This Silver Lining

John Mayer on Daughters

2011-09-20T10:49:00.000-07:00

Thinking About My Father

2011-03-28T18:24:00.000-07:00

This one's raw. My feelings are all over the place when it comes to the man who married my mother in Washington, DC in 1964 and was there to (welcome?) me into the world in December of 1965. I don't like him most days lately, and I haven't liked him on many days in previous years... I've had a lot of deeply held resentment, embarrassment on his behalf, frustration, and a sense of his having little or no regard for who I am. And those were during the years when I actually knew where he was and had some sort of contact, communication, and relationship with him. From eight years old until I was twenty-five, I had none of the above. Those were the lost years, and I don't really know how I feel about them except that I was aware that he was absent. It takes a lot of energy to think about this. I'll have to come back to it and write a bit at a time. For now, here's a song that makes me think of my father. It's from a whole movie about a father and son, in fact, called Smoke Signals.

Father and Farther

What I Should Be Doing

2011-03-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

I should be grading, answering student e-mail, or planning tests and next-week lessons. I should be cleaning the house. Here's what I'm doing instead:

Reconnecting with my sister-in-law (who is now my "ex" sister-in-law but will always just be my sister in my mind) by reading the blog I didn't know she had.

Enjoying the fireplace and some sweet tea and occasional glimpses of whatever adventure movie my husband is watching.

Checking Twitter for great tweets to retweet and adding my own from one of the books I'm reading, including I Am a Pencil: A Teacher, His Kids, and Their World of Stories. Right now the author recalls teaching Stevens' poem "Thirteen Ways to See a Blackbird," and leading students to create something similar by describing something simple in different ways ... a tree, for example. I decided to write one about a drummer but haven't finished it yet.

Here's one of my favorite lines from the original poem:

I do not know which to prefer.
The beauty of inflections
or the beauty of innuendoes.
The blackbird whistling
or just after.

I understand what the poet means because the crisp silence that comes after a bird's caw is just that... crisp, bare, open for anything.

I'm also playing some Facebook games here and there, such as Zynga Poker. I have over a million dollars and 36 current requests.

Well, what do you know... I've just opened my work "homepage," and I may actually get something done now that I've written myself toward it. I've graded one student's work and answered her e-mail. It took me all of one to two minutes. More importantly, I now have this student's face in mind, a vision of her in class with a smile, and the awareness that I don't know her well and don't talk to her much one on one. Her grades look good; she's got a high "A."

Hey ... I just found Levar Burton and William Shatner on Twitter because they had sent tweets to each other. Now I'm following them both.... so cool.

Back to my students. I had to write a corrective e-mail to a student who didn't follow directions for her assignment and did not submit it properly. Instead, she turned in the wrong material and did so by e-mail. I feel my impatience, my irritation as I write her back a version of the same note I have to write so many times a semester to so many students, like this:

I don't know what this is. Which class are you in?
You were supposed to...
I don't accept this by e-mail. (If I'm feeling fed up) or I typically don't accept this by e-mail, but I'll make an exception.
You've missed the deadline for this; you'll need to do extra credit to make it up.

Another student has written in with another kind of repeated question that requires a repeated answer:

The material you are looking for is ...
I explained this in class, so please ask one of your group members.
I sent an explanation via e-mail to the whole class. Please check your e-mail.

That's all the student e-mail; I've knocked it out, and now it's time for a break. I might even go to bed soon and see if I can get some snooze.

A Sentimental Journey at Starbucks

2011-01-07T15:53:00.000-08:00

I just want to say that I've never appreciated more the ability to plop down in a comfortable chair with soft lighting, good jazz music, and a cup of chai AND be able to have free internet service so I can work and not be lonely ... thank you, Starbucks.

I've just come from looking at a couple of assisted living facilities for my father, who may eventually need that ... if he can, in fact, recover enough from his current medical crisis to move there. It's too early to tell, but he's not doing so well in terms of kidney failure and mental recovery from the strokes he has had --- and he's still on a nasal feeding tube because of swallowing difficulty and related respiratory issues.

The facilities were both beautiful, immaculate, and extremely expensive. We'll see what we can do.

This post is really just a gratitude post to all the people I meet on a daily basis who cheerfully and thoughtfully contribute to my life and the lives of my loved ones. To the doctors, nurses, and other staff at North Fulton Regional Hospital ... to the eldercare advisor, Valerie Morse, at A Place for Mom, to the owners and caretakers at the assisted living facilities who welcome me in and take me on pleasant tours and offer me kindness... to the staff at Starbucks, who give a lot of pleasure for about minimum wage.

God bless all of them...

and playing now, "Gonna take a sentimental journey... a sentimental journey home."Sentimental Journey by Doris Day

Tamara

Entering the New Year on Birds' Wings

2011-01-02T11:16:00.000-08:00

Owls and other birds are on my mind this morning.
Proud or timid, flying, perching, nesting, or falling from the sky,
they all demonstrate the work of a Holy Spirit,
looking, finding, interceding between man and the Being
who lives in a vast space man fears he cannot reach,

it being so high and removed
from the steady earth on which we gather here,
always looking up.

This new year, too, we will go on seeking the face of
that God, and depending on intercessors who caw
and cheep and cry out in hunger or victory with all of us lowly beings,
and who sometimes sing like angels and even fly.

On Whether God Cares What I Think

2010-10-30T16:16:00.000-07:00

I've always been taught that God listens to my prayers, and that the purpose of prayer (primarily) is to worship Him. I use the male gender here to refer to that God because He is the God I was raised with. However, I now believe that the gender of God, and the very idea of gender in terms of God, is arguable. I will leave that discussion for another day. Anyway, I am aware of other purposes for prayer, including (without cracking open my Bible, the following): intercession (prayer of behalf of others), supplication (a request that a need be supplied), confession (the admission of sin and request for forgiveness), fortification (a request for strength to face certain circumstances), and rededication (a renewal of one's spiritual commitment). I can think of other reasons but I'm not sure which "-ion" word would work here: a request for blessings on an event or union, for example, or a request for healing. My point in making this list is to show that God wants and expects my prayers. The least he expects is my praise. I have been taught, however, that he does not need my prayers. He wants a relationship, but he does not need one. Alternatively, I find that Christians often emphasize that salvation (a prayer for which I left off my earlier list) is about a relationship with Jesus Christ. Doesn't a relationship imply that two partners relate to each other? Even assuming that one party is superior to the other --- that one is subordinate, surely the greater one is aware that the lesser one has the same feelings, aspirations, sufferings, etc. that the other has faced. (Does God suffer?) Christ did.

I am making my way, slowly, to my main point, which is that I don't agree with everything God is supposed to have done and said (according to the Bible). I think some of those Old Testament acts apparently ordered by God were evil, (example: the destruction of entire cities, including women and children) and it is this that gives me pause. I will come back to this. My time for writing is up.

On Biting My Nails, and Other Bad Habits

2010-10-25T19:03:00.000-07:00

I'm 44 years old. Seriously --- it's so past time for me to stop chewing on my fingernails and cuticles. It's got me thinking about how hard it can be to stop any bad but persistent habit. We actually talked about this today in my College Skills class, along with a discussion of how our core beliefs contribute to our thinking patterns, which then contribute to our emotional patterns, which then contribute to our behavior patterns. Now I'm wondering what core beliefs it is that I keep going back to that keep me thinking and feeling in the same old ways, that then keep me doing my old nail-biting behavior. I'm going to try to see if I can trace the causal chain here, going backwards.

When I bite my nails, I'm using feeling anxious and/or irritated and embarrassed by the appearance of my nails (which, ironically, leads me to make them look worse by biting on them) --- so there we have the behavior and the feeling(s). My thoughts at those times usually go something like this: "I've got to stop biting my nails. They look terrible, and my cuticles are sore. Why do I do this? God, I am so anxious, and this is ridiculous. There's nothing to be anxious about (or, alternatively, there is something to be anxious about, and I'm dwelling on that.) Now, the big question is what are the core beliefs that keep me starting the cycle all over again and lead to the thinking and feeling patterns in the first place?

One of them must be, "I am an anxious person; I'm neurotic, that's just the way I am, and I will never be able to stop biting my nails."

There may be others, but this one is apparently relentless. I've got to target it and replace it with a new core belief, which I understand is possible. I've told my students it is, so it better be.

I'm considering some of the advice offered at a website on Changing Core Beliefs. I've provided the link in this post, in case somebody else wants to try it out.

I see that the first step is to "simply stop believing" in the false belief. Really? Can I do that? In order to do this, I have to make a shift in my point of view about the belief and, more importantly, stop judging the belief." This is what I'm going to start with. Join me if you have a bad habit to break and want to get to the heart of it and finally make a change. Let me know what you think.

Splendid Isolation

2010-03-07T09:58:00.000-08:00

http://blip.fm/Deesound

Who Will Sing Me Lullabies?

2010-03-07T06:55:00.000-08:00

http://blip.fm/Lunaladee

Who Were You Before You Were You? | Care2 Healthy & Green Living

2010-02-23T07:36:00.000-08:00

Who Were You Before You Were You? | Care2 Healthy & Green Living

Wow. I like this concept.

When Love is Alchemy | Care2 Healthy & Green Living

2010-02-23T07:18:00.000-08:00

When Love is Alchemy | Care2 Healthy & Green Living

Am I a chalice of love? I like the metaphor.

I Waited for You Winter-Long

2010-02-22T17:04:00.000-08:00

http://blip.fm/profile/tmilesgantt/blip/34832525/Neil+Young–Winterlong

Thinking about all the waiting we do. We wait to say what's on our minds, we wait to open presents, wait on somebody to open the door for us, wait to hear from him or her, wait to see what happens, wait until tomorrow, wait before making a promise, wait downstairs or upstairs, wait every day by the mailbox, wait for another chance, wait hand-in-hand for the news, wait just in case, wait on kings, wait on losers, wait for the money, wait for the opportunity, wait for the party, wait for the question we know is coming, wait for reality to set in, wait for the sensation, wait for the truth to be revealed, for the ushering in of spring, for the welcome hug, for the yearly vacation, for the chance to take a snoozzzzzzzz.

http://beta.blip.fm/home?reblipId=30551148

2009-12-23T20:49:00.000-08:00

What's all this blipping about? It's a music site. I wanted to share an Irish version of Silent Night, performed by Enya, but it didn't work, and you've ended up with the Bee Gees singing "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?" Maybe it was meant to be, for somebody. My mama loved this song, anyway.

http://beta.blip.fm/home?reblipId=30551148

New Poem for Christmas 09

2009-12-20T08:33:00.000-08:00

Martha Stewart Says This is the Year for Homemade Ornaments

So, five days before Christmas, our cat, Belle,
in her carpet tower
Cleans herself, occasionally pauses to stare
At the crackling flames in the fireplace
That the chimney sweep has said we “almost use
Too much.” We ignore that advice, my husband and I,
know our stockings
Are hung with care and the bright sun promises
Yet another day of doing whatever we want, since
He is unemployed and I am on vacation, and we
Will buy more firewood with our savings. Kitchen
Timer lies unused, I make homemade ornaments
From decorative paper, old magazines, the wine catalog,
Even Rorschach images we made with my daughter,
from small tubes of oil paints I found lying around,
on notebook paper unprepared as canvas. We see the psycho clown,
Witch’s hat, woman with barbells, pirouetting couple,
Note how well they fit with origami animals stored long away
In a box but brought out to shine on this our Christmas present,
Christmas past, Christmas future.

Spin the Wheel

2009-12-09T08:39:00.000-08:00

What do I want to do with my life?
I want to bring happiness to others.
I want to create memorable art (but I don't know what kind of art --- will it be photography? collage? poetry? a collection of essays?
I want to appreciate the gifts that others bring into my life on a daily basis --- to be able to recognize and name those gifts and then to express my gratitude in a clear, concrete, and vivid way.
I want to be lean and mean --- strong physically, full of energy but able to relax when I want to.
I want to go to law school.
I want to make amends for hurts and repay debts.
I guess I need to get to work on this list.

Notetaking: Top 5 Tips

2009-09-18T13:38:00.000-07:00

Notetaking: Top 5 Tips

I just discovered this blog post today; it is very useful for college students.

Letters to My Daughter

2009-07-20T10:13:00.000-07:00

Of all the things to have on my mind today, at the end of the semester, when I probably should be grading something, I'm surprised that it is this: my daughter is going to college, and I want to be sure to write regular letters. I'm wondering what I could find to write about on a regular basis that might be interesting. I can send poetry, of course --- the good stuff --- James Weldon Johnson, "The Creation: a Negro Sermon"

And God stepped out on space,
and He looked around and said,
"I'm lonely, ---
I'll make me world."

And far as the eye of God could see
Darkness covered everything,
Blacker than a hundred midnights
Down in a cypress swamp."

I could write about the excellence of that imagery --- the completeness of it, the depth. I could remind her of the time we went to Congaree National Park and saw the magical cypress swamp forest. It was like Lord of the Rings, I said, and it was, with all the cypress knees that looked like gnomes. That will make me think of the Congaree Indians, and the fact that I don't know much about them, which will make me want to look them up in a good book --- and then I guess I can write something about that. In fact, I want to look it up now. So here's a related website:

http://www.accessgenealogy.com/native/tribes/siouan/congareehist.htm

One provocative thing I've already learned about the Congaree:

"In 1693 the Cherokee complained that the Shawnee, Catawba, and Congaree took prisoners from among them and sold them as slaves in Charleston."

Okay, got to take a break and will think and write more about this later.

Fire Escape

2009-07-04T20:33:00.000-07:00

What a great July 4th --- family and friends, good food, laughter, fireworks, and great music.

"Love makes the price good enough to want to pay --- don't make the hurt go away ---- fire escape ---- all that I can do is ache ---- you've gone away."

Third Shift Blues

2009-04-18T03:43:00.000-07:00

Third Shift Blues (poem I wrote this morning)

She was smoking a Black and Mild at 4:30 a.m. at Waffle House
When I spotted her and thought she was absolutely perfect
For a photo, black and white --- coffee skin, tattoo above breast, resigned.
Standing to go, she raised her arms, the shirt slid up, and I saw
That her jeans were unfastened and unzipped for comfort;
She fastened them to complete the dining experience,
coming full circle like a smoke ring leaving the full lips
Like a prayer to the god of crispy bacon and coffee, straight up.

StumbleUpon WebToolbar - Other Paths

2009-04-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

StumbleUpon WebToolbar - Other Paths

Covers

2009-04-10T03:52:00.000-07:00

Mothers provide soft beds for us, with clean sheets,
fluffy pillows, and piles of blankets. When we fall
asleep somewhere else, they cover us with afghans
(afrikans, my stepmother pronounces it).
If it is winter, or there is a chill from a nearby window,
they choose heavier weight, that warm brown chenille piece
their mother-in-law gave them for Christmas; if April, it
is the middle weight one, hand-stitched, with birdhouses.
They are pleased to see that the family cat has covered our feet.
Braver, more confident ones will steal a kiss; timid ones,
fearing to wake us, will resist. Either way, the kissing is
accomplished.

Sometimes they cover us with lies, if necessary,
and with opportunities, better education, Van Gogh, music
(I hear the cottonwoods whispering above, Tammy, Tammy, Tammy's in Love)
with umbrellas, hairspray, Easter dresses.
They cover us with Bibles, whole pages, from memory. Crosses
around our necks, prayers over us all the day long and night too.
Scarves (Amanda Wingfield, Tom, take your muffler.
Will you, oh, will you? Laura, you went out, every day,
in that thin coat, courtin pnemonia? Why, Laura, Why?)

Mothers cover us with praise and worry, with furious and relieved tears.
Remember the worst day of my life, when I couldn't find you
and you were playing with Summer at the graveyard, and then you came back
and I couldn't stop shaking and crying?

When we lie uncovered, go about exposed, vulnerable,
well, they must have been busy or unaware of our potential suffering
because the hall closet is bursting with blankets of various sizes
just waiting to cover us, and our mothers' hands reach for them of their
own accord as they pass (isn't there someone who needs to be covered at this
very moment, let me do it?)

They cover us as surely as the night does, and as the promise of morning.
I get drowsy just thinking about it, and now that my mother is gone,
I have to cover myself with her blankets. It works, but not quite as well.
I can't get comfortable, thoughts slip in or out of the spaces not tucked in.
Mama, can you bring another blanket? It's a two-dog night, you used to say.

Interesting Music for Sunday Contemplation

2009-04-05T11:35:00.000-07:00

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8sdo9_fever-ray-when-i-grow-up_music

Fever Ray - When I Grow Up
Uploaded by MuteRecords

My Mother's Ring

2009-03-29T20:56:00.000-07:00

I just discovered this sad but beautiful poem and wanted to post it here for reflection. I have some of my mother's rings: her engagement ring to my father, which I have worn since I was 16 -- though I haven't been wearing it as much since her death (think I'll put it back on tomorrow) --- and her high school class ring, which speaks to me of her accomplishments and how smart she was and how she wanted to be a teacher but never did do it.

The poet is Lyn Lifsin, whose work I am teaching tomorrow in Eng 102.

MY MOTHER'S RING

Once too tight
now it swivels on
her bony finger.
Only her knuckles
bulge. I can't
do it, my mother
says, a shriveled
bird in the stark
hospital bed. When
I saw the dead bird
in Morristown I
felt it was a sign.
In two weeks my
mother's mouth
is so dry it curls
as if full of wild
feathers. The ring
glitters, spits
out a yellow light,
not anywhere near
as pure as the
myth of its per-
fection my mother
spun of it like
whatever else
pleased her,
like me

Celebrate Earth Hour Tonight

2009-03-28T09:45:00.001-07:00

http://www.earthhour.org/home/

Practing Podcast

2009-03-27T06:38:00.000-07:00

Trying out podcasting today. Don't know what I'm doing. I just recorded Steve Straight's poem "Punctuation" as a practice session. I guess it's okay. Let's see if I can get it to actually play.

Causal Arguments

2009-03-26T07:11:00.001-07:00

Today I'm teaching a class about causal arguments ... creating a chain that shows how one thing caused another, which caused another, etc. Just now I was on Twitter, and someone wrote that he was on a bus. It made me think of Trisha Yearwood's "Bus to St. Cloud" (see below), which made me think of my friend David, who once dedicated the song to me ... and now I'm thinking I can use this song as a fun way to illustrate the causal chain.

http://new.music.yahoo.com/videos/TrishaYearwood/On-A-Bus-To-St.-Cloud--2162313

On a bus to St. Cloud, Minnesota
I thought I saw you there
With the snow falling down around you
Like a silent prayer
And once on a street in New York City
With the jazz and the sin in the air
And once on a cold L.A. freeway
Going nowhere
And it's strange, but it's true
I was sure it was you
Just a face in the crowd
On a bus to St. Cloud

In a church in downtown New Orleans
I got down on my knees and prayed
And I wept in the arms of Jesus
For the choice you made
We were just gettin' to the good part
Just gettin' past the mystery
Oh, and it's just like you, it's just like you
To disagree
And it's strange but it's true
You just slipped out of view
Like a face in the crowd
On a bus to St. Cloud
And you chase me like a shadow
And you haunt me like a ghost
And I hate you some, and I love you some
But I miss you most...

On a bus to St. Cloud, Minnesota
I thought I saw you there
With the snow falling down around you
Like a silent prayer

The speaker's habit of seeing the old lover's face in a variety of places can be considered an example of immediate/remote causes. This is a concept that implies that every causal chain links backward indefinitely into the past. It appears that what triggers the reaction (the "seeing" or imagining of that old familiar face) is associated with something spiritual ("snow falling like a prayer, jazz and sin in the air, in a church in New Orleans, I got down on my knees and prayed, wept in the arms of Jesus for the choice you made) --- and there it is, the choice that the lover made. That, apparently, is the remote cause that still brings immediate reaction. By the way, if we are to break this down, is there evidence that the speaker is, in fact, addressing an old lover? Or could this be a friend or child or someone else?

We can also see in these circumstances an example of the fallacy of oversimplified cause: in other words, if we assume it was the lover's choice to leave that caused the failure of this relationship --- when in fact, there may have been a number of other precipitating/contributing factors (had it already failed before the lover left? did the failure, in fact, cause the leaving?) Was there preoccupation with their respective careers, disagreement about priorities, in-law problems, and so forth?)

Was there a constraint involved here? In other words, was there something in the way of the lover leaving that was suddenly removed? The presence of a constraint may keep a certain effect from occurring. For example, in a marriage, the presence of children in the home might be a constraint against divorce; as soon as the children graduate from high school or leave home, the marriage may dissolve.

Was there a necessary/sufficient cause? A necessary cause is one that has to be present for a given effect to occur. Did the lover suddenly leave because he finally saved up the bus fare? Lost his job? Got the courage? Found another lover?

All of these aspects of causal arguments can and should be considered if one is creating a causal argument that can stand up to examination.

MLK Day and the Inauguration Tomorrow

2009-01-19T17:03:00.001-08:00

I am so happy that our new president will be inaugurated tomorrow. I am very hopeful, and it is ideal that this ceremony follows the Martin Luther King holiday so closely. I've had a full and rewarding day watching CNN --- all the festivities and the anticipation.

One Dollar Plants One Tree

2008-04-15T17:30:00.001-07:00

Let's do something good for the world.

You Tube Clip from our Dub Poetry Workshop

2008-03-28T09:24:00.001-07:00

I am so pleased to be able to share this clip from our Dub Poetry/Music Event that took place at our college in January. Our special guest was Jamaican jazz guitarist Maurice Gordon, but this clip features a young man from Aruka, British Guyana, (now studying at Claflin), who did a spontaneous song for us called "I Need Your Love Every Time, Jesus." He was one of the band members who just showed up from various local colleges and the community to form a last-minute band on the stage with Maurice. It was just too cool. The video is shaky because we did it ourselves, and we are just learning, but we are pleased to be able to reach students where they live --- on YouTube, MySpace, Facebook, and MOG ! We will be posting students performing their dub poems over the coming weeks; this is our first effort.

Music for Thursday reflection --- Jaco Pastorius on Guitar

2008-03-27T10:44:00.001-07:00

This Silver Lining

2008-02-19T05:53:00.001-08:00

I finally got my picture on the cover of the Rolling Stone. Ha ha. By the way, did you know Johnny Depp has been on the cover of RS six times???!!

extraordinarypoems

2008-02-18T14:02:00.000-08:00

extraordinarypoems

My Music Blog at MOG.com, if anyone is interested in checking out some groovy music.

Candy Valentine

2008-02-14T10:20:00.000-08:00

What a sweet day!

Candy Hearts

I eat them at the bar instead of popcorn now,
eat hearts by the handful, hearts with messages
I skip, hearts that beat sugar beats

oh sugar sugar
oh honey honey
you are my candy girl
and you got me wanting you

but occasionally I pause to read one,
to see if it has easy- to- follow directions
that could make love simple
or just something promising

like "I hope."

How to Have a Great Monday Morning

2008-02-11T03:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Patient: This prescription takes approximately thirty minutes.

Awake at 6 a.m. and prepare hot chai with vanilla soy milk and one packet of Splenda. Eat a low-fact (or, low fat --- aren't typos funny sometimes?) cinnamon graham cracker while waiting for chai to cool. Take the chai to your home office or wherever the computer is stashed. Play an online game, preferably Scrabble so you can get some words in your head first thing:

fable
suede
vault

and others

Read a passage or two from J.D. Salinger's "Seymour: An Introduction."

Oh, you want an example:

"It seems to me indisputably true that a good many people, the wide world over, of varying ages, cultures, natural endowments, respond with a special impetus, a zing, even, in some cases, to artists and poets who as well as having a reputation for producing great or fine art have something garishly Wrong with them as persons: a spectacular flaw in character or citizenship, a construably romantic affliction or addiction --- extreme self-centeredness, marital infidelity, stone-deafness, stone-blindness, a terrible thirst, a mortally bad cough, a soft spot for prostitutes, a partiality for grand-scale adultery or incest, a certified or uncertified weakness for opium or sodomy, and so on, God have mercy on the lonely bastards."

(Thus, Amy Winehouse takes the Grammies. And I love Amy Winehouse.)

Answer a few e-mails and write a few shiny new unsolicited ones.

Finally, for exactly three minutes, sit in front of a mirror with a 32 fl oz bottle of Miracle Bubbles, and blow bubbles at yourself.

Happy Monday, Everybody!

A Not Ungrateful Theme

2008-01-28T04:12:00.000-08:00

"Since my young days of passion --- joy, or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,
And both may jar: it may be, that in vain
I would essay as I have sung to sing
Yet, though a weary strain, to this I cling;
So that it wean me from the weary dream
Of selfish grief or gladness --- so it fling
Forgetfulness around me --- it shall seem
To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme."

Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto The Third, #4

Life is good and blessed this morning. I studied Byron in grad school and like to pull his words out now and again. He's good for brooding or reflecting. I also like to see my old notes from class in the margins. From this page in the book, for example, I have:

"not a sum of things --- always losing, gaining, touching other things."

"not based on linearity"

"genres of public being in speech"

"the theory of reversibility"

"esoteric theory"

"emphasis on natural environment"

AND

"The act of writing creates the self."

Spanish Guitar

2008-01-22T11:53:00.000-08:00

Working on a Poem

2007-12-17T12:34:00.000-08:00

I am going to annotate my own poem-in-process, to see what it can tell me about where it has been and where it is going.

First line:

"I am from a papa preacher, Oscar Floyd Moon,
when church starts at 9:30, I mean 9:30, not 9:31."

Now while this makes perfectly good sense to me, I wonder if readers will understand that Oscar was a preacher, and that he insisted on punctuality. Surely.

"I am from his bride, Dollie Hyatt, her hair braided and coiled,
her patchwork quilts for everyday use. Thank you, Alice Walker."

I've just changed from Dollie Jeanette (her first and middle name) to her maiden name because it is more satisfying and carries the Hyatt clan that is so important to my genealogy. No one but me will no this, however --- so what is the point? Well, what is the point of the whole poem? That is the question I should answer or leave alone. And I keep struggling with wanting to include the fact that I called my grandfather and grandmother Oscar Mayer and Dolly Madison.
The reference to Alice Walker's short story "Everyday Use" will go unappreciated by those who haven't read it, but they may at least know her name and wonder about it.

"I am from people who missed school picking cotton"

(This must stay in --- it signifies my socio-economic class, doesn't it? Doesn't it say, "we were sharecroppers --- or they were?" Does it bring to mind, though, the scratches, the heat, the aching back? Well, how to do that? Shall I bring in a broiling sun, alchol and cotton swabs?)

"An uncle whose first check from his first job" --- should I say that he was about 16? Or was he 14? Does it matter?

"bought school lunches for the year for his eleven brothers and sisters (oooh --- I left out the number before --- and the number is so important. It's a staggering number. I want to mention the triplet uncles, but damn it this poem is too long already. Leeo, Cleeo, and Theo will have to have their own poem.

Carolina in My Mind

2007-10-17T13:22:00.000-07:00

Alison Krauss sings James Taylor song

[via FoxyTunes / Alison Krauss]

I always liked this song, but I love it now that I live in South Carolina. Just wanted to share.

The Year of Magical Thinking

2007-10-05T09:25:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in a while, so I'll just jump in for a minute and tell you that I'm reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, which has had high reviews. More later.

I love this Poem

2007-08-21T12:44:00.000-07:00

I just discovered this wonderful poem by Dylan Thomas. It's especially nice for an insomniac like me; I'm going to try to memorize it. My friend Debbie would scold me for that "try" --- so, I'm going to memorize it.

In country sleep

I

Never and never, my girl riding far and near
In the land of the hearthstone tales, and spelled asleep,
Fear or believe that the wolf in a sheepwhite hood
Loping and bleating roughly and blithely shall leap,
My dear, my dear,
Out of a lair in the flocked leaves in the dew dipped year
To eat your heart in the house in the rosy wood.

Sleep, good, for ever, slow and deep, spelled rare and wise,
My girl ranging the night in the rose and shire
Of the hobnail tales: no gooseherd or swine will turn
Into a homestall king or hamlet of fire
And prince of ice
To court the honeyed heart from your side before sunrise
In a spinney of ringed boys and ganders, spike and burn,

Nor the innocent lie in the rooting dingle wooed
And staved, and riven among plumes my rider weep.
From the broomed witch's spume you are shieldedby fern
And flower of country sleep and the greenwood keep.
Lie fast and soothed,
Safe be and smooth from the bellows of the rushy brood.
Never, my girl, until tolled to sleep by the stern

Bell believe or fear that the rustic shade or spell
Shall harrow and snow the blood while you ride wide and near,
For who unmanningly haunts the mountain ravened eaves
Or skulks in the dell moon but moonshine echoing clear
From the starred well?
A hill touches an angel. Out of a saint's cell
The nightbird lauds through nunneries and domes of leaves

Her robin breasted tree, three Marys in the rays.
Sanctum sanctorum the animal eye of the wood
In the rain telling its beads, and the gravest ghost
The owl at its knelling. Fox and holt kneel before blood.
Now the tales praise
The star rise at pasture and nightlong the fables graze
On the lord's-table of the bowing grass. Fear most

For ever of all not the wolf in his baaing hood
Nor the tusked prince, in the ruttish farm, at the rind
And mire of love, but the Thief as meek as the dew.
The country is holy: O bide in that country kind,
Know the green good,
Under the prayer wheeling moon in the rosy wood
Be shielded by chant and flower and gay may you

Lie in grace. Sleep spelled at rest in the lowly house
In the squirrel nimble grove, under linen and thatch
And star: held and blessed, though you scour the high four
Winds, from the dousing shade and the roarer at the latch,
Cool in your vows.
Yet out of the beaked, web dark and the pouncing boughs
Be you sure the Thief will seek a way sly and sure

And sly as snow and meek as dew blown to the thorn,
This night and each vast night until the stern bell talks
In the tower and tolls to sleep over the stalls
Of the hearthstone tales my own, lost love; and the soul walks
The waters shorn.
The night and each night since the falling star you were born,
Ever and ever he finds a way, as the snow falls,

As the rain falls, hail on the fleece, as the vale mist rides
Through the haygold stalls, as the dew falls on the wind-
Milled dust of the apple tree and the pounded islands
Of the morning leaves, as the star falls, as the winged
Apple seed glides,
And falls, and flowers in the yawning wound at our sides,
As the world falls, silent as the cyclone of silence.

II

Night and the reindeer on the clouds above the haycocks
And the wings of the great roc ribboned for the fair!
The leaping saga of prayer! And high, there, on the hare-
Heeled winds the rooks
Cawing from their black bethels soaring, the holy books
Of birds! Among the cocks like fire the red fox

Burning! Night and the vein of birds in the winged, sloe wrist
Of the wood! Pastoral beat of blood through the laced leaves!
The stream from the priest black wristed spinney and sleeves
Of thistling frost
Of the nightingale's din and tale! The upgiven ghost
Of the dingle torn to singing and the surpliced

Hill of cypresses! The din and tale in the skimmed
Yard of the buttermilk rain on the pail! The sermon
Of blood! The bird loud vein! The saga from mermen
To seraphim
Leaping! The gospel rooks! All tell, this night, of him
Who comes as red as the fox and sly as the heeled wind.

Illumination of music! The lulled black-backed
Gull, on the wave with sand in its eyes! And the foal moves
Through the shaken greensward lake, silent, on the moonshod hooves,
In the winds' wakes.
Music of elements, that a miracles makes!
Earth, air, water, fire, singing into the white act,

The haygold haired, my love asleep, and the rift blue
Eyed, in the haloed house, in her rareness and hilly
High riding, held and blessed and true, and so stilly
Lying the sky
Might cross its planets, the bell weep, night gather her eyes,
The Thief fall on the dead like the willy nilly dew,

Only for the turning of the earth in her holy
Heart! Slyly, slowly, hearing the wound in her side go
Round the sun, he comes to my love like the designed snow,
And truly he
Flows to the strand of flowers like the dew's ruly sea,
And surely he sails like the ship shape clouds. Oh he

Comes designed to my love to steal not her tide raking
Wound, nor her riding high, nor her eyes, nor kindled hair,
But her faith that each vast night and the saga of prayer
He comes to take
Her faith that this last night for his unsacred sake
He comes to leave her in the lawless sun awaking

Naked and forsaken to grieve he will not come.
Ever and ever by all your vows believe and fear
My dear this night he comes and night without end my dear
Since you were born:
And you shall wake, from country sleep, this dawn and each first dawn,
Your faith as deathless as the outcry of the ruled sun.

From Dylan Thomas: The Poems, published by J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd., London, 1971
Copyright © 1937, 1945, 1955, 1956, 1962, 1965, 1966, 1967, 1971, 1977 The Trustees for the Copyrights of Dylan Thomas.

Creating a Medicine Wheel

2007-08-16T09:45:00.000-07:00

I've got wheels on my mind.

"The wheel in the sky keeps on turning,
don't know where I'll be tomorrow."

I read about how Ezekiel saw the wheel when I was reading the Bible a week or so ago, and then I had to go find videos of choirs singing the song on YouTube. Then I started thinking about creating a medicine wheel (I'm still planning that). I have an idea for a virtual wheel with angels at each direction and in the center. Here are the angel images I chose. Earth Angel, Angel in Black and White, Classical Angel, Urban Angel, and the Angel who Wrestled with Jacob.

I got the idea about the angels when I consulted my tarot cards for inspiration, and immediately drew the Wheel of Fortune. Synchronicity. This particular card features what first appeared to me to be an angel, but now I believe it is just a woman in various stages of mental health and spiritual well-being.

If I complete the medicine wheel, I'll need to do a ceremony with music, sage, and drums.

Can't See the Forest for the Trees?

2007-08-15T09:03:00.000-07:00

I'm reading a book about writing called The Forest For the Trees: An Editor's Advice to Writers, by Betsy Lerner. Here are a few choice passages from today's reading:

"I often get very tense working," said novelist and critic William Gass. "So I often have to get up and wander around the house. It's very bad on my stomach... My ulcer flourishes and I have to chew a lot of pills. When my work is going well, I am usually sort of sick."

For others, writing is the only way to alleviate what ails them.

"When I'm writing I find it's the only time that I feel completely self-possessed, even when the writing itself is not going too well," remarked William Styron. "It's fine therapy for people who are perpetually scared of nameless threats as I am most of the time --- for jittery people. Besides, I've discovered that when I'm not writing I'm prone to developing certain nervous tics, and hypochondria."

Which one of these is you --- or are you somewhere in between? It might be worth exploring this issue.

Poems

2007-08-13T07:25:00.000-07:00

Some Beat Poems

http://www.allenginsberg.org/

It's the first time I've heard some of these --- so we're listening together.

Let's see; what else is on the agenda today? Well, I'm going to try a new approach to solving my insomnia and other physical problems such as weight gain. I'm going to cut out certain "highly reactive foods" (according to Elson Haas, M.D.) and see what happens. I'm going to do this for the remainder of August.

No cheese, corn, cow's milk, eggs, oats, pineapple, wheat, or yogurt. The hardest will be wheat because I really don't know what has wheat in it, and I have also developed a very firm habit of eating wheat bread all my life, thinking it was the healthiest choice. It may be difficult for me to remember. But I'll do my best.

The Absence That Zero Stands For

2007-07-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

I am reading a book by Robert Kaplan about the zero. It's called The Nothing That Is: A Natural History of Zero. There is a note to the reader in the front suggesting that the book should not be too intellectually threatening to anyone who has had high school algebra and geometry. We'll see. I'm on the third chapter, and just about fifteen minutes ago, I stopped reading because I felt a poem coming on.

Here it is: (and the title is the same as my title for this post).

Lovely word to look at, zero ---

like a snake who has eaten lunch

and becomes satisfied but remains open,

casually, to a second meal.

For there to be nothing, there must be

something, which is what a person

means when he or she says, "I feel nothing" ---

clearly a lie.

What he feels is anticipation or recollection,

and she wears her zero like a collar or a halo ---

struggles in its chokehold,

enters its noose and waits.

Either way it accompanies him

with the ominous sound of a gong

or at least the meditative "ohmmmm."

She is not alone as long as she

has the zero --- even if she is in its belly,

having been eaten, and now lies unmoving.

Even then, she fills a hollow space.

Catch Me on Facebook, Too

2007-07-26T11:49:00.001-07:00

Shark Week

2007-07-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

I can't wait for this series on the Discovery Channel, for some strange reason. It just looks compelling.

Library Thing

2007-07-25T11:36:00.000-07:00

I love this website, which helps you to organize/catalog your personal library of books. And I love the Sarah Ban Breathnach books. I have three of them: The Simple Abundance book, the Something More Book, and the Illustrated Discovery Journal. The journal is used for visualization of the good things you want to bring into your life (the subtitle is "Creating a Visual Autobiography of Your Authentic Self.")

The other book pictured here is Spiritual Literacy, a fabulous work that can keep me busy for hours. Here's an example of one of the readings (from the chapter on Joy):

"Why aren't you dancing with joy at this very moment? " is the only relevant spiritual question," Sufi seer Pit Vilayet Khan tells us. Your life is a glorious gift and you are loved by Lady Wisdom.
Israeli theologian Martin Buber also opens our eyes to this truth: "The beating heart of the universe is holy joy."
Look around and you'll see how the flowers, trees, squirrels, and stars all emanate delight in their being. The flowers give off a fragrance, the trees dance a samba for the breeze, the squirrels perform acrobatics, and the stars twinkle with glee.
Whenever you see an image of Buddha, Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us, he is always smiling. That smile reflects inner peace and joy.
When he is about to leave his disciples, Jesus tells them, "These things have I spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full." What a beautiful legacy --- passing on abundant joy.

"Tammy's in Love"

2007-07-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

The bird on the top left is a whipporwill, whose song is one of the most unusual that I have heard and one of my favorites. You can learn more about the whipporwill here. Notice that there is a list of songs that feature this nocturnal bird (including one I love, "I Got a Name," by Jim Croce.) I have an orginal copy of this album. Note that "Croce died in a plane crash just days before the album's release."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Got_a_Name

Here are the words to that song:

Like the pine trees linin the windin road

I've got a name, I've got a name

Like the singin bird and the croakin toad

I've got a name, I've got a name

And I carry it with me like my daddy did

But I'm livin the dream that he kept hid

Movin me down the highway

Rollin me down the highway

Movin ahead so life won't pass me by

Like the north wind whistlin down the sky

I've got a song, I've got a song

Like the whippoorwill and the baby's cry

I've got a song, I've got a song

And I carry it with me and I sing it loud

If it gets me nowhere, I'll go there proud

Movin me down the highway

Rollin me down the highway

Movin ahead so life won't pass me by

And I'm gonna go there free

Like the fool I am and I'll always be

Ive got a dream, Ive got a dream

They can change their minds but they can't change me

Ive got a dream, Ive got a dream

Oh, I know I could share it if you want me to

If you're going my way, I'll go with you

Movin me down the highway

Rollin me down the highway

Movin ahead so life wont pass me by

These words mean a lot to me for several reasons: one, my uncle Leeo and I have been tracking down our ancestors and piecing our genealogy together. He's been doing mostly leg work --- on the road, driving, finding graves, talking to people face to face. I've been doing mostly internet work, tracking down data and names and dates and locations. But what we share is a name; well, several names --- but it all started for us with the Hyatts and Briscoes on my grandmother's side, and the Moons, on my granddaddy's side. We haven't made much progress with the Moons yet, but we'll just about filled in a whole fan chart for the Hyatts and Briscoes. Yesterday, Leeo found his 4th great and my 5th great- grandfather's grave (Green B. Hill, a solder in the War of 1812). He found it because God took him to it, basically --- because it's a miracle that he found it, out in the middle of nowhere with the grass all grown up around it and only one other grave in the old GoldRidge Cemetery in Randolph County, Alabama.

As Croce sang, we're carrying these names with us, like my granddaddy did, and his granddaddy, and so on. But we're "living the dream that he kept hid."

The second reason that I like this song is that it reminds me of a friend of mine from the past,Rob, who loves Croce as much as I do and thinks the world is better for the brief time that he lived and wrote music. We listened to his songs together many times and shared the strange sense of melancholy and pride that it brings. And Rob kind of looked like Croce, smoking his endless cigarettes in his cool, private, and elegant way.

Anyway, back to my original thoughts on the whipporwill, which are leading up to something eventually.

The article also explains that there is a legend associated with the whipporwill.

"In New England, legend says the Whip-poor-will can sense a soul departing, and can capture it as it flees.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whip-poor-will

The one on the right is a mourning dove. You can learn more about it here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mourning_Dove

I wanted a picture of a dove because it is mentioned in the song below. The mourning dove seemed especially appropriate since I am in mourning for my mother. The other birds are also mentioned.

Now, getting around to my main point,I missed Mama this morning, so I went to a website where I could get the lyrics and audio for the song, "Tammy's in Love," which she used to sing to me when I was little. It's from a 50's movie with Debbie Reynolds, Tammy and the Bachelor.

I hear the cottonwoods whisperin' above,

Tammy ... Tammy ... Tammy's in love

The ole hooty-owl hooty-hoos to the dove

Tammy ... Tammy ... Tammy's in love

Does my lover feel

What I feel

When he comes near?

My heart beats so joyfully,You'd think that he could hear

Wish I knew if he knew What I'm dreamin' of

Tammy ... Tammy ... Tammy's in love

Whippoorwill, whippoorwill, you and I know

Tammy ... Tammy ... can't let him go

The breeze from the bayou keeps murmuring low:

Tammy ... Tammy ... you love him so

When the night is warm, Soft and warm,

I long for his charms

I'd sing like a violin If I were in his arms

Wish I knew if he knew

What I'm dreaming of

Tammy ... Tammy ... Tammy's in love

This morning one of my friend's asked me if I would go back and be six years old again if I could. I said I would, if I could have my mother back, singing to me.

Book, Pencil, Understanding

2007-06-05T07:32:00.000-07:00

"The type of writing a student uses can affect comprehension gains."

(This blog entry is something I'm doing to prepare for a workshop I'm giving on Friday, so if you're not into education strategies, you might skip this one.)

I'd first like to acknowledge the source of much of the material I'm about to examine. The source is not in MLA format.

"Learning the Write Way: The Writing-to-Learn Approach Can Be Used Across Disciplines to Foster Critical Thinking Skills." Deidra M. Gammil, The Reading Teacher 59.8 (May 2006): p 754(9).

The introduction to Gammill's essay invites readers to consider the connection between reading, writing, and understanding --- thus, the three elements I've listed in my title above. You'll notice that my book is open and blank. It might as well be blank if I can't understand what I'm reading or if I can't retain the information it contains. We're going to look at an example section of a great book by Barack Obama, The Audacity of Hope, and do a reading exercise. So if everyone will turn to the section of your workbook called "Obama", let's give it a shot. First, put away all pencils and paper and just read the couple of paragraphs of the material.

What do you remember?

Now, let's try it again. This time, as you read, take notes on a separate piece of paper. Just phrases that stick out or ideas you'd like to remember, or direct quotes.

Put your paper away and tell your neighbor what you remember about the passage now.

Okay, third time around, we're really reading for understanding. When you write this time, use active verbs that describe the passage you've just read. Example, "Here Obama challenges misconceptions about politicians" (by ..., including ...) or "Here Obama reveals personal anxiety about the political climate (with images of ..., when he writes...).

Finally, do you now find it easier to summarize what you've read and to understand it, and possibly communicate it to someone else? Well, that last part is good, but let's first focus on the first two parts.

According to Gammill, "Writing to learn is different than writing to communicate" because writing to communicate means that we focus on conveying, instructing, or swaying --- rather than shaping, ordering, and representing our own experiences.

Let's look at the difference, using an example from Algebra.

"A set is a collection of objects, which are called the elements of the set. The roster method of writing a set encloses a list of the elements in braces.

The set of the last three letters of the alphabet is written (x, y, z).

The set of the positive integers less than 5 is written (1,2,3,4).

How to use the roster method to write the set of integers between 0 and 10.

A= (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9)

A set can be designated by a capital letter. Note that 0 and 10 are not elements of set A."

Now, let's say I want to write about this passage in order to learn. What do I have to do? Shape, order, and represent my understanding of the passage. I'll try it:

This passage teaches me definitions of terms related to writing sets and provides examples of how to write them. So I can see the shape of the passage:

definition>examples>how to. The concepts are presented in this order because the definitions are most important? Or are we moving from least important to most important? Well, there are only a couple of definitions but there are several examples, so maybe I need to focus most of my efforts to understand on the examples. Should I memorize the examples? Is there an activity associated with this passage. If so, I guess I should do it so that I understand very clearly what a set it, what the roster method is, and how to practice at least this method. Eventually, my sets will look more like this one:

--- what I'm getting now are simple examples.

The writing I just did, which was fairly brief, demonstrates Gimmell's point that "the writing process is very similiar to the speaking, thinking, and learning processes," if we let it be. "This type of learning creates a personal transaction through which the student takes ownership of learning and buildings meaning" (1). It's like sending a text message to your own brain.

As Gimmell points out, "the physical act of writing plays a large part in the development of metacognitive skills."

http://www.gse.buffalo.edu/fas/shuell/CEP564/Metacog.htm

"As students become comfortable with writing-to-learn processes, teachers can gently prompt them to produce just a little more, to expand an idea or follow a line of questioning to its logical conclusion." One way to achieve this is through the KWL chart, which represents "what students know, what they want to know, and what they learn."

You have a KWL chart in your workbook. Take a look at it and then let's try it. Looking at page 140 in the textbook, Hole's Essentials of Human Anatomy and Physiology. We can look quickly at the headings (Support and Movement, Facial Skeleton, and Infantile Skull), and then write what we know about these subjects at this point. We may not think we know anything, but let's try it.

I know that joints and bones and muscles and circulation are important in the support and movement of the human body. I also know that these elements are important in shaping the face and in communicating our emotions and ideas. I know that the infant skull is fragile, that is not completely enclosed for several months or even years, and that there is a reason for this, but I don't know what it is. So there is something to go on my want to know chart. Let me take a look at that section and see if I can find the answer. Oh, yeah --- I remember that word now: fontanels (soft spots). And there's my answer. The skull of an infant has to be flexible as it passes through the birth canal. I can move that to the what I've learned section. But there is so much more. How long does it take for the fontanels to close? (want to know) --- why doesn't it tell me? How can I find out? Does it matter in relation to what I'm learning?

"The average time for the anterior fontanel to close is 18 months, but the timing varies widely. As early as 9 to 12 months is considered normal." I found this by quickly searching on Google with the prompt "When do the fontanels close?" I found this website and spotted the answer.

http://health.yahoo.com/topic/parenting/baby/article/drgreene/Parenting_drg_fa_00013955

This is an example of how my writing led me to ask an additional question and get an additional answer ---- in other words, to expand my learning.

"Learning logs can also help students refine their understanding by connecting with prior knowledge and experiences." Let's look at the topic of evolution as an example, drawing from Biology: Concepts and Connections. Using the KWL chart, or just writing a parapraph based on its principles, I am going to freewrite my way through this:

I know little about evolution except for what I've read about Darwin's experiments and theories --- survival of the fittest, etc. I recall something about how birds descended from dinosaurs and people descended from apes (an insult to the apes, according to Mark Twain). I know that certain species have adapted to changing environments, though I don't immediately recall what they were. I read today that human breast milk in the developed West is not as beneficial to infants as the breast milk of "ancient" times was. Is this evolution in reverse? Another important association I have with evolution is the Scopes trial and the movie version. Another is the evolution vs. creation controversy and the attempts to reconcile the two. So what do I want to know? Well, I want to know the answer to the question posed at the top of 15.8 of our textbook, "Is the temp of evolution steady or jumpy?" So let's see how the book goes about answering this question.

In the first paragraph of 15.8, the author suggests that "we might conclude that evolution can occur either in jumpy spurts or at a slower and steadier tempo." It depends on whether the species evolve by polyploidy, or by geographical isolation. Now I can pretty much figure out what that last term means, but I'll need a good definition of polyploidy.

Here's a website I found that offers a reasonable definition:

http://www.don-lindsay-archive.org/creation/polyploidy.html

(I quit writing here on Tuesday, and now it's Wednesday, and I have pretty much forgotten what that website definition for polyploidy was. Let's see, it was something about two chromosomes sticking together, wasn't it? I've got to look at it again, but first let me tell you where my mind is going. (This is part of that "What I Know" question). I'm remembering a baby that I lost in 1995 because of a freak occurrence --- trisomy 21, Downs Syndrome. My husband and I saw a geneticist, Dr. Virginia Proud (great name, huh?) and she told us there was nothing genetically wrong; it was just that sometimes the 21st chromosome is sticky. Is this something like that polyploidy? I've got to take another detour and look up that syndrome.

http://www.ds-health.com/trisomy.htm

I quickly scanned this article, and although my understanding of trisomy is somewhat improved, I still can't tell if this is related to polyploidy. Let me try again.

http://faculty.clintoncc.suny.edu/faculty/Michael.Gregory/files/Bio%20101/Bio%20101%20Lectures/genetics-%20human%20genetics/human.htm

Um, I've scanned that second article twice, and now I don't think the two events are related, but I still don't really understand much. It's at this point that I realize I need to talk to someone who knows more about this --- probably another teacher on campus. I think of calling Mary Pittman. In the meantime, though, it's probably time to get back to my original objectives for studying. I haven't gotten past the first paragraph of section 15.8.

The first term in bold is gradualist model, so I note that and read the rest of paragraph three (I've scanned two) with the idea that the paragraph will focus on that model. When I finish, I recall that the writer referred to Darwin's views and used butterflies as an example of gradual evolution. Changes occurred in the original butterfly species as a result of movement to different local environments and the necessary adaptations that were required to survive. This happened "over long spans of time." (I'm wondering how long.)

http://www.biology-online.org/biology-forum/about809.html

I quickly locate this forum and wonder if it might be useful to me as I study. I need to ask Mary Pittman if she knows about it and what she thinks. I notice that one of the students writes, "My English is not that good, so I hope my questions don't confuse you." It's interesting because it reveals how hard it can be to even ask a question when you feel inferior in some way.

Ah ha. The next paragraph gives me the bottom line: the gradualist model depends on little changes resulting in big changes (microevolution, "changes to allele frequencies in gene pools can lead to the divergence of species.") So I make a little chart to show myself the order of events.

butterflies>move to different location>face different obstacles>develop small changes in alleles>eventually develop into a new species

Is that right --- a new species, or a new variety of species? Do I even really understand what "species" means? Oh, boy. Here we are at the "W" stage again --- what I want to know.

http://www.biochem.northwestern.edu/holmgren/Glossary/Definitions/Def-S/species.html

Well, that doesn't help. I need to ask Mary. (Hopefully this is what a student will be thinking: "I need to ask my instructor --- and could be encouraged to post this question on the CC message board, chat forum, or by e-mail).

Anyway, it appears from further reading of 15.8 that fossil records do not always seem to support the idea of gradual evolution. In fact, "few sequences of fossils have ever been found that represent gradual transitions of species." It is more likely, explains the author, that the periods in which the species went relatively unchanged were much much longer than those in which they changed. Thus, it's time to examine a non-gradualist model: punctuated equilibrium, in terms of the butterfly species we considered earlier. In this case, it appears that the changes in the butterflies happened in spurts rather than gradually over time. These spurts indicate a significant change in the gene pool to butterflies who drift from the parental environment (in a few hundred or a few thousand generations --- " a short period in geological time.")

The next examples of evolution offered by this section of the text are related to landscape and water. (Death Valley region of California and Nevada, wet climate 50,000 years ago>drying trend, 10,000 years ago> resulting 4000 years ago in desert). Lakes,rivers>isolated springs>deep clefts between rocky walls. Some of these springs house different species of pupfish (a desert-pool fish) that don't exist anywhere else in the world but apparently evolved from "a single ancestral species whose range was broken up when the region became arid").

Saratoga Springs, Death Valley --- one of the places that features the pupfish.

(species of Cyprinodon). "Each adapted to its home spring."

All of a sudden, the text jumps back to the question of whether "thousands of years" can be called "abrupt," and refers to the fact that "fossil record suggests that successful species last for a few million years, on average." (This makes me wonder about how long human beings will last.)

Then, in the next paragraph, we find a reasonable argument from the gradualists about why fossil record does not appear to support their model: fossils can only indicate external factors of extinct species, and "Changes in internal anatomy, body functions, and behavior would go undetected." An excellent point, to me. I have this feeling that I just understood something very important about evolution --- that much of it may be internal and therefore may be difficult to detect.

I've spent a good bit of time on these two pages in the biology textbook, but it was worth it because of the strong impressions I've developed. This is writing to learn.

As Kimerly J. Wilcox and Murray S. Jensen (University of Minnesota), authors of "Writing to Learn in Anatomy and Physiology" point out, recognizing the benefits of writing to learn in science may depend more on subjective data rather than objective data. The entire study is available in your workbooks. Basically, the instructors assigned short and long papers intended to help students learn the course material. When both of these instructors used short papers in their classes as learning assignments,nearly 90% of their students reported at the end of the semester that these assignments had been "Helpful," "Very Helpful," or "Extremely Helpful" in learning the material. In fact, only one student found that the papers were not helpful. For the instructor, the short papers revealed student misconceptions and allowed time for clearing these up prior to exams.

See the "Examples of Several Writing Prompts" beginning on the next-to-last page of the article. What do you think of these assignments?

A Little Wisdom Gained

2007-06-01T08:22:00.000-07:00

In my office, for a few years now, I've had posted a poem called "What I Want."

After I'm dead, cremate me.
Take what is left over from my body,
put it in a black cotton cinch-bag
with a long strong cord.

Wait until mid to late July,
and at sundown
hang me betwixt the branches of
the Bishop pines north of Caspar.

Take precautions to tie me high up
in the black green of the shadows.
Make the knot tight.
I never liked to fall.

Don't look at me as you drive past.
I want the bag to rot in its own sweet time.
I want the first rip to start froma bird
needing a string for a nest.

I want my ashes to spill out,
ride on the wind with the pollen
from the pine cones.
I want my bones to scramble to earth
so an owl can pick one as a stone
for its belly to grind food.
Then the owl in freedom's flight
I can trust, will say,
"Who."

I love that poem, and I thought it went along with my philosophies about death and funerals and the like --- none of that for me --- I wanted to be cremated. Then, in March of this year, my mother died. She was honored and buried and memorialized in the traditional way. I was surrounded by family --- my mother had thirteen brothers and sisters, and I have dozens of cousins who also have children. They held me close, made me smile, and brought me photographs and memories of my mother when she was young and healthy and happy. I had nearly forgotten those times before Mama got sick and suffered so much and changed so much. Seeing her in the late 70's, with her long red hair blowing in the wind as she sat on a bicycle brought her back to life for me, and the memories have continued to flow back as time goes by. What I learned from all this is that we need to be with family when we are grieving. The shared experiences, shared memories, shared pain, and shared love mean so much and help us to heal. I am deeply thankful to my family for teaching me this lesson. So, when I die, even if my daughter still wants to follow the advice in the poem above, that will be fine with me --- as long as she gathers her loved ones close --- and people who knew me and can help her remember the happy times. It isn't good for us to grieve alone, and even seeing Mama laid out to rest, with her hair done and a little touch of a smile on her pretty face, in her beautiful dress with her sweet hands resting --- it did me good. It helped me to say goodbye again --- a different, more celebratory goodbye than the one we had at the nursing home, when I held her as she took her last breaths. I realize now that there are these different kinds of goodbye, different acknowledgments of the letting go --- and then there are, again, the hellos. Hello, Mama. I see you smiling proudly in the photo on my desk, sitting as you always did with your excellent posture, surrounded by your sisters and brothers and Granny and Papa Moon. You are with me always.

My Mother

2006-06-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the nursing home social worker called to tell me that Mom has become agitated and verbally abusive to her roommate, whom she has loved deeply and who has loved her in return. She and Mary have been the best of friends and depended upon each other, so this is a sad development. I'm not certain if the changes in Mom's mental state and behavior are due to the disease itself (Multiple Sclerosis) or the combination of medications she is on, or simply depression, frustration, and anger. She is being moved out of her room with Mary and will have a different roommate. In the meantime, I have begun the process of trying to have her moved closer to me, perhaps to Augusta, Ga --- but have just received a phone call from the first nursing home I contacted, and they have said they cannot manage her because of her behaviors. They suggested two other places that might accept Mom. All of this is, naturally, very painful. I will see Mom this weekend, and maybe I can make a difference in how she is feeling. I appreciate the prayers of anyone who happens to read this blog. I wish my mother the peace of a holy dove lighting upon her.

Genetic Memory

2006-06-12T09:07:00.000-07:00

Those valentines are from the 1920's and 30's. They belonged to my maternal grandmother, and seeing the delicate penciled messages on the backs takes me back to a different time --- a time I haven't been to, at least not in this body. but a time from which I have a piece handed down. Now look at my face and the face of my daughter (above left) and mother (above right) --- both of them at about 15 years old, by the way. What has been handed down in our faces? In our mannerisms? In our tendencies toward certain illnesses? In our "natural" talents? Are we the living memories of our ancestors? This is how some theorists explain the uncanny natural talents and skills of savants --- their abilities which appear to come out of nowhere --- remarkable genius in some areas despite the failure to do something as simple as tie their shoes or feed themselves. Somehow these people have carried down their genius in their genetic material --- although other parts of their brains appear to be stymied or blocked. For more on this, take a look at the following link. http://www.wisconsinmedicalsociety.org/savant/genetic_memory.cfm

Somewhere in those features must be little pieces of my ancestors --- on my mother's maternal side, I know their names back to the early 18th century; on her father's side, I know at least some of their names. However, my father was adopted, so I know nothing about my paternal ancestry. Still, I carry in my body and mind their essence. I believe in genetic memory, and so it is possible that I "saw" these old valentines before --- through my grandmother's eyes. She processed the memories of them, and I supposed it makes a considerable difference if she moved the memories into long-term storage. I assume she did, since she kept a scrapbook with the valentines in it for about 50 years. So if scraps of her memories were carried down to me, maybe I simply remembered the valentines rather than seeing them for the first time. What a cool concept. This all gives me an idea for a short story. A mother is looking over her daughter's designs for valentines (she's an illustrator) when they begin to look familiar, so she pulls out her own mother's scrapbook and is amazed to find that they are remarkably similar. When she asks, she is dumbfounded to know that her daughter has never seen these valentines, or if she has, it has been years, and she certainly did not study them or memorize their design elements. She begins to explore the concept of genetic memory, attempting to separate that concept from psychic phenomena --- and along the way finds her way back to God and to spirituality: to the love of God, to His valentine to humanity.

On Music in Public Places

2006-06-06T08:57:00.000-07:00

I've just skimmed two articles that more or less claim music in public places is irritating. If you want to check them out, they are Fran Lebowitz's "The Sound of Music: Enough Already," and Andrew Mueller's "Can't Stop the Muzak. " You'll have to find Lebowitz on your own because my copy is in a textbook, but here's the link to Mueller: http://www.andrewmueller.net/scroll.lasso?ID=178&story=CAN'T%20STOP%20THE%20MUZAK_full_story

So anyway these two articles have got me thinking about whether I enjoy hearing music when I'm out and about, and I'd have to say mostly yes, I do. On the other hand, when I'm feeling down and blue and lovesick I don't want to hear the love songs --- so I probably pop out of a store more quickly than I would have. And when I'm in a music store, it's kind of hard to get the feel of the music I'm considering when I've got rap blasting in my ears. I think those stores in particular would fare far better by playing a mix of styles in fairly rapid success. You know, first 50Cent, then Barry Manilow, then Jack Johnson, then Carly Simon, then Disturbed, then Mick Jagger, then Travis Tritt. You get the picture.

One good point that Lebowitz makes is about other people's clock radios. Personally, I don't like to wake up to a morning show --- well, maybe if it's Rick and Bubba's "The 7 O'Clock Song." Nor do I want to wake up to "My Humps, my humps my humps my humps, my lovely lady lumps" or anything with vocals really. If I'm a guest at your house and you must have your clock radios set to wake me up with music, please make it classical or piano or acoustic guitar only, turned down very low. Now that would be kind of nice.

Music in restaurants? Only if I can talk over the music without yelling. And match the music to the atmosphere, the food, the clientele, the weather --- I mean, if you are going to be a d.j., make it mean something. Mexican restaurants nearly always get it right. It's nearly impossible to leave a Mexican restaurant in a bad mood --- if a spinach burrito with pico de gallo doesn't cheer me right up, the lively music does.

I'm going out to lunch now; we'll see what's playing.

Nostalgia and Memorabilia

2006-05-25T09:49:00.000-07:00

"Till We Meet Again": http://www.firstworldwar.com/audio/tillwemeetagain.htm

"God Be With You Till We Meet Again"

(These are two different songs, but I wanted to include the link for the first one, which is from 1918 and is lovely). The one Papa Moon refers to in his letter is this one:

"God be with you till we meet again;
By His counsels guide, uphold you,
With His sheep securely fold you;
God be with you till we meet again.

Till we meet, till we meet,
till we meet at Jesus' feet;
Till we meet, till we meet,
God be with you till we meet again." (Jeremiah Rankin, 1880)

Today, I'm browsing through postcards, photos, etc. of my own and of my grandparents and parents. They include: a letter from the U.S. Government to Oscar Moon, date?; poem from Oscar Moon (my grandfather) to my grandmother, 1935; letters from my grandmother (Dollie Jeanette Moon) to my grandfather and vice-versa, in 1935 (before they were married) and 1945, when he was Private Oscar F. Moon; a letter from Nathaniel Moon, my great-grandfather, to his son, 1945; a letter from Dollie and two of her children (Larry and Mary) to Oscar, 1945; a letter from another of her children, Dexter, to Dollie and Oscar, 1961; a letter from my great-grandmother, Mary Lou Hyatt (Dollie's mother), to Dollie; letters from my grandmother's friends, Gladys and Mildred, 1935; and a letter from my mother (Sylvia) to Dollie and Oscar, 1970. There are a few business transaction papers also dated in the 1930's and 40's.

In the letter featured here, Papa Moon is writing by the light of the moon, lying on his bunk at Camp Blanding, 1945. I thought it would be nice to include a photo of the moon as it might have looked to him that night, and also a selection from the book, Goodnight Moon (it's the page that says, "Papa, please get me the moon.")

The River is Famous

2006-04-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

I love this poem by Naomi Shihab Nye:

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to the silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it,
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to shuffling men,
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it did.

Sighing

2006-04-11T10:34:00.000-07:00

I've been sighing a lot today --- I think it's just a little Spring fever, a little restlessness, a little too much Mexican food at lunch.
That little frog to my left: he looks like Spring, I thought. So today's theme is frogs. I don't know why. Check out the cartoon. Hee hee. Whew; that brings back memories of slimy afternoons in biology lab and the smell of formaldehyde and trying to figure out what all those frog innards were. I've provided a frog skeletal view for anyone who is interested.

And now a conservationist poem from a Mississippi writer, Luke Wallin (sorry I couldn't keep the poem's original structure):

A Few Words From the Frog Highway

If I could leave you just two words, then you would know your simian soul the way I know my older one, reptilian-fine, sensitivo-so.These are the last hot days of Earth, with all life bathed in the light of death, with your skin foul, so thick and dry, yielding up To the dermo knife, to the laser gun. My tribe lives in the deep green shade, in moisture breath of ground and leaves, our delicate membranes pass the word --from swamp to heart, from breeze to mind; We knew the ancient balance well, from the bedrock’s cold to the sun’s red fire. We know when to Leap a toad, or float so still in the lily lake, its yellow flowers drinking moon, the air abuzz with gifts for lightning tongues. We see air conditioned walls, your speeding cars, your bodies wrapped. We understand that the time grows shortand the water’s gas, and the land is paved--We know how much shade is lost.But I’m not here to bring you down, my mission calls forjust two words, two lovely words with a vision thing, and it’scheap and easy, you’ll admit, make it part of yourPolitics, all that reverb lipsinc feedback. Here’s the deal, if you like our songs, ourSunglasses, our bug control. If you want to see uson the scene, here’s the way you want to go:Just cover Earth with wide green trails,Shady and wet in a Worldwide Web. Tie the net together in a round round map, Outfit the planet for Slideby travel.Think you’ve got it? You greedy-eyed mammals. Reachyour reptile’s underbrain, down in your Heartshade, down in your music. Inside you lives an old old bullfrog, a billion years of Memories and a feeling for the stars. It wouldn’t cost you very much, each could add a little,Frogways up the countryside from pond to shining pond. Two words, Apefolk, try to remember. Focus all your body heat onFrog Highway.

Dreaming I'm a Butterfly

2006-04-10T07:53:00.000-07:00

"Am I a man dreaming I am a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?"
Lao-Tzu, Chinese Philosopher

Today I'm thinking about dreams for more than one reason. First of all, I dreamed last night that I ate a bird --- a small bird, live. I began to spit out blood and feathers, and finally a small beak. It was quite disturbing. I wonder what it means.

Secondly, I'm thinking about how to make dreams come true. Some people say its all about visualization. You make it happen in your mind first, and then the reality will follow. So for the next hour, I'm going to visualize something positive happening today, and see how it turns out: for instance, I'm thinking: today I won't bite my nails or my cuticles, I'll feel confident and capable, I'll finish my faculty performance management document, and my visit with P. will go extremely well. Is that too much to visualize at once, though? And would these actually qualify as dreams? Let's consult the dictionary.

dream: 1) a series of thoughts, images, or emotions occurring during sleep 2) an experience of waking life having the characteristics of a dream 3) a visionary creation of the imagination: daydream 4) a state of mind marked by abstraction or release from reality: reverie 5) an object seen in a dreamlike state: vision 6) something notable for its beauty, excellence, or enjoyable quality 7) a strongly desired goal or purpose 8) something that fully satisfies a wish: ideal 9) to appear tranquil 10) to consider as a possibility: imagine 11) to pass time in inaction 12) to consider possible or fitting.

Well, my goodness --- with that many definitions, I suppose my list fits in there somewhere. Going back to my dream about eating a bird, I am wondering if it has to do with the fact that one of my cats is missing, and by now she hasn't had any cat food (at least any of my cat food) for several days, so I imagine if she's lost she's eating birds. Which makes me feel bad. I miss her and want her to come back. So I'm going to envision her coming back, being at home when I get there today.

Do cats eat butterflies? That would lend a whole new interpretation to Lao's concern and my own. :>)

My Latest Poem, a Sestina

2006-04-05T05:56:00.000-07:00

For those who are interested, a sestina is "a poem with six stanzas of six lines each and a concluding stanza of three lines. The last word of each line in the first stanza appears as the last word of a line in each of the next five stanzas but in a different order. In the final (three-line) stanza, each line ends with one of these six words, and each line includes in the middle of the line one of the other three words." This is my first effort, so what I have produced is probably just a version of a sestina, not completely true to form --- but it was fun. I encourage anyone who reads this to try writing one. The cool thing is that you discover you have more connections to the chosen words than you might think, and that images and ideas begin to emerge once you focus on the words. I was surprised by what came out of my subconscious as I fashioned this poem, and what I learned about myself.

Sestina from the new Garden of Eden

Today I have set my feet upon a rock
Where things are solid and I can see the sun glisten
And I ask, if I was taken from Adam’s rib
What, then, is the proper food for my soul to eat,
Considering I am carved like wood
Into this womanhood, and I want to run

Like a long-distance runner in a marathon, I want to run
Until my body becomes my own, strong as a rock,
No danger from emotional termites eating into my body’s wood
Until I shine, until I glisten
Until they offer me food and I don’t want to eat
Until I say to Adam I want to be formed from my own rib

Or from the rib of a higher being, not from a man’s rib
As if I emerged from masculinity, as if from that comes my energy to run
Or my impulses, drives, compulsions, hungers, choices about what to eat
Are based on something other than my own deepest needs, my own inner rock
Which is becoming jewelized, a petrified forest log that will glisten
And carry its memories of a former time when it was less glorious wood

When it was primeval, raw, with few rings and it echoed, hollow wood
And its center was all scent and fiber and texture and fastened to the earth like a rib
And there was no light there in its middle earth, no place where the light would glisten
And animals played around it, climbed it, tunneled into it, a safe place to run
There was nothing human for miles, no conversation, no mental rock
No desire, no eruptions, no precipitation, no plans for meals to eat

Before my soul grew and stretched and changed my desire to eat
Before my heart grew stubborn like wood
Before night fell and sun rose and water came from the rock
And the spine of my being needed no rib
Because it was weightless and could slide or fly or run
And angels carried it, carried me, and my soul heart spine began to glisten

Oh and it was glorious, this being-in-nothingness, this one to glisten
This one with an appetite for meaning, for words to eat
For miles to travel, for people to touch, for distance to run
For lakes to ride across, effortlessly, like a hollow wood
For sounds to break free from my spirit’s throat like whistling through a broken rib
Like Sisyphus pushing to the top, without the unbearable struggle, the rock

And I became free to fully understand, to breathe, to run,
Glisten like a rock, seat myself in a ceremonial position to eat
at the wood altar, upon which lies Adam’s rib.

Unicorns, Fire Escapes, and Candles

2006-04-04T08:36:00.000-07:00

I'm planning to teach my favorite play, The Glass Menagerie, this week, and so I am re-thinking the symbols featured in the play: the unicorn, for instance. That magical, ethereal, remote beast we would all like to discover wandering around in our backyards. Its coiled horn, which is called an "alicorn," contains a remedy for poison. Its tears are supposed to heal a broken heart. I think of Kenny Loggins' version of "The Last Unicorn" and the song's haunting lyrics:

THE LAST UNICORN

When the last eagle flies Over the last crumbling mountain And the last lion roars At the last dusty fountain In the shadow of the forest Though she may be old and worn They will stare unbelieving At the Last Unicorn When the first breath of winter Throughout the flowers is icing And you look to the north And a pale moon is rising And it seems like all is dying And would leave the world to mourn In the distance hear her laughter It's the Last Unicorn I'm alive... I'm alive When the last moon is cast Over the last star of morning And the future is past Without even a last desparate warning Then look into the sky where through The clouds a path is formed Look and see her how she sparkles It's the Last Unicorn I'm alive... I'm alive.

The song seems relevant when I think about the character of Laura Wingfield, who collects little glass figurines, her favorite of which is a unicorn, and who lives largely in a world of her own. She is like the unicorn, also, because she has a distinguising characteristic --- a limp that she feels separates her from the other girls and classifies her as a "cripple." At the same time, Laura is ethereal and lovely and full of grace --- and mysterious, like the unicorn. Once the horn on her glass unicorn is broken, however, he becomes like all the other horses, and the magic is broken. Laura's heart will not be healed. Since I'm not very likely to come across a unicorn today who will let me hop on her back and take me away from my heartache and troubles, a second metaphor to examine is the fire escape, which serves as a porch for the Wingfield family in The Glass Menagerie. One of my favorite scenes from the 1987 film version features Tom (John Malkovitch) and Amanda (Joanne Woodard) on the fire escape. Malkovitch is so sexy in this scene. When he first steps out on the fire escape, he says to the audience,

"Across the alley from us was the Paradise Dance Hall. On evenings in spring the windows and doors were open and the music came outdoors. Sometimes the lights were turned out except for a large glass sphere that hung from the ceiling. It would turn slowly about and filter the dusk with delicate rainbow colors. Then the orchestra played a waltz or a tango, something that had a slow and sensuous rhythm. Couples would come outside, to the relative privacy of the alley. You could see them kissing behind ashpits and telephone poles. This was the compensation for lives that passed like mine, without any change or adventure."

I can't say that mine has been a life without change or adventure. I've had plenty of both. I also can't say, however, that these bring happiness. Still, it's a romantic idea --- a fire escape. I'd like to have a mental fire escape. Perhaps I do: meditation.

Finally, there is the symbol of the candle in the Glass Menagerie. That painful scene in which Tom tells Laura to blow her candles out --- in other worlds, to live in the real, vivid world, which is the only world we have --- to abandon illusion. But also he seems to say please blow out your candles so that I cannot see you and keep searching for you everywhere:

"I pass the lighted window of a shop where perfume is sold. The window is filled with pieces of colored glass, tiny transparent bottles in delicate colors, like bits of a shattered rainbow. Then all at once my sister touches my shoulder. I turn around and look into her eyes ... Oh, Laura, Laura, I tried to leave you behind me, but I am more faithful than I meant to be! I reach for a cigarette, I cross the street, I run into the movies or a bar, I buy a drink, I speak to the nearest stranger ---anything that can blow your candles out! --- for nowadays the world is lit by lightning! blow out your candles, Laura --- and so, goodbye ..."

I love candles. They do give the room an illusory glow --- and scented ones of course add ambience of a different kind. They can invite romance or stillness of the spirit. They can indicate a memorial or a prayer offering or a sort of mini-lighthouse.

Each of these symbols is complex and offers intellectual study and emotional impact. I'll be lingering over them today.

Wednesday, December 14

2005-12-14T08:31:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I turned 40 --- wow. Okay, so moving on ... :>)

Today I've: taken my car for a brake job, which is my Christmas gift from my fellow; worked with our VISTA, Cathleen, to set up her reflective "blog" here on Blogger.com. We have a Christmas luncheon at 12:30, and then after finishing the day, we are officially on vacation until Jan. 2!! Unreal. Can't wait to ... what? I'll probably work on my mother's transition from a nursing home in Georgia to one close by me, and I'll probably work on BeautiControl sales.

Friday, December 9

2005-12-09T06:35:00.000-08:00

Well, there it is. My motto for the coming year, from Ghandhi. I'll claim it early, for my birthday (December 13), which is a pretty significant one: the big 40. Today, the new VISTA (Volunteer in Service to America) and I are going to visit the local Red Cross and invite them to be included in our first annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Day of Service (January 16). It's 9:37 a.m., and we have to be there at 10 a.m., so this will be a short first blog. We're off to change the world!

The Change I Want to See in the World

2005-12-09T06:32:00.000-08:00

The Long, Angry Wait for Help

2005-09-08T08:21:00.000-07:00

The Long, Angry Wait for Help: "

In Jackson, Miss., confusion, politics, and a crush of evacuees and local townsfolk stir emotions at an aid site

2005-04-21T05:52:00.000-07:00

Feeling Crafty

Master craftsman

2005-04-21T05:43:00.000-07:00

My tarot card for the day is the three of pentacles, also known as Master Craftsman.

Skills and abilities will be appreciated and rewarded.
Success through effort.
Artistic ability, rank, power, achievement.

Yeah!

or,

sloppiness in workmanship.
Delay of recognition or recompense.
Preoccupation with gain at the cost of craft.
Mediocrity.

Well, now I know what to watch out for. That's half the battle. It's a lovely, sunny Thursday morning, and I don't have a single appointment with a student before lunch --- so I guess I'll catch up on grading and the like. My allergies are in full force, though, so until the pill kicks in I'll be miserably sneezy.

How about a little music by Shelby Lynne this morning? Well, you'll have to look up the music, but I can offer some of her lyrics:

"Well, this is it
no need in putting it off any longer
just turn around and walk out the door
you thought you had it all figured out
but baby you don't know what love's about

It's time for me to spend some time alone
I'm tired of trying to make this your happy home

Hey --- I'm leaving
and this time it's for good
you should've treated me the way you said you would"

Damn right, sister!!! I am woman --- hear me roar.

I hope everybody has a good day and doesn't put up with any ... you know.

2005-04-07T06:30:00.001-07:00

Devil's Play

2005-04-07T06:30:00.000-07:00

The Devil

The Devil is in the Details

2005-04-07T06:11:00.000-07:00

I've drawn the Devil card today, which might mean

Greed, the monkey trap
Vehement desires, lust
bondage to an ideal
Bad or evil influence or advice
a choice upon which your fate depends
dissolution

or:

a release from bondage
a rest
a new life's direction

I'm going with that second reading. My friend Susan has a third reading based on her tarot deck, which is more abstract and playful than mine, and here it is:

Devil's Play

Laugh your fears and sorrows away.
Dance and drink to your successes.
Life your spirits by passion and play.
Recreate yourself through recreation.
be aware of risks under the influence of intoxicated madness
Stone blind, you may perform misdeed
out of ignorance, you are the devil. Watch out.

2005-04-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

The Magician

April is the Cruellest Month

2005-04-06T10:29:00.000-07:00

I'm here, but not for long. Too much to do. I still haven't filed my taxes, for instance. Oh, boy. Well, here's a quick look at my tarot card:

The Magician

Opportunities to use talents.
Originality
Creativity
Imagination
Skill
Diplomacy
Self-Reliance
The merging of the four elements.

Or, if I don't respond well and get enough sleep,

unskilled
clumsy
insecure
disgrace
bad judgment causes loss

"Always use magic carefully," says my friend Susan, referring to the law of three. I have no idea what that means, so when I figure it out, I'll post it here so we all know.

2005-03-28T09:52:00.000-08:00

Two of Wands

2005-03-28T09:43:00.000-08:00

I'm back. Spring Break wasn't much to write home about --- or blog about. I've been sick with a bad cold, lying on the couch watching Court TV and CNN (the Shaivo case). I guess the Tarot is appropriate:

Two of Wands: Watch and Wait

Wait to see if plans bear fruit.
Kindness, generosity, intellect
Well-balanced individual, creative
Good things coming, fulfillment

(Sounds nice!!)

I have a busy busy day with student appointments, so I'll have to freewrite more tomorrow.

2005-03-18T08:58:00.000-08:00

Justice

2005-03-18T08:44:00.000-08:00

My tarot card for today features a woman named "Justice" with ivy leaves in her hair --- scarlet robes with a ruby pendant gathering her green scarf at the center, just below her throat. She carries balances in one hand and a sword in the other.

She represents

Fairness, balance, equality, rightness, legal matters (uhoh), negotations

or

bias, prejudice, bigotry, intolerance, a bad judgment (legal -- double uhoh), and cruel punishment

It's the Friday before Spring Break, and I'm just too near a vacation to think of anything else. So this is the end of today's blog. I'll try to get back to it in a day or two, from home, with my hair in a towel and sitting happily in my p.j.'s.

2005-03-14T04:54:00.000-08:00

queen of wands

"My Problem is You"

2005-03-14T04:41:00.000-08:00

Just listening to a little Jackson Browne:

I have no problem with this crooked world
I play the cards I drew
No problem with the changes life has hurled
My problem is you

The song is called "Waiting for You," actually --- if anybody's interesting in looking it up.

I have no problem telling right from wrong
the way some people do
I know exactly where these arms belong
my problem is you

waiting for you --- waiting here for you

I don't worry about the ozone layer
just let those rays come through
when I'm outside I keep my clothes on
my problem is you

I don't worry about Madonna
or the next thing she might do
I don't worry about your Mama
my problem is you

Okay --- after a few days off the blog, I'm back with a lot on my mind. I'm about to read an article from the Christian Science Monitor called "Teens Ready to Prove Text-Messaging Skills Can Score SAT Points." It should be interesting, and I'm hoping it will have some tidbits I can include in an article I'm working on about technology and writing here at OC Tech.

My tarot card for today: Queen of Wands, a lady in a yellow and red dress with cascading sleeves and pictures of the sun. She's got a great smile --- and dimples. Sunflowers in the background. Cool.

Meaning:

A woman of considerable energy
very active, very passionate
fond of nature, generous, and practical

or

Strict, domineering, jealous,
vengeful. A deceitful woman.
Passion overrules all other concerns
A tendency toward unfaithfulness.

Uh oh. :>)

2005-03-09T07:21:00.000-08:00

Page of Pentacles

Check-ups

2005-03-09T07:09:00.000-08:00

I have finally made doctor's and dentist's appointments after a long hiatus. It's been a rough two and a half years, and during that time my health has taken a back seat to all the other demands of my life. Maybe I am on the road to a healthier me, starting with the dental appointment I just made for Friday.

Still on my mind: the art of listening (I'm going to try some new strategies)

My tarot card: Page of Pentacles

Deep concentration
scholarship
news
a bringer of messages
a young person makes the seeker proud
a careful child

or

bad news
delinquency
illogical thoughts
wastefulness

I had a very scary dream in which I apparently had breast cancer. Thus, the sense of urgency has arisen to go to the doctor and have my parts checked out.

2005-03-08T07:06:00.000-08:00

Ten of Cups

2005-03-08T07:03:00.000-08:00

Doing the Budget

Preparing a Budget

2005-03-08T06:51:00.000-08:00

I'm preparing my first professional budget as the director of the Writing and Professional Skills Studio at OC Tech. I don't enjoy the process, but it is becoming more clear and perhaps more manageable, now that I've received some guidance from the experts.

On my mind today: listening

I'm considering attending a "Deep Listening Retreat" in New Mexico in August. It sounds cool, and they need volunteers to prepare for the retreat --- free room and board. We'll see if I can come up with the money for the flight.

Today I am going to practice the fine art of listening and see how it turns out.

Tarot card: Ten of Cups (Welcome Home)

home
joy
familial bliss
peace
plenty
contentment of the heart
respect from your neighbors

(appropriate and timely, after a weekend visit home to Alabama)

or

the loss of a friendship
sadness or great disappointment
indignation

I've known a few of those lost friendships and sadnesses, but I try not to be indignant about it. "I think it's about forgiveness --- even if you don't love me anymore." (Don Henley)

2005-03-07T07:31:00.000-08:00

Knight of Cups

2005-03-07T07:16:00.000-08:00

I'm a little slow getting back in the groove today after a weekend trip to Alabama to see family and friends. I've been looking at political cartoons this morning, after I read the Writing Center Journal's blog about the importance of laughter --- because I like smart humor. I started the Atkins diet today. That's about all the news.

Knight of Cups reading:

an opportunity may be presented to the seeker
the arrival of a lover
approach, appeal, creativity, inspiration

or

a person capable of trickery
warning against fraud
competition for a love

Bring on the opportunities!

2005-03-03T10:22:00.000-08:00

5 of Wands

Why Johnny CAN Write

2005-03-03T10:08:00.000-08:00

I had a consultation with a student named Johnny today, and it went very well; there were all kinds of light bulbs going off as we talked about strategies for writing, etc. Sometimes I know that I was meant to do this job --- and this was one of those times. He left feeling more confident and capable. That's what it's all about.

Things are more tricky in my personal life, so I guess I'd have to agree with today's tarot.

Today's card: the 5 of wands (Unfulfilled Struggle)

Conflict
Obstacles
Unsatisfied desires
internal strife
indecision

or

Trickery
Complexity
Involvement

My daughter sent me a quote that applies here: "The next rock in your path may be a stepping stone."

2005-03-02T07:05:00.000-08:00

The empress

Concepts in Composition

2005-03-02T06:49:00.000-08:00

It's been a great day for ideas and collaboration so far. I've been sharing with my colleague, Leah, what I've learned from Irene L. Clark's Concepts in Composition: Theory and Practice in the Teaching of Writing, (see below), and she and others have been providing feedback on my first effort at producing a studio newsletter.

Tidbits from the book:

to help students understand audience, teach them the difference between reflection, conversation, correspondence, and publication

to help them understand the basic principles of written and spoken communication, emphasize the 5 keys to rhetoric: invention, arrangement, style, memory, delivery

Our temporary title for the studio newsletter is Entitled. I'll try to attach a copy here when I figure out how to do it.

Tarot card for today: "The Empress," a pregnant lady with a spinning wheel and a female gender symbol (so she's expecting a girl?)

Pregnancy
Fertility
Good advice
Safety
Security
Hidden Actions
A competent woman, safe and secure, who is building a future for herself and her family.

or:

Lack of satisfaction
the unraveling of involved matters (hmmm)
Uncertainty
Infidelity
Infertility

I suspect that the reading for me is closer to "the unraveling of involved matters"

2005-03-01T05:35:00.000-08:00

Page of Swords

Drum roll, please

2005-03-01T05:24:00.000-08:00

It's Tuesday. I'm listening to Ryan Adams' music and trying to get organized. Really. I am determined to get some things done today that I've been putting off.

Today's card: the Page of Swords, a happy leaping girl with long, wild reddish brown hair and her sword raised to the sun. She's wearing my favorite color, cobalt blue.

Vigilance
Agility
Insight
Keenness of vision
Service done in secret
The seeker obtains the help of a younger person

or

Childish cruelty
unfortunate circumstances
the unforeseen
vulnerability in the face of opposing force

It's that unforeseen that gets me every time. :>)

2005-02-28T08:10:00.000-08:00

Miser

Come Monday, it will be Alright?

2005-02-28T07:53:00.000-08:00

I don't know about that, Jimmy Buffett. It's Monday now, and payday, and I've got bills to pay. Not much else to report. I'll post a photo of today's tarot, the 4 of pentacles, but skip the reading since it's all downhill. Suffice it to say that this is not a happy-go-lucky card.

I'm going to a salon later for a facial --- that should be nice and rejuvenating.

Sessions with students (two) have not been particularly satisfying today, either. Both were recalcitrant (I looked this up; it's "stubbornly resistant to guidance"), and I probably find that annoying because I get that way myself --- and we tend to dislike in others what we find in ourselves. It's funny because even when I know I am being stubborn, I do it anyway; it's almost a defensive gesture. If I can pin this behavior down and deal with it in myself, I'm sure that I will better be able to deal with it when I encounter it in students.

2005-02-27T10:22:00.000-08:00

Six of Wands

Sunday Kind of Love?

2005-02-27T10:16:00.000-08:00

I drew the Six of Wands today, and he looks like the knight on the white horse type --- but I don't see a real one approaching. Well, it's Sunday and I've come into town to feed my friend's dogs and cat again. I'm going to make a phone call to a friend in Alabama and then be on my way back to the apartment to enjoy the last of the weekend in front of the computer with a side view of the television. Woo hoo. I did buy a new CD that I like --- country hits from the 90's, including "Anymore" (Travis Tritt), "Look Heart No Hands" (Randy Travis), and "No Doubt About It (Neil?), three of my favorites.

"No chains
no strings
no fences
no walls
no net
just you
to catch me when I fall
Look heart ----
no hands."

As for that Six of Wands fellow, here's what he's supposed to represent:

Public acclamation
good news (important news)
gain
achievement
reward for hard work
great expectations

or

delay
fear
disloyalty
inconclusive victory
acclaim with no real substance

The most provocative of those is "inconclusive victory." I'll have to think on that. My daughter is reading Great Expectations at school, so I'll have to tell her about the reading, also.

Saturday NOT in the park

2005-02-26T08:02:00.000-08:00

It certainly isn't the fourth of July. It's a sunny but cold day and I've been inside working at the computer and alternately napping all day except for a brief trip to the Waffle House where I dined on Texas Bacon Cheesesteak and hash browns. I can't find anything on television to accompany my work. I think I'll go throw open the door and let a little sunshine in. The cats are begging me to at least open the blinds.

2005-02-25T07:00:00.000-08:00

Temperance

Ghosts and Angels

2005-02-25T06:49:00.000-08:00

I've just read and responded to the latest blog on "Friends of the Writing Center Journal," and my head is full of ghosts.

I'm just a ghost in this house
I'm all that's left of two hearts on fire
that once burned out of control
you took my body and soul
I'm just a ghost in this house

I don't mind if it rains
I don't mind if its clear
I don't mind staying in
there's another ghost here
He sits down in your chair
and he shines with your light
and he lays down his head
on your pillow each night

Alison Krauss

Fortunately, I have an angel hovering around along with the ghosts. My tarot card today is "Temperance," represented by a golden-haired, golden-winged man-angel dipping his feet in a heavenly stream.

Reading:

Economy
A moderate lifestyle
patience
obtaining security through frugal management of means
meditation
all things in moderation (including moderation!)

All of this is interesting, coming on the heels of the party hearty card.

Alternate:

Competitive interests
too much caution
hostility
a person with whom it is impossible to work
misunderstanding others

Hoping to clear a few of these ghosts from my head.

2005-02-24T06:33:00.000-08:00

you gotta love Sherman Alexie's work

2005-02-24T06:32:00.000-08:00

Nine of Cups

A Jolly Fellow

2005-02-24T06:18:00.000-08:00

The Nine of Cups looks like a happy card. It features a large, smiling man dressed in royal colors and apparently balancing nine golden goblets on his shoulders. I'm feeling happier today, too, so it does seem that it's "in the cards." Tonight I get to watch one of my favorite films with my literature students (that is, if I can find a copy of the film today in a local movie rental place) --- it's Smoke Signals, based on the short story by Sherman Alexie called "This is What it Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona." I absolutely love the film and the soundtrack.

Here's the reading (Yeah!) --- Party Hearty

Satisfaction
Plenty
Well-being
Successes
Security
Sensual Pleasures
Wishes Fulfilled

or a little bit of this, but we won't think about it much:

an absence of upright qualities
self-indulgent behavior
smugness
deprivation
temporary illness

Here's to a good, productive day with a little partying thrown in. I started off by having a pepperoni/turkey/pickle/banana pepper/Southwest sauce on Italian Herbs and Cheese bread from Subway for breakfast! Yum.

2005-02-23T04:37:00.000-08:00

Page of Cups