Cryptic Post is Cryptic
St Albans!!!! St Albans!!!! St Albans will work!!!! Thank you, real world history, for making my plot point plausible!!!! St Albans Hurrah!
May. 17th, 2012
A beautiful poem
Thanks to Serphimsigrist for sharing this this morning; it is truly beautiful:
I LEARNED THE GRASS AS I BEGAN TO WRITE
By Arseny Tarkovsky
Translated by Philip Metres; Dimitri Psurtsev
I learned the grass as I began to write,
And the grass started whistling like a flute.
I gathered how color and sound could join
And when the dragonfly whirred up his hymn,
Passing through green frets like a comet, I knew
A tear was waiting in each drop of dew.
Knew that in each facet of the huge eye,
In each rainbow of brightly churring wings,
Dwells the burning word of the prophet—
By some miracle I found Adam’s secret.
I loved my tormenting task, this intricate
Placing of words, fastened by their light,
Riddle of vague feeling and a simple answer
To the mind. In “truth” I thought truth appeared.
My tongue was true, like a spectral analysis,
And words gathered around my feet to listen.
What’s more, my friend, you’re right to say
I heard one-quarter the noise, saw half the light,
But I did not debase the grasses, or family,
Or insult the ancestral earth by being blithe,
And as long as I worked on earth, accepted
A gift of coldest spring water and fragrant bread,
Above me unfathomable sky still stood,
And stars tumbled around my head.
I LEARNED THE GRASS AS I BEGAN TO WRITE
By Arseny Tarkovsky
Translated by Philip Metres; Dimitri Psurtsev
I learned the grass as I began to write,
And the grass started whistling like a flute.
I gathered how color and sound could join
And when the dragonfly whirred up his hymn,
Passing through green frets like a comet, I knew
A tear was waiting in each drop of dew.
Knew that in each facet of the huge eye,
In each rainbow of brightly churring wings,
Dwells the burning word of the prophet—
By some miracle I found Adam’s secret.
I loved my tormenting task, this intricate
Placing of words, fastened by their light,
Riddle of vague feeling and a simple answer
To the mind. In “truth” I thought truth appeared.
My tongue was true, like a spectral analysis,
And words gathered around my feet to listen.
What’s more, my friend, you’re right to say
I heard one-quarter the noise, saw half the light,
But I did not debase the grasses, or family,
Or insult the ancestral earth by being blithe,
And as long as I worked on earth, accepted
A gift of coldest spring water and fragrant bread,
Above me unfathomable sky still stood,
And stars tumbled around my head.
Thursday Morning
Superstition is to religion as astrology is to astronomy; the mad daughter of a wise mother.
There are worse things one might do, when one is troubled, than turn to Voltaire.
The Sacred Texts of Self Preservation - I think we all have a shelf somewhere with the books we keep because they are restorative, because they keep us centered, because they help us remember who we are. Literature as life compass; we use the stories of others to keep ourselves pointed in the right general direction. An individualized canon; secularized scripture. These are books that can be read with pleasure, surely, but like all sacred literature, the pleasure is not necessarily the point. These are the stories that allow us to find a point of connection - perhaps to the Divine, perhaps to the collective conscious, perhaps we all have our own perhaps - to something beyond ourselves and our own personal experiences, where we can transcend the moment and gain a broader perspective.
Mythago Wood, by Robert Holdstock has an important role in my life. It tells an old, old tale - if you surrender to Story, Story will sustain you in all the ways that matter. This has been a guiding philosophy of mine; it's been rather conveniently true for me. And then last night I read The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, which is an interesting and compelling look at surrender to Story taken to an extreme. It's the same story as Mythago Wood, essentially, but told through a vastly different lens. Mythago Wood let me know what was possible, and it was enthralling and likely saved my life; The Glass Castle lets me know what is equally possible, and it was enthralling, and will likely help me hold onto the life I have.
It certainly made me consider another way to view celibacy among the religious. You can not surrender to anything completely if you retain responsibility for another; the two goals are incompatible. Life requires trade-offs; there is, it seems, a continuum of devotion, and along that continuum inevitably comes a point where one is almost forced to detach from relationships, familial and otherwise, because to continue the connection beyond that stage causes more harm than good. Jeannette Walls' parents surrendered far too much, and their children suffered. Some faith traditions support this; some do not. I'm still thinking about it, though. I'm only 2 cups of coffee into it, and that's not enough for a Thursday morning.
What are your Sacred Texts of Self Preservation?
There are worse things one might do, when one is troubled, than turn to Voltaire.
The Sacred Texts of Self Preservation - I think we all have a shelf somewhere with the books we keep because they are restorative, because they keep us centered, because they help us remember who we are. Literature as life compass; we use the stories of others to keep ourselves pointed in the right general direction. An individualized canon; secularized scripture. These are books that can be read with pleasure, surely, but like all sacred literature, the pleasure is not necessarily the point. These are the stories that allow us to find a point of connection - perhaps to the Divine, perhaps to the collective conscious, perhaps we all have our own perhaps - to something beyond ourselves and our own personal experiences, where we can transcend the moment and gain a broader perspective.
Mythago Wood, by Robert Holdstock has an important role in my life. It tells an old, old tale - if you surrender to Story, Story will sustain you in all the ways that matter. This has been a guiding philosophy of mine; it's been rather conveniently true for me. And then last night I read The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, which is an interesting and compelling look at surrender to Story taken to an extreme. It's the same story as Mythago Wood, essentially, but told through a vastly different lens. Mythago Wood let me know what was possible, and it was enthralling and likely saved my life; The Glass Castle lets me know what is equally possible, and it was enthralling, and will likely help me hold onto the life I have.
It certainly made me consider another way to view celibacy among the religious. You can not surrender to anything completely if you retain responsibility for another; the two goals are incompatible. Life requires trade-offs; there is, it seems, a continuum of devotion, and along that continuum inevitably comes a point where one is almost forced to detach from relationships, familial and otherwise, because to continue the connection beyond that stage causes more harm than good. Jeannette Walls' parents surrendered far too much, and their children suffered. Some faith traditions support this; some do not. I'm still thinking about it, though. I'm only 2 cups of coffee into it, and that's not enough for a Thursday morning.
What are your Sacred Texts of Self Preservation?
May. 16th, 2012
This has been a long day
Sometimes you can work a lot of hours and accomplish not very much at all. Today has been one of those days. I'm not expressing things clearly today, which results in an old chronic ache; if only I could find the right words, things would work better. Tomorrow will be better, I hope.
Wednesday Morning
Many, many things on my mind this morning. GM has dropped its Facebook advertising, and that is highly relevant to my interests. I want to talk about this obnoxious, misogynistic editorial by Frank Bruni, especially as it pertains to the belief that we must meet a certain standard or set of qualifications before we're entitled to speak at all AND the nasty little bit Frank has in there about Bristol's decision to let the world (and by extension her child) know that the conception of this child wasn't a joyous moment but instead a drunken rape because obv. once a baby is involved, we must spin cotton-candy-colored happy tales about how once Mommy and Daddy loved each other very much, and that's why you're here. Being a mother doesn't change your truth; being a good mother doesn't mean you change your truth to suit societal expectations. Sometimes Daddy is a rapist, and sometimes it's good to know that, because you might want to know about that type of character-defining behavior while you're forming your opinion of a person who has a pivotal role in your life. But now the coffee's ready; there are 6 (COUNT THEM!)6 phone calls scheduled today including a follow up from events of yesterday and it's going to be a hopping busy busy busy day.
Editorial: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/15/opini
Editorial: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/15/opini
May. 14th, 2012
Monday Morning: Here We Go
Tea, made properly, is delightful. This morning's tea, however, is redolent of damp willow and long smoked cigarettes. Drinking it is not unlike making love to a fallen sprite; the verdant glen left far behind for the dusty resignation of a Heineken bottle. We are not all young ferocity here. There is a time for the old and tender habit.
Not all acquired tastes are good ones.
There's a lesson that was a long time coming, but I guess it would have to be that way. The birds are in an uproar this morning; something's up, but I don't know what. Looking out, I see the swamp has gone green overnight. Even the standing trees are starting to bud. Some of the trees have lost that amazing fresh born green they wear when bursting out of the bud, shedding their traveling best for more familiar and comfortable workaday attire.
It will be a good day. I'm turning off the phone and getting things done. I'm so very lucky to have work I like to do and I forget that more than I should. Today, I'll practice remembering.
Onward, upward, forward!
Not all acquired tastes are good ones.
There's a lesson that was a long time coming, but I guess it would have to be that way. The birds are in an uproar this morning; something's up, but I don't know what. Looking out, I see the swamp has gone green overnight. Even the standing trees are starting to bud. Some of the trees have lost that amazing fresh born green they wear when bursting out of the bud, shedding their traveling best for more familiar and comfortable workaday attire.
It will be a good day. I'm turning off the phone and getting things done. I'm so very lucky to have work I like to do and I forget that more than I should. Today, I'll practice remembering.
Onward, upward, forward!
May. 13th, 2012
Sunday Night
It was a fabulous day. The girls made me beautiful cards, and later we went down to the Greenery and got a whole bunch of pansies, burgundy, yellow, and white. We put them in the front bed where last year we tried corn and sunflowers. It looks really cheerful. Tim cooked me an awesome steak dinner, with steaks for me lovely and rare. After dinner, Nadia and I watched some Phineas and Ferb and then part of an Imax movie entitled "Amazing Caves", which has some cave diving in it, which both fascinates and terrifies me.
Now everyone is in bed, and I've resolved to be more positive about life, the universe, and everything. Fear not - it's not going to be Pollyanna central around here. But today was a joy filled day and it felt so nice that I think I'm going aim for a lot more of those.
I wish you could hear the peeper frogs. It is easy to be cheerful when you hear peeper frogs. It isn't even dark yet, although it's fixing to be; summer is a'coming in.
Now everyone is in bed, and I've resolved to be more positive about life, the universe, and everything. Fear not - it's not going to be Pollyanna central around here. But today was a joy filled day and it felt so nice that I think I'm going aim for a lot more of those.
I wish you could hear the peeper frogs. It is easy to be cheerful when you hear peeper frogs. It isn't even dark yet, although it's fixing to be; summer is a'coming in.
May. 11th, 2012
Why Can't I Get Anything Done?
Talk about spilt milk!!! This is the view from my living room window.
Friday Morning
Understanding, I think, is much like asparagus. This came to me this morning as I looked out upon the garden bed. Yesterday there were wee purple points, struggling to push up through the soil. Today there are slender spears, six to eight inches tall, proud and fresh and newly formed. From potential to actuality overnight; this is no slow, steady process. Instead we have an explosive moment, a radical shift in being. Yesterday, the horizon was hidden by grass and sour dandelion leaves. Today, the sky is there to regard.
I can identify a lot of moments in my life where a new piece of information, or experience, or even something seemingly unrelated to the topic of hand, shifted my understanding in a dramatic, horizon-shifting sort of way. I've heard people call these a-ha! moments, or epiphanies, or revelations. That has two effects, I think. On one hand, it elevates these moments, granting them some sort of special status within one's psyche. These are markers, guide stones on the road to personal growth. Who you are as a person is deeply rooted in what you understand about life, the universe, and everything.
I also think these understandings can be used to help you identify your place or role within a group or society. If we had our druthers, we surround ourselves with people who have similar understandings. Problems often arise when we presume others have the same understandings we do. Not all of the asparagus is the same height, even if every stalk standing is, indeed, asparagus. The viewpoint is not the same from every altitude. And even if the short asparagus at some point in the future joins its taller brethren, who knows if the horizon has held itself constant? The world changes. That's what it does.
For me, the result of experiencing an epiphany can be an immediate wave of shame and doubt. How could I have not known this, seen this, understood this before? Clearly it is so obvious! This is tied into the faulty baseline assumption somehow: upon gaining new knowledge, one assumes everyone else has this knowledge, was in possession of it all along, and (just for bonus points) is judging you for acting as if you, for some inexplicable reason, don't have this knowledge that any reasonable person would have. It may be worth considering that this shame and doubt is misplaced, and that the rapid, episodic nature of understanding is simply how the system works. One day the asparagus is short, one day the asparagus is taller.
Heavily rooted in Beck & Cowan's green meme, I find myself troubled by the suggestion of an inherent hierarchy in this analogy. Is established understanding more valuable than potential understanding? Is the taller asparagus better than the shorter asparagus? Not for eating, I'll tell you that. Asparagus changes as it grows. Today's slender, lithe-lady stalks with virginal buds clenched tight against the dirt and manure will, upon attaining a desirable altitude, unfurl into an exuberant celadon feathered fringe unmatched by any plant in the garden for elegance and grace. It will, at this point, taste like shit, should you try to eat it. There are different values to be found at different stages of development.
Onward, upward, forward, y'all. There's work to do this day, and I can not tarry in the garden bed.
I can identify a lot of moments in my life where a new piece of information, or experience, or even something seemingly unrelated to the topic of hand, shifted my understanding in a dramatic, horizon-shifting sort of way. I've heard people call these a-ha! moments, or epiphanies, or revelations. That has two effects, I think. On one hand, it elevates these moments, granting them some sort of special status within one's psyche. These are markers, guide stones on the road to personal growth. Who you are as a person is deeply rooted in what you understand about life, the universe, and everything.
I also think these understandings can be used to help you identify your place or role within a group or society. If we had our druthers, we surround ourselves with people who have similar understandings. Problems often arise when we presume others have the same understandings we do. Not all of the asparagus is the same height, even if every stalk standing is, indeed, asparagus. The viewpoint is not the same from every altitude. And even if the short asparagus at some point in the future joins its taller brethren, who knows if the horizon has held itself constant? The world changes. That's what it does.
For me, the result of experiencing an epiphany can be an immediate wave of shame and doubt. How could I have not known this, seen this, understood this before? Clearly it is so obvious! This is tied into the faulty baseline assumption somehow: upon gaining new knowledge, one assumes everyone else has this knowledge, was in possession of it all along, and (just for bonus points) is judging you for acting as if you, for some inexplicable reason, don't have this knowledge that any reasonable person would have. It may be worth considering that this shame and doubt is misplaced, and that the rapid, episodic nature of understanding is simply how the system works. One day the asparagus is short, one day the asparagus is taller.
Heavily rooted in Beck & Cowan's green meme, I find myself troubled by the suggestion of an inherent hierarchy in this analogy. Is established understanding more valuable than potential understanding? Is the taller asparagus better than the shorter asparagus? Not for eating, I'll tell you that. Asparagus changes as it grows. Today's slender, lithe-lady stalks with virginal buds clenched tight against the dirt and manure will, upon attaining a desirable altitude, unfurl into an exuberant celadon feathered fringe unmatched by any plant in the garden for elegance and grace. It will, at this point, taste like shit, should you try to eat it. There are different values to be found at different stages of development.
Onward, upward, forward, y'all. There's work to do this day, and I can not tarry in the garden bed.
May. 10th, 2012
Thursday, Thus Far
People say they want to be happy, but mostly, they're not. And so they ask lots of questions about happiness - mostly "Why am I not happy?", with a lot of "Who are these people so determined to make me unhappy?" There's "When will I be happy?" and an awful lot of "What will make me happy?"
"How will I become happy?"
That's the question I'm interested in. I'm not alone in this. I think there's an almost universal longing for some set of instructions that will tell us how to live in order to realize happiness. That's why we have religion. That's why we have culture. That's why we have stories. Lacking instructions, we, as a species, create them.
But that's another conversation for another day. Let's just put that down for a moment in the macro pile; we'll come back to it when I have the strength to consider big questions. Today, let's take a look at the question from another perspective, with a focus on the micro, individual, most everyday of scales. How will I become happy? What are the changes that I can make in my own personal life, in my daily routine, into the existence I already have, that will move me into happier state?
There is lots of fascinating research out there on this topic. A lot of what I've read just seems so natural and intuitive: art makes people happy, music makes people happy, socializing with friends makes people happy, pleasant scents make people happy, color makes people happy, gardening makes people happy...the list goes on and on. People report being happier in tidier spaces than messier spaces. They report being happier in spaces they find aesthetically pleasing.
It seems then that to create a happier state of mind, one could and should deliberate introduce and cultivate the presence of happiness-creating stuff into our lives. This is ill-formed in my head at the moment, and I'm not articulating it well - I have this tangled knot of our personal duty and responsibility to search for the beauty in every moment, the lesson in every story, but that derails rapidly into another direction.
Today, it's the little details; the pragmatic application. I think it's easier to do a million little things that make you a tiny bit happier than one big thing that makes you super duper happy, and the cumulative effect of all those tiny bits matters. A clean table is nicer to work upon than a cluttered one. Tidying before I begin tips the day's scale just that much closer to the happy side of the equation.
I don't believe that happy just happens. I think happiness is created. I'm not sure of all the elements of that creation, not by a long shot. But we can't just be passive players here, waiting for happiness and joy to just spontaneously manifest in our lives. No one is going to deliver happiness for us. If we are going to be happy, we're going to have to be involved in the process.
And with that, I'm out for the day. I've got a book to wrassle with, and right now, it's winning. That it is a situation that can not be allowed to continue. Whilst I'm away, what is a small happiness-creating thing that is important to you? Maybe if we pool all our happy-making ideas, something good would come of that.
Onward, upward, forward, y'all.
"How will I become happy?"
That's the question I'm interested in. I'm not alone in this. I think there's an almost universal longing for some set of instructions that will tell us how to live in order to realize happiness. That's why we have religion. That's why we have culture. That's why we have stories. Lacking instructions, we, as a species, create them.
But that's another conversation for another day. Let's just put that down for a moment in the macro pile; we'll come back to it when I have the strength to consider big questions. Today, let's take a look at the question from another perspective, with a focus on the micro, individual, most everyday of scales. How will I become happy? What are the changes that I can make in my own personal life, in my daily routine, into the existence I already have, that will move me into happier state?
There is lots of fascinating research out there on this topic. A lot of what I've read just seems so natural and intuitive: art makes people happy, music makes people happy, socializing with friends makes people happy, pleasant scents make people happy, color makes people happy, gardening makes people happy...the list goes on and on. People report being happier in tidier spaces than messier spaces. They report being happier in spaces they find aesthetically pleasing.
It seems then that to create a happier state of mind, one could and should deliberate introduce and cultivate the presence of happiness-creating stuff into our lives. This is ill-formed in my head at the moment, and I'm not articulating it well - I have this tangled knot of our personal duty and responsibility to search for the beauty in every moment, the lesson in every story, but that derails rapidly into another direction.
Today, it's the little details; the pragmatic application. I think it's easier to do a million little things that make you a tiny bit happier than one big thing that makes you super duper happy, and the cumulative effect of all those tiny bits matters. A clean table is nicer to work upon than a cluttered one. Tidying before I begin tips the day's scale just that much closer to the happy side of the equation.
I don't believe that happy just happens. I think happiness is created. I'm not sure of all the elements of that creation, not by a long shot. But we can't just be passive players here, waiting for happiness and joy to just spontaneously manifest in our lives. No one is going to deliver happiness for us. If we are going to be happy, we're going to have to be involved in the process.
And with that, I'm out for the day. I've got a book to wrassle with, and right now, it's winning. That it is a situation that can not be allowed to continue. Whilst I'm away, what is a small happiness-creating thing that is important to you? Maybe if we pool all our happy-making ideas, something good would come of that.
Onward, upward, forward, y'all.
