Costa Rica Meets Tippy Cup (Flip Cup, Flippy Cup)

Yes, in true Oklahoma fashion, we brought team tippy cup to Costa Rica.  We only had teams of three - The Lowtide Crew consisting of Shane, Pepper, and me versus the "From-Aways", as they would be called in Maine.  For those of you that don't know, the game consists of aligning plastic cups in front of each of the players, and filling each plastic cup with a certain amount of beer depending on how drunk you want to get and how fast.  We used 1/3 beer cups.  The game starts when a member of each team, after plenty of downright abusive taunting, raise their cups, tap them together, and begin chugging their contents.  After finishing the beer in the cup, a team member places the cup upside-up on the edge of the bar and begins attempting to flip the cup perfectly on to its other side, landing on the bar upside-down.  As soon as this feat is accomplished, the next member of his team begins to chug the contents of the cup in front of him before attempting to flip his cup.  The process is repeated until the final member of the team successfully flips his cup onto its bottom, thereby crowning that team as the winning team if the opposing team has failed to do so beforehand.  We played that the losing team had to buy the next round of beer, but the penalty for loss can range from forced consumption to requiring a "loser dance," frequently seen in Oklahoma as the penalty for a loss in anything ranging from tippy cup to foosball to horseshoes.  Neil has it perfected.  And yes, there's a reason for that.  

In any event, it was a fun night.  Pepper, who was meant to tend bar, probably got the drunk award, but I was definitely not far behind.  We all had a great time in spite of the drunken staff.  And I'm pretty sure the other patrons of the bar enjoyed the sloppy service that began somewhere in the third or fourth round.  

Today, BBQ at my house with some newish friends.  That should be fun.  

Jessica Rabbit

So, a friend quoted one of the best movies ever the other day: the groundbreaking "Who Framed Roger Rabbit."  I didn't remember the quote, but thought it was perfectly in line with my philosophy these days.  In the words of Jessica Rabbit, "I'm not bad.  I'm just drawn that way."  Brilliant.  On so many levels.  

Helping Others

So, I was having a conversation with Eleanor on the hill perhaps 10 days ago, and we started talking about Byron Katie.  I was giving her a completely incomplete synopsis of what Katie argues in her book that I am reading now.  Basically, I find that Katie argues, like many of the other authors that I am reading, that a human being can be happy in absolutely any situation if one is totally aware of the truth.  By questioning whether we actually NEED things to change in order to be happy, we find it to be untrue, that we actually don't NEED a thing to be happy, we can just be happy.  Katie has found for her that if she just accepts the world and herself just as they are, without the need for change or comparing to some world that does not exist, she starts to love the world and herself exactly as they are.  If we are able to stop our war against reality, we can be happy regardless of the what reality holds.  Of course, I find a lot of her thoughts to be true and help me to put into an intellectual framework that which I already know non-intellectually.  

Eleanor's feeling is that Katie is another of those Western civilization, easy-lifers, and while all this stuff may be true for those of us who don't have to worry about getting shot or raped today, it's not the same for those living in, say, Somalia, where you are faced daily with starvation, dirty water, illness, violence, and a handful of other pretty serious things.  And here's my thought: maybe she's right.  I don't know.  But it's in my opinion that Eleanor is not perfectly happy.  She has plenty of stresses in her life right now without having to worry about being taken hostage by guerillas.  And there's something that I can't quite intellectualize there, but I'm going to try. 

Even in our Western civilization with our cars and medicine and law and water, most people at least sometimes are quite miserable.  Some are miserable a lot of the time, whether they admit it to themselves or not.  In any event, with all this, we still suffer.  And this brings up two points:  

First, we're not that much different from the Somalis.  In spite of all of the ease we have in our worlds, we still have the potential to suffer.  It seems to me that the problem is not with external circumstances because of the across the board suffering, even if one has everything one needs and is not in physical danger at any time.  And enlightened people seem to be from every environment too.  Siddhartha Buddha was a prince.  But he renounced his throne and spent several years starving and suffering in order to reach enlightenment.  His story actually actually argues the opposite of Eleanor's claim.  Jesus was persecuted and eventually hung on a cross, and yet was happy.  Jesus argued directly that it is easier to find heaven if you are poor.  Even Byron Katie has had her share of misfortune: the death of a child, cancer, blindness.  So, it just seems like the key to happiness has nothing to do with your surroundings.  And in fact, it may even be easier to find that key to happiness if you do suffer greatly.  

Second, I find so many people in the Western culture who seem to be just like Eleanor: Before finding an end to their own suffering, they have already turned to try to ease the suffering of others in "worse" situations.  I guess I question anyone who thinks that they can show someone a place that they themselves have never seen.  They want to bring people out of their suffering, perhaps to a world more similar to their own, where they haven't even been able to find an end to suffering.  It's as if those people are bringing a person from a world of suffering to just another world of suffering where, at least according to Jesus, it is actually more difficult to find the key to end one's suffering.  

Perhaps we all suffer in the Western world because we have too much guilt to even attempt to end our suffering.  Perhaps if we would take the time to end our own suffering, we would find at least one path to that end, and perhaps then we can judge whether or not it works for the Somalis.  In the meantime, I just don't find it possible to point to happiness and say "go over there".  I think the only way we can ease the suffering of others is to bring them in to where we already are, when and if we ever get there.  And if we haven't found a path that works, I would bet there are a lot of Somalis that might be able to show us their path.  

Danielle's Camera

Okay, a new friend of mine, Danielle, was staying at my place for a few nights this week.  On Thursday as she was leaving, she realized that her very expensive camera was missing.  It was in a red bag that she had moved from the floor onto a bench that morning, but it was no longer in the bag as she was taking it out of the house on Thursday evening.  It appears to have been stolen.  

But then there are some really strange things.  First, there was no sign at all of B&E.  Which it is very tough to break into my house without, well, breaking in.  Second, the camera was stolen OUT of the bag.  The bag was not stolen.  Why wouldn't they just grab the bag and run?  And there's more... the lenses and the charger were in the bag and also taken.  But again, why not just take the bag, especially if you are going to unload almost all of its contents?  And more, her computer was totally exposed right next to the bag and left untouched.  There was cash in the bag that was left untouched.  Cash, untouched.  There was jewelry and her passport all right there, and nothing was touched but the camera and the camera equipment.  All of my stuff, throughout the house, all still there.  Crazy. 

It's been a few days now, and no sign of the camera.  Nor is there any explanation.  She's sure it was stolen from the house.  And I guess therefore it was, but how strange is that?

Right Now - 26/5/09 9:25 AM

Right now I have just finished opening up the bar, and thinking about perhaps having some breakfast.  I feel content, tired, and a little anxious.  I don't feel very deep this morning, I feel very surface.  I haven't written in a while, which means I've been busy.  I've filled my free time with surfing lately instead of reading or writing.  The bar has been doing okay over the past few days, and so I've been here helping out a lot.  Shane is back in town, so I have a roommate again, which I don't particularly like, but I'm grateful that I have a place to stay, and I can always move out if I prefer.  

I've been a little moody lately, especially over the past few days.  I think it's a sign of me not taking time just to do nothing.  I'm still not good at just being even while doing, so I think I need to make sure to take some time without any activities at all.  

Life these days is pretty good, overall, though.  I don't have any things in my life causing stress. I think I have anxiety just because I haven't really taken the time to take account of myself and my life, so the anxiety is about not knowing if I am missing something.  Perhaps I know that I am, and I am purposely hiding from it by doing over the past week.  We'll see.  I'll take some time today.  But first, I have a lot of things I'd like to blog about, so this is the first of perhaps several today...

Boomerang

So, a couple of weeks ago, a new dog started showing up around this ghetto.  Eleanor, I believe, first picked him up and brought him home, and Pat printed up some signs to find his owner.  It was clear the dog was loved, as he is a sweet dog, so we put up signs around town.  He speaks English, and is well mannered for the most part, but not partly obedient.  In any event, he stayed at Randall's for a couple of nights, and then at my place for a couple of nights, and then Jeni decided she wanted to keep him.  We jokingly named him Spike, and then quickly changed it to Scout, largely because he has a tendency to wander.  Which would soon become a problem...

About a week ago, a friend, Lee, was in the bar, saw the dog, and said "Hey, that's Buddy."  Not Spike or Scout.  Interesting.  It turns out that the dog's owners went back to Canada, decided not to take Buddy, and were going to put him down when Lee said he would watch after him.  But Lee is gone all day, and Buddy could only be left in the house all day.  When Buddy got out, he would run away.  And so that's when we found him.  

So, Buddy was staying at Jeni and Eleanor's, but every day he would find his way all the way down the hill to the bar, where he would spend his days.  This arrangement seemed to be working out fine, except that Eleanor would constantly worry about Buddy, and Buddy would start to cause problems at the bar by laying down in the bodega, office, or women's restroom and, feeling cornered, would snarl when we would try to move him quickly.  He doesn't bite, but he definitely could scare customers and bartenders.  So, I kicked him out of the bar.  And kicked him out.  And kept kicking him out.  And he kept coming back.  Jeni decided to have a talk with Lee and ask him to take newly named Boomerang "Boomer" back.  (Buddy never answered to Buddy, but seems to like Boomer, and it's perfectly fitting).  

But staying with Lee isn't really a good option.  Staying at Eleanor and Jeni's causes stress because he is always down here.  So, after virtually no thought, I decided he's welcome to stay with me.  I will leave him tied to a rope at my house if he keeps trying to come in the bar, he will sleep at my house, he will feel at home at my house, and still be here in the ghetto where he seems very happy.  I don't know why Boomer is in our lives right now, but he is, and I've just decided to accept it and love it for what it is.  Boomerang is now part of the family.  

That being said, if anyone (preferably with a fenced in yard) wants a super-sweet dog, come meet Boomer.  I'm sure he'd love someone to really love him like he deserves.  

Roadtrip to Manuel Antonio

So late Thursday night, Scott and I are in the bar, and he reminds me of a conversation we had with Jeni, Pepper, and Ozzie on Monday night about a pink sand beach south of Quepos.  Strangely, I didn't even REMEMBER the conversation, and I wasn't drinking on Monday.  So, I asked him who actually mentioned the pink sand beach, and he said it was Ozzie.  And here's the REALLY strange part... Ozzie wasn't here on Monday night!  So his story was suspect. 

It turns out that the conversation actually happened on Tuesday night, not at the bar but at Jeni's house, and it was, after calling all over town trying to find out who might have mentioned it, Fred who brought the pink sand beach to Scott's attention.  In any event, on Friday morning, we set out in search of the mystical place.  

We started in normal fashion, blasting music as we left this small town.  We stopped in Parrita first for a Cuba Libre, which is now our tradition, and Jeni and Pepper came up with the great idea to run by Ropa Americana (second-hand clothing).  They invented a game where we drew someone's name out of a hat, and we bought one item of clothing for that person, and that person had to wear that item all day.  So, we left the store after many laughs... Jeni sporting a pink shirt with Grover from Sesame Street on the front with script reading "Super Fly"... Pepper showing off the Jackson Five on her black T... And the boys all in random basketball jerseys, which gave birth to the now infamous Oeste Pistachios (named hours and hours later after the flavor of Pepper's ice cream in Manuel Antonio), consisting of Gonzalez, Poynter, Dos Dos, and our center, Bubba, who never showed.  

After a tough game against the local Parrita basketball team, where Gonzalez fouled out after 17 minutes in spite of the opposing team's forfeit for failure to appear, we continued on our journey south.  Perhaps the highlight of the entire trip was when we waited for 45 minutes or so for the bridge south of Parrita, where I eventually had to get out of the car and dance (see short clip below).  We took team photos (see above), and the girls made at least one construction worker's day.  Basically, we just impressed a hundred or so angry motorists with our skills for the better part of an hour.  

After the bridge was finally cleared, Jeni took us off the path to a sweet restaurant down on the river.  It's a nice little place - an old Panamian boat floating over the river south of Parrita which had been remodeled into a really quaint soda.  Oh, and it also burned down TWO YEARS AGO.  Well done Jeni.  Well done.  

We eventually arrived in Manuel Antonio, perhaps just kilometers from the enchanted beach that had drawn us already literally MILES from our own home, and finally got some amazing BBQ at a lean-to make-shift restaurant on the beach.  After lunch, we had a team huddle, and quickly decided to abandon our what now seemed impossible search for the pot of gold on the other side of the rainbow, and instead buy a bottle of rum and some juice to enjoy a drink or two on the beach in between body-surfing, kite flying, and frisbee tossing sets.  

Exhausted, we decided to start to make our way back at about 3:30 after a nap and some ice cream (thanks to Ally, perhaps our first fan, at the local gelato shop there on the strip).  Scott fought through the ridiculously hard rain, which finally let up just in time for us to dance a bit more as we waited again for the bridge to clear, this time heading north.  As we passed through Parrita, we stopped by Ropa Americana again, had some fun with hats and stuffed animals without spending a dime, and crossed the street for a last Cuba Libre before the final leg.  We went into the less-than-upscale grocery store, Pali, and got the rock star treatment our team deserves, as Gonzalez was ushered from the back of the line to a hidden register opened just for the Pistachios.  We're that cool. 

After about 20 minutes, we found ourselves still right in front of the grocery store, laughing and loving, without having even realized what we had become.  Yes, we had become those unshowered loiterers that hang out on the sidewalk in front of the grocery store in funny t-shirts and basketball jerseys, drinking cans of rum and coke and providing obstacles for the poor patrons trying to exit the store with their full carts of groceries.  And it was GLORIOUS.  The pistachios and their harem of cheerleaders gracing the Pali with their presence, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but bask in the glory of their recent victory.  We decided on one more Cuba Libre, and after some post-game stretching, we took off for home, where we got the type of non-existent hero's welcome we deserved, non-existent parade and all.  Life is good when you're a star. 

For all the pics, check out my facebook page.  I'll also put a link to it on the Lowtide facebook page.  

Dave Barry

So, Steve offered to bring a little light reading down, and I guess it occurred to me that, while my blog centers on all this deep shit lately, I also just have a lot of fun and laugh a lot.  I'm reading Dave Barry's "Dave Barry Slept Here," which is ridiculously funny.  I can't imagine how difficult it must be to come up with enough unique ways to make someone laugh to fill an entire book, but he seems to do pretty well.  

An interesting side note: I studied Dave Barry at Harvard.  I bet he would like to know that.  I studied him in a class that was entirely designed to analyze humor.  Only at Harvard.  Take something simple and beautiful and study the hell out of it until you can form a complex equation that explains exactly how it works and you no longer have to suffer through enjoying something without knowing why you enjoy it.  Can you imagine going through life not knowing why you think green is a pretty color?

And as for the deep shit... it's interesting how, while all of this stuff seems deep, it actually lightens me up.  I'm taking everything a lot less seriously, in spite of what this blog might say.  I laugh at my thoughts all the time.  I laugh at my dog a lot.  I laugh at Randall.  He's easy to laugh at.  I watch the same stupid movies over and over (I'm pretty sure I know Zoolander word for word the whole way through).  My life isn't all deep introspection, it's mostly just watching and enjoying.  I just don't write about that, although perhaps I'll start.  That could be fun too. 

Right Now - 13/5/09 10:29 AM

Right now I am in the office, after just getting off the phone with Neil, who claims he's not ALL bad.  Agree to disagree.  I also just sent out the weekly report to my bosses, Joey, Sam, and Shane.  

I'm a little tired this morning, but feeling good.  I had a nice dinner last night with a new friend, and we got into a discussion about purpose, of course, because it is what is on my mind.  The conversation led into something a little new for me, and so I thought I might bring Steve back (who, by the way, just messaged me yesterday and is coming back for the whole month of July).  A while ago I started talking about how I am not Steve, which is strange for me.  The more and more I distance myself from myself, the more I am beginning to experience "myself" - my thoughts, body, emotions - as I had previously experienced other people.  And what's more, I am experiencing other people closer to how I used to experience myself.   I view myself as perhaps no more special than you, and therefore you become as special as me, which is really pretty neat.  It's like I am identifying myself with everything, instead of just this body, these thoughts, and these emotions.  Instead of just enjoying my experiences, thoughts, emotions, and feelings, I am starting to enjoy EVERYONE's like they were mine.  I'm identifying "I" as less just me, and now more of everything.  

But we also got a bit into the discussion of who I am.  I think maybe I'm starting to see the "I" as both nothing and everything at the same time.  Perhaps this "I" that I use to describe the consciousness is the universe, and only my brain individualizes it somehow.   But at the same time, I still can't read your thoughts.  I still can't see through your eyes.  Doesn't that automatically separate us somehow?  I'm not sure I've ever heard of anyone who can see through another's eyes; but is it possible?  

So, strange thoughts this morning.  Wonder where this will go next.  I think that I've got to stop talking like this to new friends if I am ever going to actually make new friends.  In any event, I think I'll go back to the house now and read a bit of Byron Katie, who has another great quote I read a couple of days ago: "The truth is that there's no such thing as enlightenment.  No one is permanently enlightened; that would be the story of the future.  There's only enlightenment in the moment.  Do you believe a stressful thought?  Then you're confused.  Do you realize that the thought isn't true?  Then you're enlightened to it.  It's as simple as that.  And then the next thought comes, and maybe you're enlightened to it as well."  Cool. 

Comments

So, I guess I have never allowed comments from non-registered users.  Now anyone can post comments.  Neat. 

Purposeless

I'm going to take the next step now.  If there is no real pain in the world, it's all just in our minds, why try saving anyone?  Why are we trying to save ourselves?  Is the compassion for the ego?  What exactly are we trying to help?  If we are suffering, and we alleviate that suffering, either through awareness or through intervention, what, exactly, are we helping?  What is our purpose?  It seems to me that if we alleviate the suffering through intervention, we are helping the mind, the brain, the ego: that which believes in the pain.  

If we help through awareness, though, we may be accomplishing two things: killing that which suffers and bringing awareness of the universe to the universe.  But why?  Looking at my path, I definitely have found that I started on the path with reason, which is interesting.  I started on this path with an intellectual purpose to ease my own suffering.  And then the purpose seemed to start to change to just becoming awareness.  But now, it seems, as my awareness arguably grows, it's killing purpose.  That intellectual vehicle that started me on this path is exactly what is being dismantled through awareness, and it leaves me, well, I'm left just existing.  Still moving, still going, still perhaps even searching, but for what?  

On the death of purpose:  It seems to me that the mystics I've read seek to either bring awareness or end suffering, or both, at least at first.  Starting with ending suffering: Killing that which suffers is not necessarily something worthwhile, really, as the ego seems somewhat meaningless in the world.  Whether it exists or not is, well, not important.  It's just an ego.  Is it a being?  Is it something worth preserving?  Is it the Devil?  Is it bad?  Intrinsically bad?  Is killing it a good purpose?  I don't think so.  It just is.  So, perhaps bringing awareness of the universe to the universe is a good purpose.   Why is this a goal?  What does this do?  Is this what the universe seeks?  Tolle thinks that the universe wants awareness of itself, seemingly for fun.  But why?  It comes down to this: if there is no good or bad, why try for anything?  If there is no good or bad, there is no better.  If there is no better, there is no purpose.      

In the movie contact, there was always a line that I loved towards the end of the movie.  Matthew McConaughey, who has become the spiritual leader of the country, is asked whether or not he believes Jodie Foster, a strict scientist, when she describes a mystical journey where she met with technologically advanced aliens in a galaxy far far away.  He responds, "As a person of faith... I am bound by a different covenant than Dr. Aroway - but I believe our goal is one and the same: the pursuit of truth.  I for one believe her."  I've always absolutely loved that quote because it is exactly what I feel is the connection between religion and science.  People are just searching for what is.  But here's the part of it that may be the death of the ego which makes the pursuit of truth so difficult and leads to such different conclusions:  The truth just may be that there is no purpose.  There is no goal, no end point, no purpose.  In this respect, I think the mystics have it right, there is only the present.  There is no future to seek, no reason for doing or even being.  There just is...  As de Mello would say, wake up!  But it seems you'll then discover there's absolutely no reason to.  

I've got to stop listening to Enigma in the mornings.  

Good Bad Pain Pleasure

Okay, this is going to get deep.  I was in the hammock earlier, doing what I do, and had to grab a pen and paper to jot down some thoughts.  Here are some of them:

Perhaps there is no good or bad, pain or pleasure.  I am beginning to consider the possibility that nobody is actually suffering, as the Buddhists might have you believe, but instead everyone just THINKS they're suffering.  If you can get rid of thinking, you just are.  You may be hurt, you may be tortured, you may be broken hearted, but only thinking that you are actually something other than the universe leads to the belief that you are suffering.  The universe just is.  If you can recognize that you are part of the universe, an infinitesimally small part of the universe, the suffering that you feel all of the sudden becomes part of the whole, which just is.  

Let's come at it from a different perspective.  There is no good or bad, only thinking makes it so.  I mentioned in some blog earlier how small our perspective is of the universe.  We make judgements on whether something is good or bad while only knowing an infinitesimally small portion of the whole, an infinitesimally small portion of the effects of any one event.  As your perspective gets wider and wider, you are able to see that in every "bad" event, there are what your brain might consider wonderful consequences, and in every "good" even, there are absolutely horrible consequences.  And if you examine all you actually know, you will find that the path you are able to follow, with all of the influences, is ridiculously small.  Even to the second OF the event, taking time out of the picture, you know nothing about the particular event in the grand scheme of the universe.  All you know is the tiny piece you think you see.  

Perhaps the universe just is.  And as we take every person, action, breath, and see that it has an effect on every single part of that universe, we realize that it's all just one.  The universe is all just one.  And segmenting it into tiny parts is what causes us to believe things are good or bad. Cutting it up into what we think or perceive creates an illusion of this dichotomy.  And when our brain separates us from the universe, we create an illusion of pain and pleasure within ourselves, instead of just seeing that it all is just a tiny part of our whole being, which is the universe.  We are all the universe.  Not part of it, we ARE it.  

Tolle at one point in some book mentioned that he found that when he felt physical pain in some part of his body, if he perceived that physical pain throughout his whole body it diminished the pain.  Try it.  I did, and found the same.  If I feel the pain in my shoulder not as a pain in my shoulder, but as pain in a very small part of my body as a whole, then it becomes not so bad, it's just a little tiny part of the whole.  Imagine if we could do this and see the pain as a pain in a small body part in a much larger body in a much larger family in a much larger society in a much larger world in a much larger universe!  And it's not just physical.  We can do it with everything.  This is not a good or bad feeling, not pain or pleasure, it's just part of the universe.  It just IS the universe.  And the universe just is.   

May Full Moon Party

We had another great FMP on Saturday night.  This time we got the Chupacabras to play for a few hours, as about 90 people laughed, danced, and drank Silk Panty shots.  Jeni worked her first shift, helping me and Ingrid to serve the thirsty customers, and Randall worked the grill as he does.  The band rocked until 11:30, and the party lasted until about 2:00.  Here are a few pictures. 

Right Now - 12/5/09 7:55 AM

Right now I am at the bar, after just opening and throwing on some Enigma.  I am a little earlier than usual this morning after having a decent 5:30 session with Larry, Brett, Pat, Adam, and Les.  The waves were okay, but the pelicans were certainly my highlight.  With just the slighest offshore breeze, the pelicans were still able to glide just above the waves.  They pass in groups of 5 to 10 without making a sound, just silent beauty like paddling through glassy water in between sets.  The morning was grey, but still and beautiful.  

This time of year, many parts of the town have the sweet but bitter smell of rotting fruit as the mango trees shed hundreds of mangoes throughout the streets and yards.  Piles of the rotting orange and yellow flesh provided highlights of bright color on the early morning grey walk to the beach from the Soda, as the light rain gave us a taste of moisture on our skin before diving in for the paddle out.  Larry picked up a mango on the walk, and rinsed it in the ocean for a pre-session sweet snack.  This is truly a land for senses.  

I feel content this morning.  I feel a little excited in a boyish kind of way, I think probably about a date I hope to go on this week.  I don't have a whole lot of thoughts this morning, just a feeling of peace.  Maybe it's the Enigma.  Or Olie licking herself on the bar by my computer.  Or Jake sleeping under the table next to me.  Or the grey sky.  Or the rolling waves.  Or the ever so slight breeze now coming from the sea.  Or maybe it's just me.  

ROADTRIP to Atenas

So, last Monday, when five of us polished off a bottle of Tequila, we came up with a brilliant idea: a roadtrip to Atenas.  (Mondays are becoming notorious for excellent ideas: see Boogie Days.)  So, yesterday morning, I fifth wheeled it with Jeni, Scott, Pepper, and Ozzie, and we packed up and headed to Atenas.  Now, first, for those of you that don't know, Atenas is a town of about 25,000 located in the mountains between here and San Jose.  And generally, I know nothing about Atenas.  Except that Ozzie lived there for perhaps most of his life.  

So, we took off in the Silver Bullet at 8:00 AM, not really knowing where we were going, and definitely not knowing why.  We put on some awesome music, and did a lot of seat dancing, laughing, yelling, singing, and storytelling (GET OUT OF THE CAR JENI, Capitan Coyote y Pimienta Picante, to name two).  We stopped to get a round of Cuba Libre's in cans in Orotina.  I don't know quite how to explain this, but there was love spilling out of this little car.  It's like there was a ray of sunshine falling down on our chariot as Scott navigated us through the twists and turns of the two lane highway snaking through the mountains.  Even before we got to Atenas, it had been an absolutely wonderful day.  I could feel life throughout my body, and laughed frequently even when there was nothing to laugh about.  

We stopped by Ozzie's mom's restaurant, and then by her hotel for a second on the way to two waterfalls tucked in just past the town of Tecares (AKA Tecate).  The falls were spectacular (pictures forthcoming), and we all got a little high, seemingly from partial asphyxiation from all the water in the air.  We swam in the refreshingly cold water, and left as the thunderstorms began to roll in over the mountains.  After another exquisite ride in the Bullet, we landed back at Ozzie's mom's home, where we napped on couches after wrestling with his German Shephards.  Ozzie's mom came home full of life and cheer around five or six, and we dined on delicious chicken, rice, beans, sausages, tortillas, and salad.  Scott suffered through vicious attacks from both Ozzie's guard-cat, who thinks he's a dog, and a scorpion hiding in the upholstery of an outdoor chair.  We were all lucky enough, including Ozzie's mom, to see Scott preform the world's quickest strip dance, dropping his drawers in under a second after being stung on the ass by the monster insect.  Good fun for all of us, with the possible exception of Scott.  

After I almost backed off a 500 foot cliff, we made our way home late night, using our emergency flashers the entire trip to make up for a lack of taillights.  We arrived back around 11:00, when we parted ways under an almost full moon, and I retired to my castle and crashed into my bed into a dreamless sleep after suffering through the second half of "Che".  Awesome day.  Awesome day. 

Right Now - 6/5/09 7:40 PM

So, right now I am, well, sitting at the bar.  Like I do.  I just finished cooking and eating a fine burger with mozzarella, mushrooms, and bacon.  Washed it down with a toronja soda.  Ingrid's "working", although we don't have any clients right now.  Well, Myron just showed up, so we have Myron.  And there is one guy at the bar, talking to Randall and having a drink.  So that's two, really. 

It's open mic night at Vago's, the pizza place across the road, so any clients we would have are over there.  It's a relatively new thing he started, and was a good idea.  He's got Wednesday nights locked now.  

As for me, I'm a bit tranquilo right now.  Not really feeling a lot of love today.  I keep trying to connect into it, but am unable to.  I tend to think it's because I have been drinking and smoking too much lately.  I've also been really tired lately, I think for the same reason.  I've been staying late at the bar, and some nights (like last night) staying here in a hammock.  Tonight should be a good chill night though.  Don't think we'll have a big crowd anyway.  

I actually feel a bit lost tonight.  Almost bored, I think.  With all this around me, I feel bored.  I keep thinking that I CAN'T feel bored, I'm past that already.  I don't get bored.  But, I know I'm past telling myself how I feel too.  I'll just let myself be bored I guess.  No sense letting it get to me.  My head asked a question a little while ago... Isn't this new life that you seem to be leading a boring life?  No ups or downs, no falling in love, no strong emotions?  It's not me talking, but I'm taking note.  My head answers itself, of course, knowing it would, by saying "well, is peace boring?"  To which it again responds to itself and says, "um, yeah."  And here I am just listening, and then watching myself type.  Which brings up an interesting question... Who's typing?  

And I laugh.  This doesn't seem boring.  

Am I going crazy?  And if I am, who exactly is that?  I'm reminded of an Austin Powers quote:  "Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy... the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament."   Maybe I'm going sane, just taking the crazy route.  Me and my Fu Manchu.  

Recent Life, Guilt, Negativity

So I grew a Fu Manchu.  Cool.  There's a country song "Great Day to Be Alive,"  and has a line in it that says "Might even grow me a Fu Manchu."  I like the song.  And now I am one.  It doesn't look particularly good, but it's what I got.  

Let's see... What's been going on?  Ariel's going away party was last week.  Love that girl.  She's lived here pretty much her whole life, and now going to Canada for university.  Here's a pic of us at her party.  

Had another sweet Monday night.  Jeni, Scott, and Oz came and joined me and Pepper for some after-hours ridiculousness.  Here's a pic.  I love those nights, but have definitely been having too many of them.  I'm drinking way too much these days.  Not sure what that is all about, but I think I'll stop today.

My shoulder is still pretty out of whack, and doesn't seem to be getting any better.  So I've started surfing again.  If it's not going to get any better, I might as well get on with life.  And maybe the surfing will help.   

It's hard to concentrate.  Ingrid is sitting next to me coloring her Winnie the Pooh coloring book and writing my name in colored Winnie the Pooh pens.  She's 20.  

Word on the street is that a Maine justice decided to allow the lawyers of the people suing me to serve me via email.  Which likely puts me in the case.  Which just is.  I still find it all fascinating and amusing.  

So, I finally finished Tolle's "A New Earth."  He lost me towards the middle with a very long discussion of the pain-body, but once I finally got through it, I found the rest of Tolle EXTREMELY good and true.  Certain meditations I find enormously beneficial in getting out of my mind all the time.  He at one time asks the reader to try, as often as possible, to pay attention to his breathing... the inhaling and exhaling, the rise and expansion of the chest followed by the retreat.  I find it centers me in the present, while feeling and paying attention the energy in every part of my body helps me to connect myself to the world around me as I observe it, and quiets the incessant labeling and narrative in my head.  

I also loved his concept of purpose.  He says our first purpose is our inner purpose of awakening.  Following this purpose is our outer primary purpose, which is whatever we are doing right now.  This second.  For example, my primary purpose right now is writing this blog.  Being in the present is the only way in which we can combine our outer and inner purposes.  Using the present as our primary purpose is the only way it can be connected with our consciousness and be separated from our ego.  In a way, it doesn't matter at all what we do, but as long as we remain in the present, what we do is what is meant to be done.  For me, I would say that whatever happens is exactly what is meant to happen.  At least, it's only what could have happened.  

I started reading a book by Byron Katie.  The second paragraph of the introduction I find absolutely perfect.  "In my experience, confusion is the only suffering.  Confusion is when you argue with what is.  When you're perfectly clear, what is is what you want.  So when you want something that's different from what is, you can know that you're very confused."  I find myself less and less confused.  Which is nice.  And I'm still laughing more. 

On one last note, I was speaking to a close friend the other day about the past and about feeling guilty.  One of the authors I've been reading said at one point that there is no use in worrying about something you can do something about.  Just do something about it.  And there is no use in worrying about something over which you have no control, because you can't do anything about it.  So really, there is never any place to worry.  In somewhat of an analogy, there isn't really a place for shame or guilt, either.  As soon as one feels shame or guilt about a past action, that person is no longer the person who did the action in the past.  That person has become overcome with a new awareness of the situation and of himself.  As soon as that awareness comes in, that person ceases to be the same person who did the thing about which he is ashamed.  For me, though, shame and guilt don't have a place for another reason.  I am always doing exactly as I can do.  I am becoming more and more aware, but I am never more aware than I am.  I can only do as good as I am.  And that's it.  As I become more aware, I do look back and see that I may have done some things out of unawareness that were harmful, but I would not have done them had I been aware at the time.  I find I apply it to everyone.  Forgiveness is easy when you recognize that negative actions are simply caused by unawareness.  Honestly, instead of blame, I find compassion for the unaware.  I find compassion for myself in my unawareness.  It's much more productive than blaming everyone.  

Many of the authors I've been reading agree that all negativity is caused by unawareness.  I think I've actually found that there is no negativity in the world.  There are no bad things, no bad actions, no judgement anything really at all.  Taking everything in the infinite universe together, it all just is.  It's unawareness that causes us to view them as bad.  It's our ego that places judgement because we can't view it all.  We see an infinitesimally small portion of the whole, and on that tiny close in view, we label based upon our particular line of thinking of how things should be.  No, I don't think unawareness causes bad, I think unawareness causes us to think things are bad.  Except Neil.  He's actually bad. 

Sunday BBQ

So, I've been missing Oklahoma a bit lately, as I may have mentioned.  So I decided to bring a little bit of Oklahoma here every Sunday, starting yesterday.  Yesterday we closed the kitchen, whipped up a batch of margaritas, threw in some buckets of beer, and lighted up the grill for burgers, sausages, and grilled chicken sandwiches with sides of mashed taters and salad.  Some of my happiest memories are from Boston when we would make strawberry daiquiris, and then later in Oklahoma around the pool or in the backyard with cocktails and good company.  And so I'm bringing it to the Lowtide Lounge.  And it was nice.  I set up a nice loud sound system, played some cool chill music, and relaxed with some friends around the grill.  I set up an outdoor shower between us and the beach for the day (WHICH IS A GREAT FREAKIN IDEA) making it easy to go back and forth (which Jake loved too).  Randall loved getting out of the kitchen and behind the grill, and I loved kicking back and relaxing in the sun.  Cool. 

Other interesting things: I hired back our old guard, Flaco, after a short stint with Tigre watching the place (EVERY Tico has a nickname... Flaco has worked for me for six months and I don't know his real name).  It's getting cooler here.  Much cooler.  It's easier to fight the mosquitos when it's cooler because I can cover completely in a sheet.  I spent the night at the bar the other night, though, as we were in between Tigre and Flaco, and forgot to bring a sheet.  It was too cold for the fan, but the mosquitos were too strong to turn it off.  Didn't sleep much, but it was still much better than the last time.  Rained all night which was particularly nice.  I figure after a few more nights here I'll get it down.  

So, I don't really have any pictures to share, so I'll just attach this one from a couple of weeks ago; the day I returned from Aspen.  Went from cowboy to ski bum to driving fast to hanging a surf bum all in a few days.  Neat. 

Boogie Days (and Nights)

So, here's something cool that happened last week.  On Monday night, I came back to the bar after a great dinner with mom and Ron.  There were a dozen or so people at the bar, all carryin on, having a good time.  I had a couple of drinks with them, and it was 4/20, so some of us were doing what people do on 4/20.  We decided that, because there hadn't been waves in a while, we should have a Boogieboard tournament.  The next day.  At noon.  Brilliant.  And because these brilliant late-night ideas frequently get lost in the next morning's hangover, we made and signed a damn legal, enforceable CONTRACT that we would come.  And then we made a contract for a lifeguard (Ozzie), which consisted of a one sentence paragraph, "I got you, bitch," followed by a Ozzie's John Hancock.  We took odds, which were at best incoherent, and called it a night.  

Sure enough, at noon the next day, EVERYONE showed up for a couple of margaritas and out into the water we all went on boogies.  Which was funny.  Because we generally don't boogie.  We even gained some extras, and filled all 16 of Brett's boards.  The judging panel consisted of Millie, a new comer to our community.  It was an absolute blast.  Even Jake got out on a boogie for a bit.  He needs some practice, but he had fun.  

That night, we had the first Boogie Night here at the bar, which consisted of a quick award ceremony, some disco music, and the song "Boogie Nights" on repeat for perhaps an hour or more against heartfelt, sincere, begging opposition from pretty much everyone here, with the possible exception of Brett, who stood guard at the office door to block our poor patrons from changing that blessed song.  And here's why we didn't: Cause Boogie Nights are always the best in town! 

Can't wait for the next dry spell.