18 and counting

Since defecting to Colorado in August I have been on 18 first dates. I have had coffee and conversation with dancers and teachers, doctors and baristas, computer geeks and office assistants. This experience has led to a better understanding of what I am seeking in a partner; knowing that I am able to thrive outside of a relationship but also that there is a particular strength and energy to be had from within a romantic relationship; and the growing realization that finding someone that suits me is no small feat.

On the seven hour car ride to the Durango Snowdown Hash in Durango, CO, Cum Scout, a fellow Denver hasher, and I spent the early hours of the trip wrestling with the topic of interpersonal relationships. I told him the story of my 18 first dates. He told me a story about a roommate who still talks about a relationship that ended five years back. Cum Scout and I agree that five years is too long to dwell on a former relationship; we refrained from judging the 18 dates. What ultimately came out of this conversation is a theory of dating that we've decided is the only way to go.

From knowing that the population of the Earth is 6.5 million people, we surmised that there are 3.25 million men and 3.25 million women. Subtract approximately 65,000 exclusively homosexual people from the total (seems like a small number to me, but that's another post), and there are 3.24 million men chasing after 3.24 million women. And then subtract those who are married, celibate by choice, too young or too old, live on the wrong side of the world, aren't dating, etc. ...

The millions that are datable can be divided up by having the individuals take the Keirsey Temperament Sorter type. Everyone falls into predominantly one personality category; so by using straight-up division (as opposed to statistical analysis which would be more accurate but more difficult) we determined that there are 20,250,000 people of each type of personality roaming the Earth. Subtract from that number the aforementioned non-datable folks, figure out your personality type and the type of personality with whom you are most compatible, and voila! Your dating pool.

So, I just need to find all of the available, English-speaking, Denver-dwelling ESFJs and date 'em one by one until I find one that suits me well. Brilliant, eh? I thought so. Now I'm off to this site to put my money where my mouth is.

Love song to Mount Elbert

I can't remember the last time I felt ill (and exhilarated and cleansed by) physical exertion, but as of Saturday my memory has been refreshed. The adventure began Friday night when I met Truman, Paul and Kevin in Golden from whence we headed to Jeremy's place in Silverthorne: the jumping off point for our winter ascent of Mount Elbert.

After collectively sleeping poorly, we headed out at 5:19am through the 19F air. One of the guys commented that we were one minute past our departure time for every degree above zero on the thermometer. Truman lamented our not running 40 minutes late. Indeed.

We left the parking lot at 7am to hike to the trail head. Two miles and a few layers later, we strapped on snowshoes and hit the trail. All was well until Kevin, who was breaking trail, stopped in a grove of Aspen trees and suggested that we were no longer on trail. The four guys put their heads together as I, admitting my propensity for getting lost, remained silent until spoken to.

(It was a few hours later that Truman also admitted his propensity for getting lost. Whether in denial about following into the wilderness in the snow one who so easily goes astray [me] or understanding his propensity for modesty [Kevin, Jeremy and Paul?], the lot of us ignored Truman's declaration and the guys continued to include him in the route planning. Given that we lived through the experience, following the directions of the self-professed directionally challenged one wasn't a bad decision, but one might question doing so again.)

My favorite part of the trip, as gauged by how much I laughed, was the, as Truman phrased it, impromptu luge we created down the slope of the Ridge-to-the-north-of-Elbert-we-think. If only there had a been a video camera at the bottom... I haven't laughed so hard in ages. It felt really good.

Considering the tacitly agreed upon aim of the outing -- to summit the mountain -- one might consider it a failure. Fortunately we (I say 'we' because I've already read Truman's account of the experience) had subgoals that were met. I aimed to snowshoe (check), enjoy myself (check) and meet cute, available boys (notice the lack of 'check'). Two outta three, and surviving a trip that made me physically ill, ain't bad.

Photo: Aspen trees with what is probably not Mount Elbert in the background. Sadly, I did not follow through on my instinct to charge the camera battery before leaving Friday, thus you're looking at one of three photos I took on this trip. The other two are here. But here are Truman's photos which do an excellent job of capturing the 'je ne sais quoi' of the trip. Although he did (mercifully) leave this one off...

Buddhism vs. Hashing, Round 1

It started with the meditation, 'Worldly Concerns', led by Ani Karin on the CD of 'The Complete Lam Rim with The Foundation of All Good Qualities by Lama Tsong Khapa'. Wait. Actually, no. It started with my complaining to Julie about pain in my left foot, which she diagnosed as a stress fracture and prescribed rest (i.e. not running). Thus, I was searching for a way to manage the stress I typically release while running, which led me to the meditation practice I had all but abandoned upon leaving the Kopan Monastery in early May.

Despite my good intentions, the voice inside my head interrupted by a) taking on my mother's voice and warning me to be careful with lit candles (particularly with a cat around) b) pointing out that the living room of my apartment, which is 50 feet off of Colfax, is not an ideal place to get one's meditation groove on c) emphasizing that that I miss meditating with its sighs of relief and d) taunting me with my fear that Hashing and Buddhism are incompatible. And you, knowing little to nothing about both Hashing and meditation, say, "No kidding!' I coulda told you that!" But please, hold your comments until I've had a chance to explain myself.

First there's a schedule conflict; I often miss the Sunday evening meditation group at First Unitarian Denver because I'm at a post-Hash gathering. Yes, there is Hashing on Saturday. No, I don't attend because it's either in Fort Collins or Colorado Springs (=1+ hours' drive). Driving such distance in order to participate in an activity which I could start on my front stoop is, as much as I love running and Hashers, a poor use of gas in these economically and environmentally challenged times. So Hashing is geographically limited to metro Denver, which limits us to Sundays.

The next difficulty is a difference in philosophy. Hashing in metro Denver is first and foremost about drinking beer. Whereas the fifth precept of a Buddhist lay-person is to refrain from use of intoxicants which lead to loss of mindfulness (i.e. beer). You see the obvious conflict, yes?

Finally, and the kicker for me, Hash banter is typically much coarser than that in which I usually participate. Perhaps it's a safe, healthy outlet for frustration. Or perhaps I'm wracking up negative karma that's going to bite me in the butt in a future life. At this point, I am a two-faced Buddhist, but the alternative is to be a prissy Hasher. Or compromise by being mediocre at both. Where is my priority; to excel at being Buddhist or at Hashing? *gulp* Just by typing those words, I will be made to drink at the next Hash! And have violated Buddhism's 'middle way'. Gah! What to do?

Perhaps I'll start with some meditation...

Photos -- Top: The scenery on the snow shoe Hash in which I participated at the Durango Snowdown 1/20-2/1; notice the derth of snow. Middle: Snowshoe Hash on-out. Bottom: Snowshoe Hash beer check.