When the power goes out, one is left with much time to ponder. This is for Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana, a very sweet, big, black cat. Day in day out.
And his mom.
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Recently surfing the web on the StumbleUpon waves, I came upon an old photograph. "Oh, I said to myself, an old photograph." The photo was just your typical black and white old shot, early 1900's, with a bunch of guys in suits and ties, posing for some photographer. Big deal. And I was about to ride away when my eye caught a familiar face. So I looked closer and started scanning the scene. Wow, another known face! Let's see how many I recognize. Grumpf. Only two. Then I looked at the names and recognized a few more. It turns out the photo was a rather amazing gathering of some of last century's greatest scientific minds. The year was 1927, the place was Brussels and the event, the Solvay Conference. They had gathered there to discuss the newly formulated quantum theory. It is at that conference that Einstein said "God does not play dice." Seventeen of the twenty-nine present already had or would eventually win a Nobel Prize. It was, literally, a meeting of genius.The photo's legend puts names on faces but here are the most remarkable to me: Auguste Piccard, upper left corner, was a physicist, aeronaut, balloonist, hydronaut, and
Heading north has always been the path to mystery, to silent eerie forests and shadow-filled canyons, to myths and legends beyond comprehension and to the cold bite of unforgiving winds or the penetrating humidity of endless fogs. As much as the South echoes in my mind of warm seas and aimless pursuits, the North is made of exploration and danger, and magic, and sorcery.So when I headed across the Burrard Inlet last week-end in my quest for a few stamps, it was with the firm intention of balancing my time in touristland with time in the other world; the secret, often ignored and always quiet space that lies just at the edge of civilization, right next to our daily madness arena and yet so remote in the collective consciousness that it might as well not exist. It always puzzles me how easy it is to step from crowded paths into peaceful and haunting side tracks. They are there, all around us, all the time. One only needs the will to see them.The Capilano Suspension Bridge was its usual self, popular, wobbly, long, overlooking its canyon from hundreds of feet up. I crossed it, got my stamp, came back, and walked