A New Formation

The skies in my area commonly have Canada Geese flying.  We see them and hear their honking throughout the year.  These sights and sounds are treats every time I encounter them.  This week something different was in our sky.  The colors were not the same, the size was larger, and their sounds were strange.  The only familiar part was the birds flying in a "V" formation.  It was exciting to both see and hear Sandhill Cranes silhouetted against a cold blue sky.  I was so excited I failed to count them, however, a good estimate would place their numbers around forty.

This was an impressive formation of birds and their constant communications proved delightful.  The sounds were constant and seemed to move up and down the line of birds.  I imagined they were in telling each other about how to keep the formation shaped and directioned.  They may have even been commenting on the gawking humans below.  The formation undulated, constantly changing, and the only constant was a southward direction.

I wondered about the instincts that urge these large birds to migrate from Canada to Florida and back each year.  My mind considered what abilities they had to execute the migrations.  How did the birds get into this cycle that takes them such extreme distances to utilize specific environments?  They have to get what they need; food and places for young to grow and survive.  Life tries very hard to continue.

The Mind In Control

Seems like this season brings more stresses and concerns.  "How will I get it all done.  Oh, there's another gathering I should go to.  Where can I find that certain gift?"  These are a few of the questions we ask ourselves.  I deal with the process a lot better than I used to.  I suspect part of that is due to having learned what is expected.  But, it still overwhelms me from time to time.  The additional, non-routine, activities and processes all tend to agrivate a peaceful state of mind.

I've learned to recognise some of the states my mind gets into.  I now know when I'm starting into a depression cycle.  I can see the signs of an anger state when I feel angry with almost everyone.  Even knowing what the indicators are, I don't seem to be able to change the feelings.  When I know I'm thinking thoughts that lead to depression, it would be logical to change the direction.  To think other thoughts.  It isn't that simple.  Just being aware of the emotions helps a little, but they are still there.  It is frustrating to have my mind in control instead of me being in control of my mind.

Generation Music

The Pastor was presenting his sermon and mentioned, "...if you are over sixty you know what I'm talking about..."  His reference was to his mother's admonishment, "Don't point.  It is not polite."  Each generation seems to have their own music and the preceding generation either doesn't like it or doesn't understand it.  What concerned me, as I thought about it, was something more than a difference in music preference.  We seem to have lost standards of politeness.  Not only is there a generation that doesn't know what it means to be polite, they don't have a substitute standard.  There are folks now who think it is normal and acceptable to just do whatever they want.  They are no longer concerned with how their actions affect others.

What troubles me about this behavior is that a society needs standards.  As long as there are rules concerning what is deemed acceptable behavior, and the members of the community accept those rules, the community can function.  Everyone knows what is expected of them and what the limits are.  With no standards, or with some in the community deciding they will not obey the rules, it becomes nearly impossible for the rest of the members of the group to interact.  Each individual behaves with his or her own set of rules and others don't know the rules.  How can anyone interact if they don't know what is expected?  Additionally, the individuals may change the rules from time to time.  This makes it even more difficult because their rules cannot be learned by the other participants in the community.

Perhaps it isn't polite for me to point out a lack of standards.  It seems to me that we all need limits of some sort.  I've been searching for the limits most of my life.  Several of them I have found and I live by them.  There really are some, "Thou shalt nots."  There really are some, "Thou shalts."  Be polite.  If you don't feel it is necessary to be polite, then obey God.  I will know how to relate to you and develop a relationship.

Trial or Trail - Electric Assisted

Electric assist bicycles should be allowed on bicycle trails.  Electric assist bicycles should not be allowed on bicycle trails.  Another issue to divide folks.

I have seen a mother, with her three year old child on the bicycle, riding with her husband and friends.  She was on the family's electric assist Yuba bicycle.  It seemed perfectly ok for her to be riding on the trail.  She was, to the best of her ability, pedaling for fitness.  It was better, for the entire family, to be together while enjoying the benefits of bicycling.  If no one had told you, there would be few clues that the bicycle was assisted by a small electric motor.  There is very little weight difference with an electric assisted bicycle, so it should not deteriorate the trail any faster than unassisted bicycles.


Government officials in our town have had trouble with motor scooters and mopeds.  There have been several very inconsiderate operators of these vehicles.  They violate more than a few traffic laws.  It would be unfortunate if the electric assist bicycle was lumped with these vehicles and operators; then forced to obtain inspections, operators licenses, and registration plates.  Certainly it would be plausible for similar laws, applicable to all of these vehicles, to be created and enforced.   Government would easily see it as a source of revenue and might even believe the safety of the community would be improved.

Attitudes and actions of bicycle riders should be considered.  Most bicycle trail users I have seen are very aware of others using the trail.  Slowing down before passing, announcing their presence, and being generally considerate of others are the common practices.  As with any group of people, there will be some who are inconsiderate and abuse those they encounter.  It would be unfortunate if the electric assisted bicycle riders were to be penalized because of the actions of a minority.

Agreement Not Necessary

Be sure to listen to the stories people tell.  Each considers his or her own story to be interesting.  They have lived it and want to tell about it.  The feeling I often encounter sounds like this, "Of course my story is the correct one and everyone should be interested in hearing it.  I will listen to your story, and find it valuable, only if it agrees with mine."  It seems to me that it is important to listen to other individual's stories, but not necessarily agree with them.

We have all had different stories.  Some are more similar than others and some are so different they are difficult to understand.  I find it hard to understand even so simple a thing as dogs and cats.  When a person's story included dogs they will have a different tale than another who lived a cat story.  Often these two groups tend to be exclusive.  My story is the correct one since I had a cat.  The dog story person will argue mine is wrong.  Our stories are certainly composed of what we live.  We think that if it worked for us, and is working, then it must be the right way to live. 

Extreme poverty or continual conflict are stories I read about but have not experienced.  It is nearly impossible for me to comprehend wondering where the next meal will come from.  I cannot grasp groups of people openly carrying guns in my community.  I feel guilty when I realize how fortunate I am to live in a prosperous country with many freedoms.  Then I wonder why I was born here, and not where poverty and suffering are the norm.  Why has my story developed in its own way?

Light In The Tunnel

Daylight Savings Time.  Last weekend we did the old, "Fall back" routine with our clocks.  Now it is nearly dark when we get home after a day at work.  Two of us decided to ride our Monday evening bicycle ride anyway.  "Bring your lights," was the suggestion.  The sun was just about to the horizon when we began our journey, so it was darker by the minute. 

I don't know why, but it seems to me there is an increased amount of traffic each year when the time changes.  This dusky evening was no exception.  It felt like there were cars everywhere.  One suggestion was that folks have a natural instinct to get home before it is dark.  We stayed on streets with less traffic, as much as possible, while we worked our way toward the "Gorge Trail."  From this trail we hopped onto an unfinished portion of a trail connecting to the Veterans Memorial Park.  That will be nice when it is done.  Then, up the hill we stroked and onto the "Cardinal Trail," our local rail trail.

It was nice to have no cars on the trails.  We encountered two walkers, one runner, and two other bicyclists.  Two deer were about twenty yards away as we came off of the "Gorge Trail."  We discussed light systems for bicycles and enjoyed a nearly full moon.  I recalled training under moonlight when my children were young.  I rode these same trails many days this summer and it was an interesting comparison to ride at night.  Night riding required a greater concentration on the trail immediately in front of us.  I didn't see as many trees.  We were startled to have bats fly right in front of us, nearly striking one rider.  Night riding is a different kind of excitement.

When we had turned around and begun our trip home, we passed through an arch of steel fence-like material designed to insure safety of both trail users and cars below.  During the day this structure is hardly noticeable.  This night our light reflected off of the railings and arch to make it appear as if we were in a tunnel.  Our light in the tunnel reminded me we are on a journey.  Remembering the expression about the, "light at the end of the tunnel" caused  me to think we can see our journey as being a light in the tunnel.  We can illuminate those around us as we travel through our lives.  I would say we need to bring our lights.

In A Life Time

Saturday dad and I cut down one of his Spruce trees.  He had a list of what we needed to haul to the tree.  All the tools we could possibly need were on the list.  After assembling the tools, and loading them into the truck, we drove to the tree. 

Our job was to cut the tree and have it fall in an area dad had decided was best.  We began by cutting the limbs off of one side of the tree.  Since it leaned toward the East, and we wanted it to fall mostly to the West, the eastern limbs were the ones removed.  During the process of cutting limbs off, dad wanted to take a load away.  This was so that we wouldn't be walking and tripping over them.  We loaded as many limbs onto the pickup truck as we could.  They were heavy, full of moisture, and long.  When it seemed as if the load would fall from the truck if we added another limb, we drove to the brush pile to unload them.  Back to the tree we drove.

Having cut and cleared enough limbs, so that we could set our ladder against the trunk, we climbed to fasten a chain around the tree.  I estimate our chain was nearly half of the distance from the ground to the top of the tree.  A second chain was then fastened to the end of the first.  Finally, a towing strap was added to the end of our second chain and fastened to the hook on the front of the pickup truck.  This arrangement of chains and strap allowed the truck to be safely away while it put tension on our tree.

Dad announced that I could, "...go ahead and cut your notch."  Then he climbed into the truck and proceeded to tension our chain/strap arrangement.  A few pulls started the chain saw and I estimated where the cut should be to direction the fall.  Carefully cutting the angled notch and knocking out the wedge shapped piece of wood from the opening, I moved around to the other side of the tree.  Quickly the saw's sharp chain teeth pulled pieces of wood from the trunk.  Just when I was thinking about stopping my saw to get a wedge, the cut began to open up.  Simultaneously dad backed the truck away from the tree and I increased my cutting speed.  Gently the old tree fell to within inches of where we had planned.

The process from this point on was steady.  First cut limbs from the tree.  Load the limbs onto the pickup truck.  Drive to the pile and unload the limbs.  We repeated this proceedure until I'm sure dad was tired of just climbing in and out of the truck.  Near the top I cut a Christmas tree sized piece from the trunk of our tree.  Clearing the last of the limbs, we began to saw the trunk into firewood sized chunks.  During a pause to rest I counted the annual rings.  Our tree was at least thirty seven years old.  Dad's comment was, "You can grow a tree in a life time." 

Four hours was all it took for us to process nearly fourty years of energy and nutriant gathering by a tree.  The old Blue Spruce had stood in mom and dad's yard for most of the life of my oldest son.  it was a beautiful tree and many eyes enjoyed it.  We discovered two Robin nests in the branches.  I wondered how many birds lives had been nourished sheltering in the life of this tree?  What winds had it heard, and storms endured?  I pictured the snow from tens of winters on the tree's branches.  How many hundreds or thousands of pounds of snow had our spruce held?  And I imagined hot summer days that were just a little cooler because of the shade and energy absorbtion of the tree.  Thousands of gallons of water had showered the branches and flowed through the vessels inside. 

Now the tree will serve as a home for rabbits and mice as a brush pile.  Birds may still alight in branches devoid of needles.  Micro organisms, fungus, and bacteria will resolutly consume the accumulated nutrients.   It will slowly diminish in size and eventually become dirt.

I wonder too about my role in the process.  How soon will I continue the cycle, leaving my life behind?

Sounds of The City

I always enjoy the sounds insects make in the Summer and Fall.  There is an increase in the different sounds being made, the urgency of the sounds, and more individuals making them.  A lot of the noise seems to be a call.  It's as if all are saying, with whatever mechanism works best for them, "Here I am!...Come here!...Where are you?...We're getting closer!"  on a warm evening, the insistent repetition is comforting.  Insect's calling evokes memories of summers past.  The familiarity is wonderful.

And all of this noise keeps getting louder, longer, and more frantic as the weather cools.  That is, it gets more intense, until the first frost.  Then, suddenly, almost all of the sounds stop.  Only a few, quieter, cooler, subdued sounding insects continue the orchestration.  It is a sad time to hear the last remaining music makers trying to accomplish their purpose.  One can almost hear the beginning of a cold winter wind in the near silence.

While napping, on my screened porch the other evening, I was awakened by howling of coyotes.  At first I thought someone was fighting in a nearby home.  My mind was trying to interpret a seldom heard sound.  I tried to discern words of anger being shouted.  Then I realized what I was really hearing.  There was no mistaking the sorrowful wailing of the pack.  Perhaps they were morning the warmth gone.  Not having heard them very often, I was not familiar with what they were trying to communicate.  Was there a, "Come here." in their voices?  Or, were they just fussing among themselves?  Whatever the conversation, it was nice to be able to hear it.

There are sounds so subtle I cannot hear them.  The rabbit hopping about my yard, a skunk slowly turning over bits of sod, and the raccoons scurrying from the sewer grate to the neighbor's bushes are all those soft sounds.  I would listen if I could find the volume control.  As it is, seeing supplants the missed sounds.

Soon the wind will remove most of the leaves from the trees.  It is harder to listen to cold winds.  They seem to be foretelling weather that will come.  Knocking the leaves off of trees is forceful.  Strength in the wind will push snowflakes and rains in the near future.  I tend to ignore the wind sounds.

Rocks And Hard Places

I was watching a waterfall and noticed piles of rocks at the base of the falls.  These rocks didn't appear to move.  Rather, the water was splashed by them as it fell.  But, they weren't always so solid.  At one time the rocks fell from the land the water was rushing over.  Then the small particles of sand and silt were washed away.  The pebbles and small stones were moved downstream by the fast waters.  Only the unmovable rocks remained.  I'm sure they still move a small amount from time to time.  The falling water is relentless in its pressure.  It is such a slow movement that it probably cannot be seen while watching.

The thought came into my mind that I am like the rocks.  There are a number of superfluous parts of my life that have been "washed" away.  The small things, little irritants, that used to concern me, are no longer present.  I am looking at my life to find what the rocks are.  What has fallen from what was once a firm part of my life, yet  remains?  Are there things that I cling to so forcefully that they cannot be moved?  One of the most important questions that arose was, "What is pushing on my rocks, like the water over a falls?

Make a Difference

Yesterday evening we took a bicycle ride and had a light discussion of politics.  I was lamenting the fact that little could be done to make a difference in what city government does.  My fellow rider pointed out that he had measured roads, posted the lane widths online, and government officials used the numbers to write part of their proposed transportation plan.  He also mentioned that contractors are the only reason the bicycle racks he initiated, and city government approved, are not installed.  I had to admit that one person has made a difference.  Perhaps I should try harder to make my difference with city government.

What does it take to make a difference?  Does one just gather information and keep presenting it?  I've received promises from people in office, but the promises do not seem to be kept.  It might be I didn't wait long enough.  I have written letters, spoken in meetings, sent comments to the newspaper, and talked with representatives.  Can't see that I have accomplished anything other than exercising my rights.  As I said during the ride, "I'm a better mechanic than I am an advocate."  It was suggested I make efforts to utilize my strengths.  I can put together presentations, I'm at least a satisfactory teacher, and I have both written and verbal communication skills.

Better Days

On Sunday's ride I encountered runners and bicyclists.  I greeted folks with, "Nice day to be outside."  I suppose it could have been my words that evoked the positive responses, but I think it was their genuine feeling.  Everyone responded that it was a good day to be outside.  Most of them went beyond that comment to say it was a very good day, or a great day to be outside. 

This time of year, with days getting shorter, and temperatures cooling, we hang onto the sunshine filled days.  It is as if the sunshine is more valuable now than it was even a few weeks ago.  The clouds and coolness we have seen hint that the sunshine of Fall will soon be replaced by the days of winter.  Knowing that the supply is limited makes the  value higher.  It works with economics and warm, sunshiny, days.

These Fall days, with sunshine and just a little cooler temperatures, are better days.  They are better than the days to come.  I'm going to focus on finding something better about each day that comes.  In some way it will be better than the days following it.  Today is a good day to be.

Autumn Thunder

It is time for harvest and the combines are roaming the fields.  Soy beans get picked first in this part of the country.  Although, if the beans are wet, the harvest may move on to corn.  With soy beans, the noise is there; a constant rumble as the machine cuts, separates and loads the seeds.  Corn makes a different and louder noise.  One can hear it in the distance when the combine is working.  It is like a throbbing thunder from over the hill.  The corn cobs thunk and rumble through the machine.

The farmers are happier when their yield is high, and the product is dryer.  The harvest is the culmination of an entire year.  Planning what to plant, choosing the hybrid seed, deciding when and what chemicals to apply, and hoping for rain at the right times are all parts of the season.  The harvest tells the story.  It will answer the question, "What has all of the hoping and planning produced?"

We do a lot of planning and hoping in our lives.  What school to go to, how to obtain the things we think we need, and what to do with each day.  I hope for a thunderous harvest in my life as it progresses.

Going to have winter

They say we are going to have a cold, wet, winter.  Seems like this time of year someone always has the prediction for our winter weather.  The caterpillars have an extra wide stripe this year, or they may even be one solid color.  The "Farmers Almanac" said.  Certainly there are plenty of predictors predicting.

This phenomenon happens each year.  I wonder why folks are so interested in what the winter will be.  My memory tells me it is very similar each year.  We have snow, it gets cold, the wind blows, and there is some wet weather.  It doesn't seem to matter what is predicted, it usually happens.  Perhaps it is an urge to store food or prepare for harsh conditions, so that we can survive, that drives our concern for future winter weather. 

Some of us have a natural tendency to worry.  If we don't worry about the weather, we  have to find something else to be concerned about.  A sense of fear ferments in the worried mind until it seems to rot reason.  The fear of what might happen pushes toward the feared reality being more real than what actually happens.

I say, do the best you can with the weather of the day.  If it is cold, dress warmly.  Should it slicken, keep thinking and be careful.  When it warms, enjoy a different comfort and wear less.

Back to Civilization

I was living, in my tent, with rumpled clothes pulled from a bag.  Then I was thrust into a place where it was important enough for clothes to look nice that they provided an iron and ironing board hanging on the wall.

The change from my normal routine to camping is relatively easy.  I shead complexity for simplicity; closets and drawers full of stuff, for a bag full of only what I feel is necessary.  My tent cleaning involves taking everything out, holding it upside down, and shaking dirt from the inside.  My bed is rolled up and stuffed in a sack.  "Home" is taken down and put into its own bag.

Transition back into civilization, from a camping life style, is more difficult.  The need for clean clothes and a shaven face are the first few differences I encounter.  Each day the bed must be made, clothes washed and folded, cleaned dishes put in cabinets, floors vacuumed, and so much more.  There are more interactions between people that I must deal with.  More routines are associated with civilization than with camping.

Some find the transitions easier than others.  Taking on the additional routines and demands for attention and time is a difficult process for those who prefer simplicity.  Others are comfortable with what they consider the necessities of civilization.  So, which should we strive for, simplicity or civilization?

A Talent Show Song

Toward the end of a tour there is often a chance for a talent show.  Our tour leader encouraged folks to begin to think about one and prepare a short talent presentation.  While riding along, I sang a song, and rhymed some words that would be heard.

Bicycle Touring

By Kent Beisner - 2012

Chorus: Riding my bicycle, touring by bicycle:

Worms hang from my down tube,

Rain drips from my nose.

Nothing seems to matter,

As long as my bike goes.

Chorus: Riding my bicycle, touring by bicycle:

I often become odorous,

Yet sights seen are so wondrous.

Smells saturate my senses,

I'm glad for trees like fences.

Chorus: Riding my bicycle, touring by bicycle:

Sounds surround my hearing,

I search for the right gearing.

With speeds I ride to get there, 

I see more than my share.

Chorus: Riding my bicycle, touring by bicycle:

Eating ice cream, nuts, and protein;

And still I seem to stay lean.

To camp in time for dinner,

I will be a winner.

Riding my bicycle, wondering what's around the next bends,

Will lure me until my life's tour ends.

Listen to Stories

I enjoy staffing Adventure Cycling Association tours because the folks I am around understand what I tell stories about. They listen and then share their stories. It is apparent to me that we like to share, perhaps even need to share, our life stories. Could it be that our stories help us to feel that we are worth something?   The recognition we receive for our story telling is a validation of what we did to make the story possible. My stories also help me remember positives in my life, and what I enjoyed.

I saw trees leaning toward the road. This was not just a one time event. It was a condition almost everywhere the road went and trees lined it. I suspect the light is more available toward the road. The canopy of the forest limits the light in the other direction. Positive photo tropism is the phrase I remember being associated with this condition. I wonder what light we lean toward? What competitions cause us to go or grow a different direction?

I recently met a female pastor who was enabling women as one of her ministries.  In our discussions we agreed that we first need to understand the differences between men and women.  Then, we ought to celebrate the differences.  How wonderfully we are made.  I have seen, and I believe it is true that, as it is written in the Bible,  "...the two shall be as one..."  There is something that can happen, between a man and a woman, that makes them "one."  Yes, there are still two individuals, each with their own talents and thoughts.  Additionally, there is a process, over time, that yields a oneness between these two.

Petoskey thoughts

I'm going to post some observations and thoughts from recent Adventure Cycling Association tours. In Petoskey, Michigan there were some terrific bicycle/pedestrian paths. On one there was a sign I had never seen on a bicycle path. It said, "Walk Your Bike." There was a steep downhill after the sign and for many riders, the sign was appropriate. It was just an interesting sign for a bicycle path.

Folks in the "Roast And Toast" were reviewing news of the day on their electronic tablets. One gentleman mentioned something about, "...our fair share." I thought about this and asked myself, "Who said it has to be fair? Who determines what is fair?" Then the old cliche, "All is fair in love and war," occurred to me. After thinking about the questions for a while I had this thought: "Fair" is another way of saying give me some of what you have that I do not have.

During my stay at the campground, near Petoskey, I found some "Petoskey Stones," per instructions from my wonderful wife. My observations produced these thoughts: The waves lapping the shore were peaceful, and yet sorrowful. Their journey full of energy was ending with a gentle caress of the land they encountered. How much are we like waves; full of water, energy and motion? We too, are driven by a force, like the wind, and moving toward our endings. I wonder what stones we grind up along our shores? Each wave, another bump of grinding, adds to the smoothing of the stones.

I came to the shore to meet you. We watched a solitary bird floating. His was a silent steady motion to the shore. Then, tiny legs bore him along the sands. We recalled bird runnings along the seas, and shared an embrace. We have so many memories together.

Begin again

First let me reference a link to the old blog I was posting: http://felcbiking.blogspot.com/ . This was primarily for telling what happened on bicycle rides with First English Lutheran Church. For about a year now those rides have not happened. Now it is time to go another direction. This one is for me.