Notes

Wonderful! blink and marquee

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 06:35:00 +0000

I don't know why I never thought to try this before. As it turns out, you can embed a blink tag inside a marquee tag, at least on Firefox 2. Unfortunately, I haven't figured out how to make this work inside a blogger-generated page yet, so you'll have to try this on your own.

Thoughfulness Versus Thinking Too Much

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 06:28:00 +0000

While chatting over dinner with a friend about a year ago, I worried I was annoying her. At dinner a week before, she smiled, was engaged, and I had hoped she enjoyed my company. But this night, she was detached and unmoved by everything I said. I reviewed everything I'd said during dinner, then everything I said to her earlier that day. Nothing made sense. What had I done?

In the weeks and months prior to this night, two special friends reminded me frequently that not everything was my fault. This is obvious, but knowing this fact is not enough. When are things my fault, and when aren't they? I needed to learn that discrimination. On this night, I remembered this lesson and tried an experiment. What if my dinner-friend's "reaction" had nothing to do with me?

I quieted my mind, which was still racing with self-blame. Listening to her, watching her -- there's something! -- I saw my friend blink a long, slow blink. I was reminded of trying to stay awake during class after a late night. My friend might be tired. Maybe I truly wasn't to blame!

Looking back at the first paragraph, I see many self-action phrases: "I was annoying her", "What had I done?", "enjoyed my company", "unmoved by everything I said". I wanted to be a good friend and good company, and when the unexpected happened I took a 'me-centered' view -- it was my fault. I was in control of the situation and I screwed it up. Usually, I follow these thoughts with intense self-scrutiny, hoping to find something I can fix. It usually turns into a wrestling match with reality, where I try to bend events to my will.

The ending of this story is the best part. While it felt nice not to blame myself, the joy came afterward. I asked my friend if she was tired, and learned she hadn't been sleeping well. By thinking less and listening more, I was able to take a step into her world. I felt thoughtful and supportive, like a good friend. We said goodbye early that night, so she could take care of herself.

Dance history

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 08:40:00 +0000

I tried swing dancing tonight, for the first time. I enjoyed every minute of it, once I finally got to the dance floor. A question arose about my dance history, for better or worse, and I felt compelled to enshrine it on my blog.

Elementary school, sixth grade, end of the year: the principal (male) and several male teachers thought they should encourage the male students to dance before they transitioned to junior high school. We formed a circle, learned to two-step, and learned something they called the "flying Dutchman." I can't properly recall what that move was, but it was silly. I think the male teachers were more uncomfortable than the students, but I appreciated their effort. I also remember my Uncle Marve performing a jig at a family reunion, and I was captivated. I never learned how, though.
Junior High: my father had cable television, and hence had MTV back when they played music videos all day long. I thought Axel Rose had a cool move in the Sweet Child O' Mine video, and mirrored him in socks on carpet. At school dances, there weren't many guys, so I'd hang out in a circle of girls if they'd let me. Again, I'd dance similar to the girl across from me, as if we were dancing together -- one girl eventually noticed, named Casey Meyer (on whom I had a crush from 4th grade into high school).

At one memorable dance, we had a DJ and a dance contest. I was surprised when I was among the last 4 people dancing, and very nervous. Finally, it came down to me versus Sean Isaacson (a really nice guy that everyone liked). Sean had the Milli Vanilli moves going, and I was freestylin' with the occasional Axel Rose slide thrown in. I won, and took home Bon Jovi's &dquot;New Jersey&dquot; album (on an LP record -- this was long before CDs).
High school: not much to note here. I remember being short on cash when it came time for photos at my first real high school dance -- that was scary, and I managed to work things out with Tammy noticing (and I still have the photos). My mother loved dancing at Oktoberfest, and I went along a few times over the years. At one of these events, I learned the Chicken Dance and how to waltz, sort of. None of the adults could really answer a technical question I had about the waltz, and I gave up. I'm solid on the Chicken gestures, though.
College: went to one Sadie Hawkins dance, and I think the woman that invited me was named Laura. Started dating someone that didn't care so much for dancing, and that kept me off most dance floors for more than a decade. There were two notable exceptions. At Erik Anderson's wedding, the bride's mother taught me to waltz and polka during the reception. This was a Country-Western dance, and the polka moved very, very fast around the room (I loved it).

The second, enormous exception is that Dr. Read, my undergraduate math adviser, encouraged all the math students to try his wife's Scottish Country Dancing course. I attended the course, and joined the club on campus. I was practicing Scottish Country Dance once a week (or more) for at least two years. Since few people have seen this style of dance, I'll include links to videos (which will eventually break, at which point you should just search for [scottish country dancing] at Google video or YouTube).
- A collection of reels (fast dances), 5.5 minutes: includes Marie's Wedding, and maybe Reel of the Royal Scotts (I've forgotten a lot since college): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCptMS8IZvA
- A strathspey (slower dance), 1.5 minutes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLnx5PZpcOI
- Good example of a formal ball, 4 minutes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=osuow59BHdU
For what it is worth, yes, I wore a kilt for the bigger dance events. No, I won't tell you what I wore underneath.
The Google Years: The only really notable event, before now, was my friend Jill dragging me to a Tainted Love concert and dance. Jill danced with wild abandon, and I felt like I was in high school again (when I danced with wild abandon and often embarrassed myself -- Spin Me Round, anyone?)

Tonight I can add Swing Dancing to this list. I had a great time. My partners were patient and helpful. In fact, I danced with every women but one (I'll remedy that next time). I suspect I'll be back for more.

No, thank-you.

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 05:48:00 +0000

This might be the most-important story I was told last year.

I was chatting with a good friend, and asked about being open while protecting myself from abuse. She shared a parable about an abusive old man in a small village. I applied the lesson from the parable later that same night, and several times that week.

An old man in a small village enjoyed intimidating his neighbors. He would abuse them verbally until they felt bad about themselves, telling them how lazy they were, or stupid, or thoughtless. Everyone was afraid of him, and this made him feel powerful. Having mastered his village, he wanted to go further and dominate the guru who lived peacefully in nearby hills.

He visited the guru and offered rotten fruit as gift. The guru declined, saying nothing more than "No, thank-you." The old man feigned anger, and began his verbal lashing of the guru. After receiving each abusive statement, the guru simply said "No, thank-you." Eventually the old man's feigned anger turned to real anger, and he lost control, yelling "What do you mean, 'no thank-you'? That doesn't make any sense, I wasn't offering you anything!"

The guru replied, "When you offer me rotten fruit, I say 'no, thank-you' because I know it is bad for me, and I do not accept it. Then you have to carry your own rotten fruit while you return home."

Almost every application I have had for this lesson has been in defense of myself, from myself. While listening to the story, I missed an important call. When I discovered this, I made myself feel guilty for not returning home sooner. Then I saw how I offered myself that rotten guilt, and accepted it. Finally, I told myself "no, thank-you" and refused to accept the guilt any longer.

The story's abstract lesson, for me, is that I can protect myself without building defensive walls. There's no need to create one-size-fits-all boundaries. Instead, I can remain open but discriminate between good and rotten fruit. Of course I will make mistakes, most likely accepting rotten fruit due to an assumed obligation. When I observe myself compounding those mistakes with additional self-abuse, I simply tell myself, "no, thank-you."

Toll Evasion

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 03:10:00 +0000

FasTrak was kind enough to send me a photo evading the Golden Gate Bridge toll. As it turns out, I was in violation, but only because the toll attendant waved me through after I stopped and asked about the toll for motorcycles. This isn't the best use of my time, but I can't stomach paying a fine after trying to do the right thing. I'm contesting the ticket, and I'm recording my response to FasTrak here because I need to vent to someone (or everyone, it seems):

As I approached the toll both, I looked for information about HOV/Carpool lanes, and information about how motorcycles are classified. Not spotting anything relevant, I entered toll lane that accepted cash, and waited my turn. I came to a full stop next to the toll booth, and asked the attendant about motorcycles. He waved me through.

Having received this ticket notification, I researched the toll rules for motorcycles crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. I see now that carpool hours end at 6pm for the Golden Gate Bridge, as opposed to 7pm for the Interstate freeways in this area. However, I didn't have access to a computer and the internet while on my motorcycle at the toll booth, and chose to trust the attendant instead.

I am requesting that this ticket be waived, on account of misdirection by the employee collecting tolls. There is no danger that I'll repeat this violation, because I have memorized the bridge schedule, know it is different than the Interstate schedule, and am unlikely to trust a toll booth employee unless they refuse to take my money.

Scripts for the "Labels" links in my sidebar

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 23:17:00 +0000

There is probably some good pre-fab way to get Blogger to publish links to your blog labels (when you host the content on your own site), but I did not find anything official. Because I have infinite time to waste on web development, I wrote my own scripts instead of using someone else's. I figure I'd share these scripts, so that everyone else can look at them then decide to write their own, too. You can see the finished result in my sidebar on the right, in the Labels section.

There are 3 steps:

Get the labels and make html (bash script)
Make the resulting html embeddable in a webpage (javascript)
Modify my blogger template

It was pretty easy to fetch all the labeled content, using the ls command in the labels/ directory (I am running my webserver on a GNU/Linux system). Then I massaged the output until I had line breaking, label separators, and number-of-posts per label. I put these steps together in my label_lister bash script, because I didn't want to use php (or similar) to access my filesystem. It might be useful to look at the raw output from my labels_lister script. Of course I had to enable cgi scripts in my apache config.

The next step was harder: getting the bash script's output into my blogger-generated index.html file. I chose not to use Server Side Includes to embed the labels html into the blogger-generated index.html file, because I thought I would have to enable SSI for all .html files and that was discouraged by the apache manual.

Instead, I used XMLHttp with javascript. I've done this in greasemonkey scripts in the past, which hides browser implementation details and some other stuff I did not previously realize. Still, the javascript was not too hard. Here is my script: get_labels.js.

Finally, I modified my blogger template. In the blogger template's head, I sourced my javascript:

<script type="text/javascript" src="http://notes.komarix.org/js/get_labels.js"></script>

Then I added one extra CSS class in the template's head:

#sidebar div {
  margin:0 0 1.5em;
  padding:0 0 1.5em;
  border-bottom:1px dotted #ccc;
  }

Finally, I added my Labels section to the sidebar, below the links section, and above previous posts section:

  <MainOrArchivePage>
  <h2 class="sidebar-title">Labels</h2>
  <a href="/">(click here to undo label selection)</a><br /><br />
  <div id='labelsList' class='sidebar-div'>
    <ul>
      <li><a href="/labels/yoga.html">Yoga</a></li>
    </ul>
    <script>getLabelItems(document.getElementById('labelsList'));</script>
  </div>
  </MainOrArchivePage>

And that's it. Possibly more work than it was worth, except that I refreshed my memory on javascript and cgi details, and learned a little bit of new stuff. If I were doing it over, I'd probably start with the bash script and tell apache to do SSI for all .html files. I doubt the server load would be that large, especially for my blog. =-)

First Cars

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 19:26:00 +0000

Someone recently asked which of two 200+ horsepower cars was appropriate for a first car, on a mailing list inhabited by car lovers. From my perspective as an "old man" (I'm 34), most of the conversation bordered on ridiculous, with comments like these about adequate cars for commuting and errands (paraphrased):

My daily driver is an IS250 with a whopping 204HP...But honestly I would call it gutless

For a daily driven street driver? ...The [200+HP, sub-3400-pound] C230 and GTi do just fine for street cars.

I finally put on my grumpy old man hat and contributed my two cents. Some people got a kick out of my first-car description, so I'm re-posting it here.

My first car was a 1972 VW Super Beetle that my dad formerly used for commuting. Around 50HP if you adjusted the valves and distributor once per week. It was powder-blue, with a giant rust hole just ahead of the right rear fender -- in rainstorms, the right-rear passenger footwell filled with inches of water (I eventually drilled drainage holes). Due to a quirk in the automatic choke, part of the electrical system would short out when the engine got hot (hard to diagnose...) -- if you shut the engine off in this state, you had to roll-start the car or wait for it to cool down. The gas gauge worked some of the time, which might be worse than not working at all.

I had recurring corrosion problems under the distributor cap. One trip across Snoqualmie pass, the heater seemed especially hot (it melted a plastic bag under my seat) and the car was more gutless than usual. When I reached the summit, I pulled over and checked the spark plug wires at the distributor end. One of the connectors burst into a puff of blue smoke when I pulled it out, and another was covered with blue corrosion. The engine ran surprisingly well (I reached the summit, anyway) in this state, all things considered.

I even rebuilt the carburetor on that car, when my dad and I swapped the engine.

The car I learned in was an old Ford cab-over van. It had the "three-on-a-tree" manual gear selector on the steering column. Sometimes the shift linkage (don't know what it is really called) would stick, and my dad would slide under the van (engine still running) and shake stuff around until the transmission worked again. The van was previously owned by a friend that ran a Volvo dealership. The paint crew at that dealership played a prank on him, and painted a Volvo stripe along the body and removed most Ford logos. They also installed a Volvo radio. We kept it this way, which resulted in humorous confusion for many people.

My dad would take us out to back roads, hence I learned to drive a stick on gravel. He was very brave. After recovering from sliding around a corner and fishtailing between deep ditches, he only said "I think you might have taken that last corner a little faster than you should have."

How I started journaling

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 06:25:00 +0000

Midway through last September, I started journaling. I am still writing frequently in my journals, a surprising success given several aborted attempts in the last 34 years. I can identify several reasons I am still writing. I am giving myself permission to write poorly, as if nobody would ever read what I write -- including myself. Grammar, spelling, punctuation, and sentences are all optional. I think of the journal as a terrific listener, and really this is just a reflection of something more important: I am finally willing to listen to myself without judgment, giving myself permission to speak freely. However, none of that is my motivation for this blog post.

My first journal invited me to write on its pages. The cover, the line spacing, the art on the edge of each page -- all encouraged me to hold and admire this originally-empty book. My first entry arose from this visceral attraction. This blog post is motivated by a desire to share that entry.

I chose this book because its art invited me to write on its pages. Tonight I see the sun on the cover, and remember the Phoenix, willing to end its life in fire and ashes, so it may be reborn and rise to a new life. Tonight is a good night for me to give up the life I've had. Once I've let that life go, I'll be ready, and willing, to receive the morning's new life. Again.

How to fix your Panasonic TZ3 camera

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 23:55:00 +0000

My Panasonic TZ3 camera recently malfunctioned. When I turned the camera on, the lens extended and retracted three times, then LCD showed only the message "Please Turn Camera Off Then On Again". The instruction booklet said this indicated a problem with lens extension. I tried turning the camera on and off at least thirty times over two weeks, and each time the lens, lcd, and controls seemed to work fine -- except that the camera wanted to be turned off and on again. Playback mode worked perfectly. It was frustrating to believe that the camera was fine and the error was wrong.

Eventually I wondered if there was some sort of "reset the lens sensor, everything is okay" function. In under a minute, I found it, or something close enough for my needs. I held down the shutter release, then turned the power on. The mode selector was in the "manual" position, though I have no idea whether this was important. After extending the lens, the camera focused as if it were taking a regular photo. When I released the shutter button, the lens remained extended, and the camera appears to be working fine. Note that pressing and holding the shutter release after turning the power on did not help -- I only succeeded once I held it down before powering on.

"Fix" is probably not the right word, for two reasons: I don't know how exactly I fixed anything, and I don't really know what was wrong in the first place. With luck, I'll never need to answer those questions.

Give your yogi a cookie

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 06:02:00 +0000

While visiting a friend in San Francisco, she asked if I was hungry and offered me food. She nibbled on a cookie and described what she had in her refrigerator, completely ignoring the plate full of cookies on the counter. I finally stopped her and asked if I could have a cookie too. She was happy to share, and explained why she hadn't offered one earlier: "You practice yoga, and I assumed you wouldn't want a cookie."

Let me set the world straight on something. You don't achieve inner-peace and bliss by not eating cookies. You achieve bliss by practicing enough yoga that you can eat cookies and not feel guilty.

Offer your favorite yogi or yogini a cookie the next time they visit. It's part of the practice.

Why I want to teach yoga

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 07:07:00 +0000

I've nearly finished the first half of my yoga teacher training with Mark Stephens. I am revisiting my original intention for teaching yoga, again asking why I want teach, and to what audience. My current guess is that I have a selfish reason for teaching, so selfish it doesn't matter who my audience is.

My original intention was to work with senior citizens and chemotherapy patients, because of personal experience. My reasoning was that members of both groups would enjoy increased awareness of the ways in which they are alive while they face acute physical and emotional challenges. One of the primary objectives of yoga asana practice is developing and maintaining awareness in difficult situations. When I think about working with members of these communities, I usually have a strong emotional response and get a lump in my throat. However, I'm just as excited to teach yoga to my friends as I am to senior citizens and chemo patients. I think I created this explanation to convince myself that teacher training would result in useful action. I wanted to have a plan.

I get excited about teaching yoga when I think about sharing joy. I feel movement -- in yoga, dance, sports -- is a celebration of life, a luxury. When I savor every movement, including limited movement when I'm injured or ill or sore, I am reminded that little things can yield boundless joy. And the joy I find in little things -- in movement, seeing someone smile, watching trees -- blossoms into an awareness of the joy that surrounds me. I want to share these feelings with everyone, but I don't know how. Perhaps I am selfishly hoping to encourage awareness of the goodness of life by teaching yoga, and increase the opportunities I have to celebrate these feelings with others.

I'm comfortable with this explanation, because it comes from observing my heart and feelings. My rational mind understands this explanation, even if it doesn't understand why I get excited about asana practice and seeing trees sway in the wind. Though this explanation doesn't tell me what comes next or where I'm going, it tells me I'm on the right path. Even if I can't share my joy directly, I'll bet I can share my enthusiasm for yoga. I don't know who I'll be teaching, but if I'm very lucky, maybe I'll witness someone else finding joy in their practice of focus, awareness, and union.

What is a work-out?

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 09:26:00 +0000

In yoga teacher training, we recently got distracted by the term "workout." I decided to follow-up with a quick gander at the Oxford English Dictionary (I have the compact version, with 9 original pages micrographically printed on each page). However, a trip to the OED is never quick for me. Instead of writing a short email with a cute explanation to the interested party from teacher training, I wrote the rambling text you see below. Hopefully I've quoted the OED in a way that doesn't violate the spirit of copyright law.

With respect to the origins of the term "work-out", here's what I could deduce. The Oxford English Dictionary (2nd ed) has "work-out" as follows: A boxing bout for practice; more widely, an exercise session, practice, or test.". It has quotes from 1909 onward, with the early quotes all related to boxing:

1909, R. A. Wason in _Happy_Hawkins_: "I expect to give it a fair good work-out before I'm through with it."
1923, H. C. Witwer in _Fighting_Blood_: "I aint going to get no gym workout"
1927, Daily Express on 27 May: "Either in a workout or in an actual contest."

but a quote from a decade later has a clearly non-boxing context, where the subject is not a boxer, and the event is not clearly a "practice."

1938, M. K. Rawlings in _Yearling_: "'Will we take both dogs?' 'Nobody but old Julia. She ain't had a work-out since she was hurt. A slow hunt'll do her good.'"

The definition for "work-out" points to a subsection of the 38th definition for "work". The definition for "work" is broken into 39 meanings covering 13 pages. Definition group 38 is for "work out", and it is broken into 3 sub-categories. The third category has the relevant definition: "To box for practice, as distinguished from engaging in a set contest. Also gen. to practise, take exercise, rehearse." There's a few quotes from 1927 through the present, with a quote related to dancing in 1929, and a quote using the general sense (beyond boxing) in 1948 from Gore Vidal's The_City_And_The_Pillar_: "Jim worked out in the YMCA."

More interesting to me were other definitions in group 38. Here are entries from the first two sub-categories:

sub-category 1:

a) "To bring, fetch, or get out by some process or course of action; to get rid of, or effect a riddance of; to expel, deliver, efface, etc." (quotes from 1595)
d) "To wear out, esp. by labour, or by continued application of force (obsolete or rare)" (quotes from 1611)

sub-category 2:

f) "To bring about, effect, produce, or procure (a result) by labour or effort; to carry out, accomplish (a plan or purpose)" (extra def from Shakespeare in 1597: to persevere until the end) (quotes from 1534)
j) "To bring to a fuller or finished state; to produce or express in a complete form or in detail; to develop, elaborate." (quotes from 1821)
k) "To study or investigate completely; to work through (obsolete or rare)" (quote from 1830)

Having copied these definitions carefully, a process which encourages me to think more carefully, I would venture that the use in boxing might have originated from uses like sub-category 2, j and k. That is, a boxer would work out his moves, or his plan for a fight. This "strategic" sense of "work out" would make more sense if boxing practice was less athletic (compared to modern "working out") in the early part of the century. From there, I can easily imagine loose usage of "working out" a plan in boxing leading to generalized "practice" exercise in a gym (as opposed a "soccer practice", which we don't usually call "working out").

It is fun to pick and choose definitions we might like for yoga, versus aerobics and other gym workouts. For instance, the catharsis of 38a is nice for all exercise, but I prefer to leave 38d to exhausting oneself through jumping rope and such. 38f and j might mean chiseling your abs on a machine, or might be self-transformation in yoga. 38k sounds much more like yoga than like aerobics -- though I suppose "total body workouts" might claim membership for 38k. My hypothesized pugilist use fits nicely with the idea of yoga, where asana is part of learning and practicing focus and awareness for life in general. Of course, such picking-and-choosing is probably hard to support academically, and is more of a mirror of my yoga-biases than of real meanings.

Yoga Intent Haiku

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 09:53:00 +0000

Very little time to write about anything lately, but I wanted to share a small verse. I started yoga teacher training recently, and we were asked to come to the first class with a Haiku expressing our intention in practicing yoga. I realize my verse probably isn't a proper haiku, but the number of syllables seems correct. =)

Sharing our practice,
dancing, we move together.
All breaths become one.

Maybe I'll update this post later with some notes about the last line, which has special meanings for me.

First time with Tempeh

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 07:53:00 +0000

During a recent trip to Chicago, I discovered several vegetarian or vegetarian-friendly restaurants. At one of them, I had a nice tempeh "steak" with swiss shard. This weekend, I was finally at home and able to host dinner for a couple good friends. I figured I'd try to cook a main dish around tempeh for the first time. It all worked out well enough, and tempeh is easy to handle. Like a garden burger, you just have to warm it up. It's heavier than tofu or seitan, and supposedly easier to digest due to certain microorganisms involved in creating tempeh. Like tofu, it inherits flavors during cooking or serving. In short, I sauteed onions, garlic, and ginger in a big fry pan. I added green chard and red bell peppers, and a vegetable broth with soy sauce (I was sort of following several recipes at the same time). I tried thickening the sauce with corn starch, but gave up when it didn't really seem to matter. Separately, I grilled portabella caps in the broiler. Finally, I fried the tempeh in a fry pan with soy sauce until it was warmed through and nicely browned, and served the tempeh covered in the vegetables. The flavor was good, but it was really heavy. I learned that you can completely overcook swiss chard, and it still tastes and looks good.

I wanted to make a salad based around butternut squash, since it was fall. I was inspired by something I had at work, and ended up following a Fine Cooking recipe. The squash was chopped into 1cm cubes, mixed with a little maple syrup and oil, and roasted for 30 minutes. A variety of bitter leafy vegetables (which counter the sweat maple syrup and caramelized onions) were treated with a sweet sherry-maple vinaigrette (which was based on peanut oil). The leaves were plated first, followed by the warm squash mixture, and topped with roasted goat cheese. This salad was fabulous -- I can say that humbly because I just put it together, and the mostly-raw ingredients did all the work. It also looked nice, with the red radicchio, pale yellow Belgian endives, green basil (not in the recipe), yellow-orange squash, and unknown purple leafy thing I picked up because it looked pretty.

My friends brought over a homemade pear tart with vanilla ice cream. You can't beat that for the finale.

One warning: tempeh is really heavy. I made way too much food.

Yin and Raja Yoga

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 07:57:00 +0000

In one of my favorite Vinyasa Flow classes (actually, all of them are favorites), we sometimes practice one or two Yin poses. I'm not really familiar with the philosophy of Yin yoga yet, but I think I can safely say that Yin poses emphasize stillness, as opposed to Yang poses (the stuff I normally do) which emphasize motion. Last week I tried Brandy Falcon's Yin class at Devi Yoga in Menlo Park. Brandy was out, but the substitute was very good. The whole experience felt new and a little mysterious. The studio felt like a calm moonlit walk when the night air surrounds you protectively. I am intrigued, and will take another Yin class this week.

On the weekend, I tried Tamara Perkins' Raja yoga class at 4th Street Yoga in Berkeley. I had no idea what to expect, except that the website titled the class "Gentle yoga". The sequencing of poses was interesting. We did some backbends early in the practice instead of at the end, but the instructions were mindful and it felt safe and comfortable. Instead of simply holdinga side bend, we moved in and out of it several times. Tamara pointed out that the majority of the benefits could be achieved though this motion, and that extreme physical flexibility need not be a prerequisite or goal. Other dynamic asanas included a twirling spinal twist and a fun chi-gathering exercise. Both had accompanying breath work. When I left the class, I wasn't sure what I'd take away from it. However, the next morning I found myself with time for three poses before heading to work, and I chose the twirling spinal twist, a dynamic Warrior I, and the chi-gathering exercise. I felt great all day, and did something similar again this morning. As I reflect on the class, I see how Tamara gave each pose enough time and consideration to reveal its stand-alone identity. Despite my enjoyment of flow classes, having the poses taught like this makes it easier to do just a little self-practice when I have desire but am short on time.

Shaila Catherine: Hindrances to Meditation

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 05:52:00 +0000

I am interested in meditation, but am not ready to commit to a ten day Vipassana course. At this time, I'd prefer to use a week of vacation to visit Iceland or India or Turkey. Thankfully, a local group called Insight Meditation South Bay runs weekly meditation courses near my home in Mountain View, California. This group practices in the Vipassana tradition, which means they follow the Buddhist meditation teachings. Despite the connection to Buddhism, the group and Vipassana meditation are both non-sectarian. In fact, the meeting location is an Episcopal church.

Tonight was the first class in a six-week series titled Overcoming Hindrances to Meditation. The teacher, Shaila Catherine, and the courses were recommended to me by two trustworthy friends. Judging by the first class, the format is 40 minutes of seated meditation, followed by a 60 minute lecture. Shaila provided guidance at the beginning and middle of the meditation period, and finished with a chant. Her first lecture was well thought-out, clearly presented, and immediately applicable to meditation -- and to daily life. The subject was an overview of "the five hindrances" to meditation: desire, aversion (ill will), laziness, restlessness, and doubt.

Shaila suggested that we use our breath as the object of the meditation. I'm not sure whether Vipassana meditation requires and object. As part of her guidance, she asked an interesting and useful question: "take a moment to evaluate the quality of the mind -- why can't you observe your breath clearly?" In context, the answer is clearly that one of the five hindrances is in your way, distracting you from your breath. I find value in the question even without the hindrance framework, because it immediately makes you an observer of your mind, and gets right at where you are "resisting" (to borrow from Hatha Yoga practice) your own objective.

The lecture introduced the five hindrances, and gave a useful example of each. I feel that this hindrance framework is useful, though an obvious question is why there are exactly five hindrances, and why would every distraction to meditation fall into one them. With a little thought, I made my own answer to the latter question. Hindrances are anything which take you out of the present, which in this case is meditation on breath. If you are not in the present, where are you? Nearly any answer can be cast as inappropriate desire to do something different than what you are doing now, or be somewhere else. Don't take this too literally, because loose language is part of definition of the hindrances, and it seems they are defined more by example than denotation. Similarly, laziness and restlessness are simply symptoms of wanting to do more or less than meditating on your breath. You can frame any distraction from the present in terms of the hindrances. As another example, I'm comfortable defining desperation (a possible hindrance) as doubt plus restlessness.

At this point, I ask myself if the hindrance framework is over-complicated, since any distraction from breath might be cast as any of the hindrances if you use some imagination. Consider that you could have just one hindrance -- deviation from the present. What is doubt besides nonconstructive speculation about the future? What better example of ill will is there besides ruminating on a negative past encounter with a troublesome coworker? The future and past are clearly not the present, and that is problem. However, my simple definition of deviation from the present isn't always easy to apply, and when applied, it provides little guidance on why you left the present, what is fueling your departure from the present, and what you need to do to return to the present. The five hindrances model addresses all of these things, by making broadly applicable categories with familiar examples and concrete remedies.

Shaila gave an example of how Buddhist monks might have been taught to counter desire. I'm going to mix in my own understanding, and if this doesn't make sense it is all my fault. Suppose you find yourself thinking of a beautiful woman (I guess Buddhist monks are male) instead of meditating on breath. This is only a problem when you become attached to your desire. This constitutes "[improper attendance] to a beautiful object". What is improper about it? My take is that your desire for the beautiful woman relies on a mental model of the woman -- what you desire is not the woman, but what you think of as a woman. It's something in your head. Where Krishnamurti might tell you to simply return to the present before you hurt yourself with thoughts, Shaila told us the monks might deliberately recall unavoidable repulsive aspects of a beautiful woman. For example, her flesh will rot after death. By properly attending to aversion, you counter your improper attendance to aversion.

I am looking forward to more detailed consideration of the following questions for each hindrance, which are a standard part of this study: is the hindrance present, is it absent, what is fueling the hindrance, how do I remove the fuel? Actually, I thought there were five questions, but it's late and I'm tired. For me at least, these questions are part of aware living, not just seated meditation.

One final note. Recall that there are five hindrances, and hence we can't just pair them up to counter one another. The odd man out is doubt. The materials Shaila gave us tonight say only that doubt is countered by "proper attention", unlike the other hindrance which are countered by proper attention to something in particular. Until we discuss doubt five weeks from now, that leaves me with the simple "return to the present" advice that Krishnamurti gives. I tend to think abstractly and get along okay with Krishnamurti's advice, but on challenging days I wouldn't mind having a few Buddhist tricks up my sleeve.

Bravery

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 21:33:00 +0000

I think I just learned something. Bravery is a symptom of understanding your priorities.

Hike: Tilden and Wildcat Regional Parks

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 05:37:00 +0000

I attempted a 7 mile hike in the Tilden and Wildcat Regional Parks area today, but missed a turn and ended up at 11 miles. Maybe the extra distance was worthwhile, since I got to walk through a herd of grazing cattle. It was a little cloudy and windy, but that didn't diminish my appreciation of this walk. Here's the route I took:

Start at the Tilden Regional Park Environmental Education Center.
Head northwest past Jewell Lake and catch Wildcat Creek Trail. This section is wide open, pleasant, and mostly flat. At one point, I got to watch a couple squirrels close-up as they foraged near the trail.
Head east-ish on Havey Canyon Trail. In this section, you pick up maybe 900 vertical feet. Golden bay leaves paved the narrow trail, bringing back fond memories of runs and hikes around Bellingham, Washington. Stepping through the first cattle gate, I was in the midst of several majestic silver-gray trees with silvering leaves. I think they were California Bay Laurels (Umbellularia californica). This might have been my favorite part of the hike. I also found a small black snake, but unfortunately scared it due to me not paying attention.
The Havey Canyon trail emerges from the trees into a swooping gentle ascent north to the paved Nimitz Way trail. Take a right and ascend another 100-ish vertical feet. The San Pablo Resevoir became visible on my left side. I saw a rabbit cross the trail.
Here's where things get a bit confusing. At one point where the Nimitz Way trail takes a sharp left on its way downhill, but I continued straight up a fairly wide gravel trail. There was a 2.4 mile mark on the Nimitz pavement just before this junction(the mile marks were descendind). The trail narrowed to single-track as I passed several lovely Monterey Cypress trees (I think...) on my right. This set me up on the Conlon trail, and I was supposed to turn left at a bench and return to the Nimitz Way trail. However, I continued. straight on the Conlon trail, which returned me to the junction of the Wildcat Creek and Havey Canyon trails. Passing through the herd of cattle was a little exciting. Further on and near the its descending terminus, Conlon trail is embraced by a picturesque oasis supporting a clutch of protective trees and bushes.
The Conlon trail exited onto the lower end of the Havey Canyon trail. With two left turns and few steps uphill, I began my return on the Wildcat Creek Trail.

If I repeat this trip, I'll probably try the intended seven mile route, or maybe shorten it further by staying on the Nimitz Way trail when it makes the hard left I mentioned above. The Tilden Visitor Center has useful and free trail maps for the Wildcat Regional Park area that covers nearly all of the hike I described. I usually like to buy nice maps from the helpful rangers, but none of the for-pay maps were any good. Note to self: next time, pick up the map before starting the hike.

Great weekend!

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 05:26:00 +0000

Todd arrives Friday afternoon.
We meet Jill, David, Devon, and other great people at a Tainted Love concert. Tainted Love rocks.
Sleep late on Saturday, then go to breakfast, then to the used record store.
Dinner with Lina, Jason, and Kai, who have impeccable taste in restaurants and wine.
Stay up late talking, with another couple bottles of wine.
Eleven-mile solo hike in Tilden Regional Park and Wildcat Canyon Regional Park.
Dinner and dessert with Todd, Ginelle, and Linda.

How to make the Chicago River green

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 07:48:00 +0000

After a friend told me about the Chicago River running green on St. Patrick's day, I had to investigate. Here's the report I sent to my friend, once I figured out how it's done.

On the other hand, current rumors that I'm nerdy are spot-on. I couldn't help but search for [chicago river green] tonight, after your mention of this St. Patrick's day spectacle. I've written more than you want to know about it below. Here's the executive summary: yellow-green fluoroscien dye appears relatively non-toxic, is sort-of natural, is safe for use in potable water, and Chicago taxpayers are spending at most $133 per minute of glowing green delight.

The query [chicago river green] led me to a site with a photo, and I was surprised/frightened by how bright green the river becomes (the coloring of the people and sidewalk looks normal, but the river is crazy-green): http://www.saintpa\ tricksdayparade.com/chicago/index.htm

That site told a story about the inspiration for dying the river. Supposedly, it came from observing a plumber's green-stained overalls. This led me to a plumbing supply store that sold leak-tracing dyes, and had a "material safety data sheet" (MSDS) available. The MSDS was for Xanthene-based chemicals, and was slightly frightening (some combustability, irritability with skin). However, the site said their dyes were safe for drinking water, so I searched further.

The query [chicago river xanthene] led me to a wikipedia page in French about "flourosciene" (http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fluoresc%C3\ %A9ine). Flourosciene has been around since 1870-ish. It is naturally produced by some bacteria, in very small amounts. It might be useful as a defense for these bacteria, in that it has some toxicity to some organisms. The page confirmed that it is used in the Chicago St. Patrick's Day parade. Later, I found an english version of the page (english spelling is flourescien, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fluorescein), but it doesn't mention the bacteria. At any rate, fluorscien appears to be safer than xanthene in general.

The lethal dose of fluorscien in mice (LD50) is 0.3% of the mouse' body weight, when injected intravenously. Scaling up to me, this is about 0.42 pounds of fluorscien (0.3% of 140 pounds), or about 190CCs. So it's only barely toxic in mammals. It is not carcinogenic, or suspected of being carcinogenic, in humans; but somewhere I read that it is mutagenic in yeast, at some level.

Forms of fluoroscien are used in medical treatments, for example detecting corneal scratches (http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medli\ neplus/ency/article/003845.htm). The most useful MSDS page I found is http://ptcl.chem.ox.ac.uk/MSDS/FL/flu\ orescein.html.

I don't know Chicago geography, and didn't know Chicago had a river before tonight. So I don't know which part of the river to get flow information from. The max flow listed at http://pages.ripco.net/~jwn/sewage.html is 350 cubic feet per second (but some branchers appear far smaller). So one minute of green water means dying at most 21,000 cubic feet, or about 157,000 gallons. According to websites that sell fluorscien dye, one pound of dye powder will give you a "strong" visually discernable coloration of 120,000 gallons of water.

A similar blue powder dye can be had for $102 per pound. It's not easy finding prices for the powder version online, I'm guessing this quantity is typically not bought by consumers over the internet. =-) I saw a picture of the tablet version of the yellow-green dye, and the tablets are orange. This agrees with the story I first read, which said when they dump the dye in the river, the water starts out orange. At any rate, I'll bet you get a discount if you buy hundreds of pounds of this stuff, but I didn't find any numbers for this.

So 1.3 pounds of fluorscien dye powder will provide 1 minute of St. Patrick's day fun, at a cost of about $133 and a few mutated yeast organisms.

-Paul

Which way is up? An observation and a few computations.

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Tue, 24 Jul 2007 06:32:00 +0000

While listening to some music and meditating tonight, my head did not feel upright. By moving my head from side to side, I figured my neck was straight because it felt as if it were at maximal extension. Still, there was something tugging my head back and to the left. Then I realized my head was pulled, more or less, toward the current position of the moon. I wanted to know if this was completely crazy (my guess: yes, crazy), so I tried a second experiment and then ran some numbers.

I turned to face the opposite direction, and tried to undo my mental moon bias. After several minutes of relaxation, my head felt pulled right and forward -- still toward the moon. The sensation wasn't strong in absolute terms, but I definitely felt like the world had gone slightly sideways and my head was not balanced. Even now, facing a new direction, I still feel a tug (back and right, this time, still toward the moon).

After looking up Newton's law of gravity, as well as a few masses and distances, here are some relative forces that might help us gain some perspective.

Mass 1	Mass 2	Distance	Gravitational attraction
Human head, 5 kg	Earth's Moon, 7.36 E+22 kg	385,000 km	0.16 micronewtons (uN)
Head	Another head	1 m	0.0017 uN
Head	Earth's Sun, 1.99 E+30 kg	1.5 E+8 km	29,480 uN
Head	Earth	3,175 km	49 N

So my head's attraction to the sun should swamp the attraction to the moon. However, it was about 11:30pm when I did this experiment, which (I think) means the sun should be just about directly "underneath" me, pulling my head almost straight through the Earth's center. Since Earth's attraction on my head is about 1690 times stronger than the sun's, I'm unlikely to notice the sun's force in this configuration. So much for the sun, and even accounting for the not-perfect alignment at this hour I think the sun would also be pulling my head to the left in the first experiment.

I don't think I should conclude anything from my numbers. That said, I know my head felt pulled in an odd direction, toward the moon, even after turning around. The sensation is better described as gravity going somewhat sideways, and my head did not feel balanced until I moved it back and left. I am willing to believe that a very aware human can sense small differences in force. Consider that human fingers can sense about one-thousandth of an inch discrepancy between two surfaces (a woodworking estimate I read once), and human ears can detect pressure variations down to one-billionth of an Earth atmosphere.

An ear drum is about 55 square millimeters. One atmosphere is about 0.0103 kg per square millimeter. So one atmosphere of pressure variation on an ear drum exerts a force differential of about 0.57 kg times 9.8 m/s^2, or 5.57 newtons (can I really make that calculation? Help would be appreciated!) One billionth of that is 0.00557 micronewtons, which is roughly 28 times weaker than the force of attraction between my head and the moon. And human hearing is weak compared to other animals.

In Mysore-style Ashtanga Vinyasa yoga practice, the day of a full moon or new moon is observed by resting. One explanation for this tradition is that on these days the moon's gravitational attraction is most opposed to the Earth's attraction (full moon), or most aligned with it (new moon), resulting in undesirable lightness or heaviness. These days are called "moon days". I have not yet accepted this explanation, since the moon's attraction on the preceding or subsequent day would be very similar to the attraction on the moon day. However, I am entirely willing to believe we can detect the gravitational attraction of the moon, which seems reasonable given the calculations I just made. There are other explanations for my particular symptoms tonight, but I won't ignore the moon's attraction in the future.

Besides, I've always been attracted to the moon.

Purisima Creek Redwoods, starting in the north-west corner

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Wed, 18 Jul 2007 05:46:00 +0000

Saturday, 14 July 2007 I finally made a longer day-hike in the Purisima Creek Redwoods. Two friends and I followed the 7 mile, 1200-feet-gained circuit suggested in 101 Hikes in Norther California by Matt Heid. We spent about three hours on the hike, including stopping for views and snack. We travelled the circuit anti-clockwise, starting from the Higgins-Purisima parking area (PC05). You reach this parking area by taking 92 West to Half Moon Bay, then head south on US 1 until Verde road. Head as straight as possible on Verde road for a few miles. The parking area is on the right, just as the road takes a very sharp uphill left turn. Though you might see many cars, in our experience the hike is fairly intimate and you have plenty of quiet space.

You start out deep in a heavily wooded valley, and climb slowly along the Purisima Creek Trail. Once you meet the Soda Gulch trail, keep left (it's actually kind of straight) and climb a bit faster. Eventually the towering redwoods give way to a long view across the valley you've just circumnavigated, and the already good hike becomes a great hike.

Just as we started the steep descent on the Harkins Ridge Trail, fog from Half Moon Bay fell over the mountain tops. We slipped underneath this blanket as we made our way through the switchbacks and returned to the parking lot. If you just want a quick, steep hike to a great vista, start from the same parking lot and reverse our route. However, you shouldn't underestimate the beauty and impact of the redwoods on the rest of the hike. Perhaps my favorite sights on this trip were the stands of five to ten redwoods growing together in tight circles.

Stationary walking

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 06:08:00 +0000

I have been studying yoga for little while now, learning about meditation from one friend, and have taken a couple sense-meditation walks with another friend. Sometimes I can combine these practices, and meditate somewhat while walking to and from work.

On good days, my gaze softens and broadens, increasing visual awareness. I might focus on breathing and articulation. I can soften my shoulders, face, and neck. My mind will be quiet and restful, instead of grinding through speculations, concerns, and insecurities. On these days, I am receptive and can listen internally and externally to what is happening now. On these days, the internal and external worlds don't seem so separate.

While an undergraduate, I remember walking up a steep hill with a friend named Lisa. For a second I had a strange sensation of the world moving under my feet, instead of my feet propelling me across the ground. I recently rediscovered this sensation, on a good day. I was still, listening, and my feet pulled the trees, water, and mountains toward me. Galileo might point out that normal walking and this "stationary walking" are fundamentally equivalent, but even so the change of perspective is exciting and enlightening.

In stationary walking, I feel I am moving the world where I want it, instead of climbing over life's obstacles to get where I want to go. With stationary walking I am always at my destination.

Tonight was a good night as I walked home from work. The sun had set, and the tree images were soft or silhouetted. My gaze softened in response, and this time auditory awareness grew beyond visual awareness. My thoughts did not disappear, but they did not distract and my mind rested. I could move my head and smile normally at bicyclists and cars that passed, without losing focus or reducing awareness. I felt no threats, internal or external. I saw whole trees without the tunnel vision of analyzing tree-parts. I was breathing, walking, listening peacefully.

Flight in a North American T-6G

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Thu, 05 Jul 2007 06:28:00 +0000

A good friend let me ride along in a North American T-6 G trainer today. It was a fabulous ride. The 600hp 9-cylinder radial engine produces a strong, satisfying wind when you have the cockpit's canopies open. I was fortunate to have some time to try my hand on the stick, and found the plane very easy to handle. I think this was because there was so much power available, keeping you well above stall speed (about 60 knots, if I recall correctly). Everything just felt right about the T-6G, from the sound of the engine to the power and handling.

Two recent hikes: Mount Olympus/North Peak (starting at Mount Diablo), and Purisima Creek Redwoods

noreply@blogger.com (Paul Komarek) — Thu, 05 Jul 2007 05:58:00 +0000

Sunday, 1 July 2007 I meant to hike from near the summit of Mount Diablo to Mount Olympus, both in the Diablo Range near Walnut Creek, California. Unfortunately, I missed the North Peak Trail turnoff, and instead hiked up North Peak Road to North Peak. The road is very steep, and at the top are two clusters of Antennas. The view was pretty good, and I realize now that I saw Mount Olympus from there. I also scrambled on top of a small rocky outcrop just north of first antennas, where I found a wonderful gnarled tree, and the largest dragonfly population I've ever seen. At one point, I estimated about 50 dragonfiles no more than 10 meters from me. For some reason, I felt compelled to practice Vrikshasana (tree pose) on top of this rock, which probably wasn't a risk-minimizing choice. It felt great as I imagined my stability extending down through the rock and mountain. For what it is worth, here's a great site for Mount Diablo hikes.

Wednesday, 4 July 2007 I didn't have much time this morning, so I made a quick trip to the Purisima Creek Redwoods preserve. I came up highway 35 ("Skyline Boulevard") from the south, and started from the parking area PCO3A (the south-eastern-most parking area). I only had 45 minutes to walk, but the trees were worth the trip. My goal was to tempt myself to come back for a longer trip in the future, and I succeeded at that. I headed north-ish as I drove away from the parking area, toward highway 92 and Redwood City. I didn't have time to stop and really enjoy the beautiful vistas, but they took my breath away regardless.