Travel Interlude (II): The Smallest Light

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We never know when or where our small light will make a difference.

That is why it is always important to shine.
 

Travel Interlude (I): Smile, Care, Stay, Confuse

 

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The older I get, the more something like this becomes my mantra.

"Smile More":  If there is anything I am known for in the various places I am, it is my laugh.  I am not a a quiet generator of laughter (thus my sobriquet "Beucail", or "Booming").  And laughs come with smiles.  Smiles are free and almost always returned.

"Care Less":  The older I get, the more I find is not worth the amount of care that I gave to it in times past.  Much of this life is transient and fleeting; causes that twenty years ago were worth arguing passionately over are now forgotten.  Learning to focus on what truly maters is freeing.

"Stay Weird":  "Weird" can mean a lot of things.  Just existing in time as someone that does not 100% embrace modernity makes one weird.  Layer on hobbies and habits that are long standing practices or learned important behaviors adds to the "weird".  I have seen "normal" people. I would rather stay weird.

"Confuse people":  There is a certain joy in stability.  There is also a certain joy in being slightly random in behaviour - not truly random, but just random enough to keep them wondering.  If nothing else, they will always be watching for the next thing.

Becoming My Father: Dressing Up Edition

 

One Sunday a few weeks ago prior to church, I found that I needed to take the trash out prior to leaving.  Having dressed already (but not having my shoes on), I grabbed my pseudo-Birkenstocks (plastic, $10.00 from Wal-Mart, used as "camp shoes) on hikes), grabbed the trash, and headed out.

Looking down, I suddenly realized I had become my father.

---

TB The Elder had two modes of "dressing up".

The first - the one I remember most from my childhood - was him in slacks with a button up shirt and cowboy boots.  This would have been his Sunday "Going to Church" or other events that were not jeans appropriate (I can count on my two hands the number of times I remember my father wearing a suit to anything, including his children's weddings). 

Then, sometime in his mid-50's, my father discovered Birkenstocks.

How he discovered them I have no idea: I suspect 25 year old TB The Elder would have loathed them.  But 55-60 year old TB The Elder found them incredibly comfortable.

He wore them everywhere: in the house, out and about - almost everywhere.  The only time he specifically did not wear them was when he was working outside or in Winter when he had to go out to the woodshed to transport wood.  Otherwise, they were he constant walking companion.

And so - in TB The Elder 2.0 - he would often be found more or less as the picture above on Sundays:  button down short sleeved shirt, jeans, and Birkenstocks.

---

It is odd, how these moments of becoming like my father strikes me.

I have related before that for many years I felt TB The Elder and I were very different people indeed:  different interests, different emotional makeups, different trajectories - really, just sort of randomly thrown together into a family by luck and genetics.  It is only over the years of adulthood - and in those, really in my 50's - that I have come to appreciate how much more similar we were than I had every thought.

The fact a random set of clothes reminds me of him no longer comes as a surprise.

---

I still have a fair interest in my wardrobe, as it were.  Some of that is driven that I am still in a "professional" environment (although I am hardly "professional") and have to dress (to some extent) like I am an adult.  And to be fair, I have gotten more into vests and the associated long sleeved shirts (the climate here in New Home 2.0 is much more forgiving in that regard), mostly to accommodate my pocket watch and chain habit.  Which, as I am informed by the young people, means I have "Drip" (which I am informed is a good thing).

The vest and watch would, I think, make TB The Elder happy.  Although I suspect he would still recommend Birkenstocks.

A Year Of Kindness (XXXI): Reminding People They Matter

 

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Some of greatest kindnesses offered to me were offered by people that did not have time to spend with me but spent it with me anyway.  And some of the greatest discomforts I have had are by people who clearly indicated that they did not want to spend time with me but were doing it in a begrudging fashion.

Even the very act of stopping, listening fully, and engaging - even when we do not feel like we have the time - can have untold benefits in the lives of others.  We are showing them that are important - maybe more important than they feel they are.

We can practice kindness in the most seemingly insignificant moments - or at least, seemingly insignificant to us.

Calling Autumn

Back on 13 August, Patrice at Rural Revolution wrote a post called "Calling Fall".  It is a subject that she has written on in the past and involves the day her husband, Don, declares "Fall has started".  

In listing his methodology, it can be a much more qualitative rather than quantitative:  the smell of the air, the look of the nature, the activities that are going on around them.  But at 1005 on 13 August, "Fall" was called.

It caught my attention because - for the last two weeks - I had been on the cusp of Calling Autumn myself.

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Growing up in Old Home, I cannot clearly tell you the signs that led me to believe that Autumn had arrived.  I know it happened sometime in September with the cooling of temperatures and the turning of the leaves - even if there was a false "Second Summer" that raised temperatures some.  I know that by the end of October, Autumn had passed - and when I was older, if I did not get my garden in by the end of October, it was too late.

New Home was similar in the temperature aspect.  But what really became apparent to me was the change in sunlight.

I cannot fully describe it to you when I first noticed it or how.  I just became aware one day that the sunlight softened, faded.  The angle was "all wrong" for Summer.  That, in my mind, became the defining moment of Autumn:  when the sunlight changed.

---

Obviously we have not lived terribly long in New Home 2.0.  So what would convince me to Call Autumn?

I cannot - again - really tell you for sure.  Certainly here we have seasons and plants that respond to seasons and in some cases the trees are already starting to turn.  The temperatures are slowly creeping down.  The sunlight has not turned on me - yet - but I am casting a weather eye for it.

Autumn, as they say, is coming.

Gone Hiking 2026 Edition

 Dear Friends:

As you read this missive I am somewhere in the midst of Central California on my way to a hike - a hike to Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous 48 states at 14,505 ft/4,421 m.  

Long time readers may recall that this trek was originally made in 2022 (all pictures from then).  A record of that trip is recorded here.  The hike last time was 84 miles/135 km, which I imagine will be similar this trip.

(The dreaded Colby Pass, where I had my hiking breakthrough.)

Today will drive to the trailhead and camp out; the hike will formally start tomorrow morning.  It is considered a 7 day hike, but really is a 6.5 day hike (by Day 7, we are ready to just get back).

Responses to comments will be sorely limited - and by limited, I mean "none".  We will lose Interweb sometime around 1500 today and will not see it againWuntil next Saturday.

As per usual, I have left a series of posts to pass the time - and of course, as always, do consult the fine bloggers to the right of this post.

I had some amazing breakthroughs last time.  I am looking forward to seeing what everything is like 

A Year Of Haiku (XXXII): Bzzzz!

 

Bumble bee's behind

bending beautiful blossom:

Beatific Buzz.

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: A Farewell To Cambodia

After something like 50 posts over the course of almost a year, we are leaving Cambodia.

Cambodia is a country I can honestly say I never pictured visiting.  It was never on my top 10 (or 20 or 40) of places that I would have liked to go.  I had heard of it of course - who has not heard of Angkor Wat at least - but to me it was a bit lost in the mélange that is Southeast Asia on a map.

How very wrong I was.

Cambodia was delightful.  It was unexpected: pieces of modernity mixed in with history, sometimes within the same half mile.  It was beautiful and glorious and sad and haunted all at once.

Cambodia is off the beaten tourist path, perhaps seen (as we did) in conjunction with another country in the area.  That strikes me now as a bit of a shame:  it is certainly one of the most exotic places I have been and worth seeing of its own accord (although to be fair, likely not enough for a full week, so maybe the other countries are a good idea).

I do not know that I will ever be back.  But I will always have great memories.

(Author's note:  Originally my intent was to launch directly into a history of Vietnam prior to starting my own adventures, as is my custom.  Alas, time has gotten away from me with my upcoming hike and, rather than rush the description, I have elected to wait until after my return. I will fill the space with some whimsical sort of something and we will pick up with Vietnam soon.)

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Driving Through Siam Reap

 Pictures of driving through Siam Reap via Ox Cart and Bus:

It is not lost on me how flat the land is between the distant hills.

The Decline Of Craftsmanship?

Ælfric of Eyesham (A.D. 955-1010) was a late 10th century/ early 11th century monk and author in Anglo-Saxon England.  A Benedictine monk (and later abbot) he had a passion for writing and for teaching; many Old English works or translations from Latin we have are thanks to him (he is considered by some to be the most prolific author in Old English, at least one who is historical and not anonymous).  

As part of an instruction manual to teach Latin, he created a work called "A Colloquy on the Occupations".  An interlocuter asks about various occupations in late 10th century/early 11th century England.  The concept was that this was a "song and response" exercise:  the students would memorize all the responses and provide them and by so doing, learn all major grammatical parts of Latin.  Later, the work was translated into Old English.

The interlocuter asks the various occupations:

"Hwlecne cræft canst þu? Hwat dest þu?  Hwæm fremþ þine cræft?"  "Which craft can you do?  What do you do?  What benefit is your craft?"  

Each craft - monk, ploughman, shepherd, oxherd, hunter, merchant,  fisherman, fowler, shoemaker, salter, baker, cook - gives a description of what their craft does and how it benefits the community.  At the end, they ask an older, wiser monk "Which craft is most important?"  Perhaps unsurprisingly, the first answer given is "monk", drawn from the verse "Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and all these things may be added unto you".  The second is "ploughman" (Eorthtilþ), because without the farmer, no-one else eats and therefore practices their craft.

Interestingly, at the end of this work the wise man gives the following statement:

"And ic gelære eallam wyrhtum þisne ræd: þæt anra gewelc his cræft geornlice bega.  For þæm his cræft forlætt, se biþ fram  þam cræft forlæten.....And beo þæt þæt þu eart!  For þæm hit is micel demm and micel scand gif man nyle beon þæt þæt he is and he þæt þæt beon sceal."

("And I give all this advice by way of example: let every one practice his craft eagerly.  For he that forsakes his craft will be from his craft forsaken...And be that which you are!  For there is great misfortune and great disgrace if a man will not be what he is and what he shall be.")

(Note:  All translations are my own.)

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In re-reading this text, I was struck by the fact that one of the things presumed by this statement, and one of the things that we seem to be losing in the modern world, is the idea of craftsmanship.

I know - it is a long way from an 11 Century monk talking to salters and oxherds (and a longer prologue) to a decline of craftsmanship in the modern world.  But his instruction at the end leapt out to me.

Once upon time - prior to the Industrial Revolution - most people did what their parents did.  This was likely just as much about security as it was about "imprisoned" in a job category:  in a world where a single bad season or single business failure can signal starvation, "risk" is carefully weighed and often avoided.  But with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, individuals could do other things than what their parents did (maybe not more interesting things, but different things)  And that, in turn, held - almost up to the current era, where suddenly the concepts of "job hopping" and "skills-based employment" came into vogue.  Suddenly, one not spend one's entire career at one job or even in one field.  The work world was a vast meadow of flowers, all to be sampled by some.

What we lost in all of this is years in the field.  Years that one could develop experience.  Years that one could develop craftsmanship.

---

Craftsmen and Craftswomen come in all forms.  Some are the sorts we might think of immediately, individuals working in seemingly archaic industries as a cooper or blacksmith or wheelwright.  Others are in the trades or blue collar jobs, running pipes or electric wire or industrial production.  Others are white collar workers (we do not think of them as often), individuals in knowledge based industries where that knowledge is deep and often applied.  And others are amateurs (The root word coming from Latin, "Amator", meaning "one who loves, an enthusiastic admirer, devotee") who do all of these things have specializations in things they love:  Early Roman Republic Armor, garden railroads, weaving, black power riflery.

All of them experts in their own way.  And that expertise, that craftsmanship, comes by nothing else than years of learning and years of doing.  Two things that are denied those that are always moving from one place or thing to another.

---

One can successfully argue that industrialization and the technology revolution has rendered much of craftsmanship obsolete, or at least an expensive option.  And at some level, I suspect that is true:  once any technological genie is out of the bottle, all we can do is navigate it - it is not going away.  But even in that navigation, there does not need to be a wholesale abandonment or the need to constantly find something else.

On the one hand, many deplore the "cost" of a craftsman or craftswomen when we can just it get more cheaply at Big Box Mart or Generic Service Provider.  But inevitably, the differences stand out in ways that are as noticeable as they are not spoken of.

When you pay for craftsmanship, you pay for the years of experience and knowledge.

---

Does this continue to decline or even reverse?  It is ridiculous to claim "all is lost"; there are millions of people out there who do care and are becoming exponents of craftsmanship in their own right.  In one of the few uses of social media I completely endorse, there are thousands of them showing off their crafts.

Ultimately, I wonder if they are not the ones at risk.

The ones most at risk are those who do not have that level of expertise in a single thing, certainly a single thing that provides something of value.  The journey to craftsmanship always involves the development of a mindset and learning that makes one useful no matter where one is.  The journey of the job hopper always leads to "What is the next, newest thing"?

I have come to greatly admire those that work to develop and grow in the craft - after all, Ælfric would counsel us not just to be what we are, but be what we will become.

(Author's note:  Matthew Crawford is a deep thinker on these matters and has influenced my own thinking.  I cannot recommend his books Shopcraft as Soulcraft and The World Beyond Your Head enough.)

A Year Of Kindness (XXX): A Reason To Be Kind

 "If you look at the world, it's very easy to get dejected.  The situation you find yourself in, often you hope no one finds themselves in.  But this is all the more reason to be kind and caring.  If you spot someone in a spot of bother, and you have the ability to do something about it, do it.  Pay it forward.  Not just for your own sake, but as a matter of common decency from someone who knows how tough it can be.

There's nothing stopping you from being kind."

- Tim Bunting, The Kiwi Yamabushi (Source)

Tim Bunting  (The Kiwi Yamabushi) is a New Zealander who lives in Northern Japan. He is a practitioner of Shugendo, a native religion of Japan.  Its practitioners are known as yamabushi (literally "mountain warrior").  His website (over at the right) explains the concepts far better than I can.  I will also note for the record that he is a stand up fellow; I've spoken with him a couple of times.

His meditation on kindness is one that made me think.

Each of us, somewhere in our lives, has a tale of woe or two beneath our belts.  We have been betrayed, abandoned, treated poorly, accused without cause, rejected.  We know that that feeling is like, the days or weeks or years of depression and despair and anger.

We know, as the saying goes, what it is actually all about.

But that knowledge, suggests Bunting, is precisely the sort of thing that should urge us on to more acts of kindness.  We know.  We have been there.  We remember.  And - assuming that we have some level of human decency about us - we would not willingly wish that on others. 

There is often not a lot we can do in such situations, but there is one thing we can always do:  Be kind.  Be caring.

Because we know.  We remember.  And while maybe we cannot change what a person is facing in that moment, we can make the moment lighter for them - perhaps, we realize as someone did for us in our own similar states.  

It costs us nothing to help pick up a burden for even a moment.  But such kindness can mean the world to another.

A Japanese Sort Of Stroll

About two weeks ago on an early Sunday morning, I took a sort of Japanese stroll.

Most people are familiar with the kimono, the robe-like clothing most often associated with Japanese clothing.  Less people may be familiar with the hakama, a pair of divided trousers with pleats worn for formal or semi-formal occasions.  And almost all Asian martial artists are familiar with the gi, the upper shirt with short sleeves held secured with ties.

What people might be less familiar with are another form of the hakama, called historically kobakama, the traditional "short form" trousers worn under armor or for general use.

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The largest differences between hakama and tattsuke-bakama (from an unsophisticated point of viewer such as myself) is the fact that they do not have longer, flowing legs of the hakama but rather are gathered at the knee.  Below them (at least in this model and the one I own) they legs shrink to kyuhan (gaiters) that are tied around the calf:

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My pair are from a store on Etsy, Siamurai, who delivers great work.

All of this to say, that Sunday I put on my gi, my obi (well, one of my obis, or belts - I have a few), my tattsuke-bakama, and my jiki-tabi (a form of the tabi, the traditional Japanese split toed sock, but made of heavier canvas, going farther up the ankle with snaps, and having a modern rubber sole) and went for a walk.

It was a very different experience.

It was early in the morning of course, so the chances I would attract attention were minimal (as I had planned it).  

The kobakama, being of linen, did not wear or sound like the more modern fabrics that I usually wear.  They were quieter, less noisy.  The jiki-tabi hit the sidewalk as would any modern sole, but once we got the trail portion of my walk, the sound almost disappeared in a way that modern walking shoes do not.

Walking along the dirt portion of the trail, with forest to one side of me and a stone retaining wall on the other, one was almost transported to a different time, where almost all transportation was by foot and the only sounds were those of nature and the quiet steps of the one walking.

It was an interesting, meditative experience.  Certainly something worth repeating.

TB Goes (Back) To School: Registration

 Going back to college after 30 plus years of not being in college, one finds that many things have changed.

In some ways they are better: for example, just the fact that I can take a class remotely rather than have to move there or take what is available locally is amazing (The Age Of Convenience at work again).  And no more standing in lines at offices to register - or (if you remember back that far) the mad dash into the gym where instructors were sitting at tables, desperately hoping that you would be able to get the classes that you needed, paper forms in hand.  One simply finds the interface, goes in, and pays the money.

In other ways of course, they are more challenging.

Clearly technology now takes a major role in education in general and online learning in particular.  The initial communications are all via e-mail with links to go to this place and that place to do a thing or see a thing. Orientation, handbooks, class schedules - all is now somewhere you need to get to on the InterWeb.  And not necessarily in the same place or on the same platform.

And, of course, you get another e-mail account.

It appears from first glance that most of the work I will do (other than classes) will be run through an Office360 interface.  Chats and workspaces, at least from what I read, appear to be heavily employed (fortunately I have used these in previous positions at work; just not to this extent) - as well as access to the Microsoft Suite of tools (that is kind of nice).  All more convenient for working from home; less convenient in that I have to "relearn" a new software suite.

Who knew re-entering college came with all this learning ahead of the actual learning?

A Year Of Haiku (XXX): Smoke

 

An orange-brown sun

lights a hazy umber sky:

Summer is burning.

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Ox Cart Ride

 Sometimes being on tour means being a tourist.  Sometimes a tourist that does "tourist" things.

You may remember from our visit to farmstead a cart underneath an overhang:

This was in fact an ox cart, a very traditional and pretty old way of getting around (as in up to 4400 B.C. old way of getting around).

An ox:

View from the driver's seat:

And off we go!

We probably walked about half a mile around a beaten path and local farmland:

It is a slow way to travel - but in a world where there was nothing else really for peasants, it was a great force multiplier for materials and even people..

For such a simple thing, I found it pretty fun.  Even I can be a true tourist upon occasion.