Upon Reflection

Today is the one year anniversary of moving from journal to blog.  A year ago, I wondered how it would work “brain-wise.”  Well, I have cheated some nights and, tucked in bed, picked up my pen for the old flow from thought to word on the page, for the less finished, much less public jottings in my polka dot notebook, spaced between lists and budgets and scribbles for poems.  Mostly, though, my “sort of” faithfulness to keyboard, screen and hyperlink has yielded golden times when a title comes and a whole contemplation is ready to be set down and other times when the writing begins and gives as it goes, revealing its name only as I’m done.

It seems a bit like exercise.  Often, you don’t quite have it in you to overcome the inertia after a long day or you feel you really should get going on things to be done at the start of the day, but then you do discover the last little cup of energy or carve out the morning moments and you’re so glad you did.  The world looks different after the discipline of the word; just a bit more in shape.

On a Clear Day

Today is a clear day, 77 degrees, 36% humidity, and I am reminding myself that this is November 14th.  It was a day like this in November 1984 that precipitated the great relocation from North Carolina to Florida the following year.  Ray and I are enjoying the front porch with laptop and Sunday paper after a fine pot luck lunch at the Meeting House around midday.

There were many joyful things this week and even the sad things gave opportunity for closeness to others.  Particular personal pleasures included several conversations with Rachel as she continues her strong recovery and having my administrator come in to do a walk through, then stay to enjoy some of the class, a very rare occurrence.

Among all the unfolding of work and home life this week, I saw Steve Jacob’s movie “Disgrace” based on J.M. Coetzee’s Booker Prize winning novel and finished reading Giles Foden’s most recent book, “Turbulence.”  No doubt, I should now read Coetzee’s novel and can await the release of the D-Day movie.  Interestingly, a review of Coetzee’s novel includes the following: “political and historical forces blow through the lives of individuals like nasty weather systems, bringing with them a destruction that is all the more cruel for being impersonal.” Foden’s book is, of course, all about the prediction of nasty weather systems and clear days, not to mention the random impact of impersonal historical forces.  I really appreciated both works.  Despite the pacing and spacing issues commented on by some reviewers in both Jacob’s movie and Foden’s novel, I found myself completely absorbed, finding in both the film and the book swirls and layers of rich meaning in the way each story was revealed.  I was disappointed to see a reviewer, for example, dismiss the ending of “Turbulence” without considering what it does to the story to have the narration shift to the quirky language of the German who learned English in America after the war; nor did the reviewer acknowledge the resonance of the joke in the final sentence.

We try so hard to predict the weather ahead and good predictions have saved many a life.  Still, we are subject to seasons, which are both predictable and endlessly evolving.

Here’s a poem from yesterday evening.

Knitting

There is no end

to the yarn

that winds

and unwinds

off the worn couch,

and rolls, rolls, rolls

under the feet of all

who pass by, and round

the corner, down the hill, beyond

the meadow that is

no more

nor less than mist and silent beasts,

breathing their own knowledge

into the child,

who runs ever

after the dwindling

ball.

Volumes of Water Under the Bridge

Today is Leo’s 92nd birthday.  I was able to call and wish him a happy birthday with Shirley’s help and to hear his voice for the first time in a very long while.  Words cannot express all this evoked.

Shirley is going to Hollywood next weekend for Eli’s Oscar banquet.

Every molecule of the river is precious.

 

Fahrenheit 451

Today, I did go to pilates and feel like I might be beginning to “get it.”  Definitely more  appreciative of Mr. Butterfly’s plank in “The American” as a result of the new body learning.  It was our Saturday night on a Thursday movie this week, absorbing, beautifully designed, inevitable, kind of a fugue on “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory.”

Thankfully, Ray triumphed on the drier front and a load of laundry has been successfully run, though the dear old thing does have a large bandage around her base as replacing the two clamps that held her together will require an archival search of Sears’ inventory.

There’s been much news of burning things recently, books, flags, buildings, even neighborhoods.  Lay awake last night thinking how good it would be if we burned instead with a desire to understand each other, to live more wisely with each other and our earthly home.  We keep being schooled, because we have such a lot to learn.

Digital Daze

Want to write, lots to say; after hours making newsletter, must go out to play.

Make Way for …

Ducklings, at least seven, with their mum by the cypress trees on the west side of Lake H. this evening.  Ospreys are nesting on the platform set up on the school grounds, too, whistling to each other, high above it all.  Today, I watered all our “intentional” plants early as the cumulus continue to be breezed away each glorious evening.  Ray cooked breakfast and we ate it face to face and at home, a rare occasion given our schedules.  Spent some of the day sorting and cleaning, including sucking up termite wings, and a very good part of the day having lunch with Linda, comparing life notes.  Just before evening walk, I watched an Independent Lens film about the complex divisions and the violence in Kashmir.

Anything could happen.  Still, most of the time I walk alone and unthreatened around the lakes and through our neighborhood; another day in paradise.

Before the Clouds

Today, out for a walk around 7:40 a.m. before the clouds and storms.  The palms were waving, but all else still and the streets deserted.  We ate home cooked breakfast with Rachel and then she was off with her dad to the birthday celebrations in Altamonte.  Later, we drove through the great open wetlands space between Christmas and I-95, always a thrill to traverse in every weather.  We spent a while at Beverly’s and chatted with her, and with Rickie and Matt.  I enjoyed the new colors she has brought to her sunny side porch.

Yesterday, Rachel and I had time together.  After meeting and lunch with friends, we took a drive up to Blodgett Gardens for new herb, veggie, and flower plants.

We went with Ray to see “Babies”, which was all the more fun, because there was a toddler in the audience with his mum and dad, totally enraptured by the film and regularly exclaiming “baby!” as one does at that stage of life.  This he did, of course, regardless of whether the baby on screen was from Namibia, Japan, USA, or Mongolia.  I was most fascinated by the degree and nature of outdoor, skin to skin, skin to world, sensory life of each of the babies, how direct or how mediated their experience, their opportunity to go beyond the visual.  Something every hug can give us and no computer in the world can provide.

Excel when you can

Today, I created an Excel spreadsheet for the points for students in the management class.  So, I have taken Excel classes more often than I care to mention; have used lots of Excel spreadsheets created by others quite handily, but this is the first one I made all by myself like a big kid!  And it worked.  So I was jumping up and down mentally speaking and Maria came and was brilliant showing me all sorts of fun things to do with my new toy.  I wondered why I have never had this breakthrough before, why it has always seemed such a mystery to me, like having to buy the plant because you can’t seem to get it to grow from seed.

At about the same time, Gloria was having the same experience with creating her online class components; clicking to no avail and then suddenly seeing how it worked.  She had that same gleeful expression on her face that I know was on mine.  It’s all about being willing to play the game and it’s even better when you play with friends.  Play is very workful when you don’t get the rules, but it is jubilant in that moment when everything becomes clear and instinctual and flows forth from you and the world bouncing around together.

Management students watch out – this game is coming your way.

In and Out of the Box

Today, I worked on my website for students, had a lot of fun with the discussions for the online action research class, and now this; not what I pictured for 61 when I was 21!

Watched a movie  tonight with a vivid memory of dad when one character, “Werner,” lays his tobacco in the little metal box, adds the delicate paper, licks the paper’s edge, and closes the box to roll the cigarette.  It’s a long time since I saw a cigarette-making machine.  I loved the time and space the director gave to fill in all that is not said or shown about the characters’ lives and the perfect calibration of the sound track.

Home Grown

Today is brilliant with breeze and birdsong, everything stirring.  Yesterday, I fumbled through the morning, forgetting keys and muttering evil at Ray, then eased up in the space of listening to Deane, Chris, Eduardo, and Stephanie mull over ideas for the good of the Meeting.  Found I had things to add and left feeling useful.

Skyped to Judith in her dusty pink scarf and Mike flying in sideways and hilarious; chatting on everything from Judith’s birthday to her work’s new allotment to the UK “hanging parliament” elections.  What a good idea to have a community garden on available land by your workplace.

We ate the first tomato from our front yard garden, warmed in butter with a little fresh Italian oregano from said garden.  I chat with our neighbors more now we have our front yard veggie borders and offer them parsley clippings.  One said she had been inspired to start a garden plot with her children.  Joy.