BELLINGHAM SPECTRUM SERIES: OCEAN VIEW PAINTED FROM MEMORY (COPYRIGHT 2007)

It was late summer of 1973 when I left my home which was 10 miles from the Pacific Ocean in the San Francisco Bay Area and, out of curiosity rather than a desire to leave California and the Pacific Ocean behind, traveled to the east coast with a man friend who wanted to find a Pennsylvania farm which had been in his father's family from the 1700s until the 1950s when it was sold to someone outside his father's family.

He had a dream of working on the farm and possibly buying it at some time in the future. We found the farm, and although it was a lovely place, it turned out to be within view of Three Mile Island. He didn't see the nuclear power plant as a problem, but I had no intention of settling anywhere near a nuclear power plant and already was seeing a future where we would go our separate ways. On March 28, 1979, the worst nuclear power plant accident in U.S. history occurred at Three Mile Island. I was beginning to learn that I can trust my intuition.

We ended up staying the fall and winter of 1973 and the early spring of 1974 in Wayland, Massachusetts, near Boston, not too far from Walden Pond. A former housemate of mine from California was living near Wayland and doing his psychiatry internship at Massachusetts General Hospital. He offered us a room in his home until we found a room in a house on Dudley Pond in Wayland.

At that time, my grandmother's brother and his family may have still been living in Boston, but because I was traveling with a man to whom I was not married, something not widely accepted at that time, I did not feel comfortable looking up relatives with whom my mother and her mother had not been in close contact.

My great-grandfather and great-grandmother had come separately to Boston from Germany in the middle of the 1800s and my grandfather was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts. My grandmother and grandfather had met and married in Boston. My grandmother's family had come to Boston from Canada and Ireland. Here is a photo of my grandfather and grandmother in the 1920 in St. Paul, Minnesota, when my mother was 4 years old and my grandfather had been home from World War I for nearly two years. He had become a doctor when in his 30s and had served in France as a surgeon during the last days of World War I. This was my mother's favorite photo of her parents. She said that she did not often see them looking this happy.

















Currently, I'm reading WILLIAM JAMES: IN THE MAELSTROM OF AMERICAN MODERNISM, by Robert D. Richarson, and am wondering if my grandfather took classes from William James or heard him lecture, because he attended Harvard Medical School during the time William James was still teaching there.

On page 490 of that book, I was interested to find the following because, along with my plans for becoming a massage therapist, I plan to become a yoga teacher:

"James . . . quotes at length from his friend Lutoslawski's experience with hatha yoga, which James calls "the most venerable ascetic system and the one whose results [strength of character, personal power, unshakability of soul"] have the most voluminous experimental corroboration."

That's it for today.

SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THE EDIT FUNCTION ON BLOGGER.

WHAT SHOWS ON "PREVIEW" IS NOT WHAT IS PUBLISHED ON THE BLOG.

HOPE BLOGGER FIXES THIS SOON.

BELLINGHAM SPECTRUM SERIES: INDIGO TREE (COPYRIGHT 2007)

While painting these recent images, starting in March and ending in May, I was listening to a reading of Robert Pirsig's book, ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE , having first read the book around 30 years ago, and then went on to read Robert Pirsig's second book, LILA: AN INQUIRY INTO MORALS, where he mentions an affinity with William James, a philosopher and psychologist and author of the book, VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE.

The next time I was in a bookstore, I came across the recently published book, WILLIAM JAMES: IN THE MAELSTROM OF AMERICAN MODERNISM, by Robert D. Richardson and bought it and am nearly finished reading it.

From Richardson's book, p. 474:

"Like all of us, James had many sides. Like other uninhibited people, he had more layers and more life in him than most, and despite notable blindnesses, he was better acquainted with himself than most. He was always teetering on the brink of collapse, but had been able -- so far -- to catch himself and fall backward to safety at the last moment. The different parts held together in a kind of confederacy. The fundamental condition of his life was, now and always, torn-to-pieces-hood. But the pieces were never just thrown to the winds. They remained loosely if oddly clumped together, never completely unified, but on the same shelf."

I am looking forward to the upcoming discussion of ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE at In A Dark Time.

Some July views from home:

Black and White Series: A Question For The Teacher (2005)

This image from last year matches my continuing state of having a mind full of questions but no clear teacher. Or maybe it's that the darkness I am looking into IS the teacher. Or that there is no "teacher" and no "not-teacher."

Here are two interviews with Robert Pirsig, one from 1974 and one from 2005. I didn't read the two books that followed ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE, but now I am curious about them. In 1992, Robert Pirsig stated that he felt that he was done with writing. From the descriptions I've read, the third book is a transcript of on-line discussions of Pirsig's Metaphysics of Quality, with comments by Pirsig.

When, out of curiosity, I type the words "bob dylan" and "Robert Pirsig" into Google, my blog comes up on the first page. The ocean was my first spiritual teacher. Bob Dylan was my second spiritual teacher, beginning in 1964. Maybe I liked Robert Pirsig, whose ideas came into my life around 1974, because he reminded me of Bob Dylan and the ocean. My experience of them was that I did not "feel so all alone" after hearing what they had to say. I didn't agreed with everything they said, but what they had to "say" was expansive rather than stifling and gave me a context in which to grow, as did Georgia O'Keeffe and Thomas Merton in the early 80s and Martin Buber in the early 90s. I am grateful to all my spiritual teachers. I am still growing.

Black and White Series: Kindness at the Crossroads (2005)

Last night I wasn't able to sleep so I read for awhile. When I still wasn't able to sleep, I listened to the end of the unabridged audio version of the book, ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE, by Robert Pirsig, which I have been listening to as I weave and paint during the last several days. The book is deeply moving for me, especially the section at the end that was added in 1984. The end of the book brought me to tears, after which I was able to sleep well.

It was when I was 26 years old that I first read ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE, around ten years into my life as an artist. As was the case the first time I read the book, there was much that went way over my head. Still, what I felt I did understand gave me hope.

Listening to Pirsig's description of areas of Oregon and Northern California, where I have taken multiple solo road trips, brought back my own memories.

Also see ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE route and landscape between Minnesota and San Francisco.