I was just laying inside Beagle, having driven from
Prescott, Arizona back down to Palm Desert, California, in need of a bit of
rest when one of my favorite sensations washed over me; a warm, gentle breeze
blew through the screen door and across my body. Other than being in love, I am not sure I
enjoy a sensation more. A summer breeze
on November 24th, just one of the reasons California is so crowded.
Just when I thought laying there couldn’t get better, anticipation
joined the party. An often
under-appreciated emotion, it is one of my favorites. Now attune to what might happen, hearing the
leaves rustle outside I anticipated the breeze encompassing my body; emotion
and sensation tag teamed to create a few perfect minutes. Will this pairing perform as well together in the upcoming week?
I have been spending a lot of time thinking about what I
want in a home—where that home is as well as what that home is. For Thanksgiving I rented a small house for
three nights in Prescott—small, but large enough so that, on more than one occasion,
the Noses and I all chose to be in separate rooms. Apparently all of us needed a bit of a break. Yesterday, in that little house, I opened the
back door to let in a warm afternoon breeze and thought, “A home where I can
have the doors open the majority of time is a must.” I guess that is why I love Beagle—at least
while parked in 72 degrees.
Yes, I was back in Prescott. Over the last three weeks I have driven to
Prescott from three different locations:
San Diego, Tubac, and most recently Palm Desert. Driving on the same portion of highway at
least four times--a portion I named Devil’s Highway mostly due to the hellish
experience it provides for a driving devotee such as myself. During this stretch, you turn your wheel maybe
three times. It is long and flat and
often hot, allowing for many hours of heated contemplation.
Tired of the voice in my head, I decided to listen to a
Sam Harris podcast—from his podcast series not the Waking Up course. I have
access to at least thirty of his podcasts via my phone and so, keeping one eye
on the highway (for what I am not sure), I started swiping through my
options. If you aren’t familiar with Sam’s podcast, he covers
a range of interests from politics and societal issues to physics and
everything in between. He usually
interviews someone well known, highly intelligent and often provocative for the
discussion. (How I would love to qualify
for an interview!)
So there I was, swiping away and thinking, “#metoo? Too much, Swipe! Take that Sam! Free will at work! Universal
Basic Income? Not while the stock
market is crashing. Swipe! Take that Sam, free will at work!” again and again before settling on Transformations of the Mind. To
which Sam replied, “Yep, right where you are supposed to be.”
Whatever.
Turns out that this episode, an interview with Geoffrey
Miller, a noted Evolutionary Psychologist, introduced me to polyamory. As if I didn’t have enough to navigate with
Bumble, Match, Cupid, Tumblr and Our Time (all of which I refuse to participate
in, particularly Our Time which makes me want to vomit—who thought up that
name? Why not just go with Depends or
Poise and get it over with?), I learned
that on many of these platforms you can identify yourself as polyamorous. There are various types of polyamory, I will
not go into it, you can listen to the podcast if you are so inclined. I will say that its primary requirement is that everyone involved is aware and willing. What I thought most interesting was Geoffrey’s
comment near the end, the essence of which was, “You can think what you want
about the idea but know that there is an entire generation identifying themselves
this way. They don’t believe in life
long marriages either. That should be
noted.”
That definitely should be noted. Personally, I think polyamory (with or
without marriage) is a very intelligent way to get the most out of your one precious
life. Of course, pretty sure in order to
be polyamorous you first need to be mono-amorous so I have a long way to go. Don’t hold your breath.
And don’t fret, not everything in the last week was so
heavy; I enjoyed two other life-enhancing experiences: I paid for a wash at the laundromat with my cell phone; and, after flipping
the car wash dial from Foaming Brush to Rinse, there was an option to use a Hand-Held
Dryer which, incredibly, worked beautifully.
Enjoy the break? Good,
back to heavy: I also learned (via
another Sam Harris podcast) that dairy cows only provide milk if they have
given birth. This is logical when you
think about it—it is just like humans—but I have never thought about it. Shortly after giving birth, the calf is taken
away (often to live a short life on the way to becoming a veal chop) and both
mother and offspring call out for each other for days. The cow has to give birth once every year or
so.
And just like that, I can no longer eat dairy. Pretty soon I will be down to kale smoothies
with avocado and almond milk. Yes, I
will give up milk, as well as its delightfully plump cousins Half & Half,
ice cream, sour cream, yogurt, butter and cheese. This will not be easy. I
might be the only person who does not like the “Made with Real Cheese!” sign on
the box of Cheese Its.
For a few days now I will enjoy anticipating more than
just warm afternoon breezes: I am
headed to Seattle for three nights (flying up, leaving the Noses at the
Barkingham Pet Hotel California—a name with an identity crisis if ever there
was one.) I cannot wait to see my
apartment, my friends and family, and how I will feel about my life up there.
-K
PS: I am undecided
about giving up chocolate. Apparently the
bellows of a young calf only carry so far.
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