To the question of why I dig, I have yet to find a simple answer. When I answer the question of whether I do so for gold, or silver, or artifacts or treasure I get even more befuddled looks. When I state that I do so for the simple joy of discovery the label “crackpot” becomes affixed in concrete upon my forehead and even after 20 years those who know me best say they can still see that word clearly. I can’t claim to know that what I get from what I do is similar to what a discover of an artificial heart gets, or that it’s the same as what Neil Armstrong felt as his foot touched the moon, but then again, I can’t say it isn’t. The one reoccurring thing I do say is that it is a mixture of emotions, both fear and excitement. The rush of this excitement builds as dirt falls against my face, as the opening in front of me grows larger with each new push or poke at the surrounding material. My breathing becomes very rapid and my eyes see every small hole as a going borehole. Often, tired beyond belief somehow another scoop of clay is past behind me, and the constant cramping of most major muscle groups, although crippling, is shaken off. And then, as I see that my tired and torn aged body will now fit into the blackness above me the fear hits. I do worry that I could be digging into the bottom of a bears den and that they are at this very moment drawing straws as to who gets first bite. As I stand, pushing my head up into the complete unknown, that excitement rush over rules the fear and I sing inside my head the Doors, “break on through to the other side”.
Perhaps 100000 years ago the cave passage we remove clay and mud and an occasional rock from was wide open. Perhaps others have walked in where I seek to visit, if this is so, I have yet to find anything they marked that event with, so I can only assume that I am the very first human to see each new room that I first enter. The air is often dank, and the fearfulness, or caution is ever present. My eyes view these rooms faster then my lips can speak of and I often yell back for someone to come in quickly. Perhaps this is done so to appease the bears hunger, perhaps it is to have another human near in case I need to record any final words or thoughts. Regardless, the rush quickly subsides and the need to begin digging returns as I find what appears to be the way on. The need that fills me is perhaps like the desire for more heroin pulsing thru the veins of junkie. To breathe in the past is something I can’t get doing anything else, the rush is not replaceable through any other activity I have ever tried. To say I am hooked is very much an understatement, and if asked if I have any responsibility to others that I have hooked into this addiction my lawyer has requested you contact him.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Goodbye Mary Jo-
Monday July 18th- 2005
Hello kids!
It’s hard to imagine that on this day in 1969 we almost suffered the lost of another one of our great political minds. What could have easily been twisted into something sorted or illegal was handled much like a dodge ball game with do overs on a playground. We know that had this corpulent leader not done what he did, that he could have ended up just like any other working stiff, in a prison for a half dozen crimes.
36 short years ago, a young Mary Jo Kopechne was in Ted’s car. Ted had been drinking, well, we know this because he was awake, and well, his car, a prelude to the apparent self driving SUV’s turned left instead of staying the course. It was a close call for Ted, though not made for hours, and the drowning was the end of young Mary Jo’s life. It was the beginning of Ted’s excellent adventure and the beginning of the grief of her parents, friends and family. I doubt any of us will see anything in the news today about this anniversary, but what if we were all to start next year with something like the following, and not meant to be disrespectful in any way to Mary Jo, meant so towards Ted:
Order “Chapiquitic Cakes” that are decorated with an upside down car, covered with water next to a bridge. You could just have “Best of luck Ted”, or “Tough break MJ” written on the cake. For those of you who are a bit more creative a small fat figure can be placed at the waters edge walking briskly away stumbling……………………………
What a I am trying to say, is that on this date in history, please remember that 36 years ago to the day, a “man” of title killed someone and was never charged in his crime.
His name- Ted Kennedy
Monday July 18th- 2005
Hello kids!
It’s hard to imagine that on this day in 1969 we almost suffered the lost of another one of our great political minds. What could have easily been twisted into something sorted or illegal was handled much like a dodge ball game with do overs on a playground. We know that had this corpulent leader not done what he did, that he could have ended up just like any other working stiff, in a prison for a half dozen crimes.
36 short years ago, a young Mary Jo Kopechne was in Ted’s car. Ted had been drinking, well, we know this because he was awake, and well, his car, a prelude to the apparent self driving SUV’s turned left instead of staying the course. It was a close call for Ted, though not made for hours, and the drowning was the end of young Mary Jo’s life. It was the beginning of Ted’s excellent adventure and the beginning of the grief of her parents, friends and family. I doubt any of us will see anything in the news today about this anniversary, but what if we were all to start next year with something like the following, and not meant to be disrespectful in any way to Mary Jo, meant so towards Ted:
Order “Chapiquitic Cakes” that are decorated with an upside down car, covered with water next to a bridge. You could just have “Best of luck Ted”, or “Tough break MJ” written on the cake. For those of you who are a bit more creative a small fat figure can be placed at the waters edge walking briskly away stumbling……………………………
What a I am trying to say, is that on this date in history, please remember that 36 years ago to the day, a “man” of title killed someone and was never charged in his crime.
His name- Ted Kennedy
Saturday, July 16, 2005
"But he gave me a beer"
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Yes, those who know the whole story know that Paul will do most anything for a beer, like pose for this shot!
Friday, July 15, 2005
its a hit!!!
Wasn't the fact that we (not me folks!) are smart enough to fly into outerspace and then launch a killer bomb camera into a speeding comet great!?
I watched with amazment.
A good shoulder is a good thing to have
Hi, its great to be back……………………lets see, where are we at?………..
I have been pretty worried lately kids. It seems that since last Thursday, the one 8 days ago I awoke and found the right side of my neck swollen. This in turn was causing the pinching of nerves down to the tips of my fingers, making anything involving being awake most painful. After spending countless hours at Massage Therapy, MD’s, Chiropractors and a trip to the ER while cartoons are on I was starting to think I might be on the DD List. (Designated Digger) for the 2005-2006 dig season. Even after 2 shots of Demerol, countless pills of every shape and size I HURT BAD.
AND THAT WOULD NOT BE GOOD
The pain was staying put, and it was painful pain, the kind that brings a man to his knees with saline dripping from his eyeballs even in front of a woman. Now that’s pain! Anyway, I had a MRI this afternoon and for even a caver that’s to tight to enjoy, didn’t seem to go………………so I figure I either have good coverage or its serious for old Doc Hindi to order one up.
Now, here’s the good part! It was interesting that about an hour before this procedure I Tried one more massage, you that know me understand that if asked to choose between a massage or a dig trip I might become distracted, smoke could appear and you may have finally succeeded in stubbing my mind. Anyway, this massage went very good if you know what I mean, yeah man, she got the shoulder back in place!!!! I was even able to play softball tonight!!!!…..
So it appears that I have turned the corner on the road to wellness!
So, tomorrow my 2nd wife, Paul and I shall roll up into the foothills, crawl into that cool cave of 56 degrees and start setting up for the season……………be still my heart.
I have been pretty worried lately kids. It seems that since last Thursday, the one 8 days ago I awoke and found the right side of my neck swollen. This in turn was causing the pinching of nerves down to the tips of my fingers, making anything involving being awake most painful. After spending countless hours at Massage Therapy, MD’s, Chiropractors and a trip to the ER while cartoons are on I was starting to think I might be on the DD List. (Designated Digger) for the 2005-2006 dig season. Even after 2 shots of Demerol, countless pills of every shape and size I HURT BAD.
AND THAT WOULD NOT BE GOOD
The pain was staying put, and it was painful pain, the kind that brings a man to his knees with saline dripping from his eyeballs even in front of a woman. Now that’s pain! Anyway, I had a MRI this afternoon and for even a caver that’s to tight to enjoy, didn’t seem to go………………so I figure I either have good coverage or its serious for old Doc Hindi to order one up.
Now, here’s the good part! It was interesting that about an hour before this procedure I Tried one more massage, you that know me understand that if asked to choose between a massage or a dig trip I might become distracted, smoke could appear and you may have finally succeeded in stubbing my mind. Anyway, this massage went very good if you know what I mean, yeah man, she got the shoulder back in place!!!! I was even able to play softball tonight!!!!…..
So it appears that I have turned the corner on the road to wellness!
So, tomorrow my 2nd wife, Paul and I shall roll up into the foothills, crawl into that cool cave of 56 degrees and start setting up for the season……………be still my heart.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Just one more quick one
This saying means a lot to me-
"Ce'ad M'ile Fa'ilte"
which means, "One Hundred Thousand Welcomes".
wise words
In the words of the writer George Eliot (1819-1880)
"It's never to late to be who you might have been"
"It's never to late to be who you might have been"
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Dig Thought # 132
“THE IDEA IS THERE, LOCKED INSIDE, AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS REMOVE THE EXCESS STONE”
Michelangelo
(Stolen from Michelangelo)
“The Cave is there, locked inside, and all you have to do is remove the excess stone and mud”
Caver Scott
poem of the day
walking through a forest
and you come to mind
looking for my clearing
just so hard to find
swimming in an ocean
I taste you on my lips
looking for that dock
and for my sailing ship
and you come to mind
looking for my clearing
just so hard to find
swimming in an ocean
I taste you on my lips
looking for that dock
and for my sailing ship
why is the sky blue?
WHY IS THE SKY BLUE?
Light from the sun is composed of the spectrum of colors. When sunlight strikes the Earth’s atmosphere, ultraviolet and blue waves of light are the most easily scattered by particles in the atmosphere. The other colors of light continue to the Earth while blue and ultraviolet waves remain in the sky. Our eyes can’t see ultraviolet light, so the sky appears the only color remaining that we can see, blue.
So, now, when in my absence, you are asked that question, you will be able to stand tall, and with no hesitation, you will fish.
Light from the sun is composed of the spectrum of colors. When sunlight strikes the Earth’s atmosphere, ultraviolet and blue waves of light are the most easily scattered by particles in the atmosphere. The other colors of light continue to the Earth while blue and ultraviolet waves remain in the sky. Our eyes can’t see ultraviolet light, so the sky appears the only color remaining that we can see, blue.
So, now, when in my absence, you are asked that question, you will be able to stand tall, and with no hesitation, you will fish.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Poem
As the present gobbles up
my future.
And my tomorrows become
my here’s and now’s
I am aware that I am still learningthe why of the what’s and how’s.
my future.
And my tomorrows become
my here’s and now’s
I am aware that I am still learningthe why of the what’s and how’s.
Cave City/ S and P Excavations Mini Burning Man
6/5/2005 1:07 AM
Something clicks and the fire starts, at first, small, then, an inferno. The 1st annual CC/S+P Mini Burning Man Festival has begun. With the bon fire turning shades of autumn, we hear laughter all around, then when the sounds grow lower a blazing flame shoots into the night sky, speeding in to the heavens, it stops, arcs and in a beautiful, peaceful, explosion, the colors are sent out like huge fingers in all directions, crackling and flashing on their descent to the ground. The ah’s, and oh’s rang out as if a choir, on cue had burst into simultaneous sounds to proclaim the wonders of the painting of lights on that darken pallet, but even before they were completely silent, when one more fire ball push upward, with very much the same results. More laughter and merriment, silly stories shared, mosquito smashing, more balls of colorful fire lighting this night sky, when all of a sudden, a very large Toucan passes by, seemed to be with its trainer so we didn’t really have much input as to whether or not such a bird should or could just walk by us, but we did stare and all laugh out loud at once. It was still our only topic of conversation for the next few minutes when two bizarre young men stumbled, up asking if anyone here, had, or had not, seen the very same Toucan we were now laughing about. The next thing we know, the entire group is being interrogated, while being video taped and it, was most unpleasant, but safety first right? It was through these dependable, hard working men that we learned that the Toucan is not native here, and they will kill you for no reason, other then say, because, you remind them of a former owner who teased them relentlessly with rubber crackers and jalapeno flavored bird seed, and showed no emotions at all. It was at this very moment, the giant Toucan, in all its natural beauty along with its trusted trainer stepped into the lights of the fire, and everyone froze, then from somewhere, towards the back of the crowd, a voice spoke up, it solidified what every man, women and child were thinking at the same time in 3 simple words, “cook the bird” echoed around us and giggles became full fledged laughter………..We had settled in again, watching the darkness explode into light, again, and again.
Something clicks and the fire starts, at first, small, then, an inferno. The 1st annual CC/S+P Mini Burning Man Festival has begun. With the bon fire turning shades of autumn, we hear laughter all around, then when the sounds grow lower a blazing flame shoots into the night sky, speeding in to the heavens, it stops, arcs and in a beautiful, peaceful, explosion, the colors are sent out like huge fingers in all directions, crackling and flashing on their descent to the ground. The ah’s, and oh’s rang out as if a choir, on cue had burst into simultaneous sounds to proclaim the wonders of the painting of lights on that darken pallet, but even before they were completely silent, when one more fire ball push upward, with very much the same results. More laughter and merriment, silly stories shared, mosquito smashing, more balls of colorful fire lighting this night sky, when all of a sudden, a very large Toucan passes by, seemed to be with its trainer so we didn’t really have much input as to whether or not such a bird should or could just walk by us, but we did stare and all laugh out loud at once. It was still our only topic of conversation for the next few minutes when two bizarre young men stumbled, up asking if anyone here, had, or had not, seen the very same Toucan we were now laughing about. The next thing we know, the entire group is being interrogated, while being video taped and it, was most unpleasant, but safety first right? It was through these dependable, hard working men that we learned that the Toucan is not native here, and they will kill you for no reason, other then say, because, you remind them of a former owner who teased them relentlessly with rubber crackers and jalapeno flavored bird seed, and showed no emotions at all. It was at this very moment, the giant Toucan, in all its natural beauty along with its trusted trainer stepped into the lights of the fire, and everyone froze, then from somewhere, towards the back of the crowd, a voice spoke up, it solidified what every man, women and child were thinking at the same time in 3 simple words, “cook the bird” echoed around us and giggles became full fledged laughter………..We had settled in again, watching the darkness explode into light, again, and again.
Its about time
You know how when you see a prism, spinning in the sun, and how the lights are sent out in ten thousand directions, constantly changing, forever remaining the same? Well this blog site is like that, only those beams of lights, at least the ones I see, are my ideas. When I am driving they appear much like those sun spot prism pulses of energies, but mine are ideas, most in their rawest form, though many refined to perfection. They will out number us, and please know there will be way to many for one man to absorb. Most will zip in and out of my brain without me seeing them. Some will get wedged against grey matter, where they spend time awaiting me the need for accessing them, perhaps with out my ever knowing they were there all along.(who said “necessity is the mother of invention”?) Then there are the few special ones, that rocket across the vast space between my ears, the ones I see quickly, grabbing them from the air because of the brilliance of their shine. These are the ones that are such great or simple ideas, such fantastic thoughts, that you may see me with my pen, and in the absents of paper, blocks of wood, or cardboard starting to write on the palms of my hands the details, hoping to not lose them. Ideas, some raw and primitive, each in their newest stages, while many a finished product or idea these will be recorded here. It is these ideas, imbedded deep inside my head that we will be typing about, here on this blog, yes, Views From Caver Scott.
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