Descend into Madness

Well, the day has finally come when Rick Perry will be sworn in as energy secretary. Apparently he has now learned what it is, exactly, the energy department does.  For the uninitiated among you:

The mission of the Energy Department is to ensure America’s security and prosperity by addressing its energy, environmental and nuclear challenges through transformative science and technology solutions.

So basically, a lot of the water cooler banter will be about nuclear fission. This explains why the previous heads have all been nuclear scientists (and why Perry was on no one's short list before now). 

But he seems game.

To the left is a photo of one C. Sellman on the fake fireplace in the Man Hole last night. His expression subtly conveys his feelings towards the incoming administration. Don't forget he was a naval pilot and has flown into large scary hurricanes for his country. So he has educated opinions on commanders in chief.
I didn't have the heart to tell him the fireplace won't leave him with searing burns on his buns; burns that might ease the pain in his heart.
 It merely blows a soft, warm, electric breeze. 

So to the hole....I am not sure I can explain what is going on. TAB is the visionary behind it, and like so many visionaries, has had to endure a large does of Teutonic ridicule. His dream was to create a sacred space with a low ceilinged, little rascals clubhouse, speakeasy vibe. But it is more like a womb with alcohol. 

The Germans laughed. They laughed at his third-hand ebay furniture; of his work space with 5 foot ceilings when he is 6' 4"; and they really almost died laughing at the fake fireplace. 
But then they followed him downstairs.

It is not an exaggeration to say it is the center of our lives now at 1562 Grant. We had our Christmas party there; we have plans to hire a band, perhaps of dwarves, for spring; we have all bought alcohol and cigarettes and fancy olive oil potato chips because Trump hates all of those things. It is the base for our resistance army; it is the source of our relief. 

We have so many plans after we descend:  such plans! such energy! such joy!
"We will stay below until Trump leaves! we will throw Chuck's birthday party here! We will fix up the door that comes from the street ! so people can slide down from the street on a pole!!!"

It is only when we surface that our problems start. Last night both the Sellmans and the Wehlens got into fights with spouses; and everyone woke with a hangover.

Thomas says it was the tonic water. In Africa they always say gin and tonics make you mean; but they say for sure it's not the gin. 

In the meantime we rush around picking up used bean bag chairs and buying potato chips as we lovingly feather our nest. It is truly hilarious; until you realize that five grownups are spending their time acting like children, trying to hide from a world that grown ups have so clearly screwed up. 

For now, you can reach me in the hole. 

Tom, Albert, me Rainer early in the evening

resistance salute

Lowering the $40 beanbag chair today...

Announcement from Tech Department

Still haven't quite figured this out....I hope that if you don't have a gmail, you don't have to have one to log on. But it seems that way?
Javier could only get on with a new, made up gmail-which seems like extortion.

 For now, here is a picture from New Year's with some friends from London. Ida S and Kate got matching dresses. Kate's was a bit shorter.

Zen in the face of Trump

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.

This made her parents very angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.

In great anger the parents went to the master. “Is that so?” was all he would say.

When the child was born, the parents brought it to the Hakuin, who now was viewed as a pariah by the whole village. They demanded that he take care of the child since it was his responsibility. “Is that so?” Hakuin said calmly as he accepted the child.

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth – that the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fish market.

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again.

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: “Is that so?”

"What is powerful about this story is the acceptance of what is. In a culture of fear, loathing, resentments, and distortions of the truth, this story illustrates the power of letting go of the self created. It also shows the power of truth. 

Lies will fall away from real truth. Nothing holds up to truth.  Lies keep telling the story in different ways. Truth has nothing to tell, nothing to defend, nothing to fight, nothing to prove, nothing, nothing, nothing."

Less than a week to go until D day......breathe. breathe. 

breathe. 

This is a test...

Been working on new password protector... I don't know why actually, becuse no one is looking. But T thinks photos etc are a problem. 

Stay tuned.

Xx

Took this as OB yesterday- the light was so beautiful, I momentarily forgot any single thing that wasn't.

Help Us OB-Wan Kenobi

Ok here I am...
My apologies for all the lost blogs. (I think I have to get a new password; stay tuned) But there were technical difficulties, and then there were mental difficulties; so I couldn't give the Lech update. But I have photos and will post. 

Thomas and I went on a pilgrimage to Massachusetts Institute of Technology- a place neither of us had ever visited. It was not with F- this was more for T. (It looms so large in the minds of left brainers, that I thought he needed a day on his own.) Anyway below is the one I wrote on the plane last night. God what a journey...seven hours in the air from Boston due to winds. (so please excuse the potty mouth). Thank God for Jet Blue Mint; also thank God for the BeeGees song "one"- the best -fly through turbulence in the dark night as you leave your child behind-song I have ever heard.
When all else fails- it helps to remember we are all, in fact, one. 

So Frederick is back at the grindstone, and we are back on a laughably long flight to CA. Today was nice though -I took the Man Who Loves Me as No Other to see MIT-the ne plus ultra for his tribe. T was so very happy; but there was also whiff of regret. The Swiss Federal Institute of Technology is absolutely in the same league as MIT, but without the American braggadocio-it's just much duller. MIT is number one in engineering. Number one is physics. Number one in everything but football. 

It's just the tits, let's face it. 

We walked down something called the "infinite corridor" It's simply a long hallway connecting two parts of the campus. But it has, according to my Google search, its own etiquette. ( I am not making this up).

"The rules of the road for the Infinite Corridor include: stay to the right, limit group size, pass on the left, form a line at bottlenecks, don't stop/slow down, no tailgating, traffic within corridor has right of way, no physical contact and no eye contact." 

(Doesn't that just make you want to run on the wrong side of the corridor doling out rogue hugs to these people???!! oh let me AT them!!!!)

But lest you accuse them of being unromantic: "Twice per year, in mid-November and in late January, the corridor lines up with the plane of the ecliptic, causing sunlight to fill the entire corridor-events that are celebrated by students and staff."

In other words, they built the hallway so that it lines up with the ecliptic course of the sun, and sunlight fills the hallway twice per year.  God knows what they do to celebrate.

Make eye contact probably....

I have walked around many campuses, but I have never been besieged like this. Plastered everywhere, much like in your child's kindergarten classroom, is the work they are doing. But your head swings back and forth trying to find a word you understand.  It seems that here at MIT, they speak only a dialect of English. I'm pretty sure lentils were being served for lunch; but then they lost me. 

 (See below for a quick sampling).

We walked past a tiny door like in Alice in Wonderland, and I swear Thomas recoiled as if he saw a snake. "What's that door?" I asked.
"Material Sciences" he whispered -The study of the properties of materials used to build things. It answers the question what you should use to make your tea kettle or your bridge. It is a difficult; very precise subject and they always have the meanest professors. Thomas thinks the professors are mean and humorless because if you use the wrong materials, the bridge falls down and the kettle explodes. They must be painfully exact.....unlike those hippies in explosives sciences.

Another thing you notice is how few good looking people walk past. And perhaps this is because there are so few who give the tiniest shit.

Oh? I'm sorry- do I look fat in these pants? Let me write a program to tell you how I feel about your feelings.

Now If you'll excuse me, I have to build a fucking rocket. 

It is an unapologetic, thrilling, ballsy, tower of excellence; and I swooned. 

I wanted to raise my fist in the black power salute right there in that concrete encrusted cafe. 
Viva Nerds!!! 
Viva Heroes!!!  
To Ye!! The badly dressed, multi colored people with shining eyes of understanding-
 Hear me now!

Save us.

Please. 
Save our beloved earth. 

That fat, orange pile of ignorance we call a president elect can't beat these people at anything. He would be the last person out of the maze; he would lose at chess and tennis and bar trivia. 

He would lose at ordering a coffee. He can't make a margarita, much less a concrete canoe.

He is an ignorant orange loser.

And you might say-but He is the President!

And I would say: shh my child. Hush now.

The good guys are coming for him. You can be cruel or you can be stupid.

But as God is my witness- 

You won't last long if you are both. 

I'm not sure, but I think he said Flybacks measure electricity to get motion...or maybe I was still on the lentils....

Thomas rushing ahead...a kid in a candy store waits for no wife. 

Bless their hearts. 

Look how nervous he is...and how short are these professors??

Ok this is unreal: a private power station to power the cyclotron that they also own. Like at Cern. no kidding. 

Technical Difficulties

Icy Slopes; Warm Hearts

This was a such strange year in Lech: very little snow; many ski injuries from the icy slopes; lots of long mountain walks; and a daily yoga class filled with a quiet magic all its own. I also heard reports of liberal kissing policies around the hotel. 

Now i myself would never kiss and blab, but let's just say I may have missed Frau Schneider's cheek at midnight on New Year's Eve. 

(What can I say? It's a romantic place....)

I will fill in details later, but I'm at 30,000 feet, and there are movies to watch and long eyelashed teenagers to gaze at, in these, the waning hours of vacation.

Below is the speech I gave Christmas Eve. Everyone was really kind and told me they loved it; perhaps because it was only 2 minutes and a half long. 

They do love me; but foie gras waits for no man.

More soon.

Xxx

Katia; me; MFB; Angelika S.

Kate and her squad

Sunshine skiing

Thomas' new passion

Yoga squad... 

When Gerold asked me if I would give the  speech this year I said:

Never.

I am unworthy of the Almhof Schneider

Christmas speech and happily admit it.

And actually I liked the old days best when Mrs Schneider just congratulated us on how great we were, and then we went in to dinner.

And Gerold said you must- and make sure it's deep and meaningful. Quote Trotsky perhaps.

And then i told him that the truth was I found 2016 to be disheartening to say the least. We had a year of violence in Syria and Iraq under our sometimes indifferent noses; Terror  attacks  around the world; and at least two elections that seemed to me at least, deeply pessimistic and uncharitable; 

Plus David Bowie died.

I told him I couldn't possibly say something cheerful this night.

And thats when he threatened to move me to a smaller room.

So Here i am

The 12th century German theologian Meister Eckhart said: if the only prayer you learn is "thank you, it will be enough" . 

But Gratitude is not a duty, it is the path to relief. it Is the salve for despair. 

And coming here to Lech, makes gratitude at least, easy.

When I first came to lech as an innocent Californian..

I was utterly enchanted by this particular evening- by Mr Schneiders speech, by familiar songs sung in a foreign tongue, by the pyrotechnic Christmas tree-

We don't use lit candles and fireworks on xmas trees in America; especially directly over the heads of children... And I found this marvelous.

And while the mystery and meaning of Christs birth  is so often beyond my understanding..I am profoundly moved  by the rituals surrounding it. Particularly the rituals at this hotel.

And even after a difficult year, I find tremendous comfort when I come. 

I am comforted by the familiar and the beautiful.

I am comforted by the mountains and their eternal knowledge

I am comforted by the sight of my friends and their beautiful, growing  children

By my family and our endless dinner debates; By Giddy behind his bar.

I am comforted by Gerold's long silences and Mrs Schinders straight posture as she makes her rounds in the dining room.

I am comforted by laughter with Katia and the chair by the fireplace-

and the pianist whose name I do not know

I am comforted by the voices of the people wearing chefs hats and dirndls who sing so beautifully this night

I am comforted by my newly soft bed in room 219

And I am so very comforted and grateful that God willing, this will happen again next year. 

Exactly as before.

Merry Christmas .