Rudiland

"The greatest quality is seeking to serve others." Atisha.

There is nothing better. And yet it can be both so easy and so hard to do. Hard because we, or I, get so stuck in our lives that it is hard to see another, let alone reach a hand out to help. And here's a moment. For the cyclist, and for the those who care about others. I recently donated this painting title "Over the Line" to the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Here's a good cause. It combines the heroic aspects of facing cancer and then over coming the hardships and becoming a champion. All survivors of cancer are champions. All survivors of cancer are heros. I've lost both family and friends to many forms of this disease, and I've seen those who have endured years of suffering with the agony that this disease can bring. And I know many who have endured, survived and I've even forgotten that they once had cancer. And I know that most of us know someone gone, facing, or surviving cancer. And so here's a chance to help out. If your interested in this painting contact Julie Thomas at the Lance Armstrong Foundation. She'll let you know when and where this painting will be availible. Here's here contact. julie.thomas@laf.org

That's the first thing my friend Tom said when he saw one of these in my studio. It you can't tell it is a desicated pumkin that had a simple face carved into it for Halloween. I have a small collection of these that I've turned up in the alleyways while walk with Po. I've been drawing and painting these former Jack-O-Lanterns along with paperbags and a couple of dead pigeons for the last few years. Even when I make paintings based on them the paintings are made to feel like drawings. The surface is enough. There's no need for color, maybe one color, but not a color play ground. It's the simple act of drawing or a monochromatic image that is holding my attention.

I'm doing a project for the Three Jewels Buddhist Center in Tucson, AZ. I'll be painting the front window. The plan is a wall paper of Buddhas. And as I'm working on this I'm doing alot of Buddha drawings. I love the mantra. Starting out with one and then slowly filling the sheet till it is complete, and going to the next page. Feeling the brush and the ink loaded fibers touch the page can contain a vaste range of being. There's the soupy overloaded brush, the errant brush hair, the dry brush, etc. And then there's the unknown suprizes. Nothing is ever the same.

I brought these drawing, about 15, to the Three Jewels for them to sell as donations to the Buddhist Center. If you're interested and there's any left you can contact me, and I can get you in touch with the Three Jewels. Go ahead, get one and help the enlightenment grow.

Peace.

Bitter struggle ending in death. And sex. Bitter struggle ending in death.

I don't worry if I get things right. Wrong. I worry needlessly if I've got things right. It's a form of pain, of self identification. Of ego. Foolish selfish. Better off getting in the water and do some body surfing.

I'm thinking about the line that Jesus says to his disciples about "turning the other cheek." One of those ideas I can turn as a weapon on myself. Call it a deep conceptual misunderstanding, or maybe just weakness, using this phase as an excuse. I can confuse the concept of "turning the other cheek" with laying down on my back and saying "kick me." And that's not what this should be about. I feel he's after is what Gandhi and the Buddha were after. Don't get angry, don't strike back, but don't just lay down. Be strong and without violence face your great enemy. Change the world with giving with joyous effort, without anger. Clear the mind. All is empty.

Maybe there is one enemy that violence can be use on. This would be the true enemy. The part me that clings to samsara, to the world of illusion. The part that says "I suffer therefore I am." The part that thinks it knows. The part that desires. The part that cannot see reality as it really is.

And if I die tomorrow, and I can't add or change what I wrote today. There's that ego, clinging and grasping, better let go now. I'm just digging in deep, and I don't really get it.
Smile. Shine.

My friend Marty Yudice. He 's one sweet cool cat. The kind that gives presents which can leave me blushing in a great way . Let me show you what he's done. Just follow this link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJxiyZ1Dmxk

Marty's an art school grad like Aimee and I. He and his wife just had a baby and he works at WTB, so I wonder where he gets the time to do things like this. He called earlier today, I missed the call, but Aim was there to talk to him. I'll be giving him a ring after I post this. Make sure to check out some of his other movies.

For those of you that don't know what WTB is here's a bit of their story from my perspective. First WTB stands for Wilderness Trail Bikes. I bet I got that wrong, but for this blog it will should guide you to their location. (www.wtb.com) Anyhow back in the day these were one of the companies that made mountaining bike something to lust for (lust and Mountain biking there's a few posts in that). I do remember looking over catalogs and bike mags and dreaming about putting one of their saddles on my bike, using their tires on my wheels, and then their were the dirt drop bars, and Unified Rear Suspension frame, and other cool stuff. Well last spring my buddy Dejay Birch, that demon on a singlespeed, hooked me up with Marty. Marty set me up with some really great tires and a fresh set of bars for my rides. In the land of sharp rocks and sharp plants fresh tread is manna from heaven. I spent weeks riding on 38 by 700c interwolf tires. Comfy and fast. And light too. It was good to ride a skinny tire on some trails here in Tucson and not have to face pinch flat after pinch flat. I don't know what WTB did to make that tire work so nice, but I like it. So thank you Marty. And thanks again for the kind movie. You are the man.

Here's some more of Aimee's work.

The first piece is a Reindeer flip doll. I'll post another picture of the transition to the Doe with is on the other side tomorrow.

The Second piece is a Moth doll. This and the Reindeer are made of silk and if you had not notice by the hand work on them, they are small works, easily fit in the hand or with in the corners of your subconsciousness.

This final piece for today is another baby fist. When the sky rains these you know the flood has come to wash the scum off the face of the earth.

This is so exicting. My wife, Aimee, is an amazing artist. She creates work that sits at the edge of our imagination. Part myth, part folk, at the place between waking and sleeping. And I'd like to share them with you. Not just today, today is just a good start.

These are her Hand Dolls. I can barely handle the humor of these. The hands are based on the hands from baby dolls. The one with the pale light green dress reminds me of angry putii ( I think that's how you spell it) that you find floating about in paintings and sculpture from the way back in the day. Kind of a sweetly dressed cousin It. I expect them to go floating into the sky and then in the hundreds come down pelting me with their wrath and dignation. And yet I know that they mean well, their just pissed off at all of my ignorance.

Tomorrow I'll have something new from Aimee world, so stay tuned.

"It's a fearful thing to love what Death can touch."
I was listening to This American Life yesterday afternoon and this was said. I don't remember who said it, but it was on a program titled "Last Words." I didn't listen to the whole program. I seemed to get stuck right there.
Right here. Right here is my dog, Po. he's coming on 15 years old. His walk is slow. So slow in fact that to walk for two short blocks, we can take 25 minutes. But he looks forward to the morning walks.
But the fifteen years are showing. He staggers about and he's getting that kind of transparent look, and his head hangs down low. And he's so friendly. Guests come in and he'll kindly look at them and maybe lick their bare toes once or twice. What's funny about this is the was a terror in his youth. Even just three years ago he would keep someone coming to the door from thinking about coming into the house.
Three years ago I had my friends Jeff and Brad from Dirt Rag Magazine visiting. They'd come with Chipps Chippendale, he's the editor/main man from Singletrack magazine and they were all sleeping over for the week. The 24 hours in the Old Pueblo was taking place that weekend, and we were all participating in some form or another. Anyhow Chipps was trying to connect with Po. Just one of those matches not made to work. He'd try to play or just pet Po, and well, Po would just give a deep growl of disapproval. A smile crosses my face thinking about it. Chipps and Po.
Then there's my father and Po. My dad, who loves dogs reached down to greet Po not long after we brought him home. Po at that time was a rather aloof and distrustful dog. He's never been one that likes lots of attention. One or two gentle pets and he's done. And so there's my dad going to embrace the new dog. Nope, didn't work. Po gave a sharp reproach to my dad for entering his space without his approval. You know, one of those barks that sends the receiver back about five feet. Dad and Po never have connected.
But things are different now. Po spends most of his time sleeping, walking slowly, and sometimes he'll eat. I never force anything on him. What ever he wants, he gets. Ground beef and some vegis and rice. A walk in the morning and in the evening if he wishes. Looks like tonight there will be another. I don't know how much longer he'll be around. One day or a year maybe but each day is a pleasure. He's given Aimee and I so much, for as scary as he seemed he's a true love.

I always find it amazing how much I might have to say while I ride by myself. But then my friend Matt Chester would probably disagree. I can go for miles and miles without saying a word. It is all internal. Though bubbles are moving along at there own pace. Here's one bring the camera on the rides. There's so much stuff out there. Bags with beer cans, a Gila Monster, Poppies, clouds in the sky, rain falling over there, a three day old dead cat becoming one with the road. Dead rabbits and dead mice with an ant on it. I guess the thoughs get washed out as the ride moves, left by the road side like all the road kill and waste. Riding as an emptying process.

After trying to do the Great Divide Race on a fixed gear and having to stop way to early, well, I've had time to think things through. First stress sucks. I spent so much time last year sick and injured and worrying. The GDR needs to be done with out that kind of stress. The route is one worth being in joy while doing. It should be a joyous effort unconcerned with results. Between raising the funds to do the GDR and blinded by my ego, I got to learn a great lesson. As things go, it looks like I'll be doing it again because it calls me. I'll still use a fixie, but with a freewheel on the other side of my hub for the flat and long slow steady pavement parts. I don't really enjoy a freewheel, but when I'm out doing 100 plus mile days the chance to get up and stretch my legs is a good thing. And as for the ego thing......well, it's moments like this where I find I'm not so empty.

Ha! I feel like a new born with these things floating in front of me. They seem to move up and down and grasp and these funny shapes and warm moist things leaning in. Everythings automatic. I do things that I can't control and have things done to me. Me?! Blogging.

After riding through the Montana section of the Great Divide route, I've come home to world empty of everything. There's still these things I do, but they don't mean the same thing that I once held to. Painting and drawing I love, but I just can't get into doing or thinking about a gallery or promoting what happens in the studio. I'll just post drawings and painting here for the pleasure of sharing. And riding, which had become racing, which has blissfully become riding again. Meditation, tai chi is drawing me in more. Painting, cycling, tai chi, sitting, life all meditation.