Return To The Center

the young ones

 
While the mature ones can be allowed out by themselves…
 

 

…the young ones must be penned up so they don’t wander off..

..and to protect them from predation.

 

things seen and unseen

What do I see?

What do you see?

Chances are they’re not the same exact thing.  Oh perhaps there’s some overlap – maybe enough overlap for us to agree “Yes – that’s a chair.” or “It’s 6 feet long” or “Yes, that’s red – kinda.”   The more I see of human beans (yes, that’s right “beans”) though, the more I think there’s 6,000,000,000+ renditions of the world locked up in our heads and that what is neatly referred to as reality is a constantly negotiated flux, with some things more “flux-y” than others.

As a for instance, last week a friend of mine sent me pictures of a Buddhist ceremony that took place at Karma Triyana Dhamachakra Monastery in NY.  The subject of the email referred to mandalas that seemed to be floating in the air above the attendees.  Here’s what that image looked like.

(Photo by 福德海雙月刊 via Flickr.com)
(Link to Largest Version)

In fact – the presiding Lama, Venerable Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche after looking at the images the images told sangha members that the floating mandalas were evidence of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas at the event.

When looking at the image in large format, one can see the mandala-like design of the spots, especially if one has seen a mandala before.  I’ve seen mandala’s before, but I’ve also seen this phenomenon before, back in 2006, my Daughter Kelly went to New Orleans.  Those kids had the necessary, but nasty job of demolishing the insides of living spaces so they could be rebuilt.  A couple of the images she sent back from the road had the floating white spots in them as well. 

This one:

and this one:

I went out on the web and found several websites that dealt with this photographic anomaly.  In the general parlance, these white spots are known as Orbs.  It seems that some New-Agey types have been making dough with the Orb thing, telling people that they’re ghosts and what-not.  Hey it’s a free country – and people have to make a living.

The best scientific explanation that I’ve found on the web is at www.theorbzone.com.  Turns out (according to the orbzone website) the white spots above are not paranormal orbs at all, or (in my opinion) Buddhas or Bodhisattvas. They are photographic artifacts stemming from using a flash on a point-n-shoot in a dusty room.  The white spots are actually out-of-focus dust particles floating around in the air within a certain distance from the lens.  Small point-n-shoots are particulary susceptible to this happening because the flash is so close to the lens.

I’m sure that even when faced with a scientific explanation, some folks will continue to view the top image as floating mandalas that evidence the presence of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, which is OK I guess if it helps their practice.  I, on the other hand, am very very limited indeed when it comes to believing things.  I am biologically incapable of it. 

In the end I am left looking across a deep chasm, shaking my head in disbelief at my fellow creatures, happy believers all – delighting in a room full of floating mandalas, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. 

I feel jealous.

 

one of the many reasons i don't like using a flash...

Gerb (pronounced “Jerb”) agreed to have his picture taken today.  I put the camera in full auto mode, pushed down on the button and BOOM, the onboard flash popped up, went off and stunned my willing subject.  Even though he knew I was taking his picture, Gerb still has that look of “What in Sam Hill just happened?”  Just one of the many reasons I don’t like using a flash..

Sorry Gerb.

the long way home

This story has a happy ending.

For the last couple days, my little family was pitched headlong into the American Healthcare System due to some scary symptoms that my daughter K was complaining of.

Her primary care physician urged her to get to the emergency room to be examined.  The ER waiting room experience was a typical one that included interminable waiting, unclear / no information from the ER staff, sounds of retching and vomit splashing on linoleum tile,  boredom, anxiety, and many many trips to the anti-bacterial hand wash dispenser.

Once K was called into the ER from the waiting room, there was more waiting, this time sitting in a hospital johnnie on a gurney against a wall in a heavily traveled hallway.  Just across the hall from her gurney was a toilet that all the customers of the ER were using.  On her side of the hallway, at the foot of her gurney was the “Soiled Work Room” where bedpans full of shit and piss were carried in and emptied.

Activity inside the ER itself didn’t look Emergency driven at all.  Staff moved at a leisurely pace and took time to chat with each other about weekend plans.  It looked like a nice place to be as long as one was not waiting to be seen by a doctor, as long as one was not worried about their child.

Suddenly there was spurt of progress.  A test was done.  K was wheeled from her spot in Piss ‘n Shit Central to a small room where a technician strapped some wires onto her.  Afterwards K was deposited back out to her choice piece of real estate in the hallway. 

More time passed.  The parade of people with full bladders and lower intestines visiting the toilet continued.  Judging by the number of piss bottles and shit-filled bedpans that were being lugged into the Soiled Work Room, all the patients in the ER who could not make it to the toilet near us were having no problems voiding, which was a relief to see.

A Nurse Practitioner walked up to us and says “The test results look a little funny.  We think the machine was set up wrong.  We have to redo it.”  The test is redone.

More time passed.

The NP came over to us and told us that K had a “very serious problem” and needed to stay over night in the Intensive Care Unit and that she’d need to be seen by a specialist in the morning.  I made the NP write down the “very serious problem” for me.  I’d never heard of the “very serious problem” before in my life.  Upon hearing the NP’s rendition on treatment plans, we immediately told the NP that we wanted to move K to “TheVeryBigHospitalInBoston”  Through pursed lips she told us “Certainly – but “TheVeryBigHospitalInBoston” will have to accept you.”   We were stunned.  All the joking around we were doing to pass the time stopped as the news of the “very serious problem” sunk in.

More time passed. 

Finally after 8 hours of waiting (almost 4 of them in Piss ‘n Shit Central), K was wheeled into an ER cube with a retractable curtain.  K’s big brother A joined us in the cube, which lightened the mood considerably.  He knows just what outrageous thing to say to make K laugh.  It’s been like that since they were tiny.

More time passed.

The NP came back and told us that “TheVeryBigHospitalInBoston” was not accepting transfers and with hands on hips asked us if there were “any other hospitals we’d like to go to.”  We said no – we’d stay the night.  Privately – we began to make plans on how we could get K into “TheVeryBigHospitalInBoston” ASAP.

By this point D and I were wiped out and more than that, we were getting on K’s nerves.  Blessedly, A said he would stay the night with K and we could go home and try to get some sleep.  K got into an intensive care room around 2:30AM.

At home, I looked up the “very serious problem” on Google.  If the ER docs were right – it was indeed a “very serious problem”  that would need surgery to correct.  After sending a couple emails and reading some more about the VSP, I went up to bed.  Exhausted – I fell asleep.

I woke to D telling me “C’mon! The specialist is going to see K early this morning!”  I groggily got my self out of bed, showered, dressed and out to the car.  I drove faster than I should have on the way to the hospital.  D tried to point out that police were often out in speed traps on the road we were traveling on.  “Do you want to get there or not?”, I barked.  Not my best moment. Silence.

Once inside the Hospital and in K’s room we found out that the specialist would not be seeing her until sometime in the afternoon.  Another test was performed.  More blood was drawn.  All the results came back indicating that K was in peak health – no indication at all that there was a “very serious problem” lurking.

More time passed. 

The specialist finally showed up at around 3:00pm.  A congenial smiling man, he told us that “She doesn’t have a ‘very serious problem’ at all.  In fact I am puzzled how they could have come up with that diagnosis.  She’s in excellent health. The symptom K was complaining about can be handled with an over the counter drug and has nothing whatsoever to do with the alleged “very serious problem.” 

Relief washed over us. 

We thanked the specialist.  A, who had been up all night keeping watch over his sister went home to get some sleep.   D took her car and went home as well.  K and I spent another hour or so waiting for the discharge paperwork to make its way back to her room.

After 24 hours, multiple tests, buckets of drawn blood, moments of blackblind fear, tears, laughter, boredom, a completely inaccurate and poorly delivered diagnosis by ER docs, we were getting K back – and in excellent health too. 

It was Christmas in September.