Grokking It

I grok the story but don’t know if others can. It’s the writing challenge: you see, hear, feel and experiences these stories being told in details and colors and sounds technology can’t approach. Your job, Writer, is to capture these events, people and places, and organize it in a coherent, satisfying and entertaining matter.

That’s my interpretation of writing. Yours may vary.

Grok is a word that Robert Heinlein created in ‘A Stranger In A Strange Land’. It’s a classic novel. His expression, grok, has spread like wildflowers in the spring, going far beyond a word in a novel to have other meetings. The essence of grok remains the same for me: to intuitively grasp and understand a matter. It has larger and more expansive definitions and usage, but that’s the essential distilled for my use.

I’m encountering the grok gap while I’m writing. It’s a pretty familiar with whatever I’m writing. I grok what’s happening in my novel. I need to explain it to everyone who isn’t me. That meant spending a few days further defining terms and relationships. The big one is the ideopat. It is telepathy among the Travail Avresti Forus and Seth, and the Travail Favrashi Forus and Seth but telepathy is but one component among the names, gults, vhylla and races. I needed another term for one of the other components because it doesn’t fit with human knowledge and experiences.

While researching my invention, which ended up being termed the phena for now, after reading about consciousness, phenomenon and epiphenomenon, I grok and researched it for a while. After all, phena and grok share commonalities. The insights I encountered about what grok meant and was used in the original novel opened my thinking. Such sessions are always the most satisfying and treasured for me.

I hope you grok what I mean.

Today’s Theme Music

Last night’s dreams saw an exit and took it, and then merged onto the erotic highway. These dreams will go into the private collection. All I’ll write here is, wow, that was intense.

Some today’s music continues with the dream theme. Since I was surprised, asking myself about these dreams after I told myself to dream and explain the previous night’s dreams, I’m going with ‘These Dreams’, performed by Heart and written by Martin Page, 1986. Pretty fitting for writers and artists pursuing dreams, as well. Enjoy.

 

 

 

Today’s Theme Music

I thought something about dreams would be appropriate for me for theme music today.

There are a lot of offerings available. ‘Dream Weaver’, by Gary Wright, came to mind. How about The Chordettes with ‘Mr Sandman’?  Susan Boyle, ‘I Dreamed a Dream’, would fit. There are so many songs about dreaming and issues with dreams out there, but I decided upon Aerosmith, ‘Dream On’. 

As I write and think about dreams and dream music today, I think, there’s a novel there, about a man who becomes obsessed with understanding his dreams, and dreaming more and more frequently. It’s not the freshest feed for a story but it could be fun to explore.

Not Always Quick

I’m not always a quick thinker. Otherwise, I would have answers today.

It’s about a dream. Yeah. I should have asked myself, why are you dreaming this? I don’t recall ever featuring pigs in a dream before.

I was feeding a pig. He was a shiny little pink porker. He came downstairs in my house, a very happy and excited little creature. I had company. Friends were visiting. I didn’t want the pig downstairs. So I called him and led him back upstairs.

It was messy upstairs. It seems like we were in a transition. My intention was to feed the pig some cornflakes. He found some on the floor and gobbled them up, but he wanted more. I thought he spotted more but they  turned out to be scraps of paper. He didn’t want to eat those. As I searched for corn flakes to feed him, another pig, slightly larger but equally pink and shiny, emerged, along with a few cats. So I talked to them, telling them I was looking for food and was going to feed them, even as I couldn’t find the food that I expected. I headed downstairs to find some.

I had company, three former co-workers from a flying unit. Laying on sofas, they were watching television and playing games while they chatted to me and my wife. I was annoyed because they had disconnected the best television and were employing old cathode ray televisions on carts. I set about fixing that.

Meanwhile, another friend from the same unit showed up. I asked him what he thought of his new position. He replied, “This is what war sounds like.” Then, using a gallon paint can, he made a metallic rumbling noise that was loud and unpleasant. “All the time,” he said.

Others, less known but known, showed up. Setting up tables, they sat down to prepare food to feed me. I was embarrassed and grateful for their efforts, but I kept trying to tell them that it wasn’t necessary. They ignored me, continuing to cook.

Pigs…confusion…identity. It’s something to research and think about today, since I didn’t bother to ask myself for clarification when it was happening. I’ll need to think quicker next time.

Blackbird

I’m often frustrated with myself, questioning my mind, cringing at things I’ve done in the past, and challenging my motives and stances, and trying to learn and grow. It’s complicated and wearying.

Part of this is about being a guy. As a guy, I enjoy speed, power, football. I’m a beer drinker, but was a Jack and Coke guy for decades, and a cigar smoker. I was known for being hard-ass about getting the mission accomplished.

The other is about being a human. As a human, I want peace, freedom and equality for everyone. As a human, pro football is barbaric; speed and power – Formula One, NASCAR, fighter jets and rockets – are unnecessary indulgences. As a guy, those things are awesome, and pro football, as practiced by the NFL, is cerebral but violent, graceful, fast…and violent.

Within those boundaries, I grew up in love with speed and technology. They’re most ultimately married in aerospace technology in my thinking, part of science fiction’s magnetic appeal. And within that domain, there is little like the Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird.

I was stationed at Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan, for four years in the early 1980s. Kadena AB has long runways and is strategically located on the Pacific’s edge. Blackbirds, dubbed Habus by the locals, flew in and out all the time. Being down on the flight line and watching one take off just after sunset, when the sky is a diluted Royal blue and watching those big engines release orange and blue tongues, was beauty in motion. Wheels up, they turned up, and quickly disappeared. I watched until I could no longer see it.

New Atlas has a terrific interview with a Habu pilot. Brian Shul was shot down and left for dead in Cambodia before being rescued. Eventually becoming an SR-71 pilot, Loz Blaine had a nice piece on him, well worth reading for the human side of people using this technology.

The two links embedded in the article are also worthwhile. Both are funny. One is about an air speed pissing contest posted at Opposite Lock. The other is about doing a favor for an ex-SR-71 pilot via a slow flyby and giving some young boys something to talk about, published on Foxtrot Alpha.

I hope you check them out and enjoy them as much as me.

Things I Don’t Miss

Didn’t need to scrap ice off my car this morning because it’s garaged. I felt for the neighbor out there de-icing his vehicle. There, I thought, is something I don’t miss, which launched me into musings about what else I don’t miss.

I don’t miss lite beers in any shape or vintage. Thank the gods for micro-brews and craft beers!

I don’t miss saving and counting pennies to buy a bag of pretzels as a treat or to go the movies. My years of extremely tight budgeting taught me the value of budgeting and saving but I enjoy indulging myself now, and I don’t miss those days at all!

I don’t miss military recalls, deployments and twelve hour shifts. I don’t miss midnight shifts, either, or pressing uniforms and getting haircuts all the time. Mission success was satisfying and I met some excellent people and saw the world, but I don’t miss all those other military accouterments.

I don’t miss cable television. Cable was cool and fun for a while but as it developed into a commodity and charged more and more while offering me less and less, it became a huge weight of disappointment. The smart television, Roku and streaming services aren’t perfect but they’re better than cable.

I don’t miss all those company meetings. Six AM, 9 PM…on some days with IBM I was on telephone calls and sorting and answering emails for hours. Don’t miss them at all, nor the annual performance report rituals. I really don’t miss completing expense reports. Just like the military, I enjoyed the company of some great people while I was with IBM (and the companies IBM absorbed, NetworkICE and ISS). Them, I miss. I also get a little misty eyed about the absent paycheck and its company.

I don’t miss old technology.  Take my old floppies – please (badaboom – tish). You can take them to where the IBM Selectrics and my Brother portable typewriters are buried, along with my old KayPro 10 and Zenith 150, and my clunky SVG and EVG color monitors, and 4.87 and 10 megahertz operating speeds.

It’s a short list of what I don’t miss. I had a good time through it all and came out fortunate in the end.

What don’t you miss?

 

 

Today’s Theme Music

The big questions arise. Didn’t we just do this? Didn’t that just happen? Didn’t we learn anything? I feel like we’re going around in circles. Sing it with Billy Preston – ‘Will It Go Round in Circles’.

Matryoshka Dreams

I dreamed within dreams last night. That began during the dream, after my dream self asked myself, “Why am I dreaming this?”

The dream featured multiple arcs but always centered around one main setting. I was in the Air Force again, newly assigned to this place and in charge. The setting featured an intact building where command and control was going on. It was off by itself on a green knoll, surrounded by green fields, with ‘the base’ in the background. Attached to the building was an end room. The end room, accessible from the rest through a door that I could open and close, was damaged. Its lights were always on and its roof was collapsing and sinking in. Water was running from faucets and burst pipes. Others thought nothing of that.

I walked around for some time studying it. I saw this water was causing damage. Although the water was draining away, I disliked the waste. So I turned the water off. I was surprised the water could be turned off, and I was surprised others hadn’t thought of that. I asked others who worked for me to make it part of their routines to check the water to ensure it was off before they left each day.

The POV changed from internal me to outside of me. Sometimes I would drift further out to watch myself in my dream environment. This would often happen in conjunction with me going out to survey the damaged area. The time of day shifted, sometimes being late morning (I knew this) while it was late afternoon or dusk at other times. I noted it becoming muddier around the damaged area. People’s belongings were mired in mud. Pets were struggling with change. I began talking to those who had lived there (they weren’t ‘me’), assessing the damages, directing clean up, and feeding animals. It was during one of those times when I asked myself the question.

In answer, I was treated to dreaming within the dream.

Awakening from the dream in the dream, I understood. As the other dream ended, I knew the dream was about identity, structure and success. This epiphany came as I salvaged cat food to feed a happy talking kitten and then made requests of people working for me to check on items to save water and electricity, and finally, a vantage shift to survey damages from a distance, where I could look down and see it all in its entirety.

The dream(s) inundated me with thinking points for my waking self. So many ask when you tell about your dreams, “How did you feel?” So I’ll tell: I felt introspective and thoughtful. I felt in charge and in control. I felt like the sun had burned away an enormous swath of Tule fog.

I felt like I’d been given a clear direction. Now I just need to follow that path.

Winter Has Come

Snow has been sneaking down the surroundings mountains day by day since mid-November. I’ve tracked its progress, glancing up to see peaks and fields sporting new white blankets, setting off the barren brown and evergreens. Last night, under the night shield, the snow advanced to us.

We’re not the valley floor. That’s about two thousand feet further down, but one to three inches at our location is significant for the I-5 corridor. For just fourteen miles from us is the pass. This is where I-5 makes it through the mountain range between northern California and southern Oregon. It’s an impressive climb, in the top ten at least, of climbs I’ve driven, although way down from the scale of those encountered in the Rockies and Alps.

The pass isn’t looking bad this morning. The absent sunshine and temperatures hovering around freezing aren’t good signs for easy commutes but the roads are fairly clear. Just beware of black ice. About as far as I’m commuting is down to the coffee shop, lucky me. I’ll drive down there and then walk around downtown, stimulate the writing juices, and look for The Wall, the men of the Watch and white walkers.

 

Today’s Theme Music

I’ve seen this song performed by Taj Mahal, one of the co-writers and many others, but this Blues Brothers cover is best known. It’s a good bluesy song to carry your water through the day. Enjoy ‘She Caught the Katy’.

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