I'm a little confused!

Let me see if I have this straight.... .

• If you grow up in Hawaii, raised by your grandparents, you're 'exotic, different.'
  
• Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, you're a quintessential American story.
  
• If your name is Barack you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
  
• Name your kids Bristol, Willow, Trig and Track, you're a maverick.
  
• Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.
  
• Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you're well grounded.
  
• If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, elected to the US Senete in 2004 representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.
• If your total resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.
  
• If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian.
  
• If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.
  
• If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
  
• If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant , you're very responsible.
  
• If your wife is a Harvard graduate laywer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent America's.
  
• If you're husband is nicknamed 'First Dude', with at least one DWI conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.
  

OK, much clearer now.

Politics and Choice

The United States is now in the process of deciding who will be its next president. This is a political process that comes down to a choice: the choice of how each of us as individuals will vote on November 4. The choice is not meant to be simplistic; it can never be about one issue. The decision we make at the ballot box has implications far beyond who will sit in Oval Office. The outcome will affect not only this present generation but generations still to come, not just in our nation but throughout the world. It will determine the direction this nation will take on energy, environment, the economy (both local, national, and global), education, health care, social security, national security and a plethora of other important issues.

To choose a candidate on the basis of one issue, no matter how strong ones feelings on that issue is, in my opinion, irresponsible. For many years a powerful faction within the Republican Party has been a dominate force in defining morality based on their particular religious persuasion. They demonize any candidate that does not adhere to their world view. There is no difference between this ideological bent and that of any other religious or political system that denies the opinions and or beliefs of others. This form of extremism does not make for a healthy pluralistic democracy that our republic prides itself on.

The word politics comes from the Greek Politeia which is derived from the Greek word Polis or city state. Politics is about the rights of the citizens (citizenship) of a nation. This nation is a nation of the people, by the people, and for the people. This means that not everyone will get what they want all the time. However, it does mean is that everyone will have the right to express their opinion, especially, at the ballot box. However, the electoral process is not meant to restrict the basic rights and freedoms of others as found in our constitution and its interpreted laws.

For the past eight years, many of our basic rights have been eroded by the present administration in the name of national security. Should the present administration be cloned into the next, we will undoubtedly see more of the same. The religious fundamentalism that has governed much of this administrations decision making will continue eroding the choices we have as citizens. None could be more obvious than a woman’s right to reproductive services being eliminated.

Those on the religious right have made the abortion issue the key in determining whether or not they will support an otherwise qualified candidate. It has recently been pointed out that in the last 35 years (since Roe versus Wade) 48.5 million abortions have been preformed. This is approximately 3,803/day. At the same time we have pharmacists refusing to sell legal birth control pills to women in need. These same individuals want the "morning after pill" banned, and sex education limited to abstinence or "just say no" as a mandated federal policy. The US policy on international aide to poor nations, in need of both birth control and HIV Aids information, is to refuse to give out information on use of condoms, instead abstinence is preached. In the three years prior to 2004 the Bush administration withheld $34 million in congressionally approved funds to 140 nations through the UN Population Fund. The UNPF estimates that this resulted in one million unwanted pregnancies, 800,000 abortions, 4,700 maternal deaths, and 77,000 infant and child deaths. This from a right to life president.

The resources of our world can not sustain the population growth at its present rate. As of 30 August 2008 the world population was over 6.839 billion and growing at approximately one person / sec. The US population for the same day was over 305 million, and growing at a rate of one person every ten seconds. In a world where 15 million children starve to death every year, that is one every 3.6 seconds, 1,028 per hour or approximately 25,000 per day, abstinence alone is not the answer. In a world where 1.2 million children are trafficked to work in sweat shops and the sex trade for an annual $15 billion profit to those who abuse them, abstinence is not the answer.

There are other issues of life and death other than abortion, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan for one. In 2003 the war was costing the American tax payer 4.4 billion dollars per month, in 2006 it had grown to 8 billion per month and by 2008 12 billion per month. Latest estimates place the total cost of the war around 4 trillion dollars. But the true cost can never be calculated. The loss of life of US military personnel is just a part of the cost (the government has put a value of $6.5 million on each American soldier and contractors life, this comes to approximately $18 billion). This doesn’t take into account the documented Iraq and Afghanistan civilian deaths, between 82,987 and 90,521, many of whom are children. Nor does it take into account the billions of dollars that are being spent and will be spent in the future taking care of the physically and mentally wounded from these wars. War is not the answer to our international problems.

A simplistic one issue, black and white view of the world doesn’t equate in the real world of daily suffering and death. For example, the World Health Organization estimates that between 300-500 million new cases of malaria will occur every year. Of those, 1 million will die. Many of these are children. It is estimated that in an average year 195,000 people in the US will die in a hospital due to medical error. The statistic on death and suffering could go on and on, and they do, and they will, no matter who sits in the White House.

The question facing us as a nation and as individuals is which candidate will do the most to end this suffering and death. John McCain is willing to continue the war indefinitely. With the continued waste of wealth and resources on war, there is no money to spend on health care, education, infrastructure (roads, water and sewer systems, etc) and the environment. The failure to address these issue have long term consequences that will in the end cripple our nation, and will add to the suffering of untold millions yet to be born. Is the abortion issue important? Of course, but it must be kept in perspective. What rational person would want to bring their child into a world where environmental degradation and where economic and educational opportunities are limited or not available? John McCain’s vision for America is more of the same as experienced under the Bush administration. Barack Obama’s vision is one of hope. Not a pie in the sky hope, but a realistic vision that will require change in the way Washington does business. A vision for future generations of all Americans, not just the privileged wealthy few, nor the corporations of the rich and powerful. Barack Obama is the kind of president America needs and deserves. 

Around the Next Bend

It has now been three summers since I have been on top of a mountain or for that matter even been in a wilderness area. Frustrated is an understatement. I know, I know, patience is a virtue and all good things come to he who waits. Like so many aphorisms they are only half true, that is, you can almost always find one that says the polar opposite. Oh well, time-wise I am now closing in on the possibility of a new ankle which, if everything goes all right, will put me on top of a mountain by next summer.

In the meantime one does the best one can under the circumstances. Which for me means regular stretching and conditioning exercises with my favorite instructor, Sandy. It seems like she has been trying to shape me up for the last 38 plus years, but with only moderate success. That doesn’t stop her from trying. Patience is definitely one of her virtues. Of course, I have played an important role in developing that virtue, but then like the proverbial devil I don’t get a lot of credit for my supporting role. No one said life was fair.

Since climbing and hiking have had to be scraped from my summer pastimes, that has only left walking behind the lawn mower and bike riding as an escape to the great outdoors. One is of course a "chore" the other is life saving. I’ll leave it to the reader to try and figure out which is which.

Well maybe I won’t. After my mishaps with the torn ligament that took several months to heal, I was again able to slowly, very slowly, get back on my bike and begin to get my endurance and wind back. Only recently have I been able to push it, and it feels great. Over the past few weeks Sandy and I, and various family members, have spent time at Eagle Crest. During this time I was able to work out at the gym, swim and ride the paved bike trails. As good as that is, it is not the same as being out in the forest on a single track trail. While sitting around the townhouse I came across a brochure featuring hiking and biking trails in the Sisters area.

I decided to try a short 5.5 mile loop called Eagle Rock trail just south of Sisters on the way to Three Creeks Lake. While I was riding the trail, Sandy and Rusty hiked a portion of it. The trail for the most part has a slight climb to it as it meanders through tall Ponderosa Pine and along an irrigation stream that comes off of Broken Top mountain. The quiet of the forest was broken only by my deep breathing, and the ripple of the stream. It was another delicious ride that reinforced again my deep love of nature and my desire to see and experience what is around the next bend in the trail.

After my ride and Sandy’s hike, we retired to one of my favorite spots in the city of Sisters, the Sisters Coffee shop. Across the street is my second favorite place the Paulina Used Book Store. I had black liquid drugs (caffeine) straight up and Sandy had some foo-foo coffee, my term for coffee decaffeinated with flavoring added to "kill the taste" of the real stuff. We grabbed a table in the shade outside and watched the rest of the tourists, while sipping one of life’s small pleasures.

The following weekend Leighen brought his mom and dad over for a four day mini-vacation. Rod and I rode the Eagle Rock loop, while Leighen took grandma and mom on a leisurely walk (right Rog) up the steep sandy north slope of the southern most Cline butte above the Creekside town house.

On our ride, Rod and I, stopped alongside the stream and picked some orangish-red berries that looked similar to huckleberries but a little smaller. While picking, a lady came by and asked us if they were edible. I said I hoped so because we had both eaten some. Just to make sure we stopped at the range station in Sisters and asked. Yes indeed, they were edible, they are called Waxy Currents. The Native Americans in the area used them in the making of pemican, also used to stop the flow of diarrhea. A handy tidbit of information. The berries themselves are rather dry and tasteless. Oh well, if I ever have the need to make pemican or for its other use, I at least have the information stashed somewhere in one of the backwaters of my neuronal pathways.

The next day Rod and I decided to do the Peterson Ridge Trail. Leighen again took mom and grandma out for a hike, although he rode in a pack on his mom’s back. This time to the top of the northern most Cline Butte. Rod and I drive to Sisters. The trail head is the same as for the Eagle Rock loop. The first two miles of the trail follows the Eagle Rock loop, but then it crosses the irrigation stream and begins an uphill climb before it tops out at close to 800 ft above the valley floor. There was one short section, after having come up a fairly steep grade, that we dropped into a rocky dry creek bed, then up the other side. At this point the trail became very steep with more than an occasional rock out crop. I was in the lead, with Rod not far behind. I missed a down shift in gears and came to a quick stop, Rod veered around me but also had to stop, too steep. Off our bikes, we pushed ahead for several 100 ft before we were able to hop back on and continue upwards. At several points along the way we were able to get fantastic views of the Three Sisters, but none was as spectacular as when we crossed a forest service road that gave us an unobstructed vista of Middle and North Sisters. We paused and both said: "Here’s where we want to build a cabin." Yeah right, us and every other person that has ever been here.

As is usual we topped out all to soon. Here the trail splits into a short loop around a butte and then back down. Or, as one sign post said: Sisters Trail 1 mile. What to do? I had forgotten to bring the map but remembered that it said it was only half a mile out to the Three Creeks road. I figured as long as we were headed in a westerly direction we were bound to hit it eventually. Unfortunately the map hadn’t said that the road would turn to deep loose scree-like rock that required more work than the previous eight and a half miles. Hey, once your committed you can’t turn around, right? I mean how much further could it be, besides we are probably almost there. The previous eight and half miles had taken us 52 minutes, that last half mile (+) took over 15. Hey, we’re almost there, I can see a gate and a fence. The gate is of course is locked but we are able to climb over the fence and hand the bikes over. Whew! Time for a break and a few calories.

From here it is all down hill, about 6 miles worth, piece of cake, off we go. After about a half mile we pass a sign that says Sisters Trail, Peterson Ridge. Hey sometimes you just have to make a choice and go for it. Would have helped to have had the map. By now the road has become very steep, we pick up speed and are soon cruising faster than we can pedal in our lowest gear and still gaining speed. My speedometer reads out 25, 30, 35, 38, and then 40.2 which we maintain for over a mile. All concentration is now focused on the road, don’t dare swerve or even touch the brakes. As we begin to bottom out and our speed drops we both let out a shout that says: "Wow, what a rush, and we survived!" We are so adrenalin pumped by now that we are able to maintain a 20 mph plus speed for the last 3 miles back to the car, on an almost flat grade. The last quarter mile we slow to cool down. Reaching the car, we hop off our bikes and give each other a big sweaty hug, while at the same the time laughing, smiling and fists pumping the air. Times to remember. Does it get any better? I don’t think so, but then one never knows what’s around the next bend.

A Midsummer Morning’s Awareness

From a restless and fitful sleep, I pull my consciousness from the deep recesses of my mind and towards wakefulness. I arise this morning at the, how’s the old saying go, "the crack of dawn." As I sit in my meditation/reading chair and gaze out the window I realize how inappropriate that saying is to this morning.

I have seen the crack of dawn in the high deserts, from the slopes of many mountains and on the eastern horizon of the sea. The light appears as a thin line in the distance. Faint at first, just a hint that gathers in intensity with the arrival of our day star, Sol.

Not so here in the Mary’s River valley. Here the horizon is close because of the forested hills that define the valley. Here the influence of marine air brings a soft fog, laden with moisture. The effect of this fog is manifold. The moist air settles and gently lays its dampness on meadows and forest. It also brings a dampening effect on sound. The new day breaks not with a crack but a quietness. A quietness that lays like a soft blanket over the land. A freshness that says; "listen, and in the listening be still." Not an easy task for one with my temperament.

But the most subtle effect is the light itself. Diffused by a myriad of suspended water molecules, this light of a new morning creeps silently across my mind. There is no sudden appearance of light streaming across the landscape nor land transformed into areas of deep shadow and bright welcoming warmth.

No, not here, not today. Instead the dark of night slowly changes to a greyness that becomes dawn. No sudden rush of light. No shadows. Instead a melancholy light that turns midsummer fields amber in its soft glow.

Like the change of the seasons, the fog lifts with a steady but with barely perceptible progress. The sky takes on a blue greyness and Mary’s Peak can now be seen at the southern end of the valley. The air slowly warms, the fog leaves and another beautiful summer day has begun. Life right here, right now is good.

Time for breakfast and another cup of coffee. 

A Morning’s Stroll

The other day, Sandy and I spent the night at the Summit cabin with our eldest grandson, Ethan. The weather has been very hot for July, so it is nice to get out of the Willamette Valley and into the coast range where the temperature is generally cooler. Not the case today, even at night it is warm, which is very unusual for Summit and the Mary’s River valley.

Ethan is at that age where "everything is boring," "there is nothing to do." Of course five minutes later he is fully engaged with something, shooting the bow and arrow, helping Nanny water the flowers, throwing the frisbee for Rusty our dog, discovering a nest of birds eggs, or beating Nanny at a game of Skip Bo.

We spent an inordinate amount of time trying to get Ethan to bed that night. "Mom and Dad said I could stay up till 10 O’clock." "Daddy always reads me at least two stories." "I always get a snack before I go to bed." "Can I have a back rub?" By now it is well after 10, we started the process at 9 and Sandy and I are both tired. Ethan is just getting started with requests and postponements. Finally we say our last goodnights, turn the lights out and head down the stairs. By the time we reach the bottom step, he is sound asleep. With three of these wound up balls of energy, it’s no wonder his parents needed to get away for three days.

I awake the next morning at my typical 5:30 AM, roll over and drop back off to sleep until almost 8 AM. This is a highly unusual event for me. I quietly get out of bed, go to the kitchen, where the night before I have ground the coffee beans, add fresh spring water to the pot, push the on button and head outside to rake the front yard before my first cup of Joe. I know. A lot of people say coffee is unhealthy, hell, life is unhealthy. I am not of the religious persuasion or otherwise that believes in doing away with everything that feels good just because someone says it is "unhealthy." Just seems to life denying for me, which of course is one of the major paradoxes of life.

By the time I finish raking the grass, Sandy and Ethan are up and Sandy is making blueberry pancakes. Yum, yum. After breakfast I take my second cup to the guest cabin’s deck, along with my latest read. Time for some early morning vitamin D. Opps, another no, no. Half way through my cup I decided to walk up the logging road and check out the trees we had planted last winter.

Now for me this is a big deal. Riding my mountain bike, no big deal, walking, that’s another story. Since my right ankle has been fused, even the flattest of walking surface is difficult. An old logging road with tall grass, bramble vines, and hidden sticks is really a challenge. Oh well, take my time, be careful, pay attention, I should be able to make it. It is after all only a couple hundred yards to the plantation. I take my trekking poles for added stability and hobble my way up the road.

Even though I am in the shade of some big firs, by the time I reach the plantation I am sweating and slightly winded. It has been too long since I took a walk, other than behind a lawn mower. The road goes through the upper part of the plantation so it is easy to see how the trees are doing. There is new growth on all the ones I can see, this is a good sign. Now if the ground doesn’t get too dry before the fall rains, they will be in good shape for another year. The first year after planting seems to be the most critical. After that it is just a matter of staying up with the grass and brush that will try to crowd them out. Along with the fir, we also planted another 500 Coastal Redwoods, this makes the fourth planting of redwoods. The first planting now has some trees close to 20 feet high. What a beautiful sight, can only imagine what it will be in a hundred years.

I decide to continue my walk up the old road. It becomes steeper and overgrown with thistles and blackberry vines, but I can see that if I am able to push through these it becomes more open in about 50 yards. I slowly push on. The steepness of the hill now requires that I turn my right foot, which means the whole leg, sideways in order to continue upward. After about ten minutes I reach the junction with the new road and a flat landing. I pause to decide whether to continue "outback" or take the new road back to the cabin. Not really much of a choice, outback it is. Although the road leads upward, it is a more gradual incline, plus a week or so ago I had ridden with a friend in his pickup in search of some fire wood for him. As a result of that, the road track has been beaten down by the tiers, this makes walking a lot easier.

I am now walking through an area that we first logged after the death of Sandy’s parents. The trees we planted that winter are now close to 40 feet tall. That would be the winter of ‘92. It never ceases to amaze me how rapid the growth rate is for these trees. A rapid movement in the tree tops catches my attention. I see three Band Tailed pigeons perching on the leader of three fir trees. The white band on their tails become translucent as they take flight into the morning sun, disappearing in a blaze of light.

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the trees on the ridge above me. The only sound I hear is the lazy buzzing of insects as they warm to this new day. I am now about to reach the second fork in the road. One will take me down into the back canyon and the creek, the other will skirt the southern hillside of that same canyon. The choice is to the right, no way am I going down into that canyon, I have already pushed my limit, maybe to the max. As I get to the fork, I pause and look across the canyon to the hill side we planted two years ago. The trees there are still being shaded by the tall grass, but when I was there with my friend Joel last week they appeared to be doing fine.

I have decided to walk only as far as the upper landing on the right fork, that’s about a mile from the cabin. I turn and begin to walk in that direction. I stop abruptly, about 30 yards in front of me is a young doe browsing daisies in the middle of the road. I remain frozen and watch as she flicks her tail and ears in irritation at the flies hoping to suck a little blood for their breakfast. She has yet to sense me even though she occasionally looks in my direction. She steps off to the side of the road and begins to nibble at an elder berry tree, then putting her head back down she continues to graze the bushes, grasses and daisies, giving me neither heed nor fear. When her head is down, I cautiously move towards her, all the while saying to her in my head; "I mean you no harm." After about ten minutes of this stalking, I have halved the distance between us. She finally looks up as if seeing me for the first time, I freeze. Her ears go to the alert, my breathing stops. It is so quiet I can almost hear my heart beat. She takes a couple of tentative steps towards me then stops. Slowly she turns and walks away, occasionally stopping to look back at me over her shoulder. I stay frozen. With grace of movement and no fear she steps into the brush and disappears. I turn and head back to the cabin.

Life is filled with the unexpected. Sometimes the unexpected can be disastrous at other times it brings pure pleasure. How we perceive this unexpected and what we do with that information will determine not only our personal attitude (self talk) but our relationship with other beings. When the unexpected is approached with fear, others sense it. When it is approached with love and acceptance that also is sensed. Ultimately the choice is ours.

Remember: all that glitters is not gold

In regards to one said Keith Miner, after a brief but intense incounter session we were able to deprogram his Pavlovian conditioning.  This was done mainly by allowing him to see that the natural world really is the color green, that the stars of the milky way are easily seen on a clear night and that the sound of silence is indeed possible.

 

Prior to that he thought that green referred to money, stars to Holywood personalities, milky way to a candy bar, and the sound of silence to a song by Simon and Garfunkel.  Having now reach a deeper degree of both physical, spiritual and mental insight we have sent him back to spread discontent among the natives.

 

As to his continuous omissions, we were able to counter that with a couple of Beano pills.   We in the great state of Oh-rain-on-yah are not worried about SUV's or Hummers.  For one thing they will never make it to our great state, there isn't enough money to fill their gas tanks.

 

Yes we are aware of the physocological discontinuity between the southern and northern half of your state.  We feel that with counseling, love ins, wearing flowers in your hair, lots of prayerand fasting that healing may be possible for your "state of delusion".  If none of that works, doubling your daily dose of Prosac may help.  

 

As to his propensity towards graffiti, we have been able to take this latent talent and turn it into a positive trait.  He has been commissioned to paint the inside of our capital dome with scenes depicting the natural beauty of our state.

 

It has been discovered that late night "bull" sessions with his sibling and a trained counselor have inabled him for the first time to express his inner self in a way that has allowed him to let go of his anger and aggressive tendencies.  WARNING: His new found inner peace and tranquility has brought him to a point of enlightenment that will spread love and joy to all those that he now feels the freedom to hug.

 

As to camp fires, we have shown him the foolishness of such primitive expressions of thinking and acting in the belief that it is necessary to have them inorder to get in tune with nature.  We did this by showing him short videos of the fires in your "state of confussion."

 

We return this wonder filled ambassador of hope to the hopless, of love to the unloveable, peace to the dicontented, and joy to the depressed of your state.  May his awakened condition stir the yearnings of migration within your hearts and minds.

 

Love from your northern kin, hope to see you soon 

Time and Flies

I have found a rather secluded spot on the back deck of our Corvallis home, seclusion is not need at the Summit cabin. Here I can sit in a semi nude condition without worrying about scandalizing the neighbors or having the police show up at our front door and being charged with indecency. In this spot I can catch some early morning rays, drink a cup of coffee or tea, depending on my mood, and read a chapter or two in my current book.

Today it is a cup of Chai with lots of milk and honey. Yum. Good drink for awaking the senses, without overstimulation. I can’t say the same for the book I have been digesting lately. The book was loaned to me by a Tuesday morning breakfast friend. One of the discussions of late, at our weekly breakfasts has been ancient civilizations prior to the rise of Sumerian and other fertile crescent cultures. An aside, which typically happens in our conversations, was about the origins or origin of life. Hence, the next week I was given a book by organic chemist Robert Shapiro. The book is titled origins: a skeptic’s guide to the creation of life on earth, and although written in 1968 it still has many salient points.

As an evolutionary biologist, confirmed atheist and avid reader of Richard Dawkins I have been delightfully surprised by Shapiro’s book. Good stuff, and I recommend it to anyone interested in the subject.

Anyhow, back to the deck and my quiet time of study, contemplation and observation. Absorbing my daily dose of vitamin D from our local star and beginning to perspire a bit, I realized that I had become the host for a beautiful little creature. Now under most circumstances I would just brush it aside and continue with what ever I was doing, or not doing. Not this time though. Maybe it had a bit to do with the book I was reading and the steps involved with the production of life on this blue planet. Or for that matter, anywhere else in this vast mysterious and full of wonder universe.

Here sat one of those small wonders on my right forearm. It was a fly, about half the size of common house fly. His (actual gender unknown) body, head, thorax and abdomen were a beautiful metallic greenish blue color. As he grazed on my forearm his iridescence sparkled in the mid morning light. I now had a choice, continue reading or observe this interloper. I choose to read. Bad decision. Well not bad, more like unsuccessful. The little guy kept drawing my attention away from the book and to him. Finally I got the point. Setting the book aside, I gave this marvelous creature my full attention.

Some might think, well that sure is a waste of time. But is it? Where else in our solar system does such a creature exist? He is unique to this planet, and in all (well maybe most) probability, the entire universe. So I sat and watched. It seems that we "big mind" creatures, on the whole, pay little or no attention to our "lesser" distant relatives. And if we do pay attention, it is usually to exploit them. After all aren’t we humans the highest evolved life form on this little blue speck of a planet? Hmm.

Occasionally I will turn my arm or hand and he will continue grazing with nary an apparent thought to his food source. His world is so much different than mine, I can not even begin to imagine it. What is it like to see through the eyes of compound lenses? What smells or tastes attracted him to my arm? As I watch him, I notice that his proboscis is shaped like an elephant’s trunk. This little vacuum cleaner is busy sucking up his midmorning snack: me. Unlike some of his relatives he neither bites, nor punctures to draw blood. He is a surface grazer. Every once in awhile he will lift off, fly around, always coming back to the same spot, before moving off through the tangle of arm hair.

After an undetermined length of grazing time, he will sit up on his back four legs and with his front two wipe his proboscis and face. I guess they haven’t developed napkins yet. And then he will proceed with his meal. Life, as short as it is for him, must be fairly good with such a large food source as me. Thank you very much.

This creature so delicate, so relatively obscure and unnoticed in my everyday world and yet in some ways so much apart of it deserved my attention today. I would like to think that in some small way he has changed my life. I know that I did his. He left with a full stomach.