Wednesday, February 20, 2008



It's amazing what you can throw together sometimes from what's lurking in the refrigerator and pantry. We rarely eat out due to budget concerns - and the fact that most restaurant food seems to be unwholesome and/or unappetizing. A couple of nights ago the dinner above came together - stirfried prawns and vegetables with green curry and coconut milk over brown rice, some asparagus, and cara-cara oranges. We almost always eat better at home.



We have so much extra room in this house, I have the luxury of a small room set aside for my Buddhist books and a simple shrine. It is a quiet place to sit and reflect on whatever is happening at the moment. The afternoon sun is a welcome addition late in the day.


Monday, February 18, 2008



A couple of years ago I met two women who travel and live much of the time in a 26' RV. They also own a condo on the Mayan Riviera south of Cancun on the Yucatan peninsula, and are in the process of renovating an old colonial home they bought last year in Merida. One of them, who blogs their experience, recently contracted some sort of ailment that produced a lot of chest congestion. Her doctor suggested that she get an x-ray and bring him the film to have a look at.

This works a little different South of the border - in Mexico, you can walk in to a clinic and ask for blood work, urinalysis, x-rays, catscan...whatever. Here is her account of this experience:

"I walked into the Hospiten (private hospital in Playa del Carmen) at about 6:30pm with no appointment and told them I wanted a chest xray to be read by my doctor. I filled out a short form, waited a minute or two and was taken back to a very modern xray and cat scan facility. I put on the usual paper gown, they took one picture, I waited while they checked to see if it was good, got dressed, was handed my xray in an envelope and went back to the lobby. It was that fast. I got my bill which was $330 pesos (about $30us), paid it and we were out the door in about a half hour."

Can you see why I tell people that in Mexico one can enjoy superior access to health care, without ruinous expense? For the last week I have had a superficial infection on an eyelid due to a blocked eyelash folicle. This occurs about twice a year, and I know some antibiotic opthalmic ointment might have helped, but due to the hassles of finding a doctor, getting an appointment, having insurance approved and processed, prescription phoned in and filled, I just used hot compresses, which generally gets the job done - although with a bit more risk to monitor. In Mexico I would have walked in to the pharmacy, asked for the ointment, and walked out with it for a few dollars (no prescription required). If I had decided to see a doctor, I would have walked into any likely looking office without an appointment and been seen for maybe $20. Many pharmacies have a doctor clinic next door for minor things like this, that cost maybe five dollars (I have seen two dollars on one sign). Generally, Mexican doctors will spend a leisurely twenty minutes or so getting acquainted and hearing about your health issue with genuine interest. They also routinely make house calls if warranted. Have you ever dragged yourself through the abysmal health care labyrinth here while ill?

My experience in the U.S. is that after wasting a lot of time to finally gain entry into a medical office, a watch-glancing doctor will enter and exit the sterile little exam room in the blink of an eye. Once, during annual checkup as I described the few concerns that had accumulated since the previous year, I was cut off abruptly and told to reschedule if I wished to present my entire (apparently tedious and uninteresting) list.

I have read that the average retiree must plan on spending over $200,000 (much more if lifespan is long) here for out-of-pocket medical costs here in our land of private for-profit insurance, pharmaceutical, and legally perilous medical services. Medical costs are increasing at a rate several times general inflation. The majority of personal bankruptcies result from medical misfortune. People end up losing their homes, their retirment nest eggs, their peace of mind, and their general place in the world. It is disgraceful and unforgivable that our country tolerates this situation. Even the insured are at risk, but the failure to address the needs of the uninsured is especially scandalous.



In Mexico, anyone can enroll in a Medicare-like program for about $355 a year. Most U.S. refugees pay for routine care out-of-pocket, avoiding a layer of bureaucratic hassle and leaving more resources for those who haven't the means for private doctors. They use the IMSS medical plan for the big stuff. Hospitals in major cities are equal to any in the U.S. In smaller towns, maybe not so much - there will likely be peeling paint and shopworn but clean facilities, and caring competent staff. There may also be horror stories on occasion, but it seems the big picture is much less horrible for the vast majority of unwell people than here.


Sunday, February 17, 2008



As I awoke form a nice long nap this afternoon, I was listenting to This American Life on NPR. There was a reading of Letter to the Lady of the House, by Richard Bausch - and author I had never heard of. Perhaps it was my receptive state, having just 'rebooted' my poor overstimulated brain from the snooze, but I was absolutely riveted by the narrative. This guy was good. At first, I thought I was listening to a personal essay, but later, when I researched the writing online, I realized that it was (presumably) fiction. I found a harcover collection of his short stories on Amazon for a mere $1.04, and ordered it.

Saturday, February 16, 2008



I went to the Thursday figure drawing session at the artist's co-op, and dragged along my painting gear instead of my usual sketch pad and pencils. I'm not used to painting from life - usually I work from photographs, and have all the time I want to get things right. For the evening session, I had about five twenty-minute intervals (about that an hour and a half!) to get something on canvas. Since I tend to be too fussy with detail, I need this time pressure to loosen up my technique.

At first, it went so badly I almost packed up and left. I was going to wipe off the paint with some thinner and re-use the canvas. It was very frustrating to stop for the breaks between twenty minute poses.

But things did more or less come together in the final period. For a first effort, I was pleased. It's not the quality of work I would want to represent me, but since you are invited to look at my struggles and progress as a painter, you get to see the evolutionary steps.




This morning I got up and put on the coffee. As I sipped the first cup, snuck out as it brewed, and watched the rest of it dribble and gurgle into the pot below, I was struck by the reverence this simple appliance commands. What a welcome sight it is - how comforting the feel of its handle against your palm and fingers, the hissing and sputtering as it completes its noble morning task...



Pre-coffee...

Wednesday, February 13, 2008



Yesterday I had to appear in municipal court for a traffic violation. I was photographed by some sort of robotic radar/camera van supposedly going 44 in a 30mph zone. As this is not my habit, and when I received the ticket in the mail two weeks after the robo-cop recorded me (unknown at the time) I had no memory of such wanton lawlessness, I decided to contest the no-point violation and $40 fine.

It was quite a production, with a prosecutor submitting various exhibits into evidence, and placing the radar-camera van attendant on the stand for direct testimony. I represented myself and was able to cross-examine the attendant guy. Most of what I had intended to offer in my own defense was related to my exemplary driving record, good attitude and impecable driving habits. All inadmissable, as it turns out. I was not surprised when the judge decided in favor of the city, stating that they had proved my guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

I suppose they did. Hope it was worth $40 to them.



On the way home from that little adventure, I stopped to browse in a new-agey kind of shop where I saw some Buddhist prayer flags fluttering over the door. The books and various spiritual trappings were all pleasant to look at, but it was their bulletin board on their back wall that really catured my attention, and I stood there reading cards and flyers for about a half hour.

What is it about Fort Collins that makes it such a center for healing arts, holistic this and that (Holistic House Cleaning even), and all manner of psychic harmonic convergence and stuff like that? Shall I participate in the Sufi chanting ceremony on Sunday, or the Ipanishad study? Maybe tap into The Universal Mind of All That Is? Heruka Buddhist studies? Yoga? Massage therapy? Psychoanalysis? Financial Success or Life Path Counseling? It's amazing to see how many solo entrepreneurs offer services to the community here - I wonder how many earn a living in this way. Standing there smelling the incense, listening to the flute music and whale-calls it all seemed so inviting...


Thursday, February 07, 2008



We have the good fortune of knowing a wonderful lady in California who has maintained a friendship with us for many years. Arlene was a student of mine at one time (she is an accomplished aviator), and will always stand out among all others I have met or will meet for her many interesting, inspiring, and endearing characteristics. She is a living embodiment of many of the things you might read in spiritual or self-help books. Her own struggles in life are no less of a trial than yours and mine, but she finds a way to carry on and support others that always seems to impart a lesson of some kind if one is open to seeing it.

Today, I received an Express Mail package full of 'anti-depressant tablets' from Arlene. Arlene, if you read this - THEY WORKED!



Tonight, I went to the University performing arts center to see student vocalists perform and compete for some pretty generous scholarships and cash grants. Most of their chosen vocal works were classical, with an emphasis on opera. I believe I heard more opera tonight than in the past twenty years. Most of the twenty or so performances were competent, if forgetable, but a few were astonishing in their power and virtuosity, transcending language and genre (Italian and German opera is usually lost on me). Glad I checked it out - a free event open to the public, with perhaps five percent of the seats filled in the performance hall.



This sort of thing is part of the good face of Fort Collins that clashes with the vague uneasiness I feel here, as though I don't belong here for the long term. There is something about the houses and neighborhoods, the self-congratulatory outdoor sports enthusiasm, the ominous and oppressive political conservatism that too often intrudes in this mostly progressive enclave, and above all the tiresome winter climate that makes me long to continue the search for a different place to call home. The charming pubs and local coffee houses, abundant, inexpensive, and accessible events, the youthful face of the population, and surprisingly plentiful social opportunities would be missed if left behind, but the whole picture just doesn't seem to come into focus somehow.

Of course, I do worry about the constant reminders (from books and others) that in some sense everything needed for a "decent, good, completely fulfilling, energetic, inspired life" (thanks Pema) is already at hand. More Pema Chodron: "...Being satisfied with what we already have is a magical golden key to being alive in a full, unrestricted, and inspired way. One of the major obstacles to what is traditionally called enlightenment is resentment, feeling cheated, holding a grudge about who you are, where you are, what you are."

And yet, might not this kind of acceptance of status quo stand in the way of pursuit of that which feels natural, of seeking a place one might, at long last, truly feel a sense of belonging?




Wednesday, February 06, 2008

I was reading a commentary on the respective web sites of Obama and Clinton campaigns today - it was pointed out the Obama is the Mac and Clinton is the PC of the Democratic political world.

Later, as I checked out the Obama site I ran across the following video. Can you see why Obama is the choice of young people?



In contrast, here is a portrayal of Clinton that is not quite so inspiring...it seems to capture the aversion many have to the conceit of inevitability that has surrounded her efforts from the beginning.




Tuesday, February 05, 2008



The snow and ice from the storms a month or so ago was finally starting to dissipate when, yesterday, it snowed on and off all day. It only accumulated up to about three inches, but I almost fell on my ass several times while walking the Mdog over the numerous patches of ice that were now concealed by fresh snow, and had to shovel out the driveway and sidewalk. I guess this is my karmic punishment for all those years in California when I used to watch the TV weather from crummy winter places and sneer at the fools who were too clueless or unfortunate to live in places with a decent climate.



Despite the snowfall, by evening the roads were passable, and I went to the university for a percussion performance in their recital hall where the great pipe organ is installed. The opening number was a mesmerizing solo piece for Marimba - Momento, by Ivan Trevino. If you follow the link and wait a few moments, you can enjoy a lovely performance by the composer.



Tonight I went to participate in the Colorado Democratic caucus. I was surprised at the huge turnout. Seasoned party officials there were shocked - there appeared to be about five times the number of participants as four years ago. Another surprise - the large majority of people who were there to send delegates to the convention for Obama. In my precinct, Obama won three delegates to Clinton's one.