Kai Staats – Page 35

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So far Kai Staats has created 551 blog entries.

High Above, Far Below

Suspended from a static repel line, I lowered myself over the lip of the last of a half dozen dry water falls, this one the tallest at sixty meters. It had been a while since I had been on rope, most of my interactions with rock as a boulderer and less than ten meters off the deck. But what made this excursion with my new friend Haim and his uncle Daniel unique is we were below sea level, by a few hundred meters, baking in what must have been more than 35 degrees Centigrade in the Middle Eastern sun.

The Dead Sea lay but a few kilometers to the front of the opening of this drainage system, just one slot West from Masada, where in 66 A.D. the first Jewish-Roman war took place. The Romans built a massive ramp in order to overtake the defenses, to recapture what is believed to have been a fortress built by Herod the Great.

I feel fortunate, lucky to have met such an amazing young man in the climbing gym. Haim is fluent in French, Hebrew, English and Japanese. He is now studying at Hebrew University for his Masters in Philosophy. But climbers are like that, open, accepting, not shy. They welcome complete strangers into their homes to “crash” for the night. It’s part of the culture that I do my best to uphold in return.

At Wednesday night volleyball and potluck, here on Mount of Olives, some of the volunteers and humanitarian aid workers spoke of times when they were walking home from class or work, on either the Israeli or Palestinian side of Jerusalem, and were invited into the home of a stranger for tea, coffee, even dinner. Sometimes old women would come out to meet them on the sidewalk and press bread and cheese into their hands, telling them they didn’t look like they had enough to eat.

My former employee and friend Amjad, who now lives in Dubai, recently spoke to me of the ancient times when the homes of desert dwellers had guest rooms always available for strangers. It was then customary, and in some places remains so, that at any time of the day or night a traveler could knock on the door and ask for shelter. There was perhaps less fear of the unknown then, of the stranger. Despite all the advances in technology, science, and knowledge, we are in some ways more afraid than ever before.

In those ancient days, when the world was the distance one could walk or sail in a few days, people had to embrace an interconnected life if they were to survive. Facebook, Google+, Skype, social networking will never replace the very basic interaction of two people meeting, face to face for the first time, the visceral exchange of words, body language, and pheromones engaging all our senses.

In this way, I was not surprised (but very pleased) when Haim invited me to an all-day canyoneering adventure with him and his uncle. This is what climbers do, everywhere in the world. But in this place of political and religious tension, where the throwing of stones is met with tear gas, helicopters, and machine gun fire, there is an extra emphasis on the trust, some would say the faith required to invite a complete stranger into your home.

We walked the broken limestone trail back to Haim’s grandmother’s Mazda which Daniel, her son drove and returned to Haim’s home. We unpacked the car, fed the dog, and then headed down into the Wadi Qelt valley which connects Jerusalem to Jericho through the Judean desert in the West Bank.

At first, I was reluctant to venture out into sun again, surprised by the apparent distance we had to drop and later return. But I trusted Haim and Daniel to treat me well, and as promised, it was more than worth the effort. A very real oasis greeted us at the bottom of the hot, dusty trail. We removed our shirts and shoes, waited for the visitors to thin, and then enjoyed the cool water in two pools, one with a substantial water fall. Small fish nibbled on legs and toes, if we sat still long enough.

It was a day without discussion of politics or religion. It was a day in which three people simply came together to enjoy the outdoors. On this day, I am grateful for new friends, who invited me to join their adventure in an ancient place, high above the Dead Sea yet far below the Mediterranean and oceans of the world.

By Kai Staats|2017-04-10T11:17:41-04:00October 6th, 2012|Out of Palestine|1 Comment

Modern Evolution

“Essentially, there is no longer any natural selection in motion. Humans are in charge of our evolution, more from social pressure than availability of resources,” –Ron Spomer

By Kai Staats|2013-02-09T20:42:10-04:00October 4th, 2012|From the Road|0 Comments

A Study in Sound

While I was capturing video clips for A Study in Motion, I was also recording a variety of sounds using my phone, camera, and an old but functional Olympus WS-300M digital recorder with external Sony microphone. As one who is very sensitive to my sound environment, I am forever seeking comfort in my sound world. I find that certain sounds are so incredibly pleasing, the call of a coyote or bugle of an elk; the whisper of a light wind through the aspen leaves. Others, those which are man-made, are often grating, overstimulating, even painful when I am subjected for long periods of time.

How do these sounds affect you? Close your eyes, listen, and feel what happens inside. And then, can you determine which one of the images below matches the sound in the recording? Hold your mouse over the image to read the “Alt” tag to learn if you were correct.

Kai Staats - A Celebration in East Jerusalem, for the release of a political prisoner

Kai Staats - The nightly chorus of tree-frogs outside Volcano Village, Big Island, Hawaii

Kai Staats - A storm in the Superstition Wilderness, east of Phoenix, Arizona

Kai Staats - A call to prayer, East Jerusalem, Palestine

Kai Staats - The evening chatter of the coyote, Buffalo Peak Ranch, Rocky Mountains, Colorado

Kai Staats - The evening bells of Augusta-Victoria Hospital, Mount of Olives, East Jerusalem, Palestine

In order of presentation: Coyotes on Buffalo Peak Ranch, Rocky Mountains, Colorado; A storm recorded in Jerónimo Cave, Superstition Wilderness, Arizona; Tree frogs outside of Volcano Village, Big Island, Hawaii; The bells of Augusta-Victoria Hospital, Mount of Olives, East Jerusalem, Palestine; The celebration of the release of two political prisoners, East Jerusalem, Palestine; The daily call to prayer, East Jerusalem, Palestine.

By Kai Staats|2017-08-12T04:56:17-04:00September 30th, 2012|Film & Video, Out of Palestine|2 Comments

Of Heart & Soul

The Victoria Guest House here on Mount of Olives, East Jerusalem, welcomes a diversity of people from all walks of life, from around the world. Some stay here for but a single night, while others, like me, make this their home for an extended period of time, some for as long as a few years.

While I have been here but eight days, I have already found thorough enjoyment in the daily interactions with the other guests, both short and long term. One in particular, Thomás, offers insightful words and phrases which either cause one to contemplate the finer points of the meaning of life (sometimes in a very real, serious sense, sometimes more in the context of Monty Python) or stir the imagination as to how many ways there are to move through the world.

Thomás has spent the past sixteen years wandering, simply moving from place to place. He offers in his German accent, “My heart and my soul, they guide me.” He places his fingers, slightly relaxed, at the center of his chest. “Sometimes, I wake in the morning, and I don’t know where I will go this day. I just walk outside and I start to move, this direction or that, until it feels right. I listen. And when my soul tells me I am going in the right direction, I just keep going, like that.”

His eyes drop and his lips quiver, as though processing what he will say before he is given the words. He looks up again, and smiles, “Yeah, sure. Sometimes I get lost … but I always find my way, because it doesn’t really matter where I go. It is all the same, in the end.”

He has visited more than forty countries, including Egypt, Israel and Palestine, Thailand, and the United States. He welcomes opportunities to volunteer, to help people, and to work, but through some kind of accident, is living off what I gather is a small disability fund. In this regard, perhaps, he is a volunteer outreach of the European Union.

Some of what he shares is truly engaging, and I look forward to our conversations each morning and night. He speaks of clarity of mind and purpose of soul, and argues that thinking too much is destructive to the balance of ego and mind.

While I maintain respect for him, and verbally praise those exchanges which do resonate, I also counter some of what he offers, a healthy intellectual banter to balance his otherwise purely philosophical approach. “Thomás. I have spent my life enjoying and promoting the sciences, for they give us a deep understanding of how our universe works. They are the foundation for most of what we now take for granted in our modern world. It is difficult to hear that you ask me and others to not think too much, for thinking is one of our species’ greatest gifts.”

“But thinking too much, it is a problem. It takes us away from the purpose of our soul.”

“If you want people to stop thinking, then you had better say goodbye to your laptop, cell phone, and the airplane that brought you here. Hundred of thousands of people had to think pretty hard to enable those machines to serve you as they do.”

It seems like a silly thing to argue about, whether we should think or not, but there is value to what Thomás offers, for those who practice meditation do say something similar—we need to spend time each day disengaged from our thoughts, from the mindless chatter in our heads in order to come down from that place which keeps us overwhelmed with all we must do and be and say.

Thomás later admitted he sometimes says things to one extreme or another, to make his points. We all do.

This morning he moved me to write something about our interactions, the simplicity of our conversation such that I was able to capture it in words without a digital recording. Down the marble stairs, across the entry way, I entered the kitchen to fill my mug with hot water for tea. Thomás was there, and I said to him, “Guten Morgen Thomás!” and then added, “How did you sleep?”

“Ah, well. I slept ok? (raising his voice as he does) But it takes time to adjust, to sleep well in a new place. Right? And you?”

I was surprised to hear this from a man who has been in a new place every few days, weeks at most, for sixteen years.

“As my grandfather would say, ‘Two eyes closed.’ But truly, it has been hard, for this place is noisy, all day, all night. Horns. Sirens. Fireworks. Yelling. I spent the better part of my summer living on the boundary of the wilderness, on a remote ranch, going to sleep with and waking to the howl of the coyotes and bugle of the elk. It was glorious … so this has been a challenge for me. I sleep with the windows closed despite my desire for the cool, evening air.”

“Yes. I know what you mean.” Thomás stirred the small spoon in his coffee and then looked up again, his eyes telling me before his lips moved that he had something more to say, “So many people, they live in cities their whole lives. This cannot be healthy. We cannot hear the voice of our soul if our brains are always so noisy.”

I nodded, shifting my body weight to prepare for what I knew would be a short dissertation. He paused, his lips speaking without a sound again, his eyes darting across the floor before he looked up and met mine across the room, “There are two parts to each of us. The ego and the soul. The ego is the brain and it must always be awake when in the city, wanting something, needing things, and protecting. We can live our whole lives like this

[shaking his head]. So many people do. It is sad … I believe.”

“Yes. That is true. So much of the human population now lives in cities, their entire lives bathed in constant noise. I don’t know how they do it, how they do not go crazy. Somehow, they adapt and make it their norm.”

In 1800, only 3% of the human population lived in urban areas. In 1900, 14% with just 12 cities over 1,000,000 people. Now, more than 60% call urban areas home, this number expected to rise to 70% by 2050. (source: PRB)

Thomás continued, “But when we are with nature …” (this is one of my favorite expressions of native German speakers, for it can mean both physically living in a more natural environment, unaltered by man, or in the mental space that produces a similar experience inside) “… with nature we don’t want or need anything at all. And then the soul, the heart can be free.”

“Yes. That’s right. I can listen to the wind in the aspens or a stream just outside my tent and it never, not for a moment, gets on my nerve.” I relished what he said so clearly. In few words, he drew upon the depth of a volume of books and described as quickly much of the human condition. I nodded, and verbally agreed. I wished him a pleasant day and turned to walk back to my apartment.

I cannot help but wonder if in another time or place, where the world was much smaller, with one hundred million people instead of seven billion, degrees of separation comprised of who you knew face-to-face (not through Facebook), if Thomás would not have been received as a prophet or shaman. His intensity, his quirky mannerisms, his ability to find reason to spread the word at any time of day, all give him that singular focus of philosophy which could be molded into religion by someone whose agenda it would benefit, or get him run out of town if he did not know when to quit.

There are many like Thomás in the world. I have met a few. Some strike me as odd, lost souls whose bodies and minds seem to be at disagreement with each other. Some become spiritual leaders or founders of not-for-profit organizations, devoting their lives to the lives of others. Others harbor some kind of chemical imbalance in the brain resulting in a skewed perspective that while perhaps neither right or wrong, does not match the average of what the rest of us perceive to be reality. They stand on street corners and preach of the end of the world while the rest of us walk by, cell phones pressed to our ears, hoping we will not be called out to challenge their reality.

As for Thomás, he speaks of so many things that are true and while others confound me. But what I take from my interaction with him is this: Thomás is not afraid to be without a home, without destination, without a purpose defined by those around him. He lives day to day, week to week and is afraid of no man nor any nation. He moves freely with only the clothes on his back and a bicycle beneath his seat.

I have a lot to learn from this, to add to What I Learned From the Road as my journey continues to unfold. The balance of my ego and soul, brain and heart, according to Thomás, needs constant attention. And in those words, there is something quite valuable.

By Kai Staats|2017-04-10T11:17:41-04:00September 25th, 2012|Out of Palestine, The Written|0 Comments

My first days in Jerusalem, Palestine

Having just returned from the local market to my new home on Mount of Olives in East Jerusalem, I am sitting in the reading room of the Augusta-Victoria Guest House where I enjoy the company of an eclectic, international contingency of volunteers and aid workers. I am here on a four month contract, working with the Lutheran Church of Jordan & the Holy Land to rebuild their website and produce several short, documentary style films about life in Palestine.

I have not been to this place for more than fifteen years. While it feels familiar (the few photos I scanned from 35mm positives stimulating memories) I am of course experiencing it in an entirely new way. Having just finished eating fresh plums and grapes, I am enjoying a cold Taybey beer, a world-famous micro-brew mentioned in the New York Times as “A Niche Beer, made, you might say, to toast peace.” According to biblical scholars, Taybeh is near the place where Jesus submitted himself to forty days fasting. If this delicious local brew had been available then, it would surely have been one of the more challenging temptations.

Today was my first day in the office at the Church of the Redeemer in the center of the Old City Jerusalem, Christian Quarter. Having walked from Mount of Olives through the Damascus Gate, I returned in the early evening by the number 75 bus. My associate, historian, published author and Pastor Fred Strickert was an excellent guide, sharing his depth of knowledge and passion for this ancient place.

The church was constructed in the 1890s, built upon a foundation of stone first established some 2000 years prior. While my office is average in most respects, four walls, desks, book shelves, computers and air conditioning, I need only walk down the hall and look into the subterrainean court yard to be reminded of the historic import of where I now work and live.

Oddly enough, at the heart of the Old City with shops packed in so tight one cannot turn in any direction without bumping into something, or someone, it is far more peaceful than outside the Old City walls where traffic is comprised of buses, tractors, taxis, trucks, and cars, the daily Muslim calls to prayer, and at night, fireworks from a nearby football match (or neighborhood rivalry).

I again moved to embrace the diversity we embody, the very reasons each of us wakes in the morning as different as the color of our skin and eyes, texture of our hair, and style of our clothing. Some of us fight for what we hold to be true while others want nothing more than a safe place to work, play, and raise children. While the U.S. news tells only of failed peace accords, suicide bombers and shootings, daily life is far more complex, a mixture of the normal and the unsettling.

Muslim shopkeepers sell wares to Russian Jews. Korean pilgrims walk in tight bundles, shoulder to shoulder, chanting as they move through holy places in the Old City streets. A ten year old boy with red-blond hair presses his BMX bike into the back of women’s full length gowns, fingering the battery powered laser blaster mounted on the handlebar, hoping they will vaporize or at least step out of the way in order that he may pass. Vendors sell fresh baked bread, pastries, and falafel balls. Prices vary according to who is paying and what value (or experience) they attribute to the barter.

“You are very welcome here!” is heard over and over again as shop keepers hope to gain the interest and trust of passers by. Street names assigned to corridors no wider than my car and gates, each with an ancient story remind me how many hundred of generations have called this place home. The city itself is a type of tel, layers upon layers of buried history which may never again be viewed by human eyes or given form in anything more than oral histories passed along for countless centuries before ascribed to the pages of books, both ancient and new.

I am finding my comfort zone. For now, I seek those safe places which feel right at different times of the day, the shared kitchen and common reading room, the hillside overlooking Jerusalem in silhouette against the slow setting sun. I fight the urge to call family and friends via Skype just to feel connected again, for if I do this, I know, I will pass too many nights talking instead of being here in order that I may truly experience it. I look back to my three times in Kenya and know this to be true.

I spent last night and this morning writing, for me, again stimulating that part of my brain which enables me to see, events easily described in intimate detail hours, even days later. My eyes blink, the shutter of my original camera, and the moment is frozen in time.

As Ray Bradbury endeavored to write one thousand words each day, I now open that part of me that sees the world through words, photos, and film. I hope that as the days and weeks pass, I will look back and feel I truly lived here, present and accounted for in my mind and body as I built these memories.

By Kai Staats|2017-04-10T11:17:41-04:00September 19th, 2012|Out of Palestine|7 Comments

How to conduct a successful Kickstarter campaign

While I do not claim to be wildly successful in my first Kickstarter campaign for a sci-fi short film called Monitor Gray, we did raise $9500 with a goal of $7500, 50% of which was contributed in the first 24 hours.

I conducted a decent amount of research ahead of time, learning a great deal from the success and mistakes of those before me. In summary, there are a few must-dos to make Kickstarter a success:

Build a pre-launch website which mimics the Kickstarter site, including your video, story, and contribution rewards. Spend a month asking your friends, family, and co-workers for their honest feedback and adjust accordingly.
Build momentum BEFORE you launch, getting people jazzed for 3, 4, even 6 weeks ahead of time using Facebook, Twitter, and email (my preferred medium).
Have at least 50% of your funds aligned before you go live. If you do not have this, you run the risk of failure. Of course, this is more possible for campaigns striving for smaller amounts (<=$50,000) than for those trying to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars which will build upon the viral effect in multiple social media avenues.
Post updates frequently. Make them about the project with a personal flair.
Thank each contributor, and build personal relationships with those who have contributed larger sums with hope that they know others who are also affluent for your campaign.

The basis for my summary is as follows …

Kickstarter’s own Kickstarter School gives a detailed, proven means of diving in.

What NOT to do at Kickstarter (in addition to many, many success stories, updated regularly)

Target too many niches
Launch in a hurry
Not make a video perfect
Not have the media ready BEFORE launch
Anticipate how people will perceive the funding amount

Modest Guide to Success on Kickstarter

Pick your goal.
Pick your tiers.
Pick your timeframe.
Make a great first impression.
Plan your campaign before you launch.
Be responsive to backers.
Stoke the fire.
Expect surprise backers & non-backers.
Try to get on the Kickstarter homepage or weekly email.
Sprint to the finish.
Thank your backers.

A story of traffic generation which lead to monetary creation.

And the Wiki HOWTO Be Successful on Kickstarter

Hope this helps!
kai

By Kai Staats|2017-04-10T11:17:41-04:00September 19th, 2012|Critical Thinker, Humans & Technology|0 Comments

A Layover at Heathrow

This airport, perhaps more than any in the world, offers a snapshot of the diversity and complexity of human kind.

Olympians in wheelchairs glide across polished marble floors. A Spanish woman with painted-on-jeans and stylish high heels walks side-by-side, in stride with a woman wearing a black jilbab and full head dress. I am overheating with my pants, T-shirt, and sport coat and wonder how the latter fairs beneath so many more layers, carrying her luggage and that of her child who walks behind the two of them.

In the Giraffe Cafe, employees make eye contact with their patrons and do not hesitate to touch, tickle, and tease the children who wait in line, giving them cause to laugh while their parents review the eight pages menu.

Perhaps it is my transient point of view which enables me to feel there is less fear here, less concern for the strange and stranger, less inhibition or concern for lawsuit, and a tolerance or the unordinary. But then I am reminded of the global concern of terrorism, “For security reasons, unattended baggage will be removed and destroyed” broadcast again and again over the PA system in a few languages.

British Airways announcements cut through the background voices in German, French, Arabic, English and Spanish. Everything echoes in this large space. I pull on my coat and backpack, grab my camera bag in my right hand and tripod in left, walking in any direction which will take me from the shops to an exterior view.

The choice seats are taken by an elderly couple who face large four storey windows. I am to their back, looking out over the tarmac and runways, a Virgin Atlantic jet having just taken off. Low, heavy clouds roll by slowly, unable to cast shadows for the sunlight is masked by layer upon layer above them. England retains its weather no matter what else may change.

A Coca-Cola vending machine dispenses flavoured “vitamin water,” a reminder of the global tragedy that bottled water has become, the intention of cola manufacturers to sell water as their consumers grew concerned for the ill effects of sugar ladened soft drinks. And now, fragments of those bottles float in plastic islands the size of the State of Texas in the North Pacific.

I cannot help but wonder how many cubic meters, how many tons of garbage are generated each day by a facility such as this. While there are recycling containers at every gate, outside each restaurant and restroom, the fact remains that the vast majority of the consumer waste has no long term function, only the immediate transport of food items from a clerk’s hands to the consumers face. A waxy tissue would suffice, but that would require the food to be fresh, made in the cafe instead of transported their each morning, pre-assembled. Just one byproduct of mass production on the human food scale.

The main terminal is an impressive feat of engineering, the largest tensile structure I have ever been within. It’s massive lateral anchors held in place by bolts that likely weigh as much as my entire body. Sheathed cables run across the entire floor, some thirty feet overhead, their tension from one exterior wall to the other what keeps the roof from collapsing under its own weight.

And now, it is time to go …

By Kai Staats|2017-04-10T11:17:41-04:00September 10th, 2012|From the Road|0 Comments

Moments Captured

While is not my style to use my blog as a personal diary, my summer has been scattered, no more than seven days in any one place before I pack my things and move on again. While I love to travel, my sense of adventure has been overridden by a growing need for home, one place to come back to for more than just a few days. The following are fragments of my thoughts, beginnings of what could have been full entries for From the Road, but instead, they were interrupted by my own cognition and as such, are presented here in their entirety.

July 5
Today, I drove back to Colorado from Boise, returning to my house and home of fourteen years for the first time in nearly ten months. I walked in and found everything exactly as I had left it. My plants yet alive thanks to the effort of my neighbor Pete and my mother (when she is in town) who have watched over things while I was traveling. It immediately felt like home, and yet, at the same time, unfamiliar, as vacant as it was when last September I ran away from home.

If I was not here to sell my house, I’d wash my clothes, clean my car, change the oil, and hit the road again.

July 10
I moved the first of my things into storage. It felt strange, constricting even, to take much of what represents me from a living, breathing space which I created into a small, poorly lit room. Inside, I fear my inventions, my art, my photographs and books will shrivel and die without the light of day.

But at the same time, my life is wonderfully consolidated, enabling me to expand again without the confine of material things which own me.

July 15
The sale of my house was to have happened tomorrow, but the bank has postponed the closing without a clear, next date. It is a little after 9 pm in Fort Collins, Colorado and warm enough for the children to play in a water fountain and not catch cold, but cool enough to wear long pants or a wind breaker. Perfect. The way Colorado is so much of the year.

I now sit near a piano, on the edge of the water park. Kids are running, jumping, playing with the water fountains as they bubble, spit, and shoot perfect liquid tubes and ribbons over the top of them. The children intentionally, even if with some trepidation place their bodies in the path of the water projectile and then squeal with delight when their clothes are soaked, their parents taking pictures instead of scolding.

July 20
I have returned to Buffalo Peak Ranch, a 270 acre ranch owned by a long-time family friend and one of the most beautiful pieces of land in the West. Last year we installed a large solar PV array which provides more than that consumed by the ranch. The system includes backup battery power and a grid-tied inverter such that the owner now covers his bills, and then some.

The ranch hand Trevor and I just completed a long day working on a three sided barn built of logs, fallen trees killed in the Hayman fire some ten years ago, dragged down the hill behind the ATV. I am at peace, my body aching in that wonderful way it is able only after physical labor, my mind at ease for the sounds of this place are only those of the wind, trees, coyotes, and occasional squeak and slam of the cabin door.

If you sit very still, and listen carefully, you can hear the bark beetles chewing their way through the fallen, dry trees.

August 1
I closed on the sale of my house of fourteen years. It didn’t feel as big a deal as I had anticipated, but after ten months of travel, perhaps it was just the next logical step for I had moved on some time ago.

Everything I own (save my 100 years old piano which now resides in Denver, on loan and well cared for) fits neatly into a 6×8 storage unit and the back of my car. Aside from my carpentry tools, it is nearly 100% emotional in context: books, music, my inventions, and a few antiques, dormant until I again find a place for them to breathe. Feels good to be officially homeless, no longer just denying that I have a place that no longer feels like home.

Ah! Here I go again, settled but for a few days, weeks at a time …

August 5
The thrill of the landing of Curiosity!

Earlier today Ann Druyan said it best, that scientists disagree but never kill each other over their differences. This is what science is about, people working together to improve our present understanding of our world in order to improve our shared future independent of all the little things that otherwise push us apart. Curiosity is not just a machine testing the soil for life, it is an extension of our species arriving just slightly ahead of us, to pave the way.

August 8
I walked from my Ron & Betsy’s to downtown Boise. The temperature is in the mid to high nineties. I don’t mind, for it feels good to walk, to just be outside and away from the computer.

I worked from a cafe ’till night. Rounding the corner, I noticed a number of people spray painting the alley side walls of the downtown buildings. Obviously not hiding their art, these truly exceptional paintings were commissioned by the city, and from what I can tell, painted over previous generations, a tradition in downtown Boise.

Half the distance to my favorite cafe, I passed an elderly man walking slowly, his feet barely lifting from the ground, shuffling as older men and women do sometimes. His grey pants were neatly pressed, cotton, button-down shirt tucked into his pants. His hands were interlaced behind his back and I wondered, Will I be so dignified when I am no longer able to run, climb, or bike?

August 9
Ron, Betsy, Sarah, Chris and I went to the Boise River today, to play and swim in the cool, fast flowing water. What a simple, deeply satisfying joy. I ask myself, How do I forget the pleasure in this? Why do I not do this every summer day? Eager to return.

August 13
Today is the first day of this entire summer that I feel present, accounted for, and truly in my own mind and body. It feels good, finally, to return to this place. I am alone, without music or entertainment of any sort. I hear only the buzz of humming birds, the breeze working to rattle the aspen trees, and when inside the cabin at this isolated ranch, the tick of the clock.

I have found that my brain and body are wired for stress, for constant stimuli and interruption. Email and social media have become my undoing, mechanisms that create a sense of connectivity, but at the price of my lost creativity. It is only with a few days in a row in which I am uninterrupted, two weeks without having to pack my bags and travel again that I find my passion for writing and music and film coming to me freely.

And so I have initiated a plan, a rigid schedule which will enable me to find my passion again.

I start the day with reading from a novel, something light and fun while still in bed, the morning light and heat warming the blanket on my bed. I rise, drink a large glass of water, grab a yoga mat or large bath towel and make my way outside. In the sun or shade, depending upon the time and intensity of the sun, I meditate for twenty or thirty minutes and then either practice yoga or go for a cross-country run and swim in the cold pond. I return to spend the day barefoot, in the cabin or outside, working on my Kickstarter campaign, completing client projects, and preparing for living in Palestine.

It’s working. I am finding flow again. Finally, after six months, since the day I left Holden, I am beginning to feel like me again …

August 19
Last night I was taken on a journey into the darkness of a sheltered sea. By paddle we moved silently between the San Juan islands, not knowing what creatures swam beneath us. The moon nearly new, the sun set, and a light layer of clouds gave way to the ideal conditions by which we could not only witness, but interact with the bioluminescence, naturally occurring organisms that in this form, when stimulated through kinetic energy generate their own light.

A single fingertip set lightly in the water left a trace six, ten, even twelve inches long that glowed with a blue-white light. Five fingers created a mesmerizing flurry of glowing sea and an entire paddle, when swished back ‘n forth generated so much light that it would swirl blue and white for as far as I could see, behind me, when I turned within the confines of the kayak and spray skirt.

It is difficult to describe, and the camera I brought was unable to capture that level of light. But in my mind, I yet recall clearly the illuminated wake as it cut back from the bow, the glowing dots on my paddle and palm, and the sense of awe at something so beautiful and yet completely unknown to me until I experienced it first hand.

August 22
I have taken a significant chance at further self-destruction in order to give opportunity to grow. Indeed, the risk was worth taking for we are healing. Thank you.

August 27
A dear friend sent this to me, today, a well timed and well received reminder to give both reason and passion their rightful place and rightful place each day.

“Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite. Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody. But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements? Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas. For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction. Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing; And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.” –Kahlil Gibran

By Kai Staats|2017-08-12T04:57:07-04:00August 30th, 2012|From the Road|0 Comments

Curiosity Lands!

Mars rover Curiosity - banner

When Science Fiction becomes Science Fact
This evening humans made history with the successful landing of the fourth and most complicated rover mission to Mars.

What struck me as most incredible was the opening presentation at the Planetary Society, several hours before telemetry from Curiosity was provided, wherein it was made clear that science fiction does become science fact, that the shared dreams of thousands of people across this planet made is possible to land on another. This is the unifying power of science, to bring people together for a common goal, a greater good.

We owe an entire generation of vision and motivation to accomplish the impossible to the likes of Carl Sagan, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Ray Bradbury and others for before there was the reality of space travel, there was science fiction which created the dream of space travel we are now fulfilling.

What touched me deepest was when Ann Druyan, widow of the late, great Carl Sagan spoke about the Voyager I and II spacecraft. Each carries a representation of humanity through mathematics, music, art, language, religion, and philosophy on gold discs intended to last a billion years.

Included is something I was not aware of–a recording of Ann’s brain waves while she meditated for an hour, just two days after she and Carl expressed their love for each other. For all the airwaves broadcast into interstellar space at the speed of light which depict our capacity for unbridled xenophobic dysfunction, there are also two gold discs speeding at 38,000 miles per hour in opposite directions, carrying a different kind of message, one of the perfect marriage of science and art and our capacity for something even greater.

As Jim Bell, President of the Planetary Society and Chief Photographer for the Mars Rovers said, “Unbelievable… phenomenal… miraculous… audacious… Words can’t describe the experience, and now we have another rover on Mars and a glorious mountain in front of us to explore.”

For more information, visit www.nasa.gov/msl/

* all images are screenshots of the streaming internet broadcast from the Planetary Society and NASA, August 5, 2012

By Kai Staats|2017-04-10T11:17:41-04:00August 5th, 2012|From the Road, Looking up!|0 Comments

Monitor Gray Kickstarter.com Campaign is LIVE!

I am proud to launch the official Kickstarter.com fund raising campaign!

www.kickstarter.com/projects/kaistaats/monitor-gray-a-sci-fi-short-film

All contributions are appreciated, from $5 to $5000.

This marks my first Kickstarter.com campaign. I spent roughly a month researching, building momentum, preparing for the launch. If successful in reaching our goal, we will have the funds required to hire talented computer generated visual effects artists to give this short film a polished, professional Hollywood glow.

Fingers crossed! Tell everyone you know!

By Kai Staats|2012-08-03T16:15:31-04:00August 3rd, 2012|Film & Video|0 Comments

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