The end...

Well, this latest Scrapbook has narrowed down my area greatly.

Here's something to ponder--

The Law of the Excluded Middle

I've taken copious notes on logic over the years, mostly because of Forrest's wish to "be in the middle" again.

The Law of the Excluded Middle states that either a proposition is true or it's negation is true. There is no "middle ground."

There is a negation in the poem. It's the word, "not."

So, two contradictory propositions are in the line, "Not far, but too far to walk."

It has a comma that separates the two parts, or segments. The Spanish word "gajo" comes to mind. It means "segment, cluster," or "point, spur."

Anyway, the period marks the end of the proposition. So, either the distance is "not far" or "too far." Only one can be true, right? Maybe... OR, perhaps we need to do what they say can't be done. Maybe the "excluded middle" is the truth we need to find, like Forrest was trying to demonstrate in his discourse with the jerk attorney.

Not the yes or no, not the black or white, but that gray area in the middle. I like that better. The excluded middle, the marrying of the black and white, the melding of the yes and no, where all becomes compatible.

I can definitely see how toponymy won't help anyone solve the poem. I think I touched on that with a little bit of humor in an old Fenn Hot Spot post. The one where I imagined the early explorers giving the same name to multiple mountains.

Ole Jed: Hey, KitKat, that there mountain yonder looks red. We gonna call it Red Mountain.

KitKat: Yeah, yeah, that's good. But wasn't that what you named that mountain we passed a day back?

Ole Jed: Yep, but this one is the red one here. And that one was the red one back there.

KitKat: (scratching his chin) That makes sense. Then that there mountain to the right of Red is green, so we'll call that one "Green Mountain," cause it reminds me of the four or five other ones we named Green.

And that's why Forrest says we have to marry the clues to the map. We have to find the right name to match the location in the context of the poem. Or, we have to find the right number to match a place to a map.

"Marry" is an interesting word. It's synonymous with "meld," another word Forrest likes to use. He used meld in a vignette titled, The Wooden Maiden.

"Her original color tones and tints have gently faded through the years to form a pleasing meld."

Sorta reminds me of another word, "patina." And reminds me of different places where Forrest has said or referenced the results of the repeated touching of an object, such as the pages of a book, over time. The oils from our fingers leave lasting effects on an object we love. We create our own patinas in life, don't we? Some may not be immediately visible, but they're there all the same.

It reminds me of an old Persian rug:

One of the past featured questions on MW was:

"You had mentioned that melding iron and bronze is difficult to do.  Would you explain a bit of the process on how it can be done and what makes them hard to marry?" (emphasis added)

Here is part of F's answer:

"The laws of physics insinuate that joining a ferrous metal to a non-ferrous metal is difficult, but may be accomplished with the use of a heliarc, which uses an inert gas that keeps oxygen away from the joining process. When heated to a high temperature iron will start to oxidize before it melts, where bronze will not.

So the secret to marrying the two metals is to keep the iron from oxidizing, thus making the two compatible. The inert gas does that. That’s my story and it always worked for me when I had a foundry, although some guys who are smarter than I am said I couldn’t do it. f"

So, there F goes again, doing something people smarter than him said he couldn't do. 

Anyway, the melding of the colors on the Indian happened when the contrasting colors all faded so that they became compatible.

The melding of bronze and iron happens when an inert (or noble) gas, such as nitrogen prevents an unwanted chemical change (oxidization), and the two objects become compatible, and marry. A marriage happens between two compatible people or things. 

Forrest would find a way to make these two compatible:

So, melding a clue to a map might mean that we take two (or more) seemingly incompatible words, and make them compatible. Toponymy may not help much in that process; however, solving a clue to get the correct place name may be needed. And the answer to a clue may be "Laundry" or "Washington." But Ole Jed and KitKat and other old explorers like Z.P. and A.P. made things difficult by giving multiple places the same name. 

To solve the clue, you might have to combine two seemingly contrasting words in such a way to make them compatible. That's the melding, or dichotomy, Forrest may be referring to. A long time ago, I gave the example of wise and found the blaze. Both wise and blaze can be used to define the word, "brilliant."

When all become compatible, then you can marry them to a map. 

Then, you can confidently go to the right geographical location. 

And I must admit, I have been wrong so many times that it's pretty funny. I'm okay with that, though. If each failure brings you closer to success, then I'm on the verge of being an omniscient guru. Lol.

Failing is a part of life. And anyone that says they've been 100% right throughout the duration of the chase (and I can only think of one, and it's not me), they're fooling themselves. Like Forrest, we all reserve the right to be wrong once in a while, because we're human, and not perfect. 

That's why ridicule is so incredibly foolish. It used to sorta bother me, but I've grown a lot since I started this chase. I've learned a lot about human nature, and some of it's disturbing. I realize as long as I take the high road, then I'm okay, and and me being okay is what I need to concentrate on. 

And as Forrest says, eventually things will smooth themselves out. 

Anyway, although logic might be useful in solving the poem, it's not all you need to solve the poem. A healthy dose of imagination is required as well. And I've got plenty of that. Lol. 

Oh yeah, I had my eye checkup yesterday, and my eyes are pretty much 100% now, I only lost a tiny bit of vision from my recent scare. My prescription for my right eye went from -3.00 to -3.25, so I'm not even close to being blind yet. Phew! We're also trying "monovision," which is supposed to cut down my need to use "cheaters." The theory is that by using a stronger prescription for my right eye and a not so strong one for my left, it'll allow me to see good both far away and close up. But so far, it's not really working. I still need the cheaters. Rats. Next week, I have one last appointment for adjustments, so maybe a little stronger or little weaker prescription for my left eye will do the trick. 

Have a great day...it's almost Friday! 

Tsankawi

Today, I'd like to recap our adventure at the Tsankawi ruins when we were in New Mexico last September.

We drove to Tsankawi late in the day, after a meal of something which made me feel pretty sick, so I was debating whether we should even continue on, since I was also still having some residual calcium and potassium issues leftover from my thyroid surgery. If I ended up puking, that would make my calcium and potassium levels go even lower, and I REALLY didn't want to end up in a Los Alamos ER. But I also REALLY wanted to explore Tsankawi, so I summoned my inner Viking and toughened up a little, and we continued on.

I was looking for a very specific and unique looking rock formation, and there were a few that were close to what I was looking for, but not exactly. There was also a canyon near Los Alamos that I wanted to check out, if we could find it, since our map was tucked away in a suitcase or somewhere. Bad planning mistake number one. Lol. Or number two, if you count eating a questionable meal before a hike.

As we approached the security checkpoint into the town of Los Alamos, we realized bad planning mistake number three: James had left his wallet (with driver's license) in a suitcase, too, and he was driving.

James: Should we turn around?
Me: I don't think so. I think they'll let us in. I pulled out a few tourist brochures and put them where the guard could see them.

So, we drove up, explained we were tourists, and that we were there to visit some of Indian heritage points of interest. He was very nice, and let us pass.

We then drove around, looking for the canyon, or actually a junction of two canyons.  I knew they were there, but being on the ground is much different than looking down from Google earth, as those of you who have searched already know.

We found the Sportsman's club, and the cemetery, and we took our little red Mustang GT (bad planning mistake number 4) down an extremely muddy and treacherous hole-y road. We finally realized that the little car just wouldn't make it, and there was nowhere to park.  So, we said we'd come back another day.

Thankfully, I was starting to feel a little better, and we continued on past Bandolier to Tsankawi, which lies just outside the pay area of Bandolier, and is less regulated than Bandolier, but is still considered a part of Bandolier.

We started the easy hike to the ruins, but I knew it would soon get a little strenuous, as we would have to climb some ladders and traverse off the paths. I was feeling okay, but not 100%, and dusk was almost upon us. I was pretty determined, though.

As we walked further from the road, it was difficult to sight the cliff dwellings. It looked a lot like the other terrain we'd hiked through--places where large areas of sand were washed out in between steep cliffs and huge random boulders.

We climbed one of the ladders and walked around the top, enjoying the cool breeze up there, and the spectacular view. James took a picture while I climbed.

I think we talked about what it must have been like for the ancient residents that called this mesa "home." I imagined little Tsankawi kids running around half naked and wondered if their moms ever looked up from their work to make sure none of them were about to topple over the side.

As we navigated the narrow cliffside, looking for caves, we found a lot of the topic Forrest talked about yesterday in his newest SB (171)--lichen-covered boulders. Some grew in these vague spiral-shapes.

Dal said he'd found a lichen that grew in the shape of a sun--a circle with straight lines as rays going out from it. If you think about it, that sun symbol is basically an asterisk.

Anyway, he said he gently scraped away the lichen with a knife and found a petroglyph underneath. How exciting that would be!

With the sun quickly setting, and remembering the sign that warned us the area closed at dusk, we hurriedly walked as much of the area as we could. We poked around the ground a little and spotted some knapped-obsidian and other small pottery sherds.

Then I felt something biting me in my hiking boots and on my legs. Red ants. I've been told they couldn't have been fire ants, but growing up in Florida, I know the sting of fire ants. And I'm a little allergic to them. With thoughts of anaphylaxis whispering doom in my head, and the sun past the dusk mark, we decided to head back to the path toward the car.

I get ridiculed about the ants, and how I supposedly use that as an "excuse" about not finding the treasure. However, those "jokes" are never used in context. Allergies to insects are nothing to joke about. People die from allergies to insects. And being stung and mildly allergic to red ants in the past, could mean a more severe, life-threatening allergic reaction the second time (or third, or fourth). People don't realize the first sting of a bee is not when you discover you're deathly allergic--it's the SECOND (or third, or fourth) time, after your body has built up antibodies in response to the first time you were stung.

Third, we were not looking for the treasure at Tsankawi. We were there as curious visitors interested in the history of a lost culture.

Before we left, we found a curious "blaze." Probably not "the" blaze, but still pretty cool! He looks like a guardian spirit, still keeping a silent but vigilant watch over his ancestral home.

Anyway, seven months later, I still have a pretty big scar from those "bitty ants," and it reminds me to be a little more prepared when hiking in a strange place.

Overall, that was a wonderful and amazing trip to New Mexico. Every trip we've taken so far has been no less than inspirational and exciting and breathtaking. I'm looking forward to many more! These boots were made for searching! And apparently, ants like them, too. :)

Back in the Day

You know how they always say "Back in the day, blah, blah, blah...?" Well, does that mean it's now night? According to the Doomsday clock, we're sitting at two and one half minutes to midnight (global catastrophe), thanks to our new President. That's the second closest to midnight we've ever been.

But back in the day is an interesting idiom, and as I grow older, I'm growing fond of it, although I haven't used it myself yet. It means "at a time in the past that is remembered with fondness or nostalgia." I guess I implied back in the day in yesterday's post.

And back in the day could probably be a synonym of "the good old days."

But, again, we're pretty close to midnight, which makes me think a little about TTOTC, where "the author" is sitting a little past midnight, all alone by his warm little fire. Is there some symbolism implied in being alone past midnight? Sitting alone, past the toll of midnight, reminiscing about times and loved ones past...it feels lonely and not so lonely at the same time.  

It also reminds me of the story about Fred ("Ferd") and Angel, whose holding of hands was a sure sign of doom, in Forrest's Scrapbook (I forget which number). When it's midnight, the hands of a clock are together--they're "holding hands."

Here are the appropriately grim looking guys as they hold up the newest ticking of our global clock:

This special and somewhat disturbing clock made it's debut in June 1947 in The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists. BULLETin...hmmmm...

The last time we were this close to midnight was in 1953, when the US tested the Hydrogen bomb. 

So, in that sense, back in the day might not have exactly been the good old days. Hovering so close to global annihilation couldn't have been comforting.

But still, when it comes to memories, our human nature reflects back to the good times over the bad times. We have an inherent tendency to block out the hurtful or painful times. I guess that's the reasoning why women have a second baby, lol. 

Sometimes, life is a process. Another idiom people say is "You live, you learn." I think that's just another way of saying "Experience makes you wiser." But not just experience, if after failure, you repeat your mistakes. Only practicing what you've learned will actually make you wiser. 

Not literally. Lol. 

Anyway, those are my thoughts this morning as I prepare for a busy day.

And what's with the colors in Forrest's vignettes? Red, white and black predominate. Egypt seems to hold a little prominence. And black is the color of rebirth. 

Have a sweet Tuesday... smile a little, and spread kindness. Kindness trumps insults every time. 

Echoes of the Soul

This weekend, James came over to help me sort through this house. We got my room and closet pretty much done, and James took a couple big boxes to Goodwill. This week, I'll sort through my books and decide which ones I want to keep and which ones I want to donate. Next weekend, we'll tackle my mom's clothes, which is the really big job. And we'll help Joe finish up his room, too.

After we did the work, we relaxed a little and took Joe to lunch. It was a nice weekend.

During the closet sifting, I found a couple old friends.

This is Blueberry Muffin. When Aidan was very small, she picked this out at a garage sale. There were lots of nicer, newer stuffed animals, but she wanted this one. I'm proud of her for that. :)

As Aidan grew older, she grew apart from Blueberry Muffin, but to my surprise, I grew closer to the button-eyed bear who'd survived open heart surgery. Blueberry Muffin has escaped several garage sales and thrift shop donations. There are just some things I can't part with.

And then there's this bunny. It was also Aidan's, and I know it has a name, but I can't remember what it is. I think it's Oatmeal, though. Maybe Aidan was hungry as a kid, to name her stuffed animals after food. Lol.

And then, in the very bottom of a box, I found a couple of my old dolls from when I was very small. My grandmother and grandfather got me these on a couple of their many trips to Europe. I don't know how they ended up in such poor shape...I remember them being pristinely displayed on my shelf when I was growing up, but I guess the many moves across the country and back have taken their toll. Maybe there's a way I can restore them to reflect a little more of their former glory. I think that would be a fun project.

I have several other dolls still in their original condition, like this Japanese doll on a music box. When you wind up the music box, the doll turns in slow circles.

And I found this cool little cedar box--inside it was a button, some stamps and a piece of paper. Lol.

I found a couple more of my old journals, too. One was labeled simply "Feelings Journal," and I don't remember writing any of it, but I must have. One was this page, which I still identify with today:

And I found a poetry journal I thought I'd lost...

Yeah, they're a little silly and naive, but that's who I was and somewhere inside me, those words still echo in my soul.

And on the few pages that don't have poetry, there are leaves, collected at various times. These look like ones I may have found on a fall day somewhere:

And on a couple pages,  silly drawings that probably only mean something to me:

I remember I liked to draw the tiny little flowers all close together:

It's fun sometimes to go through these keepsakes. It's interesting to see what differences, if any, there are between the me of my youth and the me of today.

Anyway, have a good Monday, everyone. I'm going to do my best to make someone smile today.

Experiments in Abstract

You know what I love, besides the color blue, which has been my favorite color all my life, and a plate lacking vegetables?

I love Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin is a little boy with a cool hairstyle and an imaginary buddy with the ultra-sophisticated name of "Hobbes." Hobbes also happens to be a tiger. How cool is that? I would love to have a tiger for a friend, and I'd never step on, or catch his toes.

And it's sure nice to have a friend who never displays certain tells as aggression, attack, or exclusionary qualifiers, and never preceeds statements with "Honestly."

I love vanilla ice cream with Cake Mate frosting mixed in. Preferably blue. And if I can't have the frosting, chocolate chip ice cream is pretty good, too. If the world was made of chocolate chip ice cream, well, it'd be gone.

I love breezy days...to me, it seems like breezy days bring cool, star-drenched nights. On nights like those, I used to lay flat on my back in the backyard and just stare up at the stars. Yeah, I was a weird kid, who collected bee husks and four leaf clovers. I bet someone far away now owns a book with one of my four leaf clovers hidden in the pages. I wonder if it brought a smile to their face.

I love thunderstorms. Watching the thunderstorms dance around the mountains in Taos gave me a mysterious, romantic kind of feeling. I don't really know how to describe it.

I love music, and I think I've posted about that before, but I was just telling James today about how I love the sound of drums. I even like improvised drums, like the stomping of a bunch of feet in a rhythmic beat.

This is pretty cool...all in perfect synchronization...I likey love...

And it's no secret that I love my ancestry... a mix of Scottish-Viking Fire and Fantasy. Lol... Seriously, one of my passions is researching the people that have come before me and have contributed to the unique DNA that pulses in every heartbeat. 

And who can deny the romance and mystery surrounding them? I think my distant relative was Aslaug, who was married to Ragnar, but I sure wouldn't object to being the descendant of Lagertha. Of course, TV shows, as well as movies, lie to you. No one really knows too much about the Vikings, but it's fun to imagine they were brave, proud, loyal and true.

And really, this post is taking too long, so I'll let you all go back to your Saturday. Be fierce, and be kind. They're not mutually exclusive.

Oh, and look! James and I were playing with Google searches today, and we made the list!

Happenings

My mind is on overload. There's so much I have to do in the next couple months, and on top of it, my solve that I've had for a few months now is really coming together and making more and more sense as I read the poem and book over and over again...and as I go back through things F has written, my confirmation or confirmation bias (won't know which til I search) grows stronger.

And work is so busy that when I get home, I just want to relax for a few minutes, without cats or kittens or kids or anything. I really could sleep for three days straight, I think. Lol. But stuff has to get done, and I plow on.

I want to take a minute to brag about Joe...

He participated in a county-wide World Heritage Competition last weekend, and he had submitted a story, but was told beforehand that it went over the word limit by 1,000 words, so he would be disqualified. However, his Latin teacher forgot to include that rule when she discussed the assignment, so she wanted him to submit the story anyway. I now know why...he won FIRST PLACE! And the story will move on to the state competition.

The assignment topic was "Modern Myth." They could either take an old myth and re-write it in modern language, or make up a myth and write it in modern language. Joe chose to make up a new myth, and it was so good that he won first place even though he should have been disqualified for going over the word estimate. It totally surprised him, and he was so proud (and of course, I was too) of this ribbon:

When I read his story, I was amazed at how well-written and entertaining it was. He wrote about how the Nile was formed, and it was really imaginative without being over the top, and sounded exactly how a myth should sound in the terminology of today. We're going to try and get it published in a magazine about mythology that pays 25 cents a word (which is pretty darn good). He figures he would make about $516 for the story.

Speaking of art, the surgeon I work for surprised me and my boss the other day. When my boss is on the phone, she doodles on a desk calendar with a black Sharpee. Depending on how the call is going, she either doodles relaxing curves or what she calls "Christmas trees," which symbolize stress or frustration and are full of sharp, jagged angles. 

When last month was over, the doctor took the artwork covering the days, then flipped it over. He liked what he saw in the "abstract art," and this week, he got it framed. I got a little honorable mention, because at some point in the month, I thought the piece could use some eyes...so the eyes are my contribution:

Anyway, they're waiting to be hung somewhere in the building. Lol. It's amazing how little things like someone's doodles can bring a measure of happiness.

Oh, and isn't this a beautiful painting by Eric Sloane? I love his Taos paintings. This one features geese making their flight back north after a cold NM winter... I love the lighting in the sky. I'm amazed at how Eric could depict the sky so realistically and so ideally at the same time...

James is coming over tonight to help get things ready to move. We're thinking about hauling everything to a storage unit and auctioning it off "Storage Wars" style. We'll advertise it to the hilt and put some valuable items in there to entice a crowd. We're not sure of the legality of it, and what it would entail, so right now it's just in the idea and fact-finding stage. But it would be cool if we could make it happen. We'd put in less effort in preparing, and probably make more money than if we attempted to sell each thing piece by piece. 

Anyway, it's that time of the day...I'm glad it's Friday!