Parks: Claremont Canyon Regional Preserve

Tucked behind the colossal Claremont Hotel and Spa in Berkeley is Claremont Canyon Regional Preserve. I have Mondays off work, but was surprised how many walkers and joggers I met on trail here. The fire trails were wide and badly eroded in places. One might guess it's from all the dogs off leash here.

Most of the hike was moderately steep -- the loose dirt and rocks in places made descent a serious quad and balance workout. I found that near-squatting with arms free to balance saved my descent. But the appropriately named Stonewall-Panoramic trail, which connects paved streets of those names, offers great views. The first segment from Stonewall Rd might even be wheelchair accessible, but it gets too rutted after that.

A disadvantage of recreating on a weekday is construction crews are active: a road maintenance crew filled the clean air with heavy machinery rumbles and car honks for hours. I found it odd it sounded like the same car horn sounding erratically. Still, I heard a scrub jay mimicking a hawk and numerous other birds I didn't recognize.

Most of the trail was vegetated by low shrubs with an exceptional collection of conifers including pines. The wind whirred through their leaves. I came upon the UC Berkeley Botanical Gardens, and further up the hill a flattened, mulched staging area with a steady breeze that seemed to originate at the Golden Gate. I wondered at the chill Pacific wind that defines so much of our climate here. Today's high didn't break 60 F, and I was alternating sweating with freezing in my sweat.

I managed to make it to a trailhead at Tilden within 2 hours. Just after I turned around, a jet plane whistled overhead and a pack of coyotes roused into a chorus of cackling and whining cries. I would not let my dog off leash here.

This could be a better day hike -- I spotted a few smaller trails that allow the intimate experience of wild lands I prefer, and Tilden is better wooded. Alas, if you're planning a visit, this trailhead will be closed for hazardous tree removal for a few weeks.

Biking: easy access from Russel St and Claremont Ave. Claremont peters out north of Russel but beware of getting doored from a parked car. 

Walking: same intersection is accessible by public transportation, just walk along Claremont to Stonewall Rd and the trailhead.

Is there a park nearby you've wanted to check out? I'll take your suggestions in the comments.

Why is the contemporary classical music community so white?

I went to an evening in the series Resonance with Cheryl E. Leonard. I've been tired from the more rigorous work schedule of the school year, so I did a half-distracted self-kindness meditation before the curator of the series Wayne Grim gave a quick intro and mentioned the vastness of the sound system in that space. It was donated but cost a fortune to install and tune.

Cheryl E. Leonard makes contemporary style music using found sounds and objects. The focus of the evening was her work in Antarctica, featuring instruments made from contact mics, water mics, and mics for amplification; and local materials like penguin bones and stones.

At one point, prompted by host Sarah Cahill to describe what an abalone-like mollusk, the limpet, was, she said it was shaped like "Chinese hats". I spent the rest of the night trying to recover from this unintentional reminder of embedded racism in the classically-trained music community -- deep sadness and anger flowed through me. Why should I participate in a community whose norm silences my differences? (For those of my white readers who haven't yet had opportunity to accept, in 2,000 years of history the Chinese have sported a few different hats, and the conical shape Ms Leonard was after can be found in many east and southeast Asian communities.)

Of course the audience of 150 was all white with 4 or 5 Asians and Latinos, so I'm sure her meaning got across flawlessly. Ms Cahill simply nodded understanding and moved on.

Stereotypes aside, the complete lack of a personal dimension and motivation further distressed me: a progressive, learning institution presents a whole program of Antarctic wildlife and melting and murmurs not a word about climate change and the role of artists as agents of cultural change. It disturbed me.

My whole body ached in that chair: legs, shoulders, back. I stood up between pieces to move around but it was not enough and I still felt pain on the ride home. I regularly sit in stillness for 30 minutes and I know my usual discomforts: this was pain of circumstance.

The first piece was set up with metal fish-hook-like pendants strung across the stage. One by one, the composer, with musician Phillip Greenlief, hung home-made icicles on the hooks to drip into glass beakers. The ponderous, melodious polyphony brought me some ease. I also made a game of guessing where the light sources were because the icicles were lit blue and cast only one shadow on the projection upstage, where close-up video of the instruments in play faded in and out. As they added more hand-directed percussion to the colorful dripping, though, the sound crossed a threshold from meditation and discovery to ambient/random noise music.

Later there were rain tubes filled with sand and salt to slide back and forth and a kelp stem saxophone or kelp-ophone hissing and groaning over taped birdcalls. By the third piece I began to hear the intentional sounds as softly indistinguishable from environmental tape sounds, a woody knocking clattering not unlike cracking and tumbling ice.

I wondered why so many of the audience left after the first piece, but the Exploratorium was open and I suppose not everyone attending Resonance could resist the Siren song of 650 exhibits. Perhaps there's a more compelling explanation.

Maybe it's all just "cool sounds" to Ms Leonard, but in my ear all the ambiguity of entitlement, access, resource exploitation, exclusion, and sharing banged through the evening. I recognize that the audience's experience of a piece has as much to do with our own emotional state and ear as with the physical vibrations in the air, and I would argue that by neglecting her own story and motivations and her hopes for her listeners, Ms Leonard had lost us before the first tinkling tones.

Next Generation Science Standards: Crosscutting Concepts activity

Here's to our fearless California teachers!

Parks: Middle Shoreline Park in West Oakland

This is the first monthly review of a park from a dayjob-working, biker-hiker's perspective. Even though I work less than 30 hours a week, I usually just want to lie on the floor of my lovely room and read or listen to the radio. Every so often, though, I miss the serenity and reality I find in natural surroundings. But in an urban environment, how can we find the time and equipment to ground ourselves?

After work today I pushed my bike off the ferry and turned west instead of east homeward.

Middle Harbor Shoreline Park is a little-used but well-designed and -kept gem in West Oakland. It wraps around a small harbor next to the towering cranes that inspired George Lucas's Imperial Walkers. (I'm obsessed with container ships, but that's for another post.) According to one of the information kiosks it's actually part of a 60,000-acre wetland restoration project that is all over the SF Bay. Wetlands are not only nurseries of the oceans but they lessen the impact of tidal surges on the shore.

There's a watchtower I had eyed every time we passed on the ferry, but I was surprised to find it is wheelchair-accessible with an elevator and ramp from the nearest parking. I even got these shots of the Exploratorium (I think?) and both bridges from the free scope.

Biking: From 3rd St and Adeline, it's surprisingly long. Of course one has to share the lanes with tractor trailers. I started at about 4:50pm and it wasn't crowded but busy. I was able to stay either in the generous, marked shoulder or, where the shoulder ended, in a lane to myself. Trucks and cars passed me a few times. The park is not marked until far down the main road, but if you stay on it you will start to see signs. Watch out for one angled train track crossing.

Walking: It's definitely too far to walk comfortably. It was fun to walk around the park once I was there, to enjoy the views of the Port, vegetation, and the Bay. There are no dogs and almost no people. Good for bird watching. There are always cormorants, Brown Pelicans, Western Gulls, and sparrows.

I also passed a well-cared-for lawn area near the first parking lot. There were palms. Something for everyone?

Is there a park nearby you've wanted to check out? I'll take your suggestions in the comments.

Improv-a-day is going strong

Habits are interesting. I find as long as I give myself leeway to refuse to sit on the piano bench, a daily recording is easy enough.

There was a day I didn't like what I played enough to share it; another when I read coworker emails tearfully, reeling from the impact of a sudden mass layoff. Through Soundcloud I found others' improvised recordings, none as chaotic as mine. C'mon, post your free doodles.



After the 31st post, I don't know yet where I'll take this project. I'm starting to want to notate bits of what I find. Maybe I'll assemble an instructional book to play Muse. Post requests in the comments or comment on your favorite track.

Routine fun

I'm truly in a routine now. I work at the Exploratorium 4 days a week, and it's enough to let me rest, read, and meditate on the days off. Here are some ongoing projects:

For the past two weeks I've been doing an improvisation-a-day and posting the goodies to SoundCloud. At this point I'm doing it consistently enough that I can give myself a day's break between sessions to listen and post. I've also found some goodies at an improv group on that site, but the styles vary widely.

My last post was one of several that touch on spiritual and mental growth I've experienced since joining a Buddhist meditation center. The East Bay Meditation Center strives to be uniquely inclusive to everyone and relies on donations in an ancient multifaith tradition. They are hosting a 24-hour teaching event next month I look forward to attending. (Just the day time -- I have a routine to keep, after all.) You can find my fundraising page here and please feel free to share.

I also made a fun recording of Wichita Vortex Sutra two-tracking it. I'm not sharing it publicly because it's all under copyright, but if you would like a download let me know how to reach you in the comments below. Ginsberg intended the poem from which text came to be a holy text against war. We can make that!

Freedom from Internal Harm

Common well-wishes or blessings in Buddhism include freedom from pain and suffering and their causes and conditions, and safety from internal and external harm. Last week I realized I have access to this in a new way. It's perhaps like realizing you can take control of a dream when it goes nightmarish, but still have moments without lucidity, thinking it's real.

It's that thoughts are just thoughts. I can choose to let it go instead of growing it and clawing at it and punishing myself for it. I can let it go instead of blaming myself and making up a frightful story of who I am as a person for having had it. How could I have made such an ugly judgment of him?! I'm so judgmental -- it doesn't matter, I chose not to act on it and it's gone. I've already bested 9/10 choosing the responsible action or speech while having worse thoughts. But first one must notice that thought for what it is.

Not to say thoughts can't be wonderful; like dreams, they bring joy and innovation as well. But usually I want more awareness and knowledge that allow responsible choices. So let me realize when a dream is a dream, a thought a thought, so I can choose. The relief and clarity I now have are worth every sitting meditation, every moment of receptive listening practice.

It's not instant freedom, but after the first time you fly out of a nightmare, you know you alone have control.