A Year Of Kindness (XI): The Lion And The Mouse

 

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The Lion And The Mouse

A Lion lay asleep in the forest, his great head resting on his paws. A timid little Mouse came upon him unexpectedly, and in her fright and haste to get away, ran across the Lion's nose. Roused from his nap, the Lion laid his huge paw angrily on the tiny creature to kill her.

"Spare me!" begged the poor Mouse. "Please let me go and some day I will surely repay you."

The Lion was much amused to think that a Mouse could ever help him. But he was generous and finally let the Mouse go.

Some days later, while stalking his prey in the forest, the Lion was caught in the toils of a hunter's net. Unable to free himself, he filled the forest with his angry roaring. The Mouse knew the voice and quickly found the Lion struggling in the net. Running to one of the great ropes that bound him, she gnawed it until it parted, and soon the Lion was free.

"You laughed when I said I would repay you," said the Mouse. "Now you see that even a Mouse can help a Lion."

A kindness is never wasted.

- Aesop (~620-564 B.C.)  (Source)

Shelf Cat

 

Morning darkness shines:

yellow lamp and orange fur

and reflective eyes.

An Unexpected Retirement

 In an unexpected turn of events at the end of last month, my manager announced that she was retiring.

It was not a completely unexpected outcome:  I had no idea how old she is (and it is never polite to ask a lady) but it turns out that this was the year that it could all work for her.  Also, for the past 5 years she has been commuting from her home in the next state over and staying in New Home 2.0 four days a week before heading back for three days a week.  She will be retiring to her family farm, where she will be working on her art and her rather large (and expanding garden).

As you can imagine, this has upset the apple cart a bit.

One of the immediate questions that came up from my coworkers and even my direct reports was "Will you apply for the job?"  I thought about it for something like five minutes; knowing what I know about the position and the state of the work world, I do not have the particular elements of the industry experience nor the long experience at working at a large company that those who make such decisions put into the job description.

Besides, not one person in the hiring chain suggested I throw my hat into the ring, which tells me volumes.  That, and the fact that having done that role once before (which ended in Hammerfall 2.0), I was not terribly eager to throw myself into that fire again.  I have no need to build a career or empire at this point: I am just trying to make it to retirement.

What it does mean, though, is for interim - and who knows how long that will last - I will be acting in her stead.

That is not as daunting as a task at it may seem at first blush: internally I know everyone in the department and the transfer of responsibilities in terms of reporting will be minimal.  Yes, my schedule in terms of one on one meetings is about to double (I will likely be spending 8 hours a week talking to people), but most everyone is pretty self-sufficient at this point.  They do not need me to tell them what to do (in general); often they just want an ear to listen to them with challenges.

The daunting part will be that - at least for the intervening period of time - I will be the one everyone wants a decision from.

I have been in this position before and know exactly what it is like: e-mails and chats throughout the day, people grabbing you in hallways, and of course the ever present growth of meetings. It becomes almost impossible to do your actual "work".

The other side of this, of course, is what happens when that person is hired.

I have already had some such discussion with my team.  I have reminded them that, given everything that we are doing, no-one has any interest in disrupting ongoing operations; if anything, we have become more valuable than before because leadership (that amorphous term that refers to a series of groups of people above our heads) wants things to continue to move forward.  But I also know, from painful experience, that it is always uncomfortable and always engenders change.

And then, of course, there is my own adjustment.

There will be that initial stage where the incoming person knows nothing and is just meeting people and going to meetings to gain context, followed by the gradual assumption of responsibilities and then the setting of a course, perhaps a different course, than what we have been on.  And then the inevitable reorganization that happens and what will become the "New Normal".

My estimate? This will take the rest of the year to settle out, assuming that person arrives within one or two months.

I am super happy for my manager.  She deserves this retirement and I hope it is a good one for her.  But I am really sad for the rest of us.

Maybe even sadder for me.  Because she had a wealth of experience and was a great manager.  No matter who comes in, it will be a very different feel.  I worry a bit for my own future - not so much in another Hammerfall scenario, but rather in the scenario of either being pigeonholed or having nowhere to go.

I just have to keep reminding myself head down like a bison in a snowstorm.  This, too, shall pass.

TB The Elder Day

You have may have heard of the idea of "work spouses", the concept that there are individuals that we work with that essentially become the working equivalent of our spouse due to the time we spend with them on a weekly basis and the degree of closeness that one acquires in working with a particular set of people over the years.  I have, somewhat in the same fashion, apparently acquired "work children".

The request came about innocently enough, a younger coworker (arguably 90% of my worksite is younger than I am) with whom I spent a lot of time in work and discussion asked me out of the blued "Would you be my work dad?"

Well, sure, I said after I thought about it for a bit.  My one condition was that they are financially independent; I pay for nothing. But if they just wanted someone to lend an ear or fill in occasional words that maybe had some wisdom in them from time, I was up for the job.

I started with one "adopted" daughter.  I now have three.

---

Last month, one of my new "children" popped an invite on my calendar entitled "Lunch with Dad". It was not a big deal - lunch at a chain close to our place of work - but I have confess it tickled me to no end.  After all, Na Clann are thousands of miles away (literally) and I see them now twice or thrice a year.  A "Dad date", even with bright young women not your own genetically who - for reasons unknown to me - are willing to call you "Dad" even jokingly warms my heart.

This month, looking at the calendar, I picked a Friday for another "Lunch with Dad" date.  And then I looked at the date.  It was the day after my father's birthday.

---

TB The Elder, for those that may be of newer vintage here, was my father (thus, I am TB - although arguably, not TB The Younger).  I do not suppose I have a better introduction to him than the eulogy for his funeral (at least, at the macro level).

He and I had what is likely a more common father/son experience than I had believed when I was much younger.  I used to think we were not alike at all growing up; I think we were more alike in spirit than I realized although in manifested in what we did.  We "graduated" from that experience sometime in my mid to late twenties (more due to my inability to grow up than a failure on his part), and sometime in my mid to late thirties reached a far better relationship - although we never really shared the same interests, we could at least communicate about them in a way that showed interest and got the message across.  Over time, he came to realize that he himself struggled with depression (which I have for most of my life, which was an insight into perhaps where mine came from) and even anger issues, which he apologized for.

Over the last few years, I have realized that I am like him far more than I have thought:  a self-thought and personality tested introvert, I have learned to be as social as he ever was.  I can make "smart" comments in the same way to generate laughs.  We cared and care about different aspects of Nature.  We were and are really both homebodies. Sometimes, we struggle with our religion (as my father said for many years, he was not sure that he believed but he went to church because my mother did).  And I always, always have the example of him acting as the primary caregiver of my mother for 7 years as her Alzheimer's grew worse - until finally, after she was safely in a memory facility, his own body and mind gave out as well.

If there is interest, most of my interactions of that time are located here.

It was shocking to me to look are realize that this July will have been four years since his passing - honestly, I would have pegged it at only two.  How time gets away from us.

---

 Here at The Forty-Five, we celebrate a series of holidays which are in some cases the equivalent of local regional holidays, the sorts of things that a town or region might do.  One of these is, of course Failure Day (02 August), a day to celebrate failures.  Added to the pantheon will now be 11 March (my father's birthday), hereafter known as TB The Elder Day.

---

My adopted "daughters" asked me why I had chosen the Friday (tomorrow) for lunch. I simply said that was the day after my father's birthday, and it seemed a good enough reason to celebrate.  And I sent them his obituary.

One of them responded back:  "Wow.  Good men raising good men".

I do not know that I am good man.  But I have seen at least one.

2026 Japan: Kobudo Kyokai Taikai (III)

 Sabuir-ryu sojutsu (Spear fighting):

           Shiojutsu Ken Ri Kata Ichiryu Katsuchu Batto Jyu.  This is one of the two groups that demonstrated cutting techniques in armor, something I have never seen in person.  Interestingly, Google Translate returned  "First class armored sword drawing technique" for the characters.                                                                                     

I believe this is Chikabushima-ryu Stick fighting:

Nito Shinkage Ryu Kusarigama Jutsu.  The kusraigama is a traditional Japanese sickle attached to a chain with a heavy iron weight at the end.  The weight and chain are spun and either used for strikes or to wrap the enemy's weapons and either disarm or disable them, at which point the kusari (sickle) would be used for the coup de grace.

 

You will note here that kusarigama is being used for actually strikes.  This is very high level, and shows the trust that the master and student have.  This has been true as you have watched most of the videos; the ability to control the weapon to the point of either almost making contact or making contact is one of the first things I suspect is taught and emphasized at any martial school.  Anyone can hit something; it takes control to get within a hair's breadth or even make contact without injury.

2026 Japan: Kobudo Kyokai Taikai (II)

 Kanshin Ryu Jiu-jutsu:

Niten Ichi-ryu.  A style that uses two swords, this is the technique started by Miyamoto Musashi, author of A Book of Five Rings.

Goju Ryu from Okinawa.  His breath control is amazing.  The Berserker, my weight training coach, is also a practitioner, and said this is Tensho kata, inu ibuki (soft power breathing):

Jigen Ryu.  Famous for their kiai (shout), which is referred to as Enkyo (Monkey scream):

Yoshin Ryu Naginata Jutsu.  Kimonos and polearms.  What is not to like?

An Unexpected Mailbox Surprise

One of the rather depressing things about being an adult is you almost know what to expect in the mailbox because nine times out of ten, you are the one that ordered (or they are bills of course, something that nobody orders).  The days of "Christmas Surprise" are very few and far between.

So imagine my surprise when, on Saturday, there was an unknown book-shaped box in my mailbox.

Tearing open, I found the above volume:  Sourdough without Fail:  100% Whole Grain Bread, Pizzas, and Pastries for any Kitchen by Kate Downham.

I have mentioned the site Permies here before, a great user group which is pretty much focused on all things Permaculture and Homesteading (if you are someone that has to "belong" to a group online, this is not a bad one).  Kate, who lives in Tasmania, Australia with her family (including 8 children)  has written a number of books.  I had backed her last book, Natural Small Batch Cheesemaking through Kickstarter and was quite impressed with her work.  Thus, when the opportunity came to support another of her books, I happily jumped in.

I always order the physical copies of the books if I can get them (I am just not as good at reading on-line) - and, of course, there is always a delay in receiving them from the time that the Kickstarter is backed.  Thus, I had completely forgotten this was coming.

What a delight to still be able to be genuinely surprised at a mail delivery.  I look forward to taking a crack at sourdough.

A Year Of Kindness (X): The Quiet Ones

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 Among the few things that will even send me into what passes as a rage is the mistreatment of animals (or really, I suppose, Nature of any kind).

I am mindful of the comment by the late Gene Logsdon that "Mother Nature could just as well be called Old ***** Nature."  Nature is as cruel as it is caring.  Logsdon uses the image of a buck being brought down by a pack of coyotes or wolves, the last minutes of pain and terror; is this not, he asks, not more cruel than a sudden event that ends in the same manner but without suffering or foreknowledge?

But the fact that Nature is cruel does not mean that anyone has the right to make it more cruel.  The same goes for how we treat people.

Animals can give signs and indications that something is not right, but it is not as if they have words that can tell you such things.  The reality is that the same is true for people as well.

I wonder if we often grasp the fact that for every person that can verbalize clearly mistreatment or harm that there are far more that cannot.  They have learned to simply muddle through life with the coping mechanism that they have in place - perhaps from a place of fear of what might happen if they do or perhaps from a place where they have never come to know or expect anything else.

I write this, I suppose, with a bit more of an edge than I usual approach such things.  For me, this is something personal.  I am one of those silent ones.

No, there is no significantly traumatic event in my past that has brought me to this as others have.  It is something that is more in my nature, likely compounded by the fact that as an introvert and someone who is conflict-adverse, I simply do not push back.  I have learned to manage through things to keep the peace and move things forward. 

If you have never paid such a price, do not underestimate the cost on the person involved.  It can be far more than you think.

Which, of course, is where kindness comes in.

Kindness, when practiced freely and without limit, acts as a buffer to such people (and animals as well).  We may never know what other people are going through - and by the practice of kindness, they may never feel the need to tell us.  What they will feel is noticed, attended to, respected. 

Even, dare we say it, loved and of infinite value.  Sort of like how God see us.

You can always tell when animals have been treated kindly.  They will show it in their reactions to you.  The same, I think, can be said of people.  It may be in an unexpected conversation or an unlooked for gesture or something that they present you - in physical form or words or music or really anything.  Something that they would not share with anyone but someone whom they feel safe with.

And ultimately, perhaps that is an aspect of kindness we never consider:  we create a space which is safe for everyone to feel comfortable and be themselves.  Which, as an introvert, I can assure is one of the greatest gifts you can give.

Book Review: Liturgies Of The Wild

An author whom I read regularly is Rod Dreher.  I have spoken of him more than once and have four of his books (How Dante Can Save Your Life, Live Note By Lies, The Benedict Option, Living in Wonder).  I enjoy his writing style and makes me think.  He also publishes a Substack (you can find it if you look) - I will simply say that I do not always agree with everything he writes, but he always makes me think.

One of the things that comes from his Substack is the amount that he reads.  He is a prodigious  reader and puts my reading list to shame.  He also freely shares what he reads and makes recommendations, which I confess have added to my own bookshelf (as if I needed another excuse).

One of his recent recommendations was Liturgies Of The Wild:  Myths That Make Us by Martin Shaw.

Shaw is quite a man of contrasts.  Originally a troubled youth (he alludes to being in a rock band at one point and going nowhere), he found himself attracted to myths, eventually receiving a Ph.D. and teaching at a number of schools and universities.  He has spent (and apparently spends) a great deal of time out of doors, either leading people on a form of retreat or on retreat himself.  He defines himself as a "mythologist".  Originally fallen away from the Christian faith, he later found his way back and is now a practicing Orthodox.

I do not quite know to describe Shaw's intention except to allow him to describe it himself:

"What kind of book have you opened?  A book with two intentions. Firstly, to provide you with mythologies that are expert in ushering people through life's travails, that do in fact speak in an initiatory tone, that provide a seam of ideas and images to gird your ways in troubling times.  Something you can hang your heart on.  Secondly, to show you that by nesting in those great myths you in turn start to sift the subterranean narratives of your own life to consciousness.  If your story is a river, then myth is the ocean it should naturally lead to."

He notes:

"This is a book in which we begin to regather our lost stories.  We regather them this way: We become conscious of how the great themes of myth speak through our own years.  When this happens, our own stories gain a shape and purpose that we may never have dreamed of.  This is a book about how to get home.  Home in our bones, our wonder, our eccentricity, our steadfastness.  Home in our curves, wrinkles, opinions, and grief.  The sheer, humble nobility of being lucky enough to be born at all.  There are many of us with second houses and pensions who are nowhere near anything that feels like home."

We have lost our stories and myths, suggests Shaw, and are left wandering through a world where, like his impression of much of church, is almost entirely indoors and cut off from Nature and the stories that once upon a time, gave humanity grounding.

By myths, I should note, Shaw is not just talking about what we would now consider mythology, gods and goddesses and heroes.  He consider what we now call folk tales or fairy tales as myth as well - something, again, we seem to have abandoned in a modern world where we can look through the heavens into depths of space but never really "see" the wonder.

Shaw organizes the book into a series of subjects - things like initiation and death and passivity and passion and prayer and guilt and envy and limit and evil.  He generally shares a story of interest from himself or involving him, pivots to a myth he feels is related, and then draws the lesson between the myth and the subject matter.

I will hesitate from speaking of some specific passages - because those specific passages have actually become part of what seems to be this impending feeling that there are things that I need to confront and (likely) change in my life (and thus, we will review them in due course).  So speaking in general, what did I think of the book?

It was....thought provoking.  Some of the chapters made me really think.  Some of the chapters essentially fell flat, at least for me - especially some of the later ones on the book, which I cannot tell if is due to the motif of story, myth, application was just an idea that got old after time or that they simply did not work as well as with some of the other sections.

What might wonder how, as a re-Christianized Christian (Orthodox tradition) and a mythologist with a huge gap between his childhood in a mainline denomination and his rediscovery of God, his view works.  The answer is kind of.  Certainly as someone that has delved deeply into stories, he sees them in ways that perhaps those that are not so deeply read in such things will not - and, I will say, I learned more of some types of "myths" (as defined above) than I had ever known about.  And yet, parts of that story telling did not work in reference to the Christian story.  Using the name Yeshua - which, while technically correct, I have always found as a bit of an affectation - was a little off-putting, as was the idea of Him as the story archetype of a Druid (again, perhaps right in terms of a story based observation, but again, off-putting).

I think his underlying points are good:  that we have lost story in our own lives - after all, some of the most inspiring and thought provoking items I have ever read were stories and, yes, myths - and have replaced it with a literalism that both binds and enervates us; that to integrate story and looking at the world outside of us (back to that idea of our church, and our life, being indoors) has the potential to change how we relate to God and His Creation.  The delivery is a bit uneven, though.

It is worth a read - as long as you are willing to hold the tension of a man who sees Christ and follows Him, but perhaps in a very different way.

Themes Of Mystery

 

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I cannot escape the fact that themes keep piling themselves into my life like advertisements on a radio that simply continue to repeat until you feel like you have to buy the product to make them stop.

I do not know how "messaging" (if that is what we shall call it) works in other's lives.  How does one know when a change needs to be made?  How does one sense that life is asking one to change course or direction, be it of a lifestyle or living or simply a pattern of thought?

Mine, apparently, comes through the written word.

It has been a slow process, perhaps two years or more (corresponding, as it turns out, to my relocation to New Home 2.0).  It has largely involved books, but quotes have participated also, as well as conversations with individuals.

It is that moment where the ground is shifting under your feet and you have no other option except to ride it like a surfer on a wave.

---

I comprehend that I am speaking a bit riddles.  Mostly that is due to the fact that I am trying to understand the themes and the questions themselves.  What they are - or at least my best guess at them - has migrated from notes to journaling to a Word document (so I can see everything in black and white).  Even with all of that, I am not sure that the thing is completely baked, as it were.  

There is that nagging feeling that out there, a few things remain to fall into place.

---

I would be lying if I said I was not approaching this with trepidation - mostly because of the fact that I know that this is going to end of pushing me way outside of the quiet comfort zone that I have spent years constructing for myself.

But I do not really know that I have a choice, trepidation or not.  We can only ignore things so long as we choose not to engage with them or they are not apparent to us; once they reveal themselves and begin to eat away at the framework, we have no choice but to work to reconstruct things based on the new reality.

One wonders if the incipient butterfly feels fear as it prepares to break through the chrysalis. 

Grey And Rainy

Drifting clouds spatter

neither Winter nor Spring rain:

my thoughts windblown too.

2026 Japan: Kobudo Kyokai Taikai (I)

 One of the highlights of our training trips to Japan is the ability to attend the Nihon Kobudo Kyokai Taikai, the Japanese Classical Fighting Arts Association Demonstration (a rather free translation).  The demonstration allows different schools to demonstarte.  Kobudo is typically considered to be arts developed before the Meiji Restoration of 1868.  That said, many of the arts here were founded before 1600.

On our way to the venue, we passed the Tayasu Mon (Tayasu Gate), one of the remaining portions of Edo Castle (now the Imperial Residence).   Originally built in 1607, the gate that we see today was built in 1636.

Viewing this even now gives me some idea what it would have taken in some of the actual historically recorded attacks on castles.

The Nihon Kobudo Kyokai takes place in the Budokan, a building built specifically for martial arts demonstrations.

This year's participants:

Kyudo, or archery:

Iaijutsu.  I believe this is Kanshin ryu.   (For clarity, not my school.)

2026 Japan: Oi Zao Gongen Shrine

 One of the interesting things to me about Japan is that one runs into its religion in the most unlikeliest of places.   Coming from a place where 400 years is a long time, it is different to realize that one is in a land which has been inhabited with a record history for at least 4-5 times that.

On an afternoon with a free day, I decided to try to see if I could find any local temples or landmarks. Turns out there was one not a mile from the hotel.

Along the way, I came across these two cat statues.  They are named Hanako and Taro, and are built to honor the Japanese poet Sakutaro Hagiwara.

A small fox shrine on the edge of the street and the parking lot.

Oi Zao Gongen Shrine.  Apparently (per the website) this shrine has an approximated 1,000 year history but was relocated in 1925 when a railway factory was built at the site.  It was moved here approximately 30 years ago. It enshrines Fukuroju, one of the seven gods of fortune, 

There was no-one at this shrine (it was a very small one) except for the rather sleepy temple attendant I woke up in the office for a souvenir.

On Worry And Concern

Today's post is indirectly posted as a result of recent events.  Not so much about the events themselves, but from the ramification of said events.

Perhaps said differently, about worry and concern and "The End Of The World as we know it".

Over the course of my life, I have been concerned about a great many things.  Some of them were significant world shaking events.  Some of them were constrained to my small circle of the world.  Some of them just involved me and my own issues.

In almost every case, the worry and concern that I had never manifested itself into anything that amounted to anything.

Well, not precisely true.  I did get myself worked up a great deal and spent a great deal of emotional energy on things that ended up either not impacting my life at all or having minimal impact.

---

One of the great realizations of adulthood is how little influence we have on most things.

We cannot influence the weather no matter how badly we would like it to cooperate with our planned activity.  We cannot directly influence the policies of governments or companies if they have decided to take particular actions (yes, we can vote, express our opinion, vote with our wallet, etc. - but if an organization of any kind has set its mind to a course, it conveniently forgets to listen).  We cannot influence events of world shaking impact from our homes on Sunday (as I write this), staring a cup of lukewarm coffee.

We can worry about them.  We can shout to the sky about them and (nowadays) post on Social Media about our anger or concern or worry or "This is it!" We can even react to the situation by taking actions which are not very helpful or even sensible but somehow make us feel like we are doing something (like, for example, suddenly stockpiling toilet paper).

We can do a great many things which have no impact, but make us sick with worry and fear and concern.

---

We can pray of course - and well we should, for we are commanded to.  But even in those prayers we are asking for God to act on our behalf in accordance with His will, not our own.  And God's plans are certainly not our own; I myself have spent a great deal of my life learning just how far my plans are misaligned from His.

Strangely enough, His plans very often have little to do with my own concerns and anxieties of current things.

---

Beyond that, what can I do?

Well, be aware of course in general.  But not aware to be fearful, but aware to take actions as they can be taken.  But not out of fear or anxiety, out of measured concern.

Carry on, as the British said in World War II.  Events may very well overtake us all.  On the other hand, I could die in a car crash coming home this week (a perhaps far more likely scenario) or one of the many local volcanos could erupt.  I cannot control those events.  Neither can I control any of these.

But not worry. Or be completely dominated by any concern or hang breathlessly on the latest news report or social media outburst.  After all, it is often not the event itself which can cause harm, but the unthought through and panicked responses that can create the most damage. 

Being lost happens:  wandering off and getting lost or setting fire that burns down the forest hardly helps us get found all the quicker.

A Year Of Kindness (IX): David And Mephibosheth

Of all the stories of kindness that may exist in the Old Testament, the one that comes most clearly to my own mind is the story of David and Mephibosheth.

The story itself is in 2 Samuel 9.  We find David at the height of his kingship.  The kingdom of Israel has been unified after a civil war.  His enemies abroad have been defeated.  God has made a covenant with him that man of his lineage will sit on the throne of Israel forever. This is prior to his series of sins that results in adultery, murder, civil war, and the death of some of his children.  He was, as the saying goes, at the top of his game.

At this moment, he calls for a former servant of Saul, a man named Ziba.  "Is there not still someone of the house of Saul to whom I may show the kindness of God?"

It is likely (although not recorded) that at this moment David is remembering his friend Jonathan, the son of King Saul, who at great personal risk to himself supported David against his father.  He likely remembers Jonathan telling him during the time when King Saul was pursuing him to kill him "You shall be king over Israel, and I shall be next to you.  Even my father Saul knows that." (1st Samuel 23:17).  David is now king over Israel but Jonathan is long gone, killed by the Philistines and his bones buried.

One wonders if Ziba hesitated for a moment - after all, ancient dynasties were not kind to potential heirs or even those that sheltered him.  Perhaps with a trace of nervousness in his voice, he replies "Well, there is one.  He is lame in his feet though." - as if to suggest that he represented no threat into the king.

The king asks further "Where is he?"  Again, perhaps a bit of nervousness in his voice as Ziba replies gives him a location (in the house of Machir the son of Ammiel).  In Lo Debar, which literally translates as "nowhere".  

David commands him to be brought.

One can only imagine what was going through the mind of Mephibosheth as he slowly walked his way in the presence of the king.  A crippled son of a defeated dynasty, it was likely drummed into his head from his early youth that he was to hide everything about his heritage.  He would have known the fate of defeated dynasties (everyone did).  It is likely that he lived in some level of fear of discovery, hoping that he could simply disappear in the location of Nowhere.

And now, the king calls him.

One can imagine the scene:  King David on his throne, his guards and advisors around him, appearing every inch the chosen of the Lord.  A slow cadence of clicks from a cane or walking stick comes through as Mephibosheth enters the hall with Ziba.  Mephibosheth slowly gets down (he is lame, after all), prostrates himself in front of David, and waits.

"Mephibosheth" says the king.

"Here is your servant" replies Mephibosheth.

What was going through David's mind at this moment?  How much of his friend Jonathan does he see in his friend?  Does he remember the good times in Saul's court, Jonathan saving his life, Jonathan seeking him out in his distress and reassuring him?

The next words out of David's mouth were likely not at all anticipated by Mephibosheth - or any one else.

"Do not fear, for I will surely show you kindness for Jonathan your father's sake, and will restore to you all the land of Saul your grandfather; and you shall eat bread at my table continually." (2 Samuel 9:7)  Later on, David re-emphasizes the fact:  "As for Mephibosheth,", said the king, "he shall eat at my table like one of the king's sons". (2 Samuel 9:11b).

This was not the response anyone expected.  No-one in their right mind kept defeated dynasties alive as the chances were that they still had supporters.  At best, Mephibosheth might have expected exile from Israel. Instead, he is offered wealth and privilege and recognition and a home in the capital of the kingdom.

And so it was that Mephibosheth, the lame son of a defeated dynasty, came to eat at the king's table like any other of his sons while the estates of his grandfather Saul were farmed in his name (that part did not last of course; David was a pretty bad judge of character overall and took the false word of Ziba in his retreat from Jerusalem.  Mephibosheth remained faithful though, not eating or caring for himself until David was restored to power.  See 2 Samuel 16: 1-4 and 19:  24-29 for more details).  

Every day, effectively for the rest of his life, Mephibosheth was a living example of the kindness of David to everyone who sat at that table.

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The lessons are, I trust, not too hard to glean from this.  Replace the name of David with "God" and the name of Mephibosheth with "Your Name Here", and this becomes reflective of the grace that God grants to all of the saved every day:  we, the failed children of rebels, marred by sin and scars often of our own making, living in our own version of Lo Debar (Nowhere), are invited to eat at the table of the King along with His own Son.

An extreme kindness, one might think.  

Grace.  Rather amazing.

February 2026 Grab Bag

 It is genuinely hard for me to believe that it is already the end of February.  The year is 1/6th past already, and I feel I that I have both seen profound change and nothing has happened at all.  It strikes me both as odd and completely normal.

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Our lease has come up for renewal at New Home 2.0.  There are more options now:  Month to Month, 9 Month, 12 Month, 15 Month.  Our rates have not gone up in two years, which surprises me a bit to be honest, given that one hears so often about the housing market being impacted even here.  We have gone ahead and elected to extend for another 15 months, which puts out past midyear 2027 if for no other reason than to lock in the rate; at this point there is no indication that we would move before then unless something significant happened (it always might, of course), and I would rather run the risk of that than have my rent go up, especially in these rather inflationary times.

Besides, even with The Ranch likely closing, we are still no closer to a permanent landing point than we were before.  And, the thought of moving again is not attractive at this time.

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There is no word on contingencies falling off The Ranch yet.  The process of notification is underway regardless - one way or the other, we need to be ready.

Beyond that, the things I need to plan are getting a storage locker and finding a mover to get the last stuff out of the barn.

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In what appears to be a reversal of the last 6 years, my travel agenda largely falls off after June (with a single flight in August for my hike).  I have effectively dropped from at least one flight somewhere a month to no flights currently on calendar (see exception above) until possibly the Christmas holiday.

I do not know that I mind that, but I know that at some point it will be a definitive change.

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It is shocking to me that I only returned from Japan three weeks ago.  Like normal, it feels like a lifetime ago.

Odd how time works.  In some ways - other than the pictures, obviously - it feels as if I never went.  How quickly ordinary life takes back over.

An Extra Nickel And A Parking Lot Penny

 Some weeks ago I found myself at a local store procuring a needed item.  I was using cash as in this case, the timing of the purchase along with the event would make it highly suspect as to what I had done and when I had done it if I had used a credit card (a fancy way of saying perhaps I failed to plan). The item, when rung up, came up to X dollars and 99 cents.  I put in my appropriate amount of cash.

Instead of getting a penny back, as I have for my entire life, I got a nickel back.  The screen read "Total tendered:  $X.05".

Welcome, I realized, to the world of the life without the penny.

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This was not the first time I had seen this, of course.  "Exact change is appreciated" comes up more and more at stores that accept cash.  I had at least one cashier dig out of the previously known as "penny jar" to make up the difference.  I had another cashier do as I had seen here, effectively enter an overpayment as "received" so they could give me a nickel.

I wonder how long until "the penny jar" becomes an archaic phrase, to be trotted out in movies about previous eras where the young of that day will look and marvel.

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Japan, interestingly is still very much a cash society. Like us, they have small change:  1, 5, 10, 50, 100 Yen coins (also 500 Yen coins, but those are not nearly as common).  Like us, Japan has tax on everything.

Japan takes their small change very unseriously in one sense: the 1 yen coin, for example, is made of aluminum and is considered virtually useless.  For a traveler, they collect like pocket lint if you spend enough time in a combi-ni (convenience store).

For better or worse, they seem to have come up with a unique solution.  1 Yen and 5 Yen coins are apparently the most desirable to place in offering boxes at Shinto Shrines and Buddhist temples.  

It certainly helps clean out the pockets at the end of a trip.

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This past week as I was crossing a parking lot, I stumbled across a beat up penny in the parking lot.

The penny was scarred and had some kind of gunk on parts of it - but still clearly a penny, so I picked it up and popped in the cup holder of my car to allow it to dry.

While pennies may be disappearing, a penny saved is still truly a penny earned.

A Year Of Haiku (VIII): Confusion

"Winter or Springtime?"

the daffodils ask, bathed in 

snow and sun and blooms.

2026 Japan: Tokyo At Large

 Because we spent most of our time training, I do not have a lot of "tourist" pictures to show of Tokyo proper.

The view from our hotel room.  The building in the center sits squarely in front of Mt. Fuji:

At night:

A street not too far from our hotel:

The trees are light up, I think, to replicate cherry blossoms:

Tokyo Tower from Asakusa:

We have been to Asakusa, including Sensoji, several times (here, here, and here) so I did not take many pictures there (we went on our annual shopping expedition for tabi, obi, sword supplies, and souvenirs):

However, the nearby Shino Shrine was preparing for Setsubun, the last day of the Lunar Winter.  There were several stalls selling food.  

We tried amazake, which is a sweet fermented drink from rice which is non-alcoholic.  It was delicious!

(As a note, it was lucky we went when we did.  The next day on Sestsubun there were 15,000-20,000 people here!)

The temple lit up.  We suspected the lanterns were sponsored by local businesses:

Lanterns with The Great Wave off Kanegawa, painted by Hokusai:

Leave it to me to find the rabbit: