The Spark


Here’s a dream. This dream spins. It twirls in the wind. It is made of plastic and bamboo. It’s a make shift wind wheel! (Hyperbole! I think not. The principles are sound!) This dream made of trash is powered by nuclear energy. Pray tell, how does that happen? Fusion in the core of the sun produces photons, these photons take 100 years to escape the sun. Then a little under 8 minutes to traverse the space between. They heat the surface of a spinning globe to create wind. Put a blade on a pin and face it into the wind. If it spins, you are harnessing fusion energy that was produced 100+ years ago. Wow! Out of this world, right?

But Dreams come and go like the wind, for the faint of heart. We fickle beings easily forget them because life gets too hard.


Walaybola, Morotai, Indonesia

I happen upon a little girl in a seaport town while prospecting for wind resource in the area. My partners and I sat while some folks graciously cooked us fish. I noticed the little girl some distance away playing with something that resembled a wind turbine. It was almost as if she wanted to show us it. But threw it done in frustration for it failed to spin. The girl disappeared. So I walked over to find the pieces thrown about. I made a slight alteration to the would be turbine blade. i.e. added more twist. I placed it into the ground.

My only hope is that she saw this when she came back. And was inspired so that she be possessed with conviction: the desire to peer into the unknown for others and not turn away. Delusions of grandeur if you will, but big things have crazy beginnings.

(This is my dream, to inspire others to aspire. Thank you little girl for giving me the opportunity.)




Dreamers are the painters of reality.

The Sun

How many flags have been flown for god, for country, for ambition? What drives us for more: to see lands untold, to find love, to speak with a stranger, to last beyond our years? Oh, how many that have already existed! We few that still live! What a gift! No paper, no words, can  truly describe to another what sight a sunrise is to feel. Share your time with a friend while the beauty of a sunrise kisses you!

(Sunrise on Mt. Rinjani , Lombok Indonesia: elevation 12,224’)


(View from Rinjani’s summit of the crater lake and new volcano)


(Sunset on the crater rim)


(Hi! Meet Reno – a guide in a trekking company on Lombok. This man hikes to the summit of Mt. Rinjani twice a week for a living. He deserves this shirt.)


Be like Reno, be bear chested!

To infinty and carbon-neutrality!



Photo taken by Pikatan Tahta Prabhu Diwangkara. Mt. Gede Java, Indonesia

After hours of peering into the wonder of infinity, on top of an ancient volcanic mountain, you begin to yearn for a crispy black marshmallow. Your toil of rubbing sticks together has beget a bright fire, but now another query of wonder is upon you: ” why was there smoke before the fire?” Thinking back you discover that the heat from the friction of rubbing sticks releases gasses, which ignite from the heat and surrounding midnight air. Eureka! The wood itself does not burn. It has been pyrolyzed.


The video is of a gasifier that does this action, but captures most of the gases before they are burned.The feed-stock is charcoal in the above video, which is heated inside the downdraft gasifier until it releases moisture, gases, ash and some tar. The aim is to capture CO and H2; these gases then can be used for direct combustion (as see in the video) or can be used for electrical power production.



Fernando and Christoni — undergraduates at the Agricultural Institute of Bogor — check  for concentrations level of CO and H2. i.e. seeing if it catches a flame.



Corn cob waste that has been densified into a briquette and then carbonized. It is essentially charcoal and ready to be burned.


Into the Sky


One wrong move and we all could fall into the sky. The endless concrete tundra cracks under the ridged wane of life. And these ridged things will never dance in the wind, but twirling hope still flies above. Breathe! Breathe! Fill your lungs with it! Let it beseech you with maddening charm! Dare to peer into the lonely night with a fiery dream. Be brave in your lust for passion. Do not be lost in the world. Look down at your feet and then at the sky, this is where you are. And what you hold in your hand is a whisper, breathe life into and friends will find you.



(Disclaimer: racy language in recording.)

We want to be driven, driven mad by desire, just as wild as a dervish with purpose – a purpose that pushes us to corners unknown, to create; this is our true happiness. The richness of purpose drives people to better the world. They are not happy because they have money. They are happy because they can create marching ripples of interest anew. Everyone accepts money for their limited time. “Thank you sir for giving me this coloured piece of paper that has been dirtied many a time. I will now make the coffee drink you requested of me, with resentment of course because I am younger and full of entitlement. Meanwhile, please delight in this week’s old newspaper.” To abuse your opportunity is a disrespect unto thyself. Now, you will have to waste more of your own precious time to overcome that ill-fated gesture. Next time, be sure to vote in such a way that gives rise to the purpose you see fit. Then the time you spend will be well spent on others.



Is it, true that we are 60% bananas? (A statistic hanging in the Smithsonian of Natural History.) How can this be!?! I am not peel-able: I do not sprout from a bush or a tree! I have feet, not roots!

If this be true than Facebook comprises of 60% bananas or the notion that six tenths times banana plus sugar and spice would yield human woman…! But, if I eat a banana and shit it out, will I always be 60% banana? Have we always shared 60% of our genome? What if, a banana ate a person!?!

What do we have in common with a banana anyway? A green banana is not ripe. A green person wants a trash can. A yellow banana needs to be eaten. A yellow person needs a better liver. How fascinating is a 40% difference in our blueprint would yield arms and legs! (What complexity there is in the genome.)

I am not 60% banana nor is a banana sharing any percent of a human. What we have in common is the time we have spent together! Though we will never have a friendship with a banana, we do, however, have a relationship. Now that is something that will drive you bananas.

Bananas exist to be eaten, to be thrown, to be tossed by Mario, to be blended, to be forgotten, to be planted … to be sold at Walmart. Our effect on bananas also has an effect on us. E.g. When we throw a banana it pushes back on our muscles to which our mind is intimately connected.


FullSizeRender1What do you see in this image? Why do you see what you see? Perception is a crazy thing to behold, but to understand the value of what we see here starts with the smallest piece of physics. Both the green plant gripping for life and the dead brown matter are from seeds! What lies before my gaze is dust. This dust is what binds us to the heavens above. There is beauty in this brown matter for it was once created within the fiery crucibles that light our lives. It traveled throughout space and time to get here, to become here. Blown by solar winds and pushed by gravity, it is now here beneath our feet. We and this cosmic star dust, called dirt, are one and the same.

The irony here is that this very dynamic part of nature is swept out of site, quite literally, under a rug! I cannot speak for most Americans for I do not know that many of them, but I may offer my perspective on this notion as a person from the States. There are many descriptions for what is seen in this picture, but they are all wrong. Pride is a terrible thing that yields little, but being right is the worst. How do we unchain our hearts from this tiresome argument of righteousness so that we may free our problem solving minds!?! The difficulty arises when we think ourselves much more than dirt. There is a dirt pile that sits in a chair eating dirt from a TV dinner box while basking in the noisy sound and flashy glow of a flat square of dirt on the wall; this man would be hard pressed to wonder about the value of it. But oh my, the wondrous things dirt can become!

We exist within the resin of dirt. And when we look up into the night sky we can bask in the awe of the connectivity of this universe. We are a part of a great reaction and we have the ability to choose. It is our gift to choose how the effect of us will ripple through time.

A Caprice

As I walked along a path in the wake of a rain storm there laid a bird. I instantly assume this unfledged robin was dead. As I stood before this bird I could see that my assumption was wrong. As I held the bird ever so slightly in my hand it raised its, still sightless, eyes towards me to which it opened its voiceless beak to my presences. The bird’s life was so briefly in my hands, but I was in such a hurry …




The Birthday Party


(Billy’s birthday party.)

Grammy is there. (Which, is a surprise because she went into cat seclusion since Pa-pop died.)


(Everyone is dirt poor.)


Billy is an especially effervescent kid of a newly turned age 9. And everyone from Pa to Grammy, hell, even cobwebbed Aunt Ester chipped in to buy Billy’s only birthday present.


With eagerness, Billy unwraps his present. (Very old and slightly greased comics were used for the wrapping.)


To Billy’s excited assumption it is the new bored game, “ 3rd Generation Colour Wheel of Fortuitous Bargains”, complete with two full stacks of cards! (With a smirk Billy whispers, “I must collect them all.”)


(Again, since Billy is such an eager and effervescent child opens the game with the same likeness.)


But the bored game quickly beeps and prints out the words, “in order to play this bored game an internet connection is required.”


Pa carries over an ancient looking dial up cord and proceeds to plug the bored game in.


Green lights flash and the game remarks, “internet speed is sub-par it is recommended to set the graphics to very, very coarse.


(There is a brief look of confusion from all party members.)


Billy, with a look of slight frustration, clicks the box open.


In exclamation! The box squeaks, “your subscription has expired!”


(There is a slight glimmer of hopelessness in the tear of Billy’s right eye.)


Grammy pulls out a red stamped 50 dollar bill – obviously printed in the 50s – and thus puts it in the 50 dollar bill receptacle.


The bored game box expands into a larger device much like when you turn a page in a pop-up book.


Renewed hope has animated Billy’s expression: “Things are much brighter now, Grammy!”


Grammy replies, “your Pa-pop always loved to see you smile.”


Billy quickly runs to the bored game to delegate the different responsibilities of the game to everyone in his birthday party that is willing.


“Ma! You’re the Jewish banker.


Pa! You’re the athletic Black football player.


Grammy! You can be Miss Daisy!


And I can be the poor white trash that may make something of myself someday!”


To Billy’s dismay, there is a blinking cursor preceded by the words:” Update in progress 12 hours ‘til download is complete.”


Billy turns to Grammy with a smile says,” let’s go play outside. It’s what Pa-pop loved to do!”








We are the Borg

“We are the Borg! Resistance is futile.” Jean Luke Picard fires his phaser at the robotic/organic creatures before him. Jean’s first shot would take down a drone and then the second and then the third would be sure to follow the first. Just then, the effectiveness of the phaser rapidly decreased to that of a flash light. “We are the Borg. Resistance is futile.” The Borg adapted to the Captain’s weapon and at some point Jean Luke Picard became one of the Borg; they assimilated him into the collective, by infecting him with technology. He became an emotionless cyborg.

I am unaware of the writer’s subplots for the show Star Trek, “The Next Generation”, but I see huge correlations to a similar, yet less technological, foe – the invasive microorganism. As it slowly becomes common knowledge that our weapons for these invisible foes are becoming more benign, life without anti-biotics may become an incomprehensible reality for Westerners. I am living proof to the full life western medicine has given me. (I am type 1 diabetic that once got an infection in an insulin injection site.)

How do you recover from a “staph” infection that has spread beneath the 7 layers of skin located in your left arm? An answer is 5 days on an i.v. drip of Vancomycin – once hailed as the “last resort antibiotic”. Well I was lucky, but what would a staph infection that has adapted to this weapon look like? It wouldn’t look like “the Borg” … I think it would look like Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA). MRSA, pronounced mur-sa, is a resistant form of “staph”. How do we stop MRSA? Maybe, amputate a limb and get a bionic arm. In that case I would then resemble “the Borg.” Then Jean Luke Picard (the cured human version) would teleport from the fictitious future to phaser me to a pile of carbon. This would prevent my insulin pump morphing with me and my newly bestowed prosthetic arm to become the first Borg drone! Fantastic! Captain Picard just saved countless cultures that the space veering Borg would have destroyed.

In reality this wouldn’t work, the only time travel that exists is the tick of the clock. We live now so let’s care more about the effects of our decisions as they ripple with each tick. Let our compassion for selfless ambition out compete the selfish agenda and maybe one day MRSA will be out competed by a non-resistant bacterium.

“… the thoughtless person playing with penicillin is morally responsible for the death of the man who finally succumbs to infection with the penicillin-resistant organism. I hope this evil can be averted.”

 – Sir Alexander Fleming June 26, 1945

“We are the Borg. Resistance is futile.”