My Daughter Turns Twelve

My Daughter Turns Twelve

My Pen Mates,

"Can I take over the controls Dad?"

We've just pushed off from the river bank, still not cleared of the rocky shore. The Mokai (motorized kayak) was a fascinating river craft; it's six horsepower motor was just enough to run counter-current, certainly a great way to navigate the beautiful stretch of the North Umpqua in Roseburg, Oregon.

I haven't even begun to enjoy the ride at that point, still trying to navigate towards the deeper water, but Angelica's eagerness to take over the controls caused me to want to turn it over as soon as she wished. Before long, she was leading the boat over shallow rapids, between river shrubbery, through narrow channels as she avoided the shallower parts of the river so as not to scrape the bottom.

Heading back down, we rode with the river flow, gliding much faster than going upstream. She found that exhilirating, reaching with one hand into the water, widening the wake we created. The smile on her face made the sunshine brighter for me. Out there in the water, far away from the river's edge where we were to dock, I basked both under the sun and under the spell of my older daughter's wit and charm. That she seem more bold and independent reminds me of myself, although I cannot be certain that I was 12 when I became so. Angelica is strong minded, unwilling to wilt when she's made up her mind. She's confident, well-spoken, and brave. Her opinions still lack the strength of certainty, but they are her own; when she needs to co-opt someone else's she always makes it obvious (albeit unintentionally), by assuming more bravado.

On our short Mokai ride on this beautiful river, my love for her grew even deeper for her complete trust in my judgement and her unabashed joy in my company. While it is impossible to say whether she was happy being with me or whether speeding on the water brought it up in her, the fact that she has her guards totally down, letting me read her completely, assured me that we can always have moments__at least at this stage__when we can openly communicate, be ourselves, and talk about whatever crosses our minds.

Angelica turns twelve this month. The future holds things we know not of; but having moments like these are comforting. It's not an assurance of a happy tomorrow, but the moment was its own reward. I am blessed to be able to enjoy it, and I pray that someday, Lica can look back to it and bring a smile to her lovely face.

Mon

A Review of Ender's Game

A Review of Ender's Game

My Pen Mates,

There is no measure of the depths the human soul can descend to, especially if the mind is ignorant of the heart's motives.

It was curious the way Lucas endorsed this book with enthusiasm. Part of his Summer reading book list, I was initially cool to the sci-fi label, notably because I have not heard of the author for one, and the major characters were six to twelve year olds training for space battle. Not necessarily a must-read on the surface, but it turned out to be a page-turner for me. Reflecting on it weeks after reading, I realized its appeal from a teen's perspective and the manner the author pursued the story line to it's creative ending. With character names like Valentine, Graff, Bean, Mazer, Ahmed, etc. and of course the titular Ender (Andrew), Scott Card set out to portray the universality and urgency of a human endeavor to ensure its very survival. He mined practical aspects of space, philosophy, youth psychology, social deception and morality with skill, made more admirable by the fact that he claims not to have formal or firsthand knowledge in any particular field.

Love, trauma, unity, pain, and ultimately sacrifice were elements made more meaningful by dragging the youthful characters into condensed experiences with the purported goal of preparing the best and freshest humans to face a formidable enemy from space. Humanity triumphant in the end, Card I think weakened the end by seeking to tie up all loose ends instead of, in my mind, leaving essential unresolved angsts among the main characters or within individual character's persona.

The book will definitely sustain its popularity by its viral and visceral appeal to imaginative and adventurous minds. It's easy to read, its pace is brisk without sacrificing character development, and the humor is situational. The brutality is relevant although incongruous with some characters.

The emphasis on the greater good and the sacrifice necessary to attain it is the underlying modality of the story as a whole. That it is necessary for authority to mislead and deceive, and to shield from consciousness the painful and unconscionable reality of war were presented as tools to reach, maintain, and re-enforce focus. Such is the singularity of purpose that's required to achieve success in this story formula; and it's somehow acceptable given the artifact of youth in the main characters that the author skillfully crafted.

For an incoming high school freshman reading, I like the thought process that went into selecting this story. I'm looking forward to more works by Card after enjoying this presentation of adult reality disguised as youth entertainment.

Mon

Potter's Dome

Potter's Dome

My Pen Mates,

We all have very little time not to indulge our whims.

I re-potted some plants in the backyard yesterday. Lauren was at my side throughout, wielding her trowel and carrying on a lively conversation about plants, soil, water, and what a fun time it was working together. She's precocious that way; she finds quaint ways to comment on a moment, ending with a "huh, Dad?" to make sure that she has your attention.

While gathering tools and materials for the late afternoon project, I happened upon a walking stick Lucas brought home from our camping trip at Tuolumne Meadows two weeks earlier. He and I took a walk into the wooded hills, away from the campsite, with a couple bottles of water and a serrated knife with a compass at the hilt. While it was a relatively short hike, it quickly got disorienting after crossing a mountain stream, so we decided against foraying farther into the pine forest. That's when he happened upon a small branch, an outcrop from the base of a fully grown pine tree. He thought it'll make a nice walking stick and I did not discourage him when he decided to hack at it. Careful not to harm the big tree, he managed to finally cut off the branch. After cutting it further to his desired length and cutting off small twigs and surface roughage, he proceeded to strip the bark. Realizing that the sap will make it sticky, he waited until we got back to camp before finishing his project.

With the aid of the compass, we made it back to camp following a different path. Without much experience in mountain trekking, I was inwardly relieved that we didn't forge on too deep into the pine forest. The High Sierras is a vast region of rolling hills teeming with fauna and wildlife; the elevation makes it tiring to explore and the temperature fluctuates from one hillside to the next.

The following morning, the whole family took a short ride away from camp to the base of Potter's Dome, a rock formation bulging five hundred feet high from the edge of a beautiful meadow. At nine thousand feet elevation, it was hard to imagine such a mass of granite pushing out of a beautiful green meadow with a meandering stream. It was a postcard scene that makes one marvel at what the view would be from the top of the rock. Naturally, we ventured to take in the view from the top of the Dome.

It's as if someone took a round shaped rock and placed it on a green carpet. The Dome started directly at the meadows edge. It sloped gradually and smoothly, presenting an incline that steadily climbed almost barren except for an errant tree here and there. The ascent was more arduous than one would expect because of the rare air at that elevation; but the view at the top was worth the sweat and fatigue. Even Lauren, who surprisingly walked the entire climb without assistance, was beaming at the sight of the snow on the next peak across the meadow. We spent some time wondering at the formations, imagining what earth event could have formed it, and how fast a rolling rock would reach the bottom. Several dozen pictures later, and after consuming our ration of fruit and water, we traipsed down the high point and crossed the meadow back to our car. Lucas seemed proud that he was able to find good use for his walking stick.

As late as two years ago, a trip like this would have been a big event for me; a trip highlight I would be selling to everyone to whet their interest. This trip was a bit more low key. We took things more casually, and generally followed our whims without structuring our activities too much. Aside from meal preparations and housekeeping chores, we pretty much lounged and soaked in the clean air and warm sun. Looking back, I get the sense that our shifting desires and attitudes are a welcome change from the structure we are accustomed to. Perhaps it's because the children are a little older and require less supervision. Or maybe because we don't expect to be so surprised anymore with nature's wonders to the extent that we did. As the years pass, it's good to find that I can stop and make assessment of these changes. More than the experiential shift, I find comfort in finding the opportunity for comparison. The challenges and trials of life has not made me jaded to examining my spirit and smiling at my evolving sources of joy. I am still anchored by my faith and my family, and with them, all I need is a little time to step back, take it all in (albeit with maturing eyes), and do little stuff that reminds me of where I've been. And in so doing, I open a window that lets the light of tomorrow peak in.

Mon

Release

Release

My Pen Mates,

The beginning of life starts with a release from the womb. What's held precious for so long during gestation in a woman's body can only be fully realized as a human being and an individual in an expulsive event signifying both start and finish. Life and liberty are thus eternally entwined, but it is notable how the twain are always demarcated by pressure and pain.

It seems that some restraint need to pre-exist freedom_ as if it's a prerequisite to it being enjoyed or desired. Hardship precedes success, strife before glory, sacrifice before salvation, pain before understanding. Yet human desire is not designed to follow this path; we all crave the simple life, the uncomplicated existence of unburdened thoughts and untortured bodies. Yet out there is some hunger to achieve, to be more than who we currently are_attain heights and depths that will bring us over the threshold of ordinary human existence.

Is it because simplicity brings about stress? Come to think of it, we go about our days trying to fit in an ever changing world. And the best way to achieve that is to break down events and relationships into manageable fragments, stripping it of complexity as much as we can. We reach an understanding of our environment and develop an operating principle within it to go about the business of life. This is the norm until we create our own template and formulate our own path to simplify. This applies whether you're a housewife creating a recipe your family will like (and your budget will allow), a physicist exploring the natural laws, or a welder building a bridge within budget and working together with the mason and engineer.

But simplicity and satisfaction have a corrosive relationship. They feed on each other even as they need to be together. The more each grows, the greater the pressure to attain more. So pressure builds up until breaking points are reached and release is required. And for some reason, these moments of release bring liberating enlightenment that reignites the desire to start the cycle once more. Thus is the cycle of human existence; those who over-simplify bring us progress. They are the thoroughbreds and barons, top of the class, at the forefront of development. They manage their pressures well, rolling when overwhelmed, ducking when overpowered, but prepared to pounce when the opportunity becomes available. By managing their simplifying prowess well, and assessing their environments intelligently, they develop the precious skill to handle stress and creating or seeking a release as required.

You don't need to be the Thoroughbred in the race, but you can be the best at what you do and still be a winner. We all have our individual tolerances, and society is balanced because of this inequity. Somehow there is fairness in this disparity as it's quite impossible to have all chiefs but no Indians; but the key is for each player to develop a method of finding release. To find joy both at the beginning and in the end.

Mon

Recognizing the Old Me

Recognizing the Old Me

My Pen Mates,

Was it Plato who said "a life unexamined is not worth living"?

I am of late careful about self-examination. It's not avoidance of truth, but apprehension of finding that not much has changed. On the surface that's perhaps welcome as it reflects youth, innocence, and a freshness of perspective. But the realization that I've not learned from previous mistakes is troubling; if it appears that I'm treading a path which have lead me astray before, I feel like Einstein's definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

The stakes are much higher now. Lives depend on decisions I make. My relationship with my family is in the balance. And there is a much shorter period for recovery at middle age. Perhaps my greatest succor comes from my faith; while it's been shaken many times, I've always held on to it. I wish I could claim inner strength, but it's more surrender_ to that which I can only accept but never understand or have control over_that keeps my mind clear. I've been down this path before. It was a different time and involved different places and people; none more dear than now. While I feel disgust for finding myself facing a similar challenge (and yet somehow failing to avoid it altogether), I see the lesson through repetition that's probably necessary for the lesson to be truly learned.

So have I changed at all? In the manner that I process the information, yes. In quickly recognizing action patterns, yes. I'm definitely smarter and wiser, but that by no means eliminates the cobwebs in the world that's there waiting to ensnare a bug like me. As the saying goes, being a vegetarian does not save you from a charging bull.

But through faith, there's a way...

Mon