Map Whitman's Blog
September 17, 2013
Campaign to Fund a New Type of Application
I’m pretty darned excited to say we are going to try to do something for young adults that hasn’t been done yet — an application that combines literacy, animated art and music and links to any open sourced data the user finds relevant. It’s like a book on a device, only better. Now for the funding of it all . . .
September 5, 2013
New Review
I am, Indeed has reviewed Journey to Disappeared: Discovery and dug it. See if you might want to add it to your to-read list.
May 23, 2013
No Fear / Abundance
I was running today and thought, out of the blue (or grey, as the clouds today are) “there is no need to fear.” I am not the thoughts running in my head or the emotions (fear) that ripple through my body. I am the one behind them both. That me is beyond the reach of fear, but not the abundant beauty and life that surrounds every moment on this planet.
Then as soon as I open my email, a friend sent me a link to this quote. I don’t think it gets any more clear. The universe says “have no fear.” I’ll add the abundance thing too, because I think it is true. I have more material things than I need and the things that count are beyond count.
“It was one of those days when it’s a minute away from snowing and there’s this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. Right? And this bag was just dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. That’s the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video’s a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember… I need to remember… Sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can’t take it, and my heart is just going to cave in.”
~ Alan Ball, American Beauty
April 14, 2013
The Birds Are Back
Well, I’m not sure if they are technically raptors or birds. Maybe a biptor. Or a Rard. Difficult to say. At any rate, the majestic Turkey Vultures are back in the Rocky Mountains. And I do mean majestic. They may eat carrion, and have funny looking red heads, but when they soar. Oh, when they soar. To float so high in the air just suspended with one’s appendages spread out to embrace the whole world. Not bad. Not bad at all. And to top that off, they are the heralds of spring. Almost the end of mud. Which makes this camper happy. Back to the driveway for now, though, to watch my summer companions and to chip mud out of my wheel wells for the next foray to town.
Summer Companions
February 1, 2013
Proximate Civilization.
I’ve got it. Having spent a corpus of days in a large-ish town, I get the absurd convenience of it all. No advance menu planning. Go to a show whenever one wants. Pop out for a cuppa and be back before the dog needs to pee. No great commute for groceries. Or the dentist. Or even to fill the gas tank. Again.
The list goes on. Someone else, several someones even, clear snow from the roads. Heat appears magically at the touch of a button. Firewood is merely a romantic luxury, not a daily haul from the shed. No more schlepping down an icy path in one’s slippers to pull-start the generator so the lights work. Chat with other human beings at any time of the day or night.
What I missed didn’t dawn on me at first. The convenience dawned on me. Or rather hit me upside the head with a sickening smack. Everything is easy. Days slipped by. Days then filled with activities heretofore unavailable to and mostly forgotten by my mountain-dwelling self. Fun things. People things. Civilized things. Weeks turned corners and more things grew into the schedule. No day just staying at home. No day where I didn’t get out at least a wee bit.
The morning run hasn’t changed. Well, the timing hasn’t changed. In the mountains it is a trance of trees. In farmland, an embrace of space. In town, I am transfixed by endless yards and houses. I weave stories about the people inside them betwixt my steps. I don’t watch my Dane gallop through the trees with a half-smile on my face, she’s tethered to my left hand where she cannot forcibly greet the dogs barking in hidden back yards. The more city runs I take, the more stories pile up in the corners of my brain.
After enough stories, my mind rebels. Forces me to quiet the incessant inner voice. Then. Oh, then. I see the dawn. I see that I have exchanged stillness for convenience and camaraderie and civilization. The trees and trees and trees and mountains and daily chores have lost their hold on the center of my being. They hold no sway here in the city’s energetic movement.
Some feel nurtured and supported by the proximity of civilization. I suppose, to be honest, most. Otherwise, all these city folk would be out in the woods or farms. I get it. But the trade-off is costly. Some days I see only what the myriad of city wonders obscure. The closeness of it all. Yards with landscaping and yards without. Paved roads. Sky crisscrossed with wires and smoke. Lovely, manicured parks. And people. Not just one or two. But heaps of them. Nice ones. Grumpy ones. Dog walking ones. Ones I would probably like if I met them properly. Ones I might avoid if I knew enough. Lots.
I didn’t notice at first, but now I know. My stillness is gone. I have re-joined the frenetic pace of my fellow civilized neighbors. Absurd convenience clears the way for absurd activity. I suppose that may just be why stillness is found in more uninhabited places.
I have gained much by proximate civilization. But now I know what I am missing. And what I need to seek once again. Stillness.
January 27, 2013
Book Giveaway
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Goodreads Book Giveaway
Journey to Disappeared
by Map Whitman
Giveaway ends February 24, 2013.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
January 25, 2013
Goodreads
You can sign up to get yourself a free copy of Journey to Disappeared: Discovery at Goodreads. Maybe even find some other books that float your boat.
November 11, 2012
Revised Story of the Three Little Pigs -Or- What Happened to a Yurt in the Mountains
Once upon a time, there were two little pigs. One lived in the City and one lived in the Mountains. The City pig met the Mountains pig, and they fell in love and set out to seek their fortune.
On their way, they met a man selling canvass. They asked the man if they could buy some to make a home. He gladly sold them some, and they found a beautiful mountain spot to build their yurt.
The two little pigs lived quite happily in their snug little yurt in the mountains. They married and had three beautiful piglets. Years passed by in a flurry of snow and mud and sun.
Then, two years of drought came to the mountains. The bears that lived in the woods surrounding the pig family’s yurt started to get quite ravenous. One bear in particular named Sir Richard the Third (he had a brown patch on his back that looked a bit like a hump) had his eye on the yurt and the good smells wafting from within.
Sir Richard boldly approached the yurt and scratched at the door. “Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.” The little pigs inside all cried out “Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” The bear growled and said “then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blooooow your house in.”
Before Sir Richard could raise a paw or fill his lungs, the little pigs opened up the yurt door wide to let their big dog out to bark at Sir Richard until the bear ran away into the woods.
Sir Richard, however, kept his eye on the yurt. One day, he saw the pig family pack up their car and their pesky dog and head for the City. Sir Richard took his chance. He ambled up to the yurt and knocked on the door, saying in a quiet voice “little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.”
As he had anticipated, Sir Richard was met with beautiful silence. No hairy chins, no dogs, only food. Sir Richard mumbled to himself “then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll bloooooow your yurt in.”
Sir Richard moved from the solid wooden door to the kitchen wall from whence the good smells emanated. He proceeded to claw and rip and tear asunder the canvas and wood lattice and insulation and bolts until he had access to gastronomic delights he had heretofore been unaware of.
Sir Richard ate his fill and ambled away into the woods, fully intending upon returning to the little pigs’ yurt for a second course on the next day.
On that day, the little pig family, and their big dog, returned home from the City. The hair on their chinny chin chins drooped. Their jaws fell to the ground. Their beady little eyes rolled about in their sockets. Groans issued from their snouts. Their dog sniffed madly and thought “somebody has been eating my food.” (Or was that a different story about bears?)
The little pigs took a deep breath and set about tidying the bear’s mess. Armed with brooms and mops and tarps and duct tape they cleaned the broken glass and spilled food. They affixed tarps on the walls to keep out the wind and rain and bugs. The little pigs obtained loud blow horns and spilled nasty smelling bleach around their yurt.
Then the little pigs waited.
They didn’t wait long. Soon enough, Sir Richard, intent upon a second meal, approached the yurt. He noticed the car and the smell of dog. He noticed the awful smell of bleach burning at his nose. But he knew he had left some cocoa powder and honey for a Sunday snack, plus he could only guess as to the delights contained in the mysterious white refrigerator, so he persisted on his course.
Sir Richard again scratched at the little pigs’ front door, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in.” The little pigs cried out with one voice: “Not by the hairs of our chinny chin chins.” Sir Richard snorted. “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blooooooow your yurt in.”
One little piggy hand reached out with an air horn and rudely blew directly into Sir Richard’s ear. He did not like that one bit. Sir Richard turned and withdrew a few feet, enough for the little pigs’ dog to move in and bark ferociously between Sir Richard and his yummy prize. Slowly, Sir Richard gave up on his late afternoon snack. He eventually gave up on his early evening snack too. And his late evening snack. And his midnight snack. And his crack of dawn snack.
Four nights later, the little pigs wondered if Sir Richard would be their nightly companion. They wondered if they would ever be able to sleep through the night again. And then Sir Richard stopped dropping by. Was it the bleach? Was it the empty humming bird feeders? Was it the dog? Was it the rude air horn? Was it the bear trap enticing him to new, greener pastures?
The little pigs may never know. But now they are looking for a brick seller.
The end.
Bear vs. Yurt
Bear Trying to Pilfer Pottery
A New Back Door for the Yurt.
July 30, 2012
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