midst was also a testament to their strong bonds with each other and with themselves. Cause when I've played music with people I'm more attuned to, and when I play solo and I'm feeling good, nothing really fazes the process, :1.
During this whole time, I slyly extended my open hand into the water near that one close frog - hoping beyond hope that he/she/it would allow me the pleasure of touching it by jumping in - or not notice much as I advanced.
Haha, relating this back to the strangers on the couch scene, I realize I was actin a fool, haha. Next time I'll be more assertive instead of just shyly making timid moves and hoping for the first real move to be made by the other party, hehe. I'll reach out and at least inquire as to the next step, heh.
Anywho, I sat awaiting the frog's return of my "flirtation" haha, but my patience wore out before I even got the frog's number, heh. When I got up to leave, all the frogs fell silent, like a movie audience silently groaning as the on-screen characters with romantic potential walk away from each other without the kiss they both long for, heh.
I stood on the bridge and promised to come back and in groups and pairs the frogs resumed their croaking again, like restaurant conversations resuming after the brief hush resulting from a waitress's accidental shattering of dishes.
I will, :1.
I invited him out for a bike ride and wander in celebration of his freedom.
We ended up lunching at Baja Burrito and totally keying into the local bird action all the time from my house until we came home late that night.
A mystery bird landed on the telephone pole and we were trying to distinguish it in the harsh light of late afternoon/early evening. Our two guesses were Western Scrub Jay and Northern Mocking Bird based on size, shape, and body posturing. The bird was perched on a telephone wire outside of the front of my house. We circled it slowly on foot and found a better angle to view the color: a striking blue at the shoulder and down the wing - a Western Scrub Jay it was. We were still curious about the differences when a Northern Mocking Bird landed right next to the Jay! Total syncronicity.
The Mock was a couple inches shorter and smaller in body diameter. It had a more slender head and delicate facial features as well. Totally Sweet.
We then ate (I got a Wasabi Fish Burrito - tasted like warm sushi and beans with wasabi mustard, really delicious), trying to figure out if we were seeing male House Sparrows or Chestnut-Backed Chickadees. Based on size (not so round) and association with a female House Sparrow, we identified them as House Sparrows. They kept landing on the reed fence surrounding the outdoor eating area (beyond the reed fence was a parking lot behind the businesses and homs that is prime for converting into a park), we figured they were checking for any food scraps as folks left their trays behind.
We then wandered about and talk shifted to biking up to Lake Temescal. We didn't really know where it was, so I threw out the option that we could always knock on someone's door and ask. We didn't have to, as we came upon a wonderful local elder who gave us explicit, fantastic directions around the windy, labyrinth of streets in the hills. In thanks for her pleasant conversation and freely given aid, Prashant gave her a shiny sticker of a blue jay that he got at the Dollar Scholar from our trip to Portland. She smiled and placed it on her wrist, where the lines of the thumb and the middle finger meet when the hand is sent out flat.
Biking up the long hills on my single speed was so much fun - like knitting, it was slow, I weaved back and forth (in order to reduce the steepness of the incline I experienced), and got great satisfaction from the progress.
After stopping at a vista point on the corner of ____ Prashant, tell me the street______ to take in the glory of the 70's color gradient of bright, nearly fluorescent blue to the bright burnt red-orange of the clouds still being illuminated by the set sun, we continued downhill for some fast freewheeling coasting for a mile or two and then climbed up into the hills again to reach the lake.
Once at the lake, we surveyed the scene from a high vantage point upon a 10 foot craggy rock about fifteen feet west, uphill of the lake. A couple birds were calling back and forth across the lake to each other.
We saw two small lights moving on the northern edge, about halfway down the oval-shaped lake. We decided to investigate.
On the way there, we were greeted by the start of what I assume to be the daily evening frog chorus. Their blissful sound was peace.
As we approached the bridge that led the path over the little creek that the frogs were lining, they sensed the slightly nervous vibes of our presence and quieted down. in less than 5 seconds, not one frog was singing.
I mentioned quieting down our heartbeats and thinking positive, calming thoughts such as something like, "It's cool. Everything's okay. We're supposed to be here." and smiling inside. After doing that for a minute or so, a few brave frogs trusted us enough to start croaking wildly again, and after half a minute of a few more frogs slowing joining in, the whole crew was singing again - haha, it was glorious, :D.
I wanted to hang out with the frogs and get to know them, so I made my way down the embankment. For a second I thought of "fox walking" so as not to disturb them, then I remembered that no, I'm supposed to be there, too, and instead moved through the reeds as if they were good folks I haven't yet befriended at a close friend's party - with a soft touch, a nod of recognition, a humble intent to move by, and a smile on my face.
The frogs felt my ease and it seemed to us all that yes, I was supposed to be there, heh. I reckoned this because they didn't stop singing even though I stepping within 5 feet of them. When I finally got within arms reach of one, only that frog would nervously hush up while the others carried on.
I figured it was basically the same thing as if I sat a little too close to a stranger on the couch at a party. Especially if I while I was sitting too close on the couch I was also intently staring at that person with my full attention on them, heh. No wonder why the frog felt awkward and stopped singing, heh.
I had to relax and remember the big picture: That I was sitting on the edge of a gorgeous lake, with LoTs of rad creatures around (including me), not just the one frog in front of me, and that I'd get to know that one frog better if I just relaxed, enjoyed this unique event, and hung out for awhile.
So I did my best at that and really loved that they had accepted me into their company and were singing with me in their midst. Thinking of the times I've played music with folks, I understand that creating sounds with a group of your close friends is a pretty spirited moment. Intrusion by outsiders or even girlfriends can totally throw off the sometimes fragile dynamic between us musicians that keeps us in sync with each other's creative process. So the frogs' singing with me in their midst inspired in me such a feeling of connectedness and comradery - like we were all singing together, which at times, was the case, :) as I let out a number of my best croaks, heh.
Only now did I just realize that their singing with me in their midst was also a testament to their strong bonds with each other and with themselves. Cause when I've played music with people I'm more attuned to, and when I play solo and I'm feeling good, nothing really fazes the process, :1.
During this whole time, I slyly extended my open hand into the water near that one close frog - hoping beyond hope that he/she/it would allow me the pleasure of touching it by jumping in - or not notice much as I advanced.
Haha, relating this back to the strangers on the couch scene, I realize I was actin a fool, haha. Next time I'll be more assertive instead of just shyly making timid moves and hoping for the first real move to be made by the other party, hehe. I'll reach out and at least inquire as to the next step, heh.
Anywho, I sat awaiting the frog's return of my "flirtation" haha, but my patience wore out before I even got the frog's number, heh. When I got up to leave, all the frogs fell silent, like a movie audience silently groaning as the on-screen characters with romantic potential walk away from each other without the kiss they both long for, heh.
I stood on the bridge and promised to come back and in groups and pairs the frogs resumed their croaking again, like restaurant conversations resuming after the brief hush resulting from a waitress's accidental shattering of dishes.
I will, :1.