A Brief Article on a Providence Landmark

Here's a rare peek inside one of Providence's most spectacular and mysterious buildings, written for Quahog.org and currently hosted on an external site as Quahog undergoes renovation.  Enjoy the link below!

Inside the Cranston Street Armory

Geocaching and Mindfulness

Since I've gotten a new smartphone, I've been finding all sorts of ways to get the most use out of it, improving both my productivity and fun.  The GPS function on the phone has been amazing for on-the-fly directions, whether walking or driving, and lately for geocaching. 

For those who don't know, geocaching is an outdoor adventure game/treasure hunt that's played all over the world.  After obtaining coordinates and hints here, the idea is to go out into the world and find what other people have hidden.  The way the game is played, you're expected to sign a cache's log book and then record your find online.  Some caches have 'treasure' (aka swag) inside, typically some tiny, virtually worthless trinkets or toys.  The swag is secondary to the hunt, and the idea is that these items are for finders to take, as long as they leave something in trade. 

Having outlined the bare basics of the game, I can now write about what geocaching has meant for me.  I know it sounds trite, but it's really changed the way I interact with the world.  It's an activity that requires mindfulness, patience, and concentration.  Geocaching forces me to push through obstacles in order to meet the goal at the other end, and to take things in stride when the effort falls flat. 

This weekend, I found myself frustrated after finding a cache that was supposed to have coordinates to another cache with a treasure box.  After at least an hour of tracking it down, ducking under fallen trees, swatting mosquitoes, bleeding from thorn scratches, and sweating like a beast, we finally found the container, only to discover it was empty!  I started to grumble.  I was annoyed; I mean, who wouldn't be?  All that work, and no payoff?  What a bummer!

But then...I realized that the prize was secondary to the effort.  We'd put forth our best effort and did the hard work, succeeding until we hit that brick wall.  There was teamwork, laughter, and a renewed effort at finding any other caches in the area.  Along the trail, I was quite mindful of the joy I'd experienced from having a good friend along, of the wonders of nature to be seen along the way, and the challenge of the puzzle itself.  Of course, for good measure, I did email the person who hid the cache, asking them to help me check this one off my list.

I've discovered that geocaching is an amazing tool for bonding with my three-year-old son Caleb, as well.  His mom is really into pirates, which means he is, too, so for him the idea of gathering treasure is just about the most exciting thing possible.  I've been able to take him to places outside of his normal urban/suburban environment, showing him the wonders of his world.  It's given me the chance to see things through his eyes, and everything I show him feels as fresh and new to me as it must feel for him.  He and I have examined spiders, ferns, swans, and interesting rocks, just to name a few things.  He's learned that there's a lot of amazing stuff out there, and I think I've impressed upon him a love of discovery.

I've been so much more in-tune with the small details of the world around me, thanks to him, and to see him discover a cache on his own (with a little gentle hinting from Daddy, of course..."Honey, try moving that pile of sticks over there....hey!  You found it!") is to see him burst with confidence and glee.  Teaching him how to trade for swag has made me mindful of the thrill others must feel when they find a cache, and I've tried, whenever possible, to trade up.  That is, I've tried to improve others' experience when possible, leaving something of greater value that what was taken.  Through this, I've been teaching Caleb generosity and kindness, as well.  At the end of the day, we'll sit down at the dinner table and talk about what we found, how we found it, and what sort of treasure to hunt next. 

As a solo activity, geocaching has been remarkably therapeutic.  It's let me get out of the house, process my thoughts, and breathe deeply.  I find myself at a point in my life where I don't have too many answers, but caching fills that void at least a little.  I know that I can follow a few clues to a final destination, and add some certainty to uncertain times just by solving a few puzzles.  Geocaching has finally given me incentive to exercise, as well.  I've been wanting to get in better shape for a long time now, and I've found that hiking through the woods or the city has been remarkably satisfying.

Geocaching has improved my life in other ways I'm just beginning to discover.  Having made my 100th find yesterday, I foresee a lot more coming in my future.  I've even got some plans to hide a few of my own; if you find them, let me know, and drop me a line to let me know what geocaching has meant for you.  Happy (and mindful) caching!

An apology and an explanation

Hello all,

I know I haven't put anything up here in some time, or at least it looks that way.  In fact, I have been very busy with real-life issues, and I've taken down a few pieces that weren't really appropriate for this blog.  They've been moved to a separate, disconnected blog.  Keep watching this space for updates; I promise something good soon!

A Note to My Son

My darling boy,

Last weekend as you took a nap on the couch, I was struck by how peacefully you lay there, how sweet and calm and innocent.  I watched you breathing softly and uttered a silent prayer that you'd always know such peace.  Inspired, I lay on the floor to do some breathing meditation, and as I slowly opened my eyes, there you were, peering at me over the edge of the couch.  You had the most amazing look on your face, full of love, curiosity, and happiness.  I've seen all of those things from you before, but this time was special.  This time, you were radiant in a way I've never seen before.

Silently, you climbed off the couch and put your pillow next to mine.  You snuggled right in next to me, and as we shared a blanket, you kept looking at me with that silent, luminous smile.  I can't begin to express the depth of peace and happiness this small but prolonged moment brought me.  I've said that you're the greatest teacher I've ever had, and learning to experience your joy has made me a better, happier person. The impression of this moment will sit with me for a long time, and for that, and so much more, I thank you.

I love you, little boy.  I love you more than you could ever imagine.

--Your Daddy

The Death of bin-Laden, and Reflections on the Lessons of 9/11

I'm embarrassed to admit it's been some time since I've written here.  Not only has my life become significantly busier, but I've been stalled out on the piece below.  I'd started it in the wake of Osama bin-Laden's death, as a  comprehensive memoir of my experiences of that day, and the lessons I'd learned from being in New York when the towers fell.  It's a piece that proved a little too hard to write comfortably, and I have a lot of ambivalence still about sharing everything I felt on that day.  I did learn several important lessons, though, three of which I've decided to share.

* Never Lose Faith in Humanity: As the towers fell, and before anyone knew just what was needed in terms of medical resources, lines had already begun to form at all of Manhattan's hospitals.  The people in these lines were there to give blood, and there were so many at St. Vincent's on 12th Street that the line wrapped all the way around the block and on to the next.  There was a sort of peace to the line, as we knew that we were doing the best thing possible in the wake of a tragedy whose scope wasn't yet known.
     What struck me, though, wasn't just the line of blood donors.  There were also people moving up and down the line, handing out water, juice, and bagels.  These amazing people weren't from the hospital; they were there on their own, helping people keep their energy up, with refreshments both donated by local businesses, or paid for out-of-pocket.
     This outpouring of spontaneous support, and the solidarity of people wanting to help their neighbors, as well as strangers, really spoke to me.  In those early hours of the day, no one had put out a call for blood or nutritional support; people came together individually, and with the kindest and most generous of motives.  I realized then, that even as it only took a handful of evil men to cause such destruction, that at its core, humanity is ultimately kind and supportive, that we are capable of tremendous acts of kindness towards each other, and that this truth is one that is all too often forgotten.  Please, don't forget.

* Live!:  Sadly, St. Vincent's didn't have the manpower or supplies to handle the crowds that wanted to donate blood, so we were given the names and addresses of other hospitals in the city that might be able to take our blood.  As I headed uptown to St. Clare's, the streets were virtually empty; Manhattan had become almost a ghost town.  By this point, the military had sent fighters to patrol the skies above Manhattan, and every time one flew far overhead, anyone who was out in the street stopped moving and listened carefully, everyone with the same look on their faces.  It was a look of combined fear and sickness, a look of "oh, God, no, what now?"
     Even now, some ten years later, I remember that feeling, and it brings back a deep, visceral response.  At the time, I was terrified; there was no accurate news at that point, no one knew exactly what was happening.  There had been rumors of as many as eight hijacked planes wreaking havoc across the country, and cell phone service was almost nonexistent, as the most powerful signal towers in the city had been destroyed.  Walking uptown, I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, for some additional awful event that would make things so much worse, and then 'it' came to me, an epiphany that took away all that fear.
     I suddenly understood that there's only so much within my control, and that if there are terrorists or anyone else who wants me dead, there's very little I can do to stop them.  With that reminder of my mortality and the fragility of my existence, I realized that there was no sense in living in fear, that I should focus on what I could control, and not worry about the rest.  It's been a hard lesson to learn, and it's one that I haven't always been good at keeping close to my heart, but it's there, and it's something I try to practice as often as possible.

* Smile!:  Having made it to St. Clare's, the small knot of us that had made it uptown were disappointed once again as that hospital's representative told us that they couldn't take our blood, either.  Feeling thoroughly unhelpful and walking back downtown on Madison Ave., I saw a young woman walking towards me.  She looked vaguely familiar, and as I looked at her, she flashed me the most beautiful smile.  It was bright, friendly, and warm, and I was floored.  I asked her, "Do I know you?"  She smiled again, and before continuing on her way simply said, "No, but you looked like you needed a smile."
     Wow.  I can't begin to describe how that affected me, but I had to take a moment to sit down  and think about what had just happened.  In the wake of feeling scared and useless, a simple smile from a stranger brought a lightness into my day that was more powerful and surprising than anything I could have imagined.
     The lesson I took from this is the easiest of the three that I've described, and perhaps the most important.  In my mind, it's the one that ties the other two lessons neatly together, and, simply put, the lesson is to smile.  Smile at yourself in the mirror, smile at your friends, smile at strangers.  Smile because it's a beautiful day, or because it's raining.  Smile because of its power to bring happiness to someone else.  Smile because you're here.

A short bit of fantasy writing

“…and so Te’or said, ‘I told you, that’s no banshee, that’s my sister!’”

The court erupted in raucous, drunken laughter.  “I tell you, Carus, no matter how many times I hear that story, it gets me every time!  Banshee…hah!”

Carus grinned and saluted with his cup, “Thank you, dear Prince.  I’ve got a new one for you, about a busty tavern girl and a dimwitted dwa-“

His words were cut off as the enormous oak doors flew open, their iron bands ringing off the stone walls.  Standing at the doors with dusk gathering behind her was a disheveled, panting young woman holding a gleaming sword in her hand.  Struggling to raise the blade above her head, she breathed, “Prince Ekor, this is for you!”  Staggering weakly, sword in the air, she stumbled and was caught by the palace guard.  The last thing she heard before passing out was the clatter of the sword hitting the floor.

*****

Ekor stared at the woman’s prone form.  She was obviously a Westerner, with dark hair shot through with strands of silver, her skin the color of iron-rich desert sands.  The patterns of scars on her shoulders and arms marked her as a member of the ruling class of Kidhan.  Ekor wondered what she was doing in his lands; after all, Kidhan was a two-week ride across hostile terrain.  He’d been studying her for two days now, ever since she’d burst into his court with the sword.  ‘Two days,’ he thought, ‘and she hasn’t even opened her eyes once.  Gods, who is she?’  Perturbed, he walked to the window.  As he watched the sun fall below the horizon, Ekor barely noticed the lightning clouds in the far distance.

*****

“Aaahhh!!  Wh…Wha…Where am I?”

Ekor started from his chair, blinking as the woman sat bolt upright in bed, screaming.  “Easy, girl.  You’ve been unconscious for days.  You’re safe.  Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

Before she could open her mouth to answer, a trio of guards burst into the room.  “My liege!  We heard screaming.  Are you safe?”  Ekor waved them off with a nod and a slight smile, and turned back to the woman.

“Well?”

Gathering the covers around her, the woman began, “P…Prince Ekor, my name is Te’ara.  I’m from the West, from Kidhan.  My father sent me; he said you could help us.  He said that now was the time to call on the ages-old friendship between our lands.  He is certain that Ladrys will come to our aid.  Please, Prince Ekor, you must help, we will die otherwise.  We’re in dire need.  You must…”

Ekor held up his hand, “Hold on, girl.  Te’ara.  Slow down, you’re panicked.  Now, take a breath and explain what you’re saying.  First tell me, why did you burst into my court with that sword?”

Trembling, Te’ara began, “The sword, Prince, is a gift from my father.  It was presented to his grandfather by Prince Ralan of Ladrys after the Battle at Seven Elms, as a token of alliance and friendship.  We return it to you in kind, with the hopes that you will aid us in our time of need.”

Ekor leapt up, “By the hells!  You’re from the House of Te’or!  Long have we recounted the stories of Seven Elms.  What is the trouble that brings you to us?

A tear trickled down Te’ara’s cheek and she shuddered, “The dead…they, they came from the South.  Horrible, rotting creatures of flesh, marching in armies across our lands.  They’ve slaughtered our people and added them to their armies.  Our fields are burned, our army is shattered.  We have no one else to turn to…please, I beg you, help us…”  She broke down sobbing, her body trembling with each cry.

The guards burst in again but Ekor again raised his hand and stopped them.  “Fetch the doctor and tell him to bring a calming draught, then tell my chamberlain to assemble the Council.  We’re going to war.”

*****

A little bit of spooky fiction

Just a bit of raw fiction below...first draft, unedited, and a nice little vignette, I think.

Twelve years.  It had been twelve years since Aaron had been home, twelve long years since he’d felt the warmth of his family’s love, the warmth of a home-cooked meal, any warmth at all.  He didn’t even register the heat of the sirocco moving through the air as the desert surrendered the day’s swelter.

Night came fast in the desert; it was one thing Aaron was grateful for.  The sun was too hot, too bright, too oppressive.  It obscured details that the moon’s glow seemed to highlight.  Even on a moonless night, the galaxy of stars above provided enough light to navigate by.  Travelling by night and sleeping by day, Aaron kept mostly to himself.  He’d occasionally cross paths with a caravan, stopping to appreciate their hospitality.  The company was nice sometimes, Aaron thought, but he also knew he was safer on his own.  As much as there was safety in numbers, there were monsters that stalked the caravans.  A single traveler didn’t attract much attention; no braying donkeys, no large and smoky fires.

Whenever Aaron met a caravan, the Bedouins would invariably urge him in, offering one cup after another of strong, sweet mint tea, sticky dates, and morsels of the ubiquitous roast goat.  After a show of feigned humility on both sides, Aaron would at least sit down for some tea and conversation, trading gossip about the other tribes in the area, and intently listening to stories about the monsters that came in the night, the monsters that stole life from the tribesfolk, leaving them sickly and weak.  It was valuable information to Aaron; even as a lone traveler, it was important to stay abreast of the troubles of the tribes.  Being able to share news between the various families and tribes made Aaron a valuable visitor, and he never left hungry.

On this night, though, Aaron sat alone once again.  At the top of a dune, he stared off into the vast field of stars, remembering that night twelve years ago when he left home to explore the desert, and his decision shortly thereafter to never go home again.  He remembered every fright he’d had out in the desert, every death of a friend, every near miss.  He was roused from his reverie by the faint scent of incense wafting across the air, followed minutes later by the sight of a caravan some two miles distant.  Peering intently across the night-time sands, Aaron hungrily flicked his tongue over his needle-sharp fangs.  Yes, Aaron mused as he began hiking towards the flickering torches, there certainly were monsters in the desert.