11/14/24 1730: Rule Number 6 ...and Practices in Possibilities.

 

 

 

 

Over almost two decades ago a book came across my path. I don’t remember the exact details of how it came to be in my hands, but whatever the how, I most certainly remember its impact on me.

This national bestseller was published waaaay back in 2002 and is titled, “The Art of Possibility” by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander, and please note it is still fiercely pertinent to present day.

How incredibly ironic that the topic of chapter 6 (all about Rule Number 6) has come into my mind many MANY times in the past few weeks and months. Happy to “spill the beans” here...Rule Number 6 is simply, “Don’t take yourself so g--damn seriously.”

I have a tendency to break Rule Number 6 all over the place and twice on Sunday...and as I thought into why I tend to be so serious...why I take life very seriously at times...well...there’s been a lot at stake in what’s brought me to this spot on the page.

I’ve done a lot of serious stuff...where there were consequences for one’s actions, such as...working as a whitewater kayak guide on the Upper Green River where sometimes being in nature's wild caused crazy things to happen….and then there was working as a conductor for the Dearborn Division of the Norfolk Southern railroad. Not only was the job itself very dangerous at times (life and limb sorta stuff)...the company managers were always looking for a reason to fire you...which lead to a pretty serious work-life. After I was laid off from the railroad (Feb 2020) I worked for the US Postal Service as a rural mail carrier. And let me just say, 2020 was not a very fun, lighthearted time to become a rural mail carrier. Not a day went by from March to October of 2020 where I wasn’t running like my hair was on fire, my vehicle was on fire, the mail was on fire and everything was on fire (also note: this was long before Amazon delivered their own packages but rather shipped them via the USPS), because the paralyzing affect that the COVID debacle had on USPS logistics systems was, well let’s just say...serious. Before all this I was a H.S. and college volleyball and basketball referee for many years...a lot of humorlessness throughout some of those very intense times.

So yes, ever since reading and re-reading “The Art of Possibility” and the chapter about Rule Number 6 I think of this when I need to remember the benefit of laughter and the humorous side of things.

On page 81 you’ll find the following quote:
“Remembering Rule Number 6 can help us distinguish (and hold at some remove) the part of ourselves that developed in the competitive environment of the “measurement world.” {sidebar here...you don’t grow up Baptist and not learn a smidge about the “measurement world.” just saying.} For the sake of discussion, we’ll call it our calculating self. One of its chief characteristics, as we shall see is that it lobbies to be taken very seriously indeed. When we practice Rule Number 6, we coax this calculating self to lighten up, and by doing so we break its hold on us.”

All of this said, I have noticed that more and more folks here on Facebook seem to be turning to humor in these current times we find ourselves...myself included. (I'm seeing more humor related posts...funny cat videos or quips or memes meant to lighten the air or even cause us to burst out in laughter, and thank you for this!) Some of this might be contributed to simply how ridiculous things have become...where you just laugh because that’s the only thing left to do.

It’s also worth noting that laughter is proven to have many health benefits!
According to an article found here (https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/stress-management/in-depth/stress-relief/art-20044456) and written by Mayo Clinic staff, laughter can soothe tension, relieve stress response, improve your immune system, relieve pain, and improve your mood.

You don’t have to take my word for it...just find something that makes you laugh and you can see for yourself. So I’ve written this as much for a reminder to myself to turn more of my attention to humor as I have for anyone else. Although...I know you need it too. I’ve read your posts.

If you need a place to start, why not check out: “The Art of Possibility” by the Zanders’. I’ve just added it back to my “current reads” pile. Lord knows I need more laughs and lightheartedness right now too!

Photo Credit: cover of the book 

to the Universe...

 Thank you!

 

11/08/24 1900: Recombobulation.

 

In 2008, Barry Bateman (now retired) former Director of the General Mitchell International Airport (in Milwaukee, WI) invented the word “recombobulation” and created an area to do so just past TSA check-points.

So you just went through the TSA security check enroute to your flights’ departing gate and now your shoes, belt, jewelry and hat are in one hand and your carry on luggage is discombobulated because your toiletries are all askew.  Mr. Bateman recognized the need for an area to recombobulate yourself and your things and of course, to see the humor in it all.

It’s worth noting that also in 2008, the American Dialect Society (the group that selects the “word of the year”) selected this made-up-word as that year’s “Most Creative” Word.
To bring this full circle, it’s also worth noting that the 2023 word of the year as selected by the American Dialect Society was “enshittification.” Well yes, of course it was. The 2024 word of the year hasn’t been selected yet, but I kinda can’t wait to see what this year’s word will be.

But let’s go back to recombobulation. I’ll bet you can see where I’m headed. If I were on the committee that gets to pick this year’s word...you betcha I’d vote for recombobulation.
Kim Hjelmgaard in a USA TODAY article said about 2024, “The Voldemort of years. The annus horribilis. The year that must not be named."

Here’s a recap of some of the intenseness that’s gone down in 2024: February’s AT&T failure of 5G voice and data services, cyberattacks and data breaches directed at healthcare providers and insurance companies in the first half of the year, the AI technology wave...2024 is the year organizations truly began using...and are deriving business value from...this new technology, a karmic year in the courts for Trump, the “that-was-a-very-big-deal” solar eclipse on April 8th, climate-related events that are causing anxiety across the world, the Summer Olympics hosted by Paris, the wreckage and now recovery from Hurricane Helene in WNC, and last but not least...the slippery slope of the U.S. Presidential Election. I’m confident that I left out many other noteworthy topics from 2024...but you get the point.

So yeah...I think a little recombobulation might be in order. Originally intended as a humorous term for the process of reassembling oneself after going through airport security.  It’s undeniable that many of us are in a state of needing to regroup, re-gather, collect ourselves (emotionally and physically), unite, rest and reorganize...to name just a few.

However it is that you find necessary ways and means to recombobulate going forward...please do this. I know for myself, getting back into the forest (now that many parks and National Forests have re-opened) and hiking has been a form of quietude for me. Many have gathered in ceremonial ways to find pathways to grieve, mourn losses and accept what is. Others here in WNC are still reeling from sheer loss.

It’s an uncomfortable time. But this too shall pass.
And most certainly there’s change in the air.
Because what once was...is no more.

It’s time to recombobulate.

Photo Credit: online somewhere, image captured at the General Mitchell International Airport 

11/01/24 1530: Green River Update.

 

Inconceivable. Unimaginable. Disheartening.

These are words I never thought I’d speak about a natural place once described by many (including myself) as a refuge, a sanctuary, a holy place thousands upon thousands of family and friends would go for exhilarating delight.  The Green River and specifically what’s known as the Green River Cove in Polk County North Carolina is one such place.

Whether it was fly-fishing, whitewater kayaking, tubing, hiking, or simply to have a picnic lunch by her waters, this place had a venerable tone. There were campgrounds and cabins and Summer cottages that lined the rivers edge.  Hallowed traditions were shaped here by families bringing their children to her waters to share in the joy of the bewitching experiences found there.

Today, I saw with my own eyes the destruction that Helene brought to the banks of this extraordinary Green River. What once appeared as a brawny and burly wilderness, rugged and sturdy now appears delicate and exposed.

From the lower section put-in named “Fishstop” which somewhere along the line morphed into being called “Fishtop” down stream to the take-out named “Big Rock” is approximately 6 miles. Along the river is a road called “Green River Cove Road.” Along this road were homes and cottages and cabins and campgrounds.

Without getting into the details as to the “lay of the land” and the “watershed” that feeds into Green River Cove the sequence of rain and rising waters and flood levels that began to flow down the Green river created a torrent, a deluge, a cataclysm of not just rising water, but also felled trees, boulders, river rock, and then when homes and cabins and cars began to wash away this debris added to the deluge. And then it began to pile up...and push...and shove.

These six miles of river now looks like a nuclear powered wind pushed and shoved and compressed and bulldozed everything within its grasp. And everything pushed from above was deposited below...in the Green River Cove. Where once everything was green and lush and essentially rainforested, it’s now covered with sand and debris and trash and trees ripped from their roots. Whole trees and roots of trees and then sand and then more trees and roots of trees. The image below used to clearly depict five buildings/structures/homes along this river bank of the Green River which are now simply, gone.

 

It’s hard to notice that the river still flows for how bewildering the insurmountable destruction that is scattered everywhere. But if you look beyond the rearranging, if you can see through the mud and piled up trees, there she is. There’s the Green, still flowing. Her channels are very different now. The rocks are moved into different resting places. But she still flows.

I’ve never seen such colossal change in nature. And what adds to this is that this destruction is not just limited to these six miles of Green River. An unfathomable amount of places like this throughout the entire Western North Carolina region have been rearranged.

I told myself that once I was able to see this beautiful river (that I’ve spent countless hours guiding whitewater kayaking trips and family and friends down its waterways) that I knew I would be one step closer to admitting to myself “what is” and then begin to be able to move forward and become familiar again with the now very new Green River Gorge and Green River Cove.

It’s only been five weeks since Helene came knocking...and already there’s been remarkable improvements to the road surface (much of which wasn’t known if it was still there because of the amount of sand and silt that covered the road...which has since been cleared off) and the two main bridges. Day-by-day there’s more access and debris clean-up and trash removed from the riverbed and its banks.

The Green Riverkeeper, Erica Shanks with Mountain True has been working tirelessly with Precision Grading (lead operator Jake) along with engineers and others to organize, plan and implement clean-up efforts. When all is said and done an environmentally friendly ticker-type parade needs to be held in honor of the Erica’s and the Jake’s in the world here. Who knew just how invaluable heavy equipment operators skills would become here...along with thousands of other sites like this in Western North Carolina.

I do know that in these five weeks a common theme has surfaced which is...everything is evolving and changing day-by-day. So what once seemed like a daunting, insurmountable task...begins to show signs of improvement because as you do one thing...the next appears that needs to be done...and so on...and before you know it...improvement arrives. And then when that improvement is built upon...another improvement arrives.

I don’t know what the next version of the tenacious Green River will ultimately look and feel like...but for now..she’s fragile and resting...but before long...she will persevere and regenerate.

And for those “bridge-builders” and visionaries (like Mountain True and Precision Grading and NC DOT) who are working towards restoration of the almighty Green and the infrastructure around her...a million thanks are due and a tremendous amount of gratitude!

Also worthy of note is that in lieu of the ever-so-famous Green River Race being canceled this year due to the impact of the flood, a festival and a fundraiser was held instead! Collaborating along with Mountain True, the Green River Race team is also highlighting fundraising efforts to be directed towards The Green Race Conservation Project. The main focus in and around the Green River currently is trash and debris removal from the water and its banks.

To learn more about the Green River Race 2024 Festival that was held on November 2nd, click here.

If you wish to learn more about the Green Race Conservation Project or to donate towards the clean-up and recovery process in the Green River please click here.  

Photo Credit (top): https://greenrace.us/

Photo Credit (middle): https://ca.news.yahoo.com/helene-hit-nc-green-river-140810661.html

10/29/24 1700: Fix-it-Yourself.

 

Something unexpected happened to me the first time I observed a flowing mountain stream after Helene came through Western North Carolina. I was riding a bike towards downtown Brevard, NC on my way to a fundraiser for hurricane Helene disaster relief when I crossed a bridge over King Creek. I did a double-take, because normally mountain river water has an immediate calming effect. But for the first time in my life, it caused me to pause. Like record-screech pause.

You know that feeling that hits you in those moments that are mixed with fear, exhilaration, adrenaline, and uncertainty? Maybe I can explain this feeling better by telling a story within this story.

One of the river guides I worked with this past Summer began to stretch his whitewater kayaking wings by using a hard-shelled boat on our trips down the Green River with guests (we had the choice to guide using an inflatable or a hard-shell kayak, I opted for an inflatable...mostly because I wasn’t willing to stretch into the risks). Something I noticed was that while whitewater kayaking in a hard-shell boat is an exhilarating experience, it also requires a critical proficiency in what’s called the Eskimo roll. The Eskimo Roll is a kayaking maneuver that allows you to right yourself after capsizing, without the need to exit the kayak.

The long and short of this story is that my friend got a little ahead of himself one day while guiding in a hard-shell and capsized in a “wrong place, wrong time” sorta way. He ended up, upside down while going through a rapid called “Devil’s Elbow” on the Upper section of the Green. The result was he clobbered his face on a rock while upside down and underwater and quite frankly, this experience spooked him. It took him a couple weeks to get back into a hard-shell boat. And very tentatively at that...because a new respect for the balance between composure, skill level and technicality reigned.

Nature and wilderness settings like this have an inherent risk due to varying levels of unpredictability. Unpredictability, in ourselves and also from within nature herself. But the funny thing is...there’s always a human progression towards mastering ones surroundings. And intrinsic to this process is simply not knowing the extremes that are possible. Like Appalachian trail hikers that set out to hike the AT in the Spring and get caught in a potentially life-threatening snowstorm unawares. Yet it’s through these very experiences as outdoor adventurers that we learn and this learning becomes a part of our fabric.

So now let’s come back to my double-take over King Creek. I now had within my fabric the knowing that mountain rivers and streams can rage. And from within this raging fury can come wreckage and death and a complete rearranging of the landscape. Entire towns can be erased and roads and bridges washed away. Everything you once knew, will forever be changed. So from within this “new knowing” I now held within me almost an indignation for this flowing water below me. It was a strange feeling. I’d never felt disturbed by the sight or sound of a mountain creek before. But now I held this within me like a wound that was raw and painful and bleeding.

I kept on riding that day...knowing that soon I’d have to address the full magnitude of this newly discovered uneasiness within me that emerged around what had previously been my complete admiration for the rivers, streams and creeks. I had stumbled into an emotional yin/yang effect. Before Helene, none of us knew the potential destructive powers that these “water roadways” might bring to our doors. Not in this way.

Yet...and yet...I also know deep within my being that these “water roadways” were simply doing their job...of providing a path for the water to run its course back down to the sea. Herein lies the dichotomy. Rivers and creeks and streams are just like anything in nature...there’s a spectrum of safe and unsafe, harm and no-harm, gentleness and harshness. Extreme highs and extreme lows. Herein lies the challenge of holding these truths with ourselves. That both things can exist at the same time. Extremely high and dangerous peaks, yet so glamorously gorgeous to look at. Lush waterfalls and bubbling creek beds, yet at high water can become tree-destroying, rock-moving, bridge-wrecking, unstoppable torrents.

I came across a book I had in a box the other day compiled by the “Reader’s Digest” called, “Fix-it-Yourself-Manual.” When I saw it I was reminded that some things can’t be fixed by myself. Some things like the over-night-appearance of a deeply emotional dichotomy cannot be fixed at all. But rather we’re called to lean in and learn from it. For myself, when I walk in the forest now along the creeks and streams I have to be gentle. Because a tenderness surrounds my heart. I have to allow myself to listen deeply and let her be who she is...truly just a messenger. She (these beautiful mountain rivers) just delivered a message that night when Helene arrived. It’s up to me to listen and learn what that message is and what to do with it.

Meanwhile I’m getting reacquainted with loving the flowing mountain water again. This experience is once again reminding me of the true power that resides within affording compassion because of all the layers at play in any one given story. Compassion for myself, compassion for nature, compassion for the in-betweens.

Nature is still my greatest teacher.

 

10/25/24 1100: Bridges...and why they matter.

 

I was stunned to learn a captivating piece of history this morning while doing some research around the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge (which connects a section of I-26 in the Green River Gorge area of WNC). I’m not really sure why this bridge has captured my attention in such an extraordinary way..and yet even as I write this...I’ll acknowledge much of the reason has to do with the fact that I’ve kayaked under it dozens and dozens of times while guiding inflatable whitewater kayaking trips down the Upper section of the Green River.

If you will, let me explain the significance of this bridge. Originally called the Green River Bridge, I’ve found conflicting statements regarding when its construction was completed. From what I’ve read it appears to have taken five years to build. (1967-1972) This bridge connects both sides of I-26 as it crosses over the Green River between Saluda and East Flat Rock, NC. (Note here, that the construction of I-26 and all the parts...like this bridge was a VERY big deal for transportation, economic impact and so many other things.)

It’s also significant to note that this is the exact location that Peter Guice built the first wooden bridge across the Green around 1820. His son and then grandson took up the task of maintaining the bridge. (In the spirit of “why is this a big deal?” as I’ve said to myself too… “so what...it’s a bridge” it’s important to note that the way of travel back then was Indian footpaths and trails and this one was called “Howard’s Gap.” And this path crossed the Green in this particular spot because this was the “way across.” This was the ford used to get across the river until Guice built a toll bridge there.

So here’s where it got interesting for me today. Get ready!

According to an article written by Terry Ruscin and published in the Gaston Gazette dated September 8th, 2019, Peter Guice’s grandson Joseph “Joe” Ripley Guice replaced the bridge that was destroyed in the 1916 flood.

Let me say that again, the bridge that connected the banks over the Green River maintained by the Guice family was WASHED AWAY in the flood of 1916!

Here’s why this is significant to today. The damage and destruction created by Tropical Storm Helene in Western North Carolina almost exactly one month ago (Sept 26th, 2024) has been compared over and over to the great flood of 1916.

Except. it’s worthy to note this VERY significant difference. The bridge that crossed the Green River in 1916 washed away. The bridge that crossed the Green River in 2024 did not. And thank GOD!

The Peter Guice Memorial bridge is the tallest bridge in the State of North Carolina standing 225 feet high. I don’t know if I can paint a real picture as to the significance and value of this bridge brings to this region.

On the days and weeks following the disaster that Helene brought to our doorstep, the connection between Greenville, SC and areas in and around Asheville, NC was traversed here using I-26 and the critical infrastructure such as the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge to gather and distribute much needed supplies such as food, fuel and water to name a few.

While thankfully this bridge wasn’t one of the hundreds of bridges in Western North Carolina that were compromised as a result of Helene flooding, the realization as to why bridges matter has been hit home to me over and over again.

A bridge creates short-cuts and in some cases, access at all. What likely took maybe one hour or two hours to traverse around, the bridge shortened travel times or created the one way in and one way out access. So now if a bridge is suddenly impassable or gone altogether well...you see where this is going.

Bridges matter! And maybe this was in fact why I would gaze up at the Peter Guice Memorial Bridge every time I went under it while kayaking on the Green River.

It’s two hundred and twenty feet high!! It’s HUGE! What a feet to build this impressive structure. What a feet. And thank god for bridges like this one...that withstood the pressure and stress of the ENORMOUS amount of water that raged down the Green River that day, just one month ago.


Photo Credit: https://www.historicsaluda.org/vintage-postcards/


If you’d like to learn more about the flood of 1916 check out:

https://saveculture.org/elder-wisdom-oral-history-archive/

(click on “Floods and Freshets”)


If you’d like to read the article published in the Gaston Gazette check out:

https://www.gastongazette.com/story/lifestyle/2019/09/08/beyond-banks-traversing-our-waterways/3465103007/

(scroll down to the section titled “Peter Guice Bridge’)

10/22/24 1030: When reliability isn’t reliable.

 

In the spirit of slowly arriving into the space of “new normal” here in Western North Carolina, yesterday I was reminded (and triggered) that we’re not there yet. Just about the time you think you can settle into “things being more reliable”...something happens to remind you that they are not.

To get from Brevard to Hendersonville, NC, one of the most effective routes to take is along Kanuga road. However, it’s only been a week or so since the Kanuga route was accessible because of landslides and road damage. (And when I say road damage, what I mean is, the road literally fell off into the ravine below in one particular place and only one lane is even usable there.)

The way that road crews managed this particular spot was to put up signs in both directions that basically said, “please alternate.”

Follow along here as I describe the progression of events. First round...no signs at all. Everyone just automatically knew that to drive this road after Helene meant to be extremely cautious and patient. You slowed down from speeds you would have driven this road just 30 days ago and carried a general sense of “alert and aware” with you. So when you arrived at this location where the road was only one lane (because there is literally only one lane remaining there) you stopped and looked down the road around the curve to see if anyone was coming and then slowly drove through this spot...alternating.

Secondly came the “please alternate” signs at this location. Funny how once a sign shows up some of the human compassion and allowing for patience disappears a little.

Thirdly, when the temporary traffic lights showed up, (this felt a whole lot more normal as a way to experience this one-lane-road-spot) every driver knows how to conduct themselves using red or green as the guide, so things progressed much more smoothly at this location. UNTIL, the traffic lights failed.

This is what I experienced yesterday. The lights were working fine when I drove through there in the morning, but had failed by afternoon. When I arrived...cars were lining up in the lane I approached from. The light was blinking red, which I hadn’t seen here before (also something we’re predisposed to now...the way something was or how something worked before doesn’t necessarily mean it will stay that way). Note here, this is a mountain road which means it’s not straight so you can’t see much further past the few cars in front of you because of the gradient and curves. Since the lights showed up, it might take a minute or two to get through this spot. I now was stopped in this lineup of cars for a good 5 minutes...and then the horn honking started...and then a few folks decided to pull out around the lineup and drive in the opposing lane (to pull out into opposing traffic meant if you met an oncoming car there was no where to go...because the opposing traffic lane had a guardrail that was protecting the mountain drop off on the other side). Next thing I know here comes a car speeding so fast that stones were being kicked up and ...well...let’s just say things were getting a little outta hand at this point. Eventually common sense kicked in and an alternating traffic pattern began again. As I drove through and past the temporary traffic lights I could see that both were malfunctioning. On one side one was blinking red and the other side was just dark...no lights at all.

It was a little unsettling to experience this moment of confusion because it was an immediate reminder of all the chaos and unknowns from all the previous days and weeks. Especially when it leads to frustration and eventually bad human behavior.

I thought to myself, “This is what it feels like when what you've come to rely upon becomes unreliable.” You have no other choice but to problem solve and adapt and overcome.

The best part of this...is when humans adapt so quickly and land in a state of collaboration and cooperation that it’s heartwarming.

It’s fascinating to consider the thousands upon thousands of things each and every day that we come to rely upon. Here in WNC, communities have been tested by being torn down even below basics level (power, running water, cell signal, internet, food, shelter, heat), not to mention everything gone in some cases.

This intense level of test creates a whole other level of frustration, loss of hope, dismay, anger, a short fuse and on and on. So when something simple like traffic flow management on a one lane section of mountain road is fixed...and then it’s not...all this flares right back up again.

I was also reminded from this traffic light experience that things around here are still very fragile. It’s going to be a while before we feel solid and stable again. This was a window into the “new normal” for now.

I am becoming aware each day that this won’t last forever...this unstableness. Things are improving day-by-day. Hope is in the air again. In spite of small set-backs like this one.

But I do yearn for the reliable to remain reliable. Patience grasshopper, patience.

 

Photo credit: from somewhere online