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30 days, 30 moods

Being here for a whole month is of course an incredible gift. We all talk about it intermittently, usually in a state of semi-awe or wonder about our good fortune. It’s been interesting to note how nearly everyone here has had at least a few days, if not a longer period, of mood swings, depression, grief, or some other version of facing demons. I had a few days like that last week, and I’m glad to say it has passed for now, but any period of solitude and introspection can easily slide into something unexpectedly difficult.

During my first ten days I was super busy with writing new chapters that were stored up in my head, or rewriting things I’d already taken a stab at… when I got to the point where I had to stop and do a lot of reading and research, I started to go into a darker place, revisiting a bunch of melancholic feelings that I had happily “left behind” when I came east for this jaunt… oh well. Like I was saying to one of my colleagues this morning (who was also frustrated and embarrassed that she had been stymied and sad and hurting), we all have our “stuff,” it’s just a part of the human condition. In thirty wide-open days you’re bound to run into it at least for part of the time.

I took my grief out by hiking up 1,800 feet to the top of Blue Mountain. Here’s a shot of the view back to Blue Mtn. Lake (the first big sprawling lake), followed in the chain by Eagle Lake (where the arrow points is where we are, and where I’m sitting on a dock with Blue Mtn. in the background on the second shot), and then Utawana Lake, and eventually in the far distance, Raquette Lake, which is also rather large. Photos below:

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Bambi, Bolivia and Brainstorming

Enjoying the hell out of being here at Blue Mountain Center. The most remarkable part of a retreat like this is the ability to be just as private and busy as you want, but to be able to emerge and find really fun, interesting new friends who want to talk and hang out too. We’ve been having a good deal of rain (all day today, very dreary) but that’s been good for my writing. I have a link to give for a very interesting piece about developments in Bolivia forwarded to me by a friend. And I have a few pictures to tantalize you with… I took the half hour walk up to Lookout Mountain on Monday in the crystal clear sunshine (just like it was on Sept. 11 5 years ago when I was here too) and napped in the sun on a big granite slab, wrote in my journal and soaked up some nature. And then there are was my encounter with Bambi on my way up and my fascination with the turning leaves on my way down… see below for those. Also, below the pics I’ll post my Table of Contents to celebrate that I have the first eight chapters in solid first draft form…

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Road Blockades

I’m far away from my normal routines, enjoying a beautiful stay at Blue Mountain Center in New York’s Adirondacks. Some beautiful pictures are below. But here’s a quick note on blocking roads, increasingly the practical form of a “social sit-down” spreading across the world. The Argentinean piqueteros made great use of it a few years ago, and the Bolivians used it to bring down four presidents in two years. Now the Mexicans are filling the streets of Mexico City, Oaxaca and other parts of the country, refusing to return to the docility that the ruling elite has built their power on for all these years. Check out a good piece from La Jornada by way of Narco News.

Another interesting article popped up on the increasingly indispensable Asia Times today, regarding Hezbollah’s successful interception of Israeli battlefield communications, concluding that the the impunity that has ruled First World/Third World warfare up to the present is no longer possible. A notable leveling has taken place, proven in the recent conflict, which will either lead to more diplomacy or more extreme violence… guess which one the current crop of war criminals will opt for?

Anyway, here’s a couple of shots from Castle Rock which is a half hour climb from Blue Mtn. Lake’s shore.

This picture shows where BMC is, on the adjacent Eagle Lake.

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