"We Are Thrown Together with a Sprinkling of Stardust"

Good morning, world!

Today I bring you a blog post from the other end of the day, the beginning, to suitably beckon the fortuitous morning wonders tucked inside this day's dispatch.

Following closely on the heels of Kid Week, it feels appropriate that I should share some of Jostein Gaarder's remarkable work, intertwining lessons that introduce the basics of philosophy with suspenseful mystery stories. His best novels, Sophie's World and The Solitaire Mystery, are perfect gifts for children from eight on up, sharing, in the process, love of wisdom, love of learning, reading, love of story, love of language, literature.

I read about Sophie when I was straddling the ages of fourteen and fifteen, and then I followed up by reading about Hans Thomas when I was sixteen. I have been trying to finish Maya since seventeen. Even though that story has all the right elements that make his other stories work (and also tugs at me with its scenes staged in Barcelona!), I just couldn't get past the annoying presumptive attitude of the characters in regards to human evolution and human intellectual capacities (They're quite keen on putting people on a throne for their incidental part in bringing the universe consciousness of itself), as well as the droning scenes, pitting the protagonist against a gecko or lizard, which scenes just dragged on and on and on.

In any case, I still adore his writing. Having prodded myself to reopen his books, I feel as though I've been missing something critical, depriving myself, all this time by not reading these stories over again every few months, keeping their best-kept secrets always close by, much the same way I feel about a handful of other authors (a list which now includes Susan Glaspell, Eric Hoffer, Italo Calvino, Daniel Quinn, and Derrick Jensen).

The sad, disillusioned words of the father's character in The Solitaire Mystery make me think first that this trick shouldn't be so hard, but then, with fatigue pressing its fingers over my eyes and shoulders and neck muscles, I remember how difficult it really is to get out of bed in the morning, the fretting about all I have yet to accomplish draped heavily over my body, the assumption already made that this leaden feeling is normal and routine, the initial spark that proclaims, "Look out! This is mystery! This is flammable!," all but forgotten--this spark has usually faded to cold by the time I open my eyes. But, as I mentioned when I recalled I wanted to share this passage with you, it is never too late or never too much of a shock to splash some cold water on one's face and startle oneself into an alert, fully conscious state.

I challenge myself, having re-examined these particular scenes, to live that daily adventure-mystery and to wake up with a bang. Not too forcefully, I challenge you to do the same, as well.

...

From Jostein Gaarder's The Solitaire Mystery (translated by
Sarah Jane Hails; pgs. 153-156 and 167-168):

"After the oracle had assured us we would meet Mama in Athens, we walked further up through the temple site and found an old theatre, which had room for five thousand spectators. From the top of the theatre we looked out over the temple site and right down to the bottom of the valley.

On the way down Dad said, 'There is still something I haven't told you about the Delphic Oracle, Hans Thomas. You know, this place is of great interest to philosophers like us.'

We sat down on some temple remains. It was strange to think they were a couple of thousand years old.

'Do you remember Socrates?' he began.

'Not really,' I had to admit. 'But he was a Greek philosopher.'

'That's right. And first of all I'm going to tell you what the word "philosopher" means...'

I knew this was the beginning of a mini-lecture, and honestly I thought it was a bit much, because the sweat was pouring off my face under the burning sun.

'"Philosopher" means one who seeks wisdom. This does not mean a philosopher is particularly wise, however. Do you understand the difference?'

I nodded.

'The first person to live up to this was Socrates. He walked around the market square in Athens talking to people, but he never instructed them. On the contrary - he spoke to people he met in order to learn something himself. Because "the trees in the country cannot teach me anything," he said. But he was rather disappointed to discover that the people who liked to say they knew a lot really knew nothing at all. They might be able to tell him the day's price of wine and olive oil, but they didn't know anything considerable about life. Socrates readily said himself that he knew only one thing - and that was that he knew nothing.'

'He wasn't very wise, then,' I objected.

'Don't be so hasty,' Dad said sternly. 'If two people haven't a clue about something but one of them gives the impression of knowing a lot, who do you think is the wisest?'

I had to say that the wisest one was the one who didn't give the impression of knowing more than he did.

'So you've got the point. This is exactly what made Socrates a philosopher. He thought it was downright annoying that he didn't know more about life and the world. He felt completely out of it.'

I nodded again.

'And then an Athenian went to the Delphic Oracle and asked Apollo who the wisest man in Athens was. The oracle's answer was Socrates. When Socrates heard this, he was, to put it mildly, rather surprised, because he really thought he didn't know much at all. But after he visited those who were supposed to be wiser than he and asked them a few intelligent questions, he found that the oracle was right. The difference between Socrates and all the others was that the others were satisfied with the little they knew, although they didn't know any more than Socrates. And people who are satisfied with what they know can never be philosophers.'

I thought the story had a point, but Dad didn't stop there. He gestured towards all the tourists swarming out of the tour buses far below and crawling like a fat trail of ants up through the temple site.

'If there is one person among all those who regularly experiences the world as something full of adventure and mystery...'

He now took a deep breath before he continued.

'You can see thousands of people down there, Hans Thomas. I mean, if just one of them experiences life as a crazy adventure - and I mean that he, or she, experiences this every single day...'

'What about it?' I asked now, because again he had stopped in the middle of a sentence.

'Then he or she is a joker in a pack of cards.'

'Do you think there's a joker like that here?

A look of despair now crossed his face. 'Nope!' he said. 'Of course I can't be sure, because there are only a few jokers, but the chance is infinitesimal.'

'What about yourself? Do you experience life as a fairy tale every single day?'

'Yes, I do!'

He was so forthright with his answer I didn't dare argue with him.

'Every single morning I wake with a bang,' he said. 'It's as though the fact that I am alive is injected into me; I am a character in a fairy tale, bursting with life. For who are we, Hans Thomas? Can you tell me that? We are thrown together with a sprinkling of stardust. But what's that? Where the hell does this world come from?'

'Haven't a clue,' I replied, and at that moment I felt just as much out of it as Socrates had.

'Then it sometimes pops up in the evening, ' he continued. 'I am a person living right now, I think to myself. And I'll never return.'

'You live a tough life, then,' I said.

'Tough, yes, but incredibly exciting. I don't need to visit cold castles to go on a ghost hunt. I am a ghost myself.'

'And you worry when your son sees a little ghost outside the cabin window.'

I don't know why I mentioned that, but I thought I had to remind him of what he'd said on the boat the night before.

He just laughed. 'You can handle it,' he replied.

The last thing Dad said about the oracle was that the old Greeks had engraved an inscription into the temple here. It said: 'Know thyself.'

'But that's easier said than done,' he added, mostly to himself."

...

"As usual I got up before Dad, but it wasn't long before his muscles began to twitch.

I decided to see whether it was true that he woke up every single morning with a bang, as he had claimed the day before.

I concluded that he was right, because when he opened his eyes, he really did look pretty startled. He could just as well have woken up in a totally different place - in India, for example, or on a little planet in another galaxy.

'You are a living person,' I said, 'At this moment you are in Delphi. It is a place on earth, which is a living planet at present orbiting a star in the Milky Way. It takes 365 days for this planet to circle this star.'

He stared at me intently, as though his eyes had to adjust to the change from dreamland to the bright reality outside.

'Thanks for the clarification,' he said. 'I normally have to work all that out for myself before I climb out of bed.'

He got up and walked across the room.

'Maybe you should whisper some words of truth like that in my ear every morning, Hans Thomas. It would certainly get me into the bathroom more quickly.'"

...

Keep reading: "We Are Thrown Together with a Sprinkling of Stardust"...

Senegal Reflections, Half a Year Later

The following writings restate verbatim my responses to a mid-year survey about the study abroad program through which I went to Senegal in late December of 2008 and stayed through early January of 2009 (What a fun way to welcome in the New Year, hours ahead of everyone back home, especially with the refreshing, warm climate! -- though actually I was recuperating from a strange ailment while all the other students were celebrating the holiday, an ailment which our professor paranoidally feared signaled cerebral malaria) to study ecovillages, microcredit, and sustainable international development. I had a partly-awkward experience because of several holes in the structure of the course and activities, but overall, I had a great time and had a very valuable, memorable, enriching experience. I wrote about it while I was there, occasionally spoke of it or reflected on it in the intervening months, and now it seems I should get to writing about it again. So much came to my attention in the three weeks I spent there in West Africa that I can't possibly have done justice to it in my record of events. At last, I have a beginning to more reflection, tempered and distanced to a much better degree than it could have been while I was mired in the immediacy of it all:

9. What do you feel you got out of your experience? How have your thoughts about this evolved in the past six months?

Well, I got to experience a predominantly Muslim country, keeping what's left of three semesters of Arabic training from slipping away.

I got to see how inefficient micro-lending practices can be around the world and got to think up other ways of running things. From something Marian said to me about international sustainable development, I started thinking a lot about the pitfalls of both facilitating sustainable development, presumptively, at a distance, without concern for the villagers' needs, as well as of complete villager-only participation (which falls into the trap of "tyranny of the majority," and which I actually experienced, to my dismay, on my village visits, having been told I would have something to contribute; it taught me a lot about humility and about accepting being irrelevant to a process, the results of which in the future won't exactly affect me anyway).

I also learned a bit of French, a bit about Senegalese history and politics, and experienced first-hand a world in which feminism, as we think of it in the West, has had little influence (though women are always lauded as the hardest workers, this also means that the men give themselves an excuse to do less and lump more work on the women). I was able to examine a lot of the assumptions about mandatory schooling, and I constantly witnessed misconceptions of the United States. Dining was completely different, albeit exciting, as was navigating the various bathroom facilities. I think I could go on for a while, but the point is I gained a great deal of insight and unique experiences from the course abroad.

My thinking about all this evolved from utter disillusionment, homesickness and then joy to be back in the States, and disappointment with the organization of the course, content, and student interactions, to acceptance of what actually happened during the course (as contrasted with what I'd expected to happen, though that itself was fuzzy) and an appreciation overall for the experience I gained in Senegal. It re-invigorated my motivation to completely invalidate the typical world-changing processes (ineffective and belligerent activism, an environment-only focus strangely dismissive of humans in complicated situations, unacknowledged and faulty assumptions) by different means (focusing on tribes--extant, re-emerging, and emerging--, the science and anthropology of what has actually been sustainable behavior through time, political ecology, social justice, un-oppressive education and a change of vision, and a saner way of raising children and a saner way of living in general).

I also went and read Mariama Ba's So Long a Letter because I was curious about literature from Senegal accessible in English and about what her take on the woman's role in Senegalese society would be (I was not at all disappointed by this wonderful book - many recommendations for this to be used in the course, for the Senegalese and the Americans to discuss together, beyond making posters of cultural stereotypes).

10. Looking back now, what do you feel are important things to share with prospective/current students on this program?

"You will get much more out of this particular program if you expect it to be more of an anthropology course about experiencing the day-to-day differences in a culture partially different from our own. Ecovillages in Senegal pretty much mean 'traditional villages' and even 'suburbs that just twenty years ago used to be villages,' with a small handful of people trying to balance the lust for development, in the style of the highly-industrialized countries, with environmental concerns. As for micro-lending, you will only be disappointed by how the process actually only seems to award one project at a time and leave other important projects in the dust, or, at best, incomplete. This disappointment means you will be doubly disappointed by how it feels that all your work in meetings and on loan applications is completely useless and pointless, especially when the Senegalese students insist on doing almost everything without you. You will not have a real say in the meetings, you will not be able to communicate your suggestions about environmental consciousness such that it at all affects the project to which the loan application applies, and you will not be allowed to defend the loan to a committee because you speak English in a French-speaking country, though you will at least learn what the lines on the loan application ask for."

11. What three issues are most important in your life right now?

1. Creating a healthy living situation
2. Living simply
3. Gaining skills/knowledge

I would have chosen such different responses if they didn't limit the choices to a pre-programmed list!

16. Please comment on how you think we could make this survey better.

As I think I said when I completed the survey before the course (did not have a chance to complete it immediately after the course, in the bustle of leaving and upon returning to the states, diving into Spring semester classes right away), the bubble portion asks really stilted questions, to which, knowing the "agree" or "disagree" or "neutral" answer alone can't possibly explain what the person taking the survey is thinking and might be more effective if room for explanation was offered for some of the more conflicted questions. For me, I get really hung up on the questions that feel like they're coming from an unrealistic, utopia-centric mindset, such as "making the world a better place," which is a very poorly defined concept that denies how humans lived without difficulty for millions of years before the Agricultural Revolution catastrophe, and which sounds like it assumes that such a better place involves the complete lack of violence or change, which, as I said, is unrealistic, and rather silly/laughable. Likewise, questions referring to "nature," a "sustainable world," "foreign" and "exotic," etc. really get under my skin, and I tend to forfeit them as "don't agree or disagree" because the words (themselves implicated notions) get in the way of answering what the writer of the question likely intended. What is meant by sustainability? Why doesn't nature included people (I mean, yes, I'm concerned about ecosystem and habitat destruction, but I am also concerned about the destruction of healthy societal organizations and human relationships that accompanies such destruction - looking at nature holistically). Those kinds of things...I apologize if that's much too analytical and negative; those things just make me feel really queasy about the survey, making me want to know how it's used, why, etc..

Keep reading: Senegal Reflections, Half a Year Later...

The Quiltmaker's Gift

To wrap up Kid's Week, which it seems I must do, much to my disappointment (What fun this has been, keeping me on my toes and keeping me mostly accountable - still a bit of slight back-dating, but I'm getting the hang of routine blogging!), I share with you one of the loveliest, gentlest, most cheering children's books in existence, The Quiltmaker's Gift!

Author Jeff Brumbeau tells one of the most gripping children's stories about giving, punctuated with gorgeous illustrations by artist Gail de Marcken.

Together with the similar themes of...

A Gift for the Christ Child, a book about a child growing up with mild depravity (After all, how much do you need to have enough? In other words, what constitutes "enough"?) in a South American country (Guatemala, I believe), who nevertheless passes what little he has to the Christ Child, perceived as having even less (which may very well be true for a congregation in South America - uy, church politics and finance!),

and

The Christmas Moccasins, Ray Buckley's illustration of the power of forgiveness, reconciliation, and a resilient giving spirit, a story which will throw you off kilter, destabilize your idea of an idyllic children's fable (Did you forget about the Brothers Grimm?), with its tale about a young boy and his aged grandmother who, on their walk home one winter's night, encounter a small band of rash, disaffected adolescents and suffer injuries from the violence of these shameless youths, which tale also serves as testament to the incredible power of unwavering love, compassion, care, and understanding (For how much introspection and insight does it take to see in another's brazen, blazing, blinded behavior a violence far deeper than that found in this individual alone, in his or her capacity for hatred and senseless impulsiveness, a violence that has slowly ignited such a one into this rage?),

...also books of sharing, the stark message of The Quiltmaker's Gift inspires gratitude and kindness. The story of generosity shines brighter with every delicate and different telling!

The Quiltmaker's Gift threw me with its social justice themes, most evident as the King explores a broader --poorer, but also fuller-- world outside his palace walls, slipping off another layer of superficiality until he has less than nothing and so has begun growing into a truer appreciation for the gift of life. A Gift for the Christ Child shook me with its simple story and stunning, devoted characters. Christmas Moccassins threw me with the extent to which the violence written into our culture did not escape the focused scope of a children's book, with its piercing telling of the realities of darkness. The accompanying illustrations to all of these stories transformed their already strong impression and mesmerizing radiance into sparkling beauties.

No doubt when you find yourself (or someone you know) lacking in vibrancy, joy, and confidence, or in overall invigoration, these giving stories will splash youthful spirit over you, like cold water solidifying a day, stunning with its spark of awareness, giving voice to the preciousness of life in a very visceral way, giving, giving, always giving, until one day, we give ourselves back, having not simply exhausted the gift but having also splintered off pieces of that gift along the way and passed them along to others by means of a quiet generosity (I find myself reminded, as often happens, of the way the father in Jostein Gaarder's The Solitaire Mystery always greets a new day, which approach I will now have to dig up for you to share the relevant passages!).

Join me tomorrow for my half-a-year-later assessment of my course on microfinance and ecovillages in Senegal, and later on, as well, for notes on the spectrum of sustainable lifestyles, the clamor for energy efficiency, recent developments on the genetic front, and the way to greet a day mentioned above.

Keep reading: The Quiltmaker's Gift...

More Ancient Television

There are a lot of better presentations on the water cycle available, and I actually remember the friction episode from abc's old Saturday morning cartoon, Science Court, more than this water cycle trial, because I didn't know what friction was before I saw their amusing skating-rink illustration. In any case, as much as Science Court is made up of rough-draft-quality drawings, silly gags (watch for the defense lawyer's incident with the legal scales, the stenographer's never-exactly-typing stenography, and the awkward professor), and quirkiness that often enough falls flat (which explains the show's short-lived existence pretty well), it also explains basic concepts of the legal process and science to children in a unique way. I'm not sure how engaging it is across the board, but I know my aversion to the show's animation quality, which at the time surprised me (They were able to get away with that and put it on television, rather than going back to the drawing board?), actually got me to watch it out of a sickened curiosity and pick up a couple kernels of knowledge from it, as a result! I wish more of the episodes were available online because I would probably not have chosen this one to share otherwise. Alas, today we have this introduction to a potential "edutainment" (such a ridiculous word!) tool:

Keep reading: More Ancient Television...

Top Ten

A Top Ten of Educational Resources for Youngsters

10. Metropolitan Museum online

9. Exploratorium



8. The Anti-Coloring Book(s)

7. San Diego Zoo website







6. My Daddy is a Pretzel

5. Classical Music resources online:
Sphinx Kids , Classics for Kids ,
DSO Kids , Creative Kids




4. Hey Kids, You're Cookin' Now!:

A Global Awareness Cooking Adventure

3. Journey to Planet Earth



2. David Suzuki & Kids

(also, a promising Sustainable Education site)

1. Free the Children

_ _ _ _

Keep reading: Top Ten...

Ayiti!

Yesterday, I wrote about some games that help build financial savvy and geographic awareness. Well, what about a game that combines a bit of those things with social justice skills and planning prowess, and even teaches kids about what sorts of things are essential for health and well-being?

Introducing Ayiti! I absolutely adore this game, partly written by a group of great youngsters themselves.


You have to balance this Haitian family's monthly finances with their emotional and physical needs, the swing of the seasons, available work and education, and their altruistic endeavors to enhance the basic offerings in their town (through a library, night classes, a soccer field, UNICEF initiatives, and the like). It's a perfect holistic game to help kids (who live in countries affluent enough to offer access to internet games) understand one form of day-to-day life in less-affluent locales, while also nudging kids to consider their own life choices and the requirements of a healthy routine.

While looking for an image of the game, I read a blog post that said it's been called "the most depressing game ever," but I think it's still kid-suitable. Of course, it's a good project in itself to research the complex history of Haiti, from the independence won by Toussaint L'Ouverture to the political roller-coaster suffered by the country ever since (but especially in the past century), as well as explore the richness of artistic expression it has inspired (Of course, the first thing that comes to mind is Edwidge Danticat's powerful Krik? Krak!, along with her other works, the most recent of which is an autobiographical book, titled Brother, I'm Dying, but I also think of Alejo Carpentier's El Reino De Este Mundo, or The Kingdom of This World, translated in one recent edition by Harriet de Onís, not-quite-incidentally featuring an introduction by Danticat).

When I read Caryl Churchill's play Cloud Nine years ago, it had very much the feel of being set in Haiti, but of course it actually takes a cheeky, gender-bending, subversive look at British colonialism in Africa, which of course doesn't feel that, that different from Spanish colonialism in South America and elsewhere, Portuguese colonialism in Brasil, and French colonialism in places like Haiti. One of the most interesting things I learned about Lewis and Clark through Academic Decathlon's 2003-2004 SuperQuiz topic (Oh, the insanity of high school!) was that the loss of New World goods imported from Haiti to France prompted Napoleon to less grudgingly (and so, more readily) sell the Louisiana purchase and give away the bulk of France's claim to the Americas (Gosh, it sounds so obvious now! I mean, I can only think, "Of course France left! Without a tropical, and hence highly productive, country as a stronghold in the New World, why bother?"). I had an idea back then in 2004 to write a book of poems from the perspectives of all the politicians involved in the dealings, at the turn of the nineteenth century, because, after all, back then, it was not a sealed deal and people could still have imagined the United States as remaining always that Eastern sliver of the continent, a fraction of its current size, which would give me plenty of creative elbow-room to imagine the different courses America could have taken from that defining historical moment. As with most things I wish I could spend my time working on now, I've indefinitely postponed this fun, ambitious project.

Well, it looks as though I've strayed a bit from my initial raving about the game. ¡Hasta pronto!

Keep reading: Ayiti!...

Tough Love

Can you call to mind the number of elementary school kids and middle school students you know, or have known, who have something against math, geography, economics, science, or otherwise "tough" subjects? The number shoots up into the stratosphere, doesn't it? Well, what can the well-meaning do to encourage love of these demonized subjects? Here you have some of my ideas:

Cool Math for Kids - This was big back in my day!

Learn about Personal Finance with DebtSki!

Investment Games: Option 1: UpDown, Option 2: Virtual Stock Exchange, Option 3: The Stock Market Game, and Option 4: YoungMoney

Test Your Map Know-How

A Great Variety of Geography Quizzes (including rivers, lakes, mountains, landmarks, etc.!)

Geosense, a Geography Game (competitive)

Geography Bee (10 questions a day)

Crayon Physics - Very addictive and overall wonderful! (I'm still researching other great science games around.)

Don't worry, I'm really hooked on this series so you'll see more links to games and resources here in the future! And remember, as I said at the outset, there's no harm in indulging in "child's play" when we're apparently supposed to be stuffy adults! Cheers!

Keep reading: Tough Love...

Zen Buddhism for Kids

Kid Week, Installment #2.


I had a conversation in the recent past with a friend, about a friend, in which it came to light that this mutual friend in our friend circle had become flustered with not only Buddhism, but all organized religion in toto, because of latent gender inequality, deeply woven into the fabric of these belief systems. I am not familiar with the specific problems with gender inequality in Zen Buddhism (I recall the problem has something to do with stoicism and militarism, as well as the combination thereof, tied up in the premises of Zen practice), but it certainly doesn't surprise me it would be there (I'm - short, of course, for "I am" - so failing at E-prime right now!). And there are, of course, lots of other reasons to get flustered by organized religion, its implicated relationship to oppressive power, perpetuating and replicating inequalities of all sorts through its hierarchical interstices of power and its many un-interrogated, unexploded, underlying assumptions.

In any case, on the surface, basic Zen Buddhist ideas can be very meaningful for children growing up in the frenetic industrialized culture common to America and Japan, Thailand and India. Perhaps it does not always manifest in its industrialized iteration, but obviously, any place where Buddhism is practiced, so is our culture. Simplicity, transcendence, rebirth, compassion, calm - these virtues and notions aren't unique to Buddhism, but depicted in simple allegories and vivid images, they provide an especial balm for frantic children growing up in a super-neurotic culture.

And so, some zen stories accessible online...


Zen Stories to tell your neighbors



101 Zen Stories




And in the category of children's books, here's a collected treasury of Zen Buddhist wisdom in art-book form, perfect for introducing the novice to a whole different way of approaching the world's beauty, its wondering elements, the fantastic speed of slowness, the joys of stillness, quiet, silence, emptiness, available from both the premier bookstore of the major world religions, Soul Desires, and your local independent bookstore. Happy travels and indulgences!


Zen Shorts,












Buddhist Animal Wisdom Stories,

Samsara Dog,












Zen Ties,












Three Questions,

The Sun in My Belly,












Tibet: Through the Red Box,












Peaceful Piggy Meditation,

Journey to the Heart,












and All the Way to Lhasa.

On the theme of how Zen can and does intersect with Christianity (visible in all these books, but especially on the children's book on centering prayer) ...The labyrinth from Chartres Cathedral meets a peaceful piggy (looking initially quite disgruntled)...

May calm and stillness fill your day!

Keep reading: Zen Buddhism for Kids...

Histeria! and the CommuNuts!

Kid Week, Installment #1. HISTERIA!

Oh yes, this is a week to bring out the capitals, the big booming voices, the lack of inhibitions! (How many four year-old's do you know who have already gotten strangled by nit-picky social mores? That's what I thought!) We'll bring along our love of simply running around, screaming inanities at the top of our lungs, giggling, innocently kidding (half-intentional pun) around with our friends, throwing our bodies at the ground, with gigantic smiles crawling across our mouths, apple juice running down our chins!

[Heads up!: The Theme Song of Histeria, below, is flanked by some quick but annoying AOL-produced fluff. I don't know how else to describe it.]



Today, the Histeria! "histerians" tackle Marxist and Stalinist communism both. Now if only my Russian grandparents could understand the beauty of these cartoons! It really is amazing that the WB ever aired this nuanced, almost subversive (as in ridiculously tongue-in-cheek and quite clamorous), kids' show. It seems almost better cut out for an adult audience, but as you may have noted in my profile, I loved this short-lived show as a kid. Of course, I wasn't your typical ten year-old.

...Anyway, they (my grandparents) can no longer distinguish between what's written in The Communist Manifesto and the frightening government bureaucracies they grew up with. And who can really blame them? My Great-Aunt Isa, after all, never left the mental institution after making a feisty remark about Khrushchev in her young adult years. I believe it was Khrushchev. It might've been Bulganin or Breschev, though. Sometime in the 50's probably, when she was probably a twenty-something. (How I adore Wikipedia's interactive political tables!) The brazen-ness of the women in my family could not exactly be considered an asset in Soviet Russia.

If I had grown up in that era, I'd probably have already been flung in a jail cell and shipped off to Siberia by now. Very sobering. Yay freedom! ...!? ...Right? (Side note: Do you realize the vast quantity of things in relation to which we use the verb "to ship" these days, things that have nothing to do with sea-faring vessels? Every form of package transport is considered "shipping." But just imagine the end result if we sent kiwis to the Midwest on ships and steamboats? It's really fascinating to me, as I only recently, as in the last week or so, started paying such close attention to the language behind the now-predominant, fossil-fueled, industry-powered lifestyle.)

Okay, moving on. What I love about these clips/my reasons to watch 'em: Marx, for the menacing look on his face and for the absolutely hysterical finale. Stalin, for the look on Miss Information's (great name, eh?) face when she describes the legacy of torture "Iron Joe" left behind, for the contradictory and anachronistic Fifties Housewife mom (like a deranged Grace Kelly, actually), the handful of gems she spits out (literally, at least one of those times!), the depiction of Joe's rise to power, the WB sit-com, and the little girl who asks why people didn't do anything to stop him.

With no further ado, some "edutainment"--history presented by the unlikely means of comedy.





Hope that put a smile (partly composed of horror, of course) on your face!

Keep reading: Histeria! and the CommuNuts!...

Kid Week

Because I'm so behind on posts, I'm going to post in smaller snippets around a theme. The theme? KIDS! That's right. Childhood! Fun! Glee!

Yes, I'm serious. I think we all need to spend some time indulging our "child-like wonder" (as a best friend likes to put it). So why put it off?

Keep reading: Kid Week...

"Glorious Beyond Expression And Beyond Thought"

My favorite Berkeley quote (all emphases in the original). Hoorah for the real, proper idealist, in the full sense of the word ...and for theology that can still stand up to our contemporary scruples. (For those who do not know, people often boil his philosophy down to "We are all just ideas in the mind of God!") I definitely think with heavy skepticism in most situations, especially those that instinctively make me feel uneasy (such as in a short interaction yesterday with a gutter salesman who was exceedingly schmaltzy, my uneasiness exacerbated more so when my grandmother did not seem "plussed" when he tried to sell her windows, too!, and imposed on the interior space of the house, when he was only expected to work on the gutters, outside!), but not like the skeptic in his Three Dialogues.

Philonous:

"Look! are not the fields covered with a delightful verdure? Is there not something in the woods and groves, in the rivers and clear springs, that soothes, that delights, that transports the soul? At the prospect of the wide and deep ocean, or some huge mountain whose top is lost in the clouds, or of an old gloomy forest, are not our minds filled with a pleasing horror? Even in rocks and deserts, is there not an agreeable wildness? How sincere a pleasure it is to behold the natural beauties of the earth! to preserve and renew our relish for them, is not the veil of night alternately drawn over her face, and doth she not change her dress with the seasons? How aptly are the elements disposed! What variety and use in the meanest production of nature! What delicacy, what beauty, what contrivance in animal and vegetable bodies! How exquisitely are all things suited as well to their particular ends, as to constitute opposite parts of the whole! and while they mutually aid and support, do they not also set off and illustrate each other? Raise now your thoughts that adorn the high arch of heaven. The motion and order? Were those (miscalled erratic) globes ever known to stray, in their repeated journeys through the pathless void? Do they not measure areas round the sun ever proportioned to the times? So fixed, so immutable are the laws by which the unseen Author of nature actuates the universe. How vivid and radiant is the lustre of the fixed stars! how magnificent and rich that negligent profusion, with which they appear to be scattered throughout the whole azure vault! yet if you take the telescope, it brings into your sight a new host of stars that escape the naked eye. Here they seem contiguous and minute, but to a nearer view immense orbs of light at various distances, far sunk in the abyss of space. Now you must call imagination to your aid. The feeble narrow sense cannot descry innumerable worlds revolving round the central fires; and in those worlds the energy of an all-perfect mind displayed in endless forms. But neither sense nor imagination are big enough to comprehend the boundless extent with all its glittering furniture. Though the labouring mind exert and strain each power to its utmost reach, there still stands out ungrasped a surplusage immeasurable. Yet all the vast bodies that compose this mighty frame, how distant and remote soever, are by some secret mechanism, some divine art and force, linked in a mutual dependence and intercourse with each other, even with this earth, which was almost slipped from my thoughts, and lost in the crowd of worlds. Is not the whole system immense, beautiful, glorious beyond expression and beyond thought? What treatment then do those philosphers deserve, who would deprive these noble and delightful scenes of all reality? How should those principles be entertained, that lead us to think all the visible beauty of the creation a false imaginary glare? To be plain, can you expect this scepticism of yours will not be thought extravagantly absurd by all men of sense?"

followed shortly by:

"...To me it is evident, for the reasons you allow of, that sensible things cannot exist otherwise than in a mind of spirit. Whence I conclude, not that they have no real existence, but that seeing they depend not on my thought, and have an existence distinct from being perceived by me, there must be some other mind wherein they exist. As sure therefore as the sensible world really exists, so sure is there an infinite, omnipresent Spirit who contains and supports it."

...to be continued!

Keep reading: "Glorious Beyond Expression And Beyond Thought"...

Living from Hand to Mouth

"He who cannot draw on three thousand years
is living from hand to mouth."

- Goethe

I've been thinking a bit about the epigraph to Jostein Gaarder's Sophie's World (above).

Several notes:

1. It's definitely a poignant statement about what happens when people don't bother to learn from history (in terms of the lessons about stupid ideas, things to never do again), or at least learn about history (in order to advance with new ideas rather than repetitive ones).
2. Sophie's World might have been the first seminal work in the development of my ideology, but coupled with the second, Ishmael, it becomes clear that three thousand years is a little arbitrary in terms of human history (4 million for species' existence, perhaps 1 million, 60,000 by conservative estimates, of modern-day mettle). Why did Goethe fixate on the three thousand-year mark tied up with perhaps the origins of Abrahamic faiths and their whirlwind push around the planet?
3. What in heaven's name is wrong with living from hand to mouth? Requiring less--remember? God forbid any group live simply on meagre (by the standards of our over-consumptive culture) but plentiful (by the standards of tribal cultures, which term Quinn claims, in Write Sideways, he should have settled for in place of the shorthand of "Leavers" in Ishmael, those who leave their fates in the hands of the gods--a concept he also hashes out, clarifies, in Write Sideways) means! (Apologies on the painful parentheticals!)

Keep reading: Living from Hand to Mouth...

Missionaries

I met some Mormon missionaries today on the walk back down to the house from the end of the trail, where I'd finished my run. I caught sight of them down the block before they approached me, initially hoping that if I didn't make eye contact and stayed on my (opposite) side of the street, they wouldn't approach me. Well, that proved impossible, perhaps our encounter even seems inevitable, since they were missionaries after all.

I decided to speak to them cordially, acknowledging their human-ness as with any other fresh interaction with strangers. I have a hard enough time as it is curbing my mean-spirited streak, attitude-heavy. Before they spoke, I contemplated making some mention, rather unpleasant and not even accurate or deferential (to indigenous spiritual practice), that I believed in and practiced the original Native American spiritual traditions already, and in their proper form, thank you.

They went through what felt like an excruciatingly long introduction (since I had already taxonomized them) about being from a church in town, missionaries from The. Church. of. Jesus. Christ......(excruciatingly long pause).......of Latter Day Saints. Did I have time, blah blah blah.

I came up with the following response (not my best, but afterwards I considered how I might respond in the future, and nothing nearly as cordial or fitting came to mind; for instance, "I am a student of philosophy and theology and have spent plenty of time studying questions of faith. At this time, I feel perfectly comfortable and content with my own spiritual experience and so do not feel I need to hear any new message. Thank you. Good day." And perhaps even one day, I could say "Actually, I've read The Book of Mormon" and then see what happens!): "Well, I'm not really in a position to hear such a message right now [I had hoped my disheveled appearance from finishing a jog would have spoken well enough for itself, such that they wouldn't approach me, for apparently being out of place and not near a home in which they could speak to me, yet somehow they weren't dissuaded], but I've met with groups of missionaries in the past [which was perfectly true]. Sorry."

Then the guy asking said to me (it really felt as though he were about to fall apart), "Do you at least happen to know anybody around who might be willing to hear our message?"

Not a regular resident of the area, I had to deny them this, but I offered that perhaps since it was a nice summer evening, and there were plenty of people out enjoying it, they would find someone who was. And I wished them a nice evening.

Another exchange, in which they asked if there was anything they could do for me (I found this a bit odd, off-kilter), a bit of grandiose gesturing from me dismissing this strange inquiry, and another smiley, breathy, "No, no, I just hope you enjoy your evening."

Missionary work was one of the first big turn offs for me from the Baptist church in which I grew up, and in an extension of that swearing off, a dismissal of all of Christianity as a whole, for a time. I have chronicled my spiritual journey elsewhere, though perhaps it's time to bring it back to the foreground here in my blog. Anyhow, my early inklings as a history and anthropology student instilled in me much guilt for living just past an old creek bed in a house where no house used to sit and tribes used to roam freely, and it also aroused much suspicion and disdain in my being when, at Children's Sermon, a special interlude in the service where the pastor spoke to the kids, who came forward and gathered round for stories, magic tricks, puppets, and all sorts of marvelous, enticing stuff, little pieces of cardboard were produced, which could be turned into little houses or plain boxes with lots of colorful print about religiously-oriented mission work in places like India, quickly-assembled cardboard piggy banks to donate to such abomination organizations.

This bothered me to no end. Did not the people of India already have Hinduism, a perfectly valid religion, to follow reverently in their land? (At this time, nuances about the populations of Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, and other spiritual minorities or sects in India did not have especial prominence in my knowledge.) In any case, it was a step on my way to being swept up with Daniel Quinn's writing, which wove together so much of the uneasy feelings I'd already developed about the trajectory and ambitions of this culture into a coherent, acceptable (to me) whole. Missionaries rely on archaic views of the Other and what exactly that other needs in terms of assistance in physical and spiritual nourishment, and otherwise.

There was a lot of interesting material in the most recent part that I read of If They Give You Lined Paper, Write Sideways about several common misconceptions of reality tied to Christianity, old premises that don't hold up to scrutiny, a topic I felt pleasantly surprised to find Quinn addressing, as I've spent so much of my time since Ishmael learning about logic, partly to find how Quinn fits into the intellectual precedent as a writer not officially of academic books, though heavily grounded in the findings of biology, anthropology, history, etc..

Keep reading: Missionaries...

"The Turfgrass Subject"

"[W]hereas the aesthetic of the lawn may be old, indeed ancient, the turfgrass subject is new: the urban person who is concerned about nature but uses chemicals, who supports the Kyoto Protocol but drives an SUV, who recycles fervently while constantly wasting more and more,"

writes leading political ecology writer Paul Robbins in his book, Lawn People: How Grasses, Weeds, and Chemicals Make Us Who We Are, and continues,

"Rather than condescendingly dismissing such inconsistencies as 'cognitive dissonance' as is common to apolitical critique, the book advances an alternative, which emphasizes the range of constraints on our alternatives and that stresses the way the biochemical machines we make increasingly make us who we are."

Keep reading: "The Turfgrass Subject"...

Globalization, a Millenia-Long Process

"Globalization isn't a recent policy; it's been in place among us for thousands of years."

This one's obvious, but for whatever reason, often escapes the awareness of those bringing it up in a discussion. Globalization sounds to many like a process no more than maybe twenty years old because it wasn't discussed so much before then. That doesn't erase the processes of transformation that dispersed humans across the globe and the very incendiary processes that dispersed the culture borne of the Agricultural Revolution 10,000 or so years ago. Daniel Quinn's writing in Ishmael helped me understand this simple concept years ago, and I especially liked how he put this in If They Give You Lined Paper, Write Sideways.

Keep reading: Globalization, a Millenia-Long Process...

Coming Soon...

Watch out for posts on 

Unschooling

Theatre and Spatial Regulation

Comics and Eschatology

The Revolution of Un

Priorities or Programs?

Five Years Post-Ish

Guerilla Gardening

Jenson's Endgame (Premises)

--all coming soon!

I said I would update at least daily, and I'm having quite the time adjusting to that schedule and responsibility, but I wanted to say that I definitely intend on keeping to that promise. I might be a little behind right now; however, I absolutely have plans about which musings to share with you next. Hang in there!

Keep reading: Coming Soon......

Reflections on Pacifism

A couple disclaimers: I've discovered that to reply to Derrick Jensen's premises alone presents some hefty work. I have a lot to say and quite the difficult time organizing how to say it. The university library nearby has a copy so I will soon look into the full scope of Endgame for myself, but other excerpts from the book are also available on the book's website. Since I have so much to say and have not found an easy way to communicate it, and also since I promised I'd be more consistent about posting, I'm going to pick the simplest and shortest of the premises and whittle away at that for you now. I don't have too too much to say about this premise, as I do about the others. I suppose as I read the book and see how Jensen expounds on these premises, I will have the ability to offer my response to the premises from another vantage point.

Premise Fifteen: Love does not imply pacifism.

I'd like to know exactly what Jensen intends to imply here. Does he mean to say that there are many different kinds of love, some mixed up, contentious, violent, conflictual, imbalanced, detached, overbearing, balanced, distant, unemotional, and on and on? When I sometimes indulge my cheesy side, I can still hear Edmund in the Mansfield Park movie declare, "There are as many kinds of love as there are moments in time." We can leap from disassociating love from pacifism to talking about domestic violence and other conflicted love/non-pacifism combinations. Would Jensen like to just hop on the bandwagon here and declare that love does not imply pacifism because a devoted husband can still turn and kill his wife in a rage, or vice versa?

Pacifism itself... Part of me definitely admires Dorothy Day's Catholic Worker movement; the long history of civil disobedience (connecting such figureheads as Jesus of Nazareth, Leo Tolstoy, Henry David Thoreau, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and their devotees); and the refrain of "Peace, love, and justice" that inspired so much enthusiastic protest and creative (though eventually it turned destructive, apathetic, meaningless, or ineffective) action in America during the sixties (with quite the lead-in from the fifties). There are some aspects of the hippie worldview that, in a certain light, on certain days, are pretty cool--groovy, even (My father and his students would like to bring back the word so there you have my little effort). However, I don't see violence as something to overcome, even as something to wish to overcome. I think the destructive impulse resides in each of us, and mostly, we just have to figure out how best to use that capacity, to understand why we choose to use it for whichever particular reason.

I did, in fact, at one point have little interest in hearing anything directed away from a goal of something akin to "Peace on earth (and mercy mild)." But then I read Ishmael, and just as the voice on the cover (Jim Britell of the Whole Earth Review) predicted, I would end up dividing my life up into the books "I read before Ishmael and those read after." Having read Ishmael, I saw everything I encountered through the vocabulary of concepts I had made acquaintance with in Quinn's work. Not only did I continue with a lifelong impulse to question everything (already enforced the same year I was introduced to Quinn by a reading of Plato's "Allegory of the Cave"), but I questioned everything through an anthropological, evolutionary lens, with the unassuming but explosive question, "What kinds of other ways to live did and do Leavers have that get obscured by 'one right way to live' thinking?" at the forefront. Violence was certainly an integral part of life for every human culture, in some form, for, after all, even incredibly pacifistic cultures have to fend for themselves and survive somehow (broader discussions of violence and survival arise here - more material for later!). Hence Quinn's "erratic retaliator" strategy (Also more on this later; You can pretty much assume that any concept I introduce which isn't common knowledge, or on which my take isn't fully clear, I will note the instance myself and come back to it with explanations later, in future posts, eventually). So is this what Jensen is getting at? Pacifism is not the ultimate, the grandest goal for humanity as a whole (Why humanity as a whole would need a common goal is beyond me anyway, at least nowadays, this many years post-Ishmael), the greatest bit of "progress." Love and pacifism are not synonymous. You can have love as an ideal without getting it mixed up with pacifism.

He could have intended so much by this teensy phrasing. And in the end, he does imply a boatload. So what does he mean by it? I will let you know once I latch onto a copy of the book!

Keep reading: Reflections on Pacifism...

Fourth of July

Tonight I watched the original fireworks.
Little specks of sun, falling
like confused embers
conspiring against gravity.

Upwards, up, up, out of the grass,
they danced, moving up just like miniature
fireworks, little lights on a string, first invisible,
then transformed into bright booming beauties,

Exploding, silent, without the death-chemicals
to give them their tinsel glow,
and how brilliantly they glimmer,
over dogwoods and tree stumps!

"The comfort of fireflies...
long gone before daylight," croon The Cardigans,
croon the synchronized flitters,
a song etched in every ribbon-y flight.

Under a red and blue and red and blue
and bluish white striped sky,
surrounded by the miniature winged flash bulbs,
I feel placid, gleeful, wordlessly content.

This twilight scene, ancient, imbued with timeless beauty,
makes me think there's never been
a glistening as beautiful as that summer sight,
or ever will there be.

Keep reading: Fourth of July...

If There's No Such Thing As Away...

If there's no such thing as away, how come that's where all the blame goes? (Non-E-prime statements, obviously. In fact, the rest of the post doesn't follow E-prime strictures, either, not until I have time to edit out the verbs, "that is.")

I want to share a quote I uncovered in Janine Benyus's marvelous book, Biomimicry: Innovation Inspired By Nature (I mistyped the subtitle--well, typed in a subtitle of a different book--"Remaking the Way We Make Things," which actually corresponds to another delightful, world-changing book, William McDonough and Michael Braungart's Cradle to Cradle). I'd started hearing myself say repeatedly to myself and others how this book was becoming steadily obsolete, twelve years since initial publication now, but really, the message of this book hasn't reached a wide-enough audience. Sure, the science might have progressed...

(Start parenthetical rant:) Solar cells are now something like 43% efficient, but she quotes, in an epigraph to a chapter, a news release dating from 1994!, that states, and I'm including the whole thing, too, because it's an adorable quote, as well, though not quite the original focus of my post:

"'Pond scum' may be a synonym for 'primitive,' but the tiny organisms that compose it easily beat the human state of the art when it comes to capturing energy from the sun. Some purple bacteria answering to that unflattering description use light energy with almost 95% efficiency--more than four times that of the best man-made solar cells."

On one level, this says a lot about the inaccuracies and false assumptions underlying the capacities of "primitive," a word that traces its etymology to the un-stigmatized concept of beginnings, one-ness, originations...prime, primal, first. However, it also reminds us that the scientific and inventive processes of agricultural-industrial civilization are just that -- innovative. We may have detached ourselves from many useful instincts, but civilization is not a cut-and-dried failure to discard immediately, without looking back, as some, such as primitivist author Derrick Jensen, encourage, and at all haste, at that. (Hmm...I have a lot to say about his Premises to his most recent work, Endgame, Vol. 1: The Problem of Civilization; Vol.2: Resistance, which complete work I have not yet had a chance to read, only this year having gotten around to A Language Older Than Words, a strange, sometimes loony, sometimes beautiful, powerful, poetic, ruminative work. As such, I think I might just discuss my qualms with those premises tomorrow.) Our culture has some awfully amazing accomplishments to its credit, and it continues to achieve them, as in more and more highly-efficient solar cells with better and better low-cost production. Though, of course, we should stop a second, as with any thought process in our consumerism-run-amok society, and ponder, "Do we really want to figure out how to make things better (Well, yes, the confluence of dismal planetary situations needs amelioration and remediation, but for our purposes here, I meant 'better things'), or would we end up better off if we learned once more how to require less?"

Requiring less has really bugged me a lot lately. Everything seems tied up in ways to get us to want more, and I feel this very acutely, half-trapped in these processes I do not wish to condone, not consciously, at least, as with any condonation. (With condone defined as "giv[ing ] tacit approval to" and tacit defined as "understood without being openly expressed; implied," using dictionary.com/Random House Dictionary. No, no, not doubting the intelligence of my readers, just getting a refresher myself. A long time now has passed since I had to worry about my words so carefully, to alleviate, by my worrying, such looming nightmares--not really--as the SAT. The crucial lesson of humility reminds us that it never hurts to learn the same lesson twice, multiple times, even. How's this for an exercise in meditation, the perception of relative urgencies: Try feigning ignorance next time your boss tells you how to do a routine task you've executed competently for what seems like forever. Perhaps she or he will offer insight or nuance to the task. Forgive this person, this other being, for doubting you. As a result, perhaps you'll find you've expanded your repertoire, if not in the nuance of the skill, at least in the limits of your patience. And godspeed!) My thinking about this has a lot to do with my recent reading of a small but feisty young-adult novel a friend passed on to me last month. Titled The Gospel According to Larry, this story involves a young man whose alter-ego goes haywire, the culture(s) surrounding his alter-ego, actually. Nevertheless, he stays true to the core tenets of his voluntarily simplistic lifestyle. He owns a mere seventy-five possessions! If he acquires something new, he either has to pass it along or send another of his belongings on its way. If he feels tempted to purchase a new item, he has to grapple long and hard with how much the item is really worth cluttering up his life just that bit more. I've felt incredibly jaded the last couple years. Something about this book, combined with this summer of productivity and other changes to my life this year, compels me to make more of an effort to simplify my life, perhaps even down to this drastic measure. Why not? (End rant; back to the initial point...)

(A refresher: I had started saying, "Sure, the science might have/has progressed...")

...but the idea of mimicking the planet's ancient processes, rather than applying our own hubris to the design of processes and materials, still has quite the following to amass. Onwards! Yeah...anyway, the quote:

"Though environmental policy makers have focused on the growing glut of garbage and pollution, most of the environmental damage is done before materials ever reach the consumer. Just four primary materials industries--paper, plastics, chemicals, and metals--account for 71 percent of the toxic emissions from manufacturing in the United States, according to the researchers. Five materials--paper, steel, aluminum, plastics, and container glass--account for 31 percent of U.S. manufacturing energy use."

-John E. Young and Aaron Sachs, authors of The Next Efficiency Revolution: Creating a Sustainable Materials Economy (Heh - I typed, "Sustainable Energy Revolution" -- Oh, propaganda, how you get to poor, tired souls!)

Initiatives to clean up our highways and parks, to curb the persistence of litter, have their place, but this gives us a bit of a jolt. Where best to focus our energies? We have limited lifespans, and the doomsayers predict we have very little time to solve pressing problems that could make living in the world we want to live in impossible. How will we spend our time? What to prioritize? (I also wish to discuss this topic of prioritization in an upcoming post.)

Many exhibits, photographs, books, poems, edicts, and other creative endeavors have derived from the very important concept, "There's no such thing as away." How important for us, in said overly consumptive society, to acknowledge how "away" only equates to "trash bags in trash cans that get dumped into larger garbage bins or dumpsters in garbage trucks that go to refugee camps for all the exiled trash bags, to commune with one another, die their slow deaths in the company of their trash bag companions, decompose together, layered over with the filler of more bags, soil, more bags, soil, then crushed, then filled in with more soil, and eventually something growing on that soil" -- Uy, how depressing landfill culture can feel!

But we can hardly consider our understanding, a raised consciousness (ah, the legacy of the sixties), enough. To reduce our feasible actions to the conscientiousness involved in extracting waste from our homes is quite the sad state of affairs, isn't it? And all that effort in contemplating purchasing a new item (the "Is it really worth it?" test)! It's much more difficult to stop our habituated selves from purchasing frivolous objects, with obscene amounts of packaging waste that doesn't often lend itself that well to any creative use or re-use, than it is to not have the objects available to purchase in the first place.

Streamlining. It can happen through legislation, but that's an intricate, unwieldy process. Who wants to waste the time, when one's intellectual capacities could go toward some other, more fulfilling use? It can also happen through materials design. Designers use intelligent design (Yes, ha ha. Good, good. It's one of my favorite things about the design professions, how much I get to use the words, "intelligent design," in an ironic way!), and suddenly, a billion worries extinguish in a single conscientious, carefully considered plan. And round and round we spin about this "best use of our efforts" challenge. What does the best use of your not-infinite life span look like?

Keep reading: If There's No Such Thing As Away......

Remedies to the Why-am-I-so-crazy? Wonders

"How is it with your soul?" ask the United Methodists with a zeal peerless in these often glum twenty-first century days. The perpetual inquiry of John Wesley at his small spiritual meetings centuries ago, I ask it of you today. Do you feel fulfilled? Do you feel you've barely begun to live, to grasp the meaning of existence, of your actions, beliefs, emotions, ambitions? Do you waver up and down, some days just wanting to give up? Fear no longer! A companion is here!

My mother discovered Susan Brackney's The Lost Soul Companion for me years ago, and I read it at the time she handed it on to me (so probably about time for a re-reading, huh?). A delightful little compilation of sound advice, quirky ideas, and general creative revelry! I recommend it highly to "free spirits" and those looking for "comfort and constructive advice" in general, in other words, "lost" souls of both kinds, those down on their cheeriness, happiness, or fulfillment luck, and those diving down in the dumpsters.

In this book, I discovered a technique for concocting home-made snow globes, using epoxy (eww!) and old jars (yay!); a handful of microwave recipes I never got around to using; snazzy advice on improving one's social life, ability to socialize, and relationships in general (ask questions, listen, talk less - advice which I've doled out a lot lately for other reasons); my interest in attending Burning Man (which only grew more incendiary after I experienced a miniature version during the talent show at the conclusion of my introductory course on natural building in Brazil four years ago); many uplifting, encouraging, inspiring words on creativity and fulfillment (some areas of rumination dear to me!); two little, disoriented birds, and many other zany drawings and heartening words.

This book has quite a spunky feel to it. Check it out if you've had the hopelessness blues or the why-am-I-so-crazy? wonders lately...or just for a relaxing kick. (She suggests purchasing the book from an "indie store," your local bookseller, which I also support, or for those in need of instant gratification, she says, using the big box and online stores, but I'd suggest that eager readers check out Alibris, the compendium of used booksales online, instead. Turning to your library or a book-swapping site or system doesn't hurt, either.) You can also drop by Susan's website, which features excerpts, resources, and her own blog (or apparently just use my links - got a little overzealous there! Ahem! I mean, O.C.D.. I could've kept going and hyperlinked the whole post! Double entendre on the hyper!). And if you're not feeling especially much like a lost soul, you can always check out Susan's other title on the topic, The Not-so-Lost Soul Companion: More Hope, Strength, and Strategies for Artists and Artists at Heart. I've set my sights on that one! Oh, ever expanding guilt-laden reading list!

Keep reading: Remedies to the Why-am-I-so-crazy? Wonders...

Not Blogging Fast Enough!

I've got the lyrics from "Reptilia," a song by The Strokes, racing through my thoughts - "You're not driving fast enough!". Apparently, I have not managed to keep going fast enough, only the verb sounds more like "blogging."

A digression on E' ...Yes, that last sentence sounded a bit more awkward than it needed to, but I write under the heavy-handed, forbidding auspices of E-prime, which makes most writing feel more difficult than it otherwise should, what with all our reliance on the "to be" verbs. (I even felt uncomfortable writing, "over-reliant as we've become on the 'to be' verbs," since many of the 'be-(something)' verbs tend to come from corruptions and abbreviations of phrasings involving 'to be' conjugations. 'Become' seems to have derived from 'come to be' so I try to avoid it as I do the 'to be's.' I don't worry about it quite as much, but these verbs, seemingly derived from the 'be's,' do make me feel queasy!)

I keep meaning to get back up to speed, crafting at least one post a day, but I've struggled with form and structure. Also, this approach didn't keep me to the "[take] one day at a time" standard (the ideas of the A.A. organizations have a lot to teach all of us, even though many of us don't travel in its circles--its 12-step programs and other spiritual advice can heal many of us traumatized by the effects of all sorts of things, including, but certainly not limited to, alcohol, in our wearying milieu). So I will start posting more often, and creatively, about a whole mish-mash of ideas at first, until I come up with better ways to care and tend for this blog. I will keep you posted on that process itself, as well as much more. My apologies, then, if anything seems too distended and disconnected for a while yet. I feel gleeful to have the ability to share with a small but precious audience that can derive meaning from whatever plaguing thoughts with which I preoccupy myself, and the more I share, the more I'll find a coherent and cohesive way to convey those ideas. Until tomorrow!

Keep reading: Not Blogging Fast Enough!...