Avatar

There have been movies which have been controversial upon their release. The Catholic church practically waged war on "The DaVinci Code", and the conservatives labeled Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 9/11" a bleeding-heart liberal doctrine. Other flicks are almost pure hype, and then when you see them, the whole experience fizzles out leaving you unsatisfied and disappointed, sometimes even angry.

I try to pay attention to the news, and it's hard to do that and not see the hype for "Avatar". I have to admit that this made me hesitate to see it. Firstly, I'm not impressed by movies that make a ton of money right away. People are easy to con. Secondly, James Cameron's last great outing was "Titanic", which, all cool effects of the ship itself aside, was kind of a weak love story with the beautiful ginger Kate Winslet and short guy Leonardo DiCaprio (umm... not really). Needless to say, with "Avatar" I was skeptical, almost to the point of writing it off in my head, when a co-worker invited me to go with them to see it.... at the IMAX.... in 3D. (I'd never seen a 3D movie before...)

So I went. Oh, boy did I go. I stood in line for 45 minutes at the Colorado Center's IMAX theater, the same place I took my brother and parents to see "Star Trek" over mother's day. The people were enthusiastic, all wearing their yellow 3D glasses with pride. And when the movie started rolling... phew... to quote Samuel L. Jackson's character in "Jurassic Park", "hold on to your butts." James Cameron came out swinging.

The whole movie takes place on this alien moon called Pandora, where a race of natives, I'm guessing to be around 10 or 11 feet tall, live there in peace and harmony with nature. They're so in tune to the world around them, that they have these biological USB-ports on their pony tails that they can use to plug in to plans and animals. That sense of harmony and respect for nature was something that I really identified with, something that was threatened by the people of Earth, who show up to pillage the planet for a mineral called "unobtainium", a mineral that has strong enough magnetic properties to make big deposits of it actually hover above the ground. There are even the "Hallelujah Mountains" on Pandora, entire mountains hovering above the ground. What happens is a classic, yet beautifully done battle of the natives to defend their homeland, and as for the end, well, you'll just have to see it.

The attention to detail in this make believe world were so overwhelming and beautiful. Unlike "Star Wars Episode II, Attack of the Clones", this was a very believable reality, not cartoonish at all, almost like you're looking at a movie filmed in the Amazon, but every plant and animal is not something you recognize. At one point, sitting in a theater with two big and intimidating guys, I broke down and let tears roll out of my eyes, enamored with the beauty of the movie.

Out of 5 stars, I would give this movie a perfect score, and being a trekkie and having my big day last May, I have to say that this motion picture blew that one out of the water.

The Mother Cabrini Shrine

Sunday, I visited the Mother Francis Xavier Cabrini Shrine in Golden. I'd consider my heavily spiritual, yet not overly religious. Yet this place, a home for Catholic brothers and sisters, gave me pause and showed me a humbling side of the human condition. Devotion is something I'm very envious of, and I continually find myself impressed with individuals who believe something so fiercely and honestly that they live for that thing every day of their lives.

Mother Francis Xavier Cabrini moved to Denver in 1902 and in 1904

founded the Queen of Heaven Orphanage, a place where young women

and girls of all ethnicities could explore their own potential. In 1910, she negotiated the purchase of the land where the shrine how stands, and from then on, children from the inner city orphanage could come out to work on their farm or just play and run through the hills, being as loud as they wanted. The orphanage didn't close until 1967, when, as I understand it, orphanages were replaced by foster care.

Mother Cabrini died in 1917 in Chicago, and was canonized by the Catholic Church in 1946, becoming the first American Saint. In 1948, the 22-foot statue of Jesus was mounted on an 11-foot base in her honor.

Now that the historical stuff has been roughly covered, I can tell you that my personal experience here was rather touching. The whole area has an aura about it, as I imagine many places do. The hike to the shrine features something like 373 concrete steps,

and, along the way, the stages of the Cross are presented, complete with places for pilgrims to stop

and prostrate. Once you get to the top, the views are spectacular. To the west, the front range. Mt. Eva

ns pokes it's head over the horizon. To the east, Denver seems to be humbly nestled against the hills, the vast plains stretching out to the horizon behind it.

It was a great hike, and if you're looking for a place to stretch your legs on a cross-country drive, this is a wonderful choice.

The BattleWagon II, In the flesh!

After my accidents, both with the deer and with the kids from Colorado Springs, I have found myself a new BattleWagon! Without further ado, here it is, ladies and gentlemen: The BattleWagon II!

This is a 1990 Chevrolet G-20 series van with a Starcraft LX conversion. It has a 3-speed automatic transmission with over-drive, a 5.7 Litre V8 (350 cubic inches... my dad always said "there's no substitute for cubic inches). Seating for 7 with seatbelts, and it sleeps two or three comfortably. The hi-top has a place for a TV and DVD/VCR. It also has hookups for a CB. It's basically what I wanted when I lived in the BattleWagon. Now I have a luxurious palace, and I have an equally luxurious travel barge. Moab, here I come!

HomeBase

In October, I moved indefinitely out of the BattleWagon and into HomeBase, a lovely and spacious apartment off 2nd Avenue and Lincoln Street in the Speer neighborhood of Denver, Colorado. I fear it wasn't too soon a move, as shortly afterward, I had the catastrophic collision with the Subaru Impreza, the vehicle I'm now dubbing "The Kamikaze", although a Kamikaze has traditionally been a suicide-killing, and The Kamikaze Impreza got away from this relatively unscathed... but I digress.

This apartment is a lovely place in a great area of the city. Bus lines flow within yards of the front door. The Mayan Theatre is close by. The SoBo (short for South Broadway) restaurant and bar district is one block away. Senior Burritos, one of the most underestimated Mexican restaurants in the city, is across the street. Dougherty's Pub, an Irish "Cheers" is two blocks away. Everyone already knows my name, and I've been there maybe three times since I've lived here. And, for the sake of medical and munchy emergencies, Walgreens is right across the street, too.

If you're ever in Denver for a few days and would like to go on adventure, while the sleeping in the BattleWagon is postponed

until further notice, you're welcome to swing by here and catch some winks... or suds... or both.

News update on the BattleWagon, since you BattleWagoneers can't get enough of me, the insurance company representing the Kamikaze has taken the van for appraisal. Once they give me a settlement check, the search will be on for a new BattleWagon. It will most likely be a full-size conversion van or an older model Chevy/GMC Suburban. Thanks for reading, and yes, I have dubbed my most loyal readers BattleWagoneers. I'll come up with a cool T-shirt design at some point, don't you worry.

Oh, also, notice in the kitchen picture that I've "re-adopted" a partner in crime. Her name is Harry Dean Stanton. She's one of the sweetest calico kitties I've ever met... provided you don't introduce her to any other animals... then she's angry!

Family

After two weeks of holidays, I've had some highs and lows that I would like to share with everyone.

Firstly, I've discovered that Christmas is Christmas for families whereas New Years Eve is Christmas for friends. Both are important for bonding with those you love and having the opportunities to confront those you love even more, which is even more important.

Secondly, I've found that all families are virtually indestructible. However, that being said, I've also discovered that no families are invincible or invulnerable to the less flattering sides of life (i.e. depression, alcoholism, grief, illness, poverty, anger, lack of communication, ad nauseum). The preceding contradiction is explained like this: no matter what goes on in a family, what sorts of negative energy gets thrown in the mix, whether it be an alcoholic who bottles their anger and never reaches out or a child perceived as perfect and chosen by their siblings and has the arrogance or ignorance associated with that stigma, regardless of these traits, it takes all but death to drive virtually any family apart. Whether someone has been shamed once or a thousand times, at the end of the day, the family will always stand in some capacity. It may be a shell of what it once was, but it will stand. The amount of work needed to make it a tight-knit family... that's the biggest variable. The harsh realization of growing into an adulthood of some form is that, when you can see the bigger picture, you realize your share of the work is much larger than you ever thought. Some kids are thrown into this at a young age, pushed by the negativity and negligence of their parents, but some people don't understand this concept, due to their selfishness, until their 20s, 30s, or even their 40s. Some people don't even realize the responsibility they have until after their parents have passed on. The bigger picture is remembering your family's values and traditions and upholding them to the best of your abilities, for better or for worst.

Thirdly, forgiveness is essential to one's well being. I've recently had the good fortune of reconnecting with someone who is very special to me, but wasn't always. As a matter of fact, while I think hate is too strong a term, I had a large amount of fear and loathing for this person. I've been working very hard to forgive myself and, as a consequence, them for the misconceptions I've had and the ignorance I've taken on in my heart about such things. Forgiveness truly is one of the aspects of love, which I believe to be the salvation of man.

Finally, communication is amazingly powerful when employed and terribly destructive when neglected. From experience, I've lost some of my best friendships by introverting and keeping my thoughts and ideas to myself. Conversely, I've maintained some of my worst friendships by simply allowing my friend to communicate with me and vise/versa. This holds true for all relationships, including friendships, family relationships, and romantic interests. The more communication is in place, the more likely something will succeed. Simple fact.

I wrap up this blog with words from Richard Bach's book "Illusions", and I'm sure I've quoted it before on here: "The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof." Final summation: talk to everyone, those you love and those you don't. Understand where they are in life, and help them to understand where you are. When these lines of communication are opened, all of the other problems you have will have outlets to flush themselves out. Share your respect and joy with others, and grow together, regardless of where you're growing.

Depth

Meditation is a form of art to the Buddhists. There are various ideas of what one is supposed to do or who one is supposed to praise while meditating, but one of the more popular schools instructs would-be meditation practitioners to simply focus on their own breath and sit up straight. When you focus and concentrate on your breathing, not in the sense that you're controlling the pace of the breath but in the sense that you're concentrating on just listening to it, experiencing it, your mind seems to get overwhelmed with random thoughts that work their way out of the depths of your head.

Meditation in this fashion tells us lots about life in general. Life is a series of moments, and sometimes we're blessed to be so enamored by something that it's as if we're simply listening to our own breath. Maybe it's a sunrise or a painting. Maybe it's a piece of music. Maybe it's the face or the touch of a loved one. Whatever the cue, something jolts our souls into feeling that which we are tied into, reminding us of what we've had, what we've lost, what we've loved and what we've neglected.

We don't realize, when we get so caught up in life, that connecting with that simplicity is so close to our realities that when it does get cued from that piece of music or that picture of a face that you haven't seen in years, we are deeply touched. Our emotions are driven to their bloom, the flower of all that we believe in.

We all have many thoughts, feelings, beliefs that we cannot explain. Some of these are simply raw emotion, emotion that may seem to us to be bigger than the biggest mountain in the world yet completely contained within our chests. Some of these emotions make us swell with pride and give us a euphoria, convincing us that we alone can change or even conquer the world. Others can cripple us, put us in a state that we would gladly trade for death.

These raw emotions are divine. They are the closest we mere mortals can get to communication with something so much bigger than we can wrap our heads around. They're not prophesies for interpretation. They're not orders or missions for you to improve your life. They're simply reminders from the Universe or God that you are significant, that you matter, that you have a purpose. They are expressions of pure love, albeit not pure love itself. Emotion that powerful, that overwhelming, while crippling to our own senses is but a grain of sand on the beach of what divine providence can show us.

The Buddhists and people from many other faiths (and even the absence of "faith") have found their own ways to tap into these raw emotional waves. Some, the masters, have even found ways to control them and use them for good. Mythological stories which some hold true often involve someone who was so at peace with themselves and so connected to some form of "God" that they, too, achieved enlightened divinity. From the resurrection of Yeshua of Nazareth to the enlightenment of Siddhattha Gautama to the apotheosis of George Washington, many inspirational figures in history, regardless of any opinion of fact or fiction, have been models of this connection with pure emotional energy.

These figures had spent a significant portion of their lives learning how to control their minds to be receptive to these emotions. The more you practice, the easier it gets, like anything else. Next time you have one of these moments, embrace it, breathe it in, and let it move you. Depending on what you believe, it could be the closest you could get to God before you die. And while I'm no expert or even a student of these thoughts, I've had too few mind-blowing moments in my life lately. This holiday brought me a few, and I figured I'd pass on to someone how intense it was.

Thanks for reading.

Cigarettes And Comraderie

I was walking home from the local drug store this evening when I was panhandled. Unfortunately, in these hard economic times, there's more and more panhandling on the streets of our cities. In a very rare instance, these people asking for money sincerely need help in the form of change for a meal or a place to sleep. More often than not, however, they're druggies or alcoholics, using their money to score their next fix. This is why I don't carry cash on me. Then I'm not forced to lie or be awkward. Tonight, I told the guy, "I'm just getting a pack of smokes. I'm putting it on my plastic. When I come out, I'll bum you one."

It's amazing how well a cigarette can break the ice between two complete strangers. I've discovered in a lot of instances, when I'm being asked for a smoke, it's an opportunity for me to stand outside, alone, with one or two other people. While we're committing our slow, slow suicide, we get to know a little bit about each other, like our names, our social situations, our personalities. It's amazing what one little stick of cancer can do.

In my conversation tonight, I got to know a man who married a crack head and now lives in his friend's van. I'm assuming he has no job, or he does and he spends all of his money on drugs, too. His right eye was blind and lame. He had lesions on the backs of his hand. He didn't smell of booze, and his speech wasn't slurred or awkward. On the contrary, he almost seemed educated and used some big words.

Other nights, I've met doctors, accountants, actresses, other hobos, hippies, hard working blue-collar men and women, and suburban kids out on the town partying it up. These damn things, these cigarettes, seem to be a social plague.

I must make it clear while I write that I am IN NO WAY advocating FOR cigarettes. I think deciding to smoke is a horrible choice for those with poor coping mechanisms for dealing with any sort of strife in their life. The reason I smoke is because I don't have those good mechanisms for addressing what I'm assuming psychologists would call depression or anxiety. For as bad as they are and as much as my lungs hate me on the bad days, the smokes make things a little more bearable.

Being the people person I am, I know it would be hard for me to give up a key to helping myself into other people's lives. I get a rush every time I'm thrown into a group of new people, new surroundings, new lives to learn from and grow on. It's this very strange dichotomy for me in that smoking is probably the worst thing I've voluntarily done to myself. But I have and will go on doing it, at least for a little while. And I will continue to meet the interesting characters that I've been meeting.

I heard a story on National Public Radio a few weeks ago, told by a young woman who had a violent relationship. She and her verbally abusive boyfriend would argue constantly, and one night, they were driving through some suburban street on the other side of town, and he slowed down enough, and she bailed out of the car. Alone in a dark neighborhood, she fumbled around in her clothes for anything... no wallet, no cash, no phone, no lighter, but she did have a pack of smokes.

She found her way to a park. The sprinkers were on, and she sat at a park bench to sort of regain her senses. A figure approached her out of the dark. The closer this figure got, the more the woman could identify. This other figure, too, was a young woman, maybe an old teenager, barefoot, and trying to stop crying. When the situation realized itself, the first woman got up and approached her in a helpful sort of way, and the first thing the second woman said was "Oh, my God, do you have a smoke?!" and the second lady said, "Oh, my God, do you have a light?" She did. The two sat there in the park and bonded, finding all of the commanalities in their equally sub-par lives.

At the end of this woman's story on the radio, she said she left her boyfriend after that, and later, quit smoking. Sometimes, though, she still misses the cigarettes...

Weird how much something less than desirable can be such a bonding thing for people.