SLACK WATER and the Crinoids of Chomolungma

(A glossary of archaic or uncommon words is added at the end of the essay.)

For all of us, mountains turn into images after a short time and the images turn true. Gold-tossed waves change into the purple backs of monsters, and so forth. Always something out of the moving deep, and nearly always oceanic.¹

Can buoys, green in color, six to nine feet in diameter, as tall as twenty feet, can weigh several tons. The Owner had decided to follow the green cans across the bar and stood by the forward shrouds directing traffic. The Cabin Boy, Mozzo by name, manned the helm. The two men might have been friends ...

A four or five foot swell, rather benign, provided a bit of spice. The boat, a 41 foot ketch designed by William Garden, wallowed about, struggling up the steep face of wind waves, motoring, slamming into troughs, the tide making. The boat, stuffed to bursting with the Owner's toys, was taking him, his dog, and his family on vacation. Mozzo and the dog had come along for the first part of the journey, delivering the boat to Victoria where the family would join the Owner. The family, apparently, wanted no part of the voyage up the coast.

The helm was sluggish, and Mozzo, in his inexperience, became anxious. Just off Peacock Spit, the Owner suddenly thrust out his right arm, pointing, and yelled, “Turn.” The dog, a Norwegian elkhound, barked.

Mozzo cranked the wheel to the right.

“The other way,” screamed the Owner, arms waving. The dog stood on the gunnel peering over the combing. He looked at Mozzo and barked. Twice.

And so Mozzo cranked the wheel back the other way. The Owner had pointed at the green can buoy coming just a whisker off their bow. Mozzo saw it then, close to, bobbing down the starboard side, a near miss. Not the most auspicious start to the voyage.

Three miles out, ten miles up the coast, still motoring, the ketch decided it had had enough and stopped. The sudden quiet was unnerving. They drifted a bit. Mozzo suggested sails, but with little or no wind the suggestion was ill received. Besides, the sails had not been out of their covers in years. The Owner motored; he chose not to sail.

Mozzo sat at the lifeless helm watching the Washington coast bob up and down. Willapa Bay, he reckoned, off there to starboard. Japan, off there to port. The Owner on his hands and knees down below, cursing, as he tinkered with fuel lines and filters; but the ketch adamantly refused to cooperate. The dog sat on the stern sheets watching gulls lift and turn and mewl. They drifted.

“Call the Coast Guard,” suggested Mozzo.

“Shut up,” retorted the Owner.

Time passed. The Long Beach peninsula continued its up and down, the purple hills beyond provided a backdrop at once maudlin and sublime. The mizzen boom rolled to starboard then back to port, giving the winches a good bang each time. Though frustrated with the failure of his motor, untoward anxiety, edginess, also marked the Owner's face. He cursed. A box wrench was flung through the companionway into the gentle heave of sea. The boom swung to port. The boom swung back. Thump.

The dog went below. He hopped onto the settee, sat and considered the Owner.

"What?" said the Owner.

The dog turned and curled up in the corner. He sighed.

Damn it, yelled the Owner.

Raised eyebrows from Mozzo. Definitely out of sorts, he thought. More than the situation warranted. He wondered, knowing the fellow's history, what goodies might be stashed aboard. Did he fear having the federales on board?

Reluctantly, the Owner called the Coast Guard for assistance. They waited in silence. The dog slept. The Coast Guard arrived, a stout line looped the ketch's samson post and off they went. They crossed back over the bar which was, of course, a milk pond. Mozzo thought he might easily canoe this glassy expanse. Well timed, this rescue. Slack water.

A story is one medium for explicating the difficulties of concepts. A film is able to provide visual information to fill in the blanks. Ultimately, humans, with their limited ability to see beyond the end of their noses, must be moved by some epiphanic occurrence and then expand themselves, physically and mentally, to find Slack Water, and so become their obverse.

 

Trail Dog, a film

Between ebb and flow is slack. Not always a milk pond, but usually quite benign. For the businessman, slack is a slow period. For a climber, a loose bit of rope. Also, the dictionary tells us, the word suggests negligence. The link below is to a video that is not about ocean, but about ocean's obverse which is mountain. The Euclidean perspective (a hairball best left to mathematicians, but useful in this context) suggests that all space is unique yet comparable. Its otherness lies in its nature.² Many mountains were once sea floor; much of the seafloor was once mountains.

Slack features prominently in the short film. The contention made in "Trail Dog" that happiness is beyond good and guilt is almost so. Almost. But beyond happiness and its opposite, which is sorrow, beyond all dualities, is what I chose to label Slack Water. Slack Water is a place as well as a state of mind. It is where animals---dogs and cats, deer and whales---live. That is, if the animal in question has not been too domesticated. Slack Water is what humans---especially those who are out of sorts---seek. Slack water, to all who know the tides, gives a tangible image for an abstract concept.

No words can adequately describe that which is beyond all dualities. The term offered here merely suggests the complete integration that lies beyond concepts. The film linked below is narrated, and the words are well written and compliment the images equally well. But it is the images themselves which tell the story. The Runner and his friends are beyond mischief, happiness: they are dancing Slack Water.

Trail Dog

Glossary

Chomolungma, Tibetan name for Mt Everest (K15)

crinoids, marine fossils some of which can be found on the summit of Chomolungma. See website linked here ( https://www.volcanocafe.org/fossils-of-mount-everest/ ) for more information

epiphantic, an intuitive perception or insight, usually unexpected, into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually triggered by some commonplace occurrence or experience.

obverse, the counterpart of a fact or truth.

1Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It (The University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 1976), 144.

2The tallest mountain on the planet is Mauna Kea, Hawaii, at 33,000 feet from its underwater base to its summit.

CHOP WOOD, CARRY WATER

(A glossary of archaic or uncommon words is added at the end of the essay.)

Sir Isaac Newton is noted for his concise descriptions of the physical world. His three laws of motion are well known and the third law is so often cited that it has become something of a cliche. The third law states that for every action in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction. If object A exerts a force on object B, then object B also exerts an equal force on object A. The lift generated by a wing exemplifies this principle as does the game of billiards, the martial arts of aikido and judo, tsunamis, marbles, walking, and intercontinental ballistic missiles.

While this exchange of forces is quite predictable for inanimate objects and the autonomic movement of animate objects, any attempt to apply the principle to human behavior is far more problematic.

How does one respond to an upraised middle finger (action)? Certainly, context is critical to any informed decision. However, the phallus finger seems to trigger such an emotional, visceral response (reaction) that informed reasoning is short circuited, adrenaline surges, and before we can say oh fooie one's middle digit is raised in return, the arm outthrusted, jaw clenched.

Thus the conundrum. Controlling one's emotional reactions is often beyond reason.

Neville Chamberlain is often reviled for his vain attempt to appease Adolf Hitler. Appeasement, of course, is most often considered a form of flight. In order to avoid confrontation, one attempts to pacify and conciliate one's opponent. Winston Churchill, on the other hand, is often lauded for his famous speech to Parliament in June of 1940 that proclaimed " ... we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the fields and streets, we shall fight in the hills ..." Two of the Bible's most often quoted anecdotes suggest either course as correct: One can passively turn the other cheek or vengefully take an eye for an eye.

The United States Supreme Court, that once august body, has given this opinion on unbridled responses: "fighting words," speech and actions that incite others to imminent lawless actions, obscenities that might do the same, as well as certain types of defamatory speech and specific types of threat are not protected by the rights guaranteed by the First Amendment and so can be regulated and even punished by the legal entity involved (the state of Pennsylvania in this case). Laws that have been upheld as constitutional are laws which range from a simple summary offense of Disorderly Conduct to felonies such as Terroristic Threats.

Controlling one's limbic system, it seems, might well be imperative in order to remain at large and free from the capricious nature of some hanging judge. No simple matter apparently. Statistics from the Bureau of Justice from the year 2012 give the total of federal, state and local expenditures on prisons, jails and the like at just over $80 billion.

So consider the movement of water which is, of course, a body of knowledge encompassed in the science of hydrology. Moving water offers an analogy that might serve to untie the Gordian knot that is the feedback from one's limbic system. If one embarks on a river of some size, or a coastal voyage in a small boat whose motive power is the wind or one's muscles, the analogy becomes more apt.

The Columbia River does not need much encouragement to run at four or five knots. If the main channel is narrow or the flow is constricted by islands, the water will crown and carry away the less than intrepid sailor or paddler. Head on confrontations with currents, however they may arise, rarely profit the small boat sailor, paddler or rower. Flight is the order of the day. Back eddies, slack water and the lee side of some prominence provide the means to tame the aggressive current (might such current be labeled the aqueous world's limbic system?).

Flight, unfortunately, carries a connotation of cowardice. So euphemisms are in order.

Flight can mean simply running away; but the word surely connotes more than that. In terms of the working analogy, both back eddies and lee sides can equate with avoidance, a more complicated form of flight which involves keen awareness of one's environment as well as an astute awareness of human nature. Slack water, my personal favorite, at first glance appears to be merely indifference. The following anecdote implies much more.

Morihei Ueshiba, the man who put aikido on the map, often traveled by train. As a slight seemingly frail old man, eighty-something, he had his students carry the luggage. No matter how crowded the platform Ueshiba was able to walk sprightly along, parting the waters as it were, with his students hustling along behind in his wake. Committed to neutrality, focused, the old man lived upon slack water. He gave no thought to fight or flight. His only concern, to add an old Chinese analogy, was to chop wood and carry water.

Concentrating on one thing at a time seems beyond possibility in this digital age. Focus is wanting generally. But there is this: Sick with flu, prostrate on the couch, wallowing in self-pity, the cell phone rings (vibrates, chortles, clangs, dingdings, whatever) and reluctantly the call is answered. A long lost friend has reached out. Smiles and laughter and hail-fellow-well-mets blossom and flourish. And the flu? Well, one's illness is apparently in remission for the moment. Similar focused moments are common experience, if one but considers. And it is such moments that I label slack water: the disconnected haven between Scylla and Charybdis. And if moments are possible, why not hours or days or a lifetime.

Asians seem better at this mindset than western folk. Two prominent individuals who attained neutrality (centrality?) were Mahatma Gandhi and the Dali Lama. In an interview with Bill Moyers (still available on YouTube), the Dalai Lama was asked a question that cut to the core of the issue. How did he deal with insect pests like mosquitoes. The Dalai Lama laughed (a very happy fellow this fellow) and said at first he would gently wave a hand. And if that didn't work? asked Moyers. Ah, then perhaps a puff of air. And ... The Dalai Lama laughed his laugh, and then smack, he slapped his forearm. Chop wood, he said. Ha ha ha.

GLOSSARY:

autonomic, involuntary or unconscious, relating to the autonomic nervous system which includes heartbeat and breathing among other less obvious examples (cellular homeostasis, e.g.).

conundrum, a confusing and difficult question or problem.

limbic system, that part of the brain involved in our behavioral and emotional responses, especially when it comes to behaviors one needs for survival: feeding, reproduction and caring for one's young, and fight or flight responses.

Scylla and Charybdis, in Greek mythology, Scyylla was a rather nasty six-headed monster who lived on a rock on one side of a narrow strait (said to be the Strait of Messina between Italy and Sicily), and Charybdis was a whirlpool on the other side.

summary offense, the least serious type of crime. Felonies are most serious and misdemeanors less so. Summary offenses can be decided without jury trial.

THE FOLLY OF PERSONAL PRONOUNS

(A glossary of archaic or uncommon words is added at the end of the essay.)

Leuthold's Couloir does not belong to Joe Leuthold. The couloir is a gully decidedly vertical rather than horizontal which splits the southwest face of Mt Hood. Like other geological features throughout the known universe, the couloir was named for the man (far less often are places and things named for women) who first climbed the route, and does not signify possession. The apostrophe 's' can, at times, indicate ownership; but the construct is far more ambiguous than the personal pronoun.

from the base of Leuthold's Couloir, lookinng NNW

photo by gv simoni

'My dog' is more specific, and certainly indicates possession. Dogs are usually rather affectionate creatures and not wont to complain. Some dogs, however, are not the least bit impressed with that 'my', and will blatantly disregard their master's wishes, making their escape, jumping fences, tunneling, chewing through leads, doing whatever is necessary to go gallivanting about the neighborhood. Inorganic creatures, like pickup trucks, are more easily 'owned'; although internal combustion engines are notoriously finicky, and perhaps this is due, in part, to the tyranny of ownership.

Rarely will someone claim ownership of, say, a doorknob. In the grand scheme of things, doorknobs have little importance. The value of an object seems to be proportional to the desire to own that object. Old boats, more often than not made of glass reinforced plastic, are rarely claimed. They languish in backyards and boat yards gathering dirt and mold. A Weldcraft Cuddy King 300 with twin inboard diesels will make hardhearted landlubbers salivate. That's my boat, they'll say. Ain't she a beauty. 20 years of water under the bridge and that same boat will likely be scrap, the victim of electrolysis and neglect.

The folly of personal pronouns? Ownership is a dubious concept. Man's tenure on planet earth is something less than a burp. If you build it, nature will, sooner or later, reclaim it. Mountains, though majestic and seemingly eternal, come and go like governments. So one argument against this penchant for acquisitions surely must be life's brief passing. Does one have time to spend foolishly trying to own things? Like Hitler and other megalomaniacs (saying you have the DTs takes on a whole new meaning these days), is it the 1000 year Reich you are after?

Curiously, folly has a second meaning. The word denotes an edifice that costs far more to build than it is worth, one that has no practical purpose, is merely ornamental, and is commonly found in the hidden reaches of a garden. Many of our 'possessions' are much like follies. They are expensive, impractical, and end up rusting in the yard or gathering dust in the closet.

Possessiveness, the desire to own more than we need, goes hand in glove with domination. Greed seems a likely root cause of this wayward desire. Advertising does nothing but feed these desires. The American educational folly (in both sense of the word) does little to ameliorate the problem. An argument can be made that public education exacerbates the issue. Well educated, intelligent people are often badly and sadly disconnected from reality. They want the American Dream, however transmogrified that fleeting apparition has become. Does happiness come with a six figure income? Not likely.

Emotions are not easily controlled. Reason is often elusive. Homo sapiens are not reasonable creatures. The ability to think clearly must be acquired. Mathematics affords an excellent opportunity to hone this skill. The answers are clear; the process is straightforward though sometimes complex. Aerobic exercise, music and other arts, and various crafts also work well to eliminate the extraneous and focus one's mind on the specific. It is not coincidental that those whose culture focuses their thoughts produce outstanding crafts.

Commonly, knowledge is divided into two general types. Explicit knowledge can be written down, verbalized, and taught. For example, 2 + 2 = 4 is a bit of explicit knowledge. Or: The capital of Oregon is Salem. Or: the jointed rock in the Columbia River Gorge is columnar basalt Tacit knowledge is implicit. Largely subjective. Understanding comes intuitively. What one knows implicitly cannot be verbalized or taught. Most arts and crafts are imbued with tacit knowledge. One can learn the chords on a guitar and even strum a song; but to play well involves mastering sounds emitted from the vibration of strings which require precise plucking with flesh, nails or plectrum, various pressures and positions, equally precise fretting, and a host of other details which one cannot express verbally. Sheet music is, at best, a skeletal outline of the composers intentions. Interpretation, using all the tacit knowledge at his or her command, is the responsibility of the artist.

Ownership is explicit and binding. One becomes territorial. Defensive. And, in turn, aggressively offensive. "I'll give you my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead hands," is a slogan common among aficionados of firearms. One so often becomes a prisoner of what one possesses.

Wisdom is tacit knowledge. One cannot purchase wisdom on the installment plan. Freedom is tacit. People living through the Great Depression of the 1930s, acquired tacit knowledge. "Necessity is the mother of invention" is a proverb attributed to Plato 2300 years ago; and is often rephrased in English as "having less, means knowing more." Conversely, having more, it seems, often means knowing less.

We have too much. Some have far too much. The wealthiest 1% of the world's population owns more than half of the world's wealth.¹ 10000 years of human greed has done the planet irreparable harm. And the material objects from cars to shoes seem to be poorly made: all sizzle and no steak. Often disposable. Gimcrack gimmicks.

Cultures that eschew materialism have a curious knack for producing exquisite crafts. The Navajo is one such. Their tradition maintains that one only needs enough to take care of one's family. Hozho is the Navajo belief system that delineates how one must stay in harmony and beauty with the world. A simple tenet is to own less. Though Hozho is a culturally specific aesthetic idea of the Navajo; many of its tenets are held by indigenous people everywhere. Doing more with less, for example. Respect for the natural world. A greater kinship with all living creatures. The Navajo, of course, are renown for their crafts, especially blankets, jewelry, and sand paintings

The Amish rely on a pragmatic code (though the source for their belief that separation from the modern world is essential to their salvation does come from a literal interpretation of their Bible) that severely restricts their behavior. The primary motive belief is akin to the vow of poverty taken in many monasteries east and west. They are farmers. They avoid contact with the outside world. The horse still provides their transportation. Theirs is a communal existence. Ownership, such as it is, is shared. And, of course, their skill at woodworking and cookery is widely admired and copied.

A simple means to achieve less is to recycle all the detritus in one's life. Redistribute assets. Give it all away. Both minimalism and living off the grid have their roots in a desire for shared communalism and respect for the natural world. Minimalist are known to be quite self-sufficient. Craftsmanship is part of the creed.

An addendum to all of the above is that once past possessiveness, personal pronouns can be useful. They often register a commitment. 'My dog' necessarily implies ownership; but the phrase can also suggest a determination to provide and care for the dog, a kinship quite apart from ownership.

GLOSSARY:

couloir, a French word, with the meaning of a passage or corridor, commonly used by climbers generally.

eschew, deliberately avoid using, to abstain from

gimcrack, flimsy or poorly made but deceptively attractive.

ilk, archaic Scottish, meaning type of people or things already referred to.

transmogrify, to change or alter greatly often with grotesque or humorous effect.

wont, in the habit of doing something, accustomed

1Credit Suisse report on global wealth. https://www.credit-suisse.com/about-us/en/reports-research/global-wealth-report.html