A Wonderful Find

The last opportunity for snow came and went; powder did not appear on Mt. Hood and thus the last day we turned to the hiking trails for activity. Frequently, I have seen and read about Bagby Hot Springs. For years it has been on my to-do list, but kept being delayed due to exclamations of "I want to go with you!" (but never did), weather, etc. This morning as we tossed ideas to and fro, Bob mentioned hiking and I proposed Bagby Hot Springs. Easy hike. Hot soaks. Beautiful landscape. Never been done.

We packed our swimsuits.

Mt. Hood National Forest never ceases to amaze me with her beauty. Every time I step into her realm, the old trees shield from woes, the gurgle of streams or the roar of waterfalls become my soundtrack and she always displays a new facet to her demeanor. Today, I learned that hot springs are a wonderful and precious thing.

The setup is unique and inviting--five private soak stations and two pavilions with public cedar tubs (nudity is an option). From a constant flowing gutter, one simply unplugs the faucet and a hollow tree trunk houses gallons of extremely hot water. Buckets are around because it takes four or five trips to the nearby creek to fetch cold water in order to make the soak enjoyable and not a blister bath.

It was bliss. The air was crisp. The steam turned our surroundings into a hazy, blurry landscape. After a long soak, we dried, dressed and made the return trip to the car--toasty and content.

And They're Off!

It is ironic that I watched my first live horse race on Oregon soil rather than Kentucky. Large hats and mint juleps were not to be found, but we had a delightful afternoon at Portland Meadows. Kaden loved cheering for the Lightning McQueen (aka the red silk) horses, Bob and Zach plotted and schemed in hopes of winning the jackpot, Lisa laughed at the antics of her son (well, that was all of us) and I loved that we were doing something new in Portland.

A Visitor

We picked up Bob from the airport yesterday afternoon for a long weekend adventure. Today, our initial attempt to ski Mt. Hood was thwarted due to missing snow, however we drowned our sorrows in a baker's dozen from Joe's Donuts.

Upon returning to Portland we fetched Kaden and headed downtown to strike a "No Pity" pose at the Timbers store. Afterwards we walked downtown, enjoying the balmy no-rain weather.

Our evening was spent on Hawthorne--dinner at Chez Machin (our favorite crepe restaurant), a stroll through Powells followed by evening entertainment at the Bagdad Theatre.

My Spiritual Journey

I remember an Indian politician who invited me to discuss this point with him. He said to me, with sincere humility, "Oh, but we are politicians, not monks!" To which I replied: "Politicians need religion even more than a hermit in retreat. If the hermit acts inspired by bad motivation, he will harm only himself. But if a politician, who can directly influence an entire society, acts with bad motivation, a large number of people will experience the negative consequences."

I have sometimes stated that one can do without religion, but not without spirituality.

Another one of my observations is that there are many people in the West who live very comfortably in large cities, while still remaining isolated from the large mass of humanity. It is surprising that with such material ease and with thousands of brothers and sisters as neighbors, such a large number of people can show real affection only for their cats and dogs.

Chef-ghettis

Another reason to live in community: I don't have to cook dinner every night. The bonus: watching father and son don their aprons and declare they are the 'chef-ghettis!"

Portland Trailblazers

My best memory of Andrew was at our wedding reception. While dancing and schmoozing with guest, Andrew and other middle school boys encircled and presented me with roses and congratulatory sentiments. It was precious and such a fun moment; one that I remember seven years later. Andrew's father told me after our honeymoon that he had smooth talked the florist lady into giving him the roses for free. He had a special knack for sweet talking, networking and sharing his good fortune.  

Andrew worked a slew of athletic jobs through the years (water boy, ball boy, equipment manager, etc.). Currently he is the operations manager for DeMarcus Cousins, who plays for the Sacramento Kings; a relationship built during Cousins' stint on the University of Kentucky basketball team. Tonight the Trailblazers played the Kings; Andrew hooked us up with free tickets mere rows from the court. 

Tonight was my second professional basketball game. My first was the Chicago Bulls, two games after Micheal Jordan chose to retire. Tonight, I saw Micheal Jordan at a professional game. 

It was a great night. The only disappointment of the night was that Andrew didn't travel for this game and we were unable reunite and thank him in person for such a great treat. 

Maybe

Living in the moment of maybe. Nothing more; nothing less.

Hadley's Quilt

In the wee hours of the night, I completed Hadley's quilt. It is the brightest and most diverse quilt I have ever created and I am extremely happy with the end result. May she spend many hours within its warmth and coziness.

A Week Recap

A frequent sight in the To-Banker abode is Kaden and Uncle Zach playing soccer. This picture captures the Xbox version--one person sits on the couch with the (pillow) controller, while the other player waits for the 'button' to be pushed in order to take a goal kick.

Kaden parked his cars Tuesday night. Due to his ingenious parking location, apparently even two and a half year olds forget where they park their cars because he spent the majority of Wednesday lamenting his lost cars. With combined sleuth skills, Kaden and Uncle Zach found them quickly and amid much laughter.

Kaden and I visited the Audubon Society preserve on Thursday. It is free, entertaining and gorgeous. They have multiple birds onsite which are frequently taken out of their cages for closer inspection, a nature center, a bird feeding location (a place we spent a lot of timing laughing at the very plump squirrel who was foraging) and miles of hiking trails with a raging creek. It was a soggy day so we were unable spend much time on the trails, though Kaden loved the 'borrow me' umbrellas.

My Reading Life

In the same spot I fell in love with and tried to memorize Dylan Thomas' "Fern Hill," which I found to be the most elegant prayer ever written, a hymn of God coughed up into his soft Welsh hand.

Because we were strangers who would know one another on this planet for a very short time, we could trade those essential secrets of our lives that defined us in absolute terms. Voyagers can remove the masks and those sinuous, intricate disguises we wear at home in the dangerous equilibrium of our common lives. The men and women I met at the Grand Hotel des Balcons traveled to change themselves, to trust their bright impulse with the hope they would receive the gift of the sublime, life changing encounter somewhere on the road. There is no voyage without a spiritual, even religious impulse. Each of us had met by accident, our lives touched briefly, fragilely--then we continued on our own private journeys, and those intense encounters left a fragrant pollen on the sills and eaves of memory.

When I pick up a book, the prayer that rises out of me is that is changes me utterly and that I am not the man who first selected that book from a well-stocked shelf. Here's what I love: when a great writer turns me into a Jew from Chicago, a lesbian out of South Carolina, or a black woman moving into a subway entrance in Harlem. Turn me into something else, writers of the world. Make me Muslim, heretic, hermaphrodite. Put me in a crusader's armor, a cardinal's vestments. Let me feel the pygmy's heartbeat, the queen's breast, the torturer's pleasure, the Nile's taste, or the nomad's thirst. Tell me everything I must know. Hold nothing back.

Mirror Lake

My initial attempt to traverse the Mirror Lake route was thwarted by an overzealous ranger. Upon my inquiry of its trail conditions, he vaulted onto his soapbox and gave a tirade that would shame the greatest of all mountaineers. Talking points included that Mirror Lake was not a sanctioned snow-park, multiple search and rescues took place every year due to stupidity, the trail was not marked, and if one risked peril of death, their car had to be parked at Ski Bowl or it would be towed. I chose Snowbunny that day for I feared that my Mirror Lake attempt would purposely be sabotaged; Smokey Bear would be standing guard at the trail head having been tipped off by Mr. Ranger.

Today, accompanied by two manly men who could defeat any grizzly or neurotic ranger, Mirror Lake was checked off the to do list. It was a unexpected tough hike. The guidebooks mark it as easy, elevation gain a mere 600 feet. Half a mile into the trek, we were panting from uphill exertion and perplexed as to who actually rates the trails. Switchbacks were plentiful; paths painstakingly narrow as one wrong step would toss a body into a somersaulting heap towards a deep abyss. The boys bantered theological ideas; I stopped frequently to snap pictures and gaze at the muted green of the evergreens. It is a mesmerizing color, a unique accent to the stark white snow.

Mirror Lake was shrouded in clouds and falling snow. Serenity at its finest. After a quick pit stop for a late lunch, we began the (quick) descent. The footslog back to SkiBowl was more tedious than expected; at times the gradual uphill is the most daunting of tasks. To our right meandered a snow crusted creek, to our left was the mass expunging of the ski slopes. Bumper to bumper traffic inched itself down the mountain, a few jeers coming from stupid occupants. To one I retorted, "I am going faster walking uphill than you are driving downhill." The window rolled up quickly.

After reaching the car, we peeled off our layers and made the executive decision to drive to Hood River for dinner and to escape the traffic. A fabulous decision, complete with bouts of gut wrenching laughter over our waitress who kept ordering turkey burgers for veggie burgers, mine included. It was a syndrome that we poked fun over frequently during our time at the pub.

Seeking Feng Shui

Germs have been running rampant within the To-Banker abode; jet lag vying for its own attention within half of the occupants. Readjustment for all parties has been interesting yet hysterical in weird ways. In a step to right the haywire, Kaden and I headed to the Portland Chinese Garden; it was free. We may have funky feng shui at the moment, but for over an hour Kaden and I loved the waterfall, the fishies, the round doorway, the awesome courtyard mosaics, the 'goda-house' and breathing crisp Oregon air.