"Being a Beast: Adventures Across The Species Divide" by Charles Foster

Some of you--I mean, us--will enjoy this non-fiction journey.

 

"There was a blackbird in our garden whose yellow and black eye looked <knowing>.  It maddened me.  He flaunted his knowledge, and hence my ignorance.  The winking of that eye was like a glimpse of a pirate's crumpled treasure map.  I could see that there was a cross on it, which marked the spot; I could see that what was buried was dazzling and would transform my life if I found it.  But I couldn't for the life of me make out where the cross was." 

--page 10

And: Tom is Foster's eight-year-old son; I've just read the part where father and son are spending some weeks as badgers, living in a hole in the earth, eating what badgers eat, including a large diet of earthworms and such.  Note:

"Tom had mercifully few of my inhibitions.  He licked slugs, although medically unwise, I've learned ("The big black ones are a bit bitter, and the bigger they are, the bitterer they are: I prefer the browner ones; they're sort of nutty").

--page 

Running Aground, Reading Around

 Utterly exhausted.  

Solace in books.

And, there's a weather-window for paddling tomorrow.

Mendocino Blues

 

2016.

From a kayak.

Palpitations; Or, Paging Dr. Livesey

PALPITATIONS; OR, PAGING DR. LIVESEY

 

Slight medical concerns.

Too many flutterings in me chest.

Yo-ho-ho-? Oh no?

Billy Bones, old ghost --

Was this Dr. Livesey's warning?

Heart palpitations?

Heart, thyroid, esophagus?

Disturbing, whatever the root cause.

I feel TOO aware of my beating heart:

I am NOT an Elvis impersonator, after all.

Minor issues, I am expecting.

Sheer stress, if I am lucky?

Waiting on bloodwork,

which feels medieval -- and not.

I felt a little flutter after a good hour's paddle, right?

And, then, the next day, after a long desk-duty?

And, after another desk-duty?

And, when I settle down to sleep:

flut-ter . . . flut-ter.

But, hey, I'm 59, that's normal, right?

*I feel embarrassed to say that much, frankly.  

Plus, I have been in consultation--by email and phone--with doctors.  

Pre-Covid 19, however, I would have had an in-person visit.  

Still, and this is a main reason I am posting at all: 

men like me tend not to seek medical help; 

men like me tend to be stoic until we drop in our tracks; 

men like me tend to realize just a little too late 

how much knowledge or help could really make a difference.

(And not just men like me. Women too.)

Reflection: Reading & Writing

One of my joys as a boy was reading the practical and humorous columns in magazines.  In Field & Stream, I read Ed Zern's humorous end-column first, then the editor's hello in the front, and then the features.  Likewise with my grandparents' horse-magazines and Reader's Digest, with my family's National Geographic and Sports Illustrated. I think my ability to write essays quite young, to have a sense of voice and paragraphing, came from this particular reading.  Or peculiar, to some.  Who reads the Editor's column in a surf magazine?  I always have.  Even as a boy, perhaps especially as a boy, I liked how those columns spoke directly to me, quite literally, using "I" and "you."  Sometimes, when I am between books or just fatigued from teaching duties, I pick up my Best of Surfer Magazine collection or this slim volume of columns from a sailing magazine.  Short, direct, humorous pieces are my favorites.  A knowing, yet kind voice.  And, as in those Ed Zern end-of-the-magazine pieces, Sam Llewellyn provides a recurring cast of characters, and that's a joy of its own too.

 

Blue World

 

Hail Macbeth!

Sausalito Workout & Seals