Sunrise on the Supes

5:41 am. Sunday, October 3rd, 2010. Awaiting sunrise atop the Superstition Mounatins. Four million people, spread out in the valley below me. Yet not a soul for miles. Ed Abbey writes, Exultemus! Gloria in excelsis nihilo!

In the east, the first green light of dawn. Mountains. Few lights. The jutting poles of agave in their eternal migration up mountains like these.

To the north, nothing also. Mountains. Haze. Particle dust. Streaming clouds, retreating away from sunrise.

To the west, far off in the distance, South Mountain, it’s blinking red lights.

And in all the space between here and there, a million twinkling lights. Street lights, porch lights, illuminated parking lots.

It shimmers and twinkles. It’s some expression of humanity. The pattern of the lights, it’s a human form. It’s organic, alive. A damn shame, but a delightful triumph.

A coyote howls in the distance. Hiking up, I was accompanied by the hooting of an owl. The gaze of my headlamp happened to catch a rattlesnake who, despite shrinking from my light, did not deign to rattle.

In the darkness, I walked through a spider’s web across the trail. I was startled to discover I’d picked up the spider on my leg. Hairy, the size of a quarter, and with palpable mass. I shrieked like a little girl but escaped unscathed.

All for the delight of watching the sun rise, mountains appear, lights extinguished, the airport, and then city, come to life.

Barefoot

I once read a parable given by The Buddha, which went something like this:

To carpet the entire forest floor and make it soft for the foot is a great task. How much better to rendered the forest soft by the simple making and fastening of sandals to your feet! So too with the world: to change the world to your liking is a mighty task. How much better to simply change one’s perspective! **

This parable has been called to mind of late, realizing that I don’t need to wear shoes in Scottsdale. There’s simply no need: everything is either paved, or soft green grass (mostly just paved, though). I’d have to go quite out of my way to find something sharp enough to be a hazard to my feet.

Scottsdale, of course, is smack-dab in the middle of the Sonoran Desert–a place where Edward Abbey’s once remarked that “everything in it bites, stabs, sticks, stings or stinks”?

Whatever has come of this desert, it’s long gone. Past the point of being de-fanged and de-thorned. Spayed. Neutered. Declawed. Subdued and domesticated. It’s all be simply and duly crushed, removed, and paved over. Replaced with non-native grasses, palm trees and the perennially broken drip systems that make Scottsdale a veritable oasis.

Only, oasis implies a place where life has sprung up in the presence of water. Phoenix is quite the opposite: a place where life has sprung up in the absence of water. Pity the Colorado River’s abandoned journey to the Gulf of Mexico–all its life sucked out!

Phoenix has succeeded in carpeting the forest floor–or the desert, rather. What a task! What great effort!

And what great irony that we, in Phoenix, still wear shoes.

** – I paraphrase, and don’t recall the exact origins of this parable. Siddhartha? If anyone could help me place this, I’d be appreciative. My books are all in boxes scattered across three states.

Thoughts while brushing my teeth

A roommate in college (Bovard) would often complete his entire morning routine with toothbrush in mouth, wearing just his bath towel. Sometimes the internet (or other shiny distractions) would intervene–and I don’t doubt if some mornings Bovard brushed his teeth (or, at least had a toothbrush in his mouth) for better than an hour.

Of course, we all try to multitask while brushing our teeth (right?). I’ve never aspired to be so adept as Bovard in this (or to have such excellent oral hygiene), but no one could accuse me of, uh, narcissism based on my morning rituals.

Only, some things go better with acts of oral hygiene than others. So, here I begin taxonomy of activities–those that go well with brushing teeth, and those that go poorly:

Activities that go well with brushing teeth

  • Tweeting
  • Searching for pants
  • Staring into the refrigerator
  • (In general: short tasks that require one or fewer hands)

Activities that go poorly with brushing teeth

  • Grinding coffee
  • Putting away dishes
  • (In general: tasks that require two hands, concentration, or more than sixty seconds to complete)

Thoughts on Phoenix

Phoenix. I’ll be honest: I moved here for a job. Though there are some big cities I’d love to live in (New York, London, Portland), Phoenix isn’t one of them.

That said, I’m discovering that Phoenix deserves more credit than what a first glance might suggest. For example: is Phoenix a mecca for outdoor living? Hardly. But it’s not so bad, either. Example: if I stopped blogging and hopped in my car, I could be in Joshua Tree National Park in four and a half hours. I could be hiking into the Grand Canyon in five and a half. Could be wandering the now-grassy slopes of Snow Bowl ski resort in two-and-a-half.  Could be lost in the Cabeza Prieta in two. Does this make Phoenix an outdoor mecca? No. But there’s no shortage of spectacular country a short car ride away.

And, Phoenix does have some big city amenities. Like concerts. I’ll be “stuck” in town next weekend on account of having tickets to see The Pixies (yes, I know, they broke up), Fuck Buttons, and Ratatat. That’s as many good shows as I could hope to see in Bozeman in a year. (No disrespect to The Clintons.)

And the job is good. It’s everything a job should be: interesting, challenging, frustrating, engaging, and bursting at the seams with opportunities for personal and professional growth.

Oh, and it pays the bills. Much better than being a bum, in that regard. For example, for the tidy sum of $900, my car now as air conditioning (again). The sort of bill I’m happy to pay, happy to be able to pay.

I’m moving from Mesa to Scottsdale this weekend. Not that I have a particular affection for Scottsdale. But I always took bike lanes–green spaces–for granted. Mesa has been good, to the extent that it’s provided me with some perspective on what Phoenix is like for its ~4 million residents who don’t live in Scottsdale. But I’ll tell you one thing: I’m not going to miss the commute. In fact, I’ll be close enough to bike to work.

Or, would be close enough–if I had a bike. I’m stoked to get one. A road bike. Light. Fast. Chic. (Expensive….)

In any case. The last two weekends have been great. Hiked Humphrey’s Peak two weekends ago, Buckskin Gultch (longest slot canyon in North America!) last weekend.

Pictures here:

2010.09.04 Humphrey's
2010.09.12 Buckskin Gultch and the North Rim