Because I'm sharing John's "blogstipation" tonight, I'm also sharing my comment inspired by his post Learn to be Still:

"I wish I could recall in greater detail the sensations of my first Zazen session, but most of that 30-minute period is lost on me. What I do remember, and really, the only important thing I need to relay to you, is that when the session ended, I never felt closer to God than I did at that moment. I found him. I found myself."

Ah, exactly. And the book that finally got me to muster the courage to give meditation a go after a couple of years of reading about it and taking yoga classes was Old Souls. That book literally fell on my lap while I was looking for something in my sister's partner's meager shelves to read and kill time, the night before we were to drive to Scripps hospital to be with dad as he was released to go back home, to home hospice care.

And the silence and the closeness to the divine, so, so different from a priest's tirades about atheists and abortionists, and so different from the mass hysteria of the Pentecostal meetings my poor mom was talked into a couple of times.

I sometimes walk by a Baptist church after running, and one night last week I could hear the pastor's booming, angry voice from across the street. As I passed by (only the first row of parking space was taken), I felt sorry for the poor souls in there. It was such a starry glorious night out -- there's a poem I'm trying to remember that was written by a WWII pilot who loved flying and the line "touch the face of God" comes up thinking of how close the sky was, how sweet the silence.


There -- blogstipation circumvented! Thanks, John! And the Maná video needs no stinking explanations; simply the latest heavy-rotation hit from Mexico's greatest rock export.

The owls, watching me watching them tonight.

The owls on this tree are both well over a foot tall. Even clicking to enlarge on the first photo doesn't do them justice. They played this game with me where they'd swoop and stand motionless on the green next to the pond, doing a 360 with their heads in unison as I slowly approached them trying to get a close shot; then as soon as I readied my camera, they'd swoop back up to the tree. I gave up, laid out my blue mat and carried on with yoga in the beautiful old neighboring country club. They watched and cried encouragement now and again. Yoga studio al fresco.

Ah, and the following shot of Mount SJ past sunset doesn't do the mount justice either:



San Jacinto looms larger at and after sunset; it appears to creep up higher and wider against the horizon, breathtaking.

Work was insaner than usual; needed to get out and just couldn't stand more driving and small talk even with the good people at the PS studio. Finally feel clear-headed enough to think and call back on my phone messages...exciting post, I know. Oh well, good night & namaste.

It's getting hot out here.

But it's a dry heat, y'all! Whoop.

This is the silver lining in the larger-than-expected workload at the office this summer. Besides the long seconds in park when I'm broiling in the car as I blast the air conditioner with the windows rolled down to push out the convection-oven hot air, this month has literally flown by. I have a wonderful someone with whom to wrestle off the post-menstrual hornies, and I may be overseas by next summer, maybe even next winter.

I had an unexpected early response to one of my applications and résumé submissions to several NGOs last Monday. I arranged a telephone interview during lunchtime Friday, and it went very well. So now it's a waiting game. And makes me give serious consideration to just how culture-shocked I will feel in the country I may be in next year or sooner.

It makes me look at the horoscope I put up behind my desk and on this site for New Year 2008, the one that made me screech to a halt all these must-do resolutions that made my heart sink. That horoscope made me realize that I'm always pushing myself to set all these self-improvement goals, and then I let the years fly by working and finding more work on top of that, and never use my mad Virgo planning skills to search for and plan fun, pleasure. So my desert fun must-dos for this year have been pushed to the top of the agenda, literally. I must take a ride on the tram to the top of my beloved Mount San Jacinto soon; that Die Hard man better be up for it.

Oh, and here's another addition to my blogroll that's a great resource for wrestling the hornies and it's written by by one savvy, intelligent blogger. Depending on your tastes, some of the items may be a personal "aahhhh" or a "ewwwwww" but it'll have you coming back for more. And it has some pretty decent freebie porn links ;)

Not safe for work, of course, but very satisfying libido and brain candy, as is my golden oldie Missy E video above. ... "I got the magic stick, I can go for hours, from the bed, to the flo', to the sink, to the shower!"<-- LYRICAL GENIUS.

¡Buenas noches, camaradas en cabronadas!

...at least the agony is over


... Ah, and both my Die Hard man and my sister are now saying that at least Kobe won't get the ring before Saint Shaquille O'Neal. Can't blame them, though, love the Shaq, too. But I don't understand this thing because Shaq had his with the Miami Heat in 06 IIRC, oh well, I blame the Brazilian sunsets imbibed while cringing at the bar...going to bed with these lofty matters in mind.

Lakers survive Game 5, stay alive

... the televised water torture continues.

Esta es para usted, papá.

Friday the 13th hits hard.

"Was Mike Bibby holding his nose in pain after he ran into Kobe Bryant's elbow? Or did the Kings' performance just stink?" -- Caption from ESPN.

Someone say this is NOT SO.

First Tim Russert dies of a heart attack while doing voice-overs, next R. Slime Kelly is ACQUITTED (!), and now this?

I didn't want to post about basketball again because thinking about the Lakers not climbing out of the hole the Celtics dug them last night is PAINFUL, but here are the leading paragraphs from the article linked above, because if any of this is true, LA losing that historic 24-point lead could be karma striking a painful blow:

LOS ANGELES: For an NBA player, it was the kind of loss that can take years to get over. Now the Sacramento Kings are dealing with it all over again.

A foul discrepancy so lopsided they couldn't help but wonder if they were being cheated. And this week, six years later, accusations that, in fact, they were.

On the verge of playing for a championship they would have been favored to win, the Kings lost Game 6 of the Western Conference finals to the Los Angeles Lakers, 106-102. Los Angeles shot 27 free throws in the fourth quarter, scoring 16 of its final 18 points at the line, to even the series.

Former referee Tim Donaghy alleged in court papers filed this week that two referees, known as "company men," purposely ignored personal fouls and called "made-up fouls on Team 5 in order to give additional free throw opportunities for Team 6."

NBA commissioner David Stern, and Kings owners Gavin and Joe Maloof have rejected the claims from Donaghy, who has pleaded guilty to betting on games he officiated and taking cash payments from gamblers.

But Doug Christie, remembering how his teammates felt after the game, said he still believes they might be true.

"What's been in the dark comes to the light, and the truth can squash a lot of things. And so if this is the truth, then all of a sudden now it adds validity to things people were thinking, things that our teammates and I'm sure the coaching staffs and the Maloofs were thinking at that particular time," Christie said.

"Just the other night they complained about 38 free throws vs. 10 for Boston vs. L.A., and we're talking about 27 free throws in the deciding final quarter of an elimination game that has such the big, big stage from the standpoint that the defending champs are about to be put out. I mean that's just an incredible number, and when you look at the fouls that were called, players fouling out ... I mean there's just so many different things that magnify that situation. It's crazy."

Christie was a starting guard on a team that won an NBA-best 61 games. Chris Webber, Peja Stojakovic, Vlade Divac and Mike Bibby were the other starters for the Kings, a high-scoring group under Rick Adelman who felt it was their time to finally get by the hated Lakers.

"We thought we had the best team," Gavin Maloof said. "I know the Lakers had a great team. Remember you had Kobe and Shaq in his prime, I mean that was a tough combination. But we had a lot of great players, too. We had what we felt was the best team in the league."

The Lakers went on to take Game 7 in overtime at Sacramento before sweeping the overmatched New Jersey Nets in the finals. Webber tore up his knee the next year, and the Kings never came close again to winning a title.

Now, Donaghy's allegations have them thinking about what might have been.

"You never get over it," Maloof said. "It was a tough loss and to rehash it all, to have everybody calling from years gone by, it is tough because it brings up bad memories."

-- or, it could be the refs doing dirty for Boston this time, some kind of payback, or...maybe this guy is the real owner of the Celtics these days:



Oh HELL, I'm BEAT. This week felt like two, kind of like the pastor's-son's freakout week but without anyone breaking ugly "artwork."

Poor CC is still living down that incident, along with the big guy, who's taken a bit of flack from the property owner and management about security issues and controlling proceedings in our offices...pretty much an excuse to ramp up the lease payment when the current lease agreement expires in September. Just yesterday, CC's clients Bert and Ernie looked up at her like they just gazed upon Athena striding up to greet them in the lobby, and Bert said to Ernie, "See, we have the best lady lawyer in the business, made a grown man cry I hear!" Yep, he said the "lady lawyer" but it was nothing but love from Bert and his strange forties-loving ways. Bert and Ernie were dressed in their swing WW II-era suits for their dance lessons that evening. CC winced but grinned extra-wide and with a "come on in, boys" marched them to her office.

Oh yeah, and the murdered burnt pizza was a "treasured gift from a dear friend" of the landlord -- yes, my eyes are still rolling. But at least CC and the big guy got major leverage on the case. Pastor's son is naturally on leave and a partner has taken over and unusually favorable negotiation points have been floated. The case went from full-on contentious at every point to let's-get-to-that-compromise-and-release-walk-through from zero to 60.