the fear of beginning

i found this list in an amazon review of the book Uncommon Genius. #8, especially.

1. Find your talent.
2. Commit to it and make it shine
3. Don't be afraid of risk. Or even failure, which if seen in its proper light, brings insight and opportunity.
4. Find courage by looking to something stronger and better than your puny vulnerable self.
5. No lusting after quick resolutions. Relax. Stay loose.
6. Get to know yourself; understand your needs and the specific conditions you favor.
7. Respect, too, your culture. We can't, any of us, escape the twenty-first century. It's tucked up around our collective chin as snugly and as firmly as the bedsheet.
8. Then, finally, break free from the seductive pull of book learning and research and the million other preparatory steps that could delay the entire span of a life and immerse yourself in the doing.

_____

then also a very striking (&scary, for me) parable about pottery:

“The ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality. His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the ‘quantity’ group: fifty pounds of pots rated an ‘A’, forty pounds a ‘B’, and so on. Those being graded on ‘quality’, however, needed to produce only one pot—albeit a perfect one—to get an ‘A’.

Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the ‘quantity’ group was busily churning out piles of work—and learning from their mistakes—the ‘quality’ group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.”

___________

i was really struck by this. not intellectually, but on an emotional level.

on the hunt

what does the truth smell like? how do you know when you're getting "warmer" (remember that game)?

recently a person was heard to say "i know it's the truth because it makes me happy." while the reasoning sounds like it falls short, i can relate. there is a certain peaceful, free feeling that comes. and if you're holding something really, really tightly, then i don't think you can have that sense.

perhaps part of the game is to let go of the need to know you're right all the time (mike's big thing). not that there is no absolute truth--reality is definitely there to crash into all the time... sometimes there is no knowing, just taking steps with a heart open to guidance.

i'm reminded of a quote bethy copied into a book somewhere: a big belly laugh is a way of saying "ain't that the truth".

i have to run off to work...how do you recognize the truth?

kindred spirits

i wandered into a restaurant in arequipa & found a tree painted on the ceiling. delight! this is not the exact tree i want in my living room, but it's thrilling that someone else feels similarly.

friday night fragments

i get so overwhelmed so easily--i have to jealously guard my time alone...say no frequently, and get used to disappointing those who want to hang out...haven't been alone all day, till now.

tonight--theological discussions over thai food, and "the illusionist", a satisfying movie...with nice twists.

tony said something interesting: the dividing line between protestants and catholics is that protestants believe that the bible is the sole source of truth, and catholics rely both on the bible and tradition. (i'm not sure i got that down exactly, but that's the jist of it.)

i'm not sure i'd put myself in either category. i think there are truths that aren't in any texts. truths that are uncaptured, mystical, and waiting to be discovered first-hand from personal experience. truths revealed to us in spirit. truths discovered from walking on the way.

and the tradition thing really irritates me, but maybe that's because i'm an upstart, rebellious protestant--a maverick that wants my logic to be the final judge. i'm open to learning.

------------

i also asked...does Christ work differently through believers & non-believers?

it doesn't seem to be so in my experience. it seems that all encounters could be pleasant or un-pleasant, and in each case i can choose to have faith that some good can come: not because of the individual, but because God wills it.

---------------------

in the movie, the illusionist rescued the woman he loved.

does that ever happen in real life?

oh, the humanity!

where did i read that exclamation? it springs to mind sometimes, when i'm overcome with the beauty of a small gesture: a little child's expression unnoticed by the adult who is pushing the stroller, the way a thin little old woman watches all of us checking out at the grocery store, while tightly gripping her little bag of groceries and waiting on a bench for her ride. she seems caught off guard when i smile at her.

at the produce market, i was waiting in line for checkout and behind me a south american grandmother told her grandson "tengo guineo, huevos, tomate...". i was charmed because most spanish speakers say platano or banana, not guineo.

unrelated, but cool: monday night i went to a catholic meeting for rutgers graduate students. i met a girl whose sister LIVES IN MONTERO. Montero is the town we grew up in, in Bolivia. It is not a major town--no one knows about it. Her sister is a nun there, and she visited there this past summer. Wow.

pages 392-393

ex‧e‧ge‧sis  n.
critical explanation or interpretation, esp. of a text.


ex·e·unt
Used as a stage direction to indicate that two or more performers leave the stage.
[Latin, third person pl. of exire, to go out. See exit.]


ex‧is‧ten‧tial‧ism  n.
a philosophical attitude associated esp. with Heidegger, Jaspers, Marcel, and Sartre, and opposed to rationalism and empiricism, that stresses the individual's unique position as a self-determining agent responsible for the authenticity of his or her choices.

[alternate definition]

ex‧is‧ten‧tial‧ism  n.
A philosophy that emphasizes the uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe, regards human existence as unexplainable, and stresses freedom of choice and responsibility for the consequences of one's acts.


ex ni·hi·lo adv. & adj.
Out of nothing.

....

i'd like to have a more precise vocabulary. does the idea come first, and then the need for a word with which to express it? maybe not always.

at any rate, learning words with which i can express nuanced thoughts might encourage me to speak more carefully.

friday evening

tylenol codeine is good stuff. i went from feeling lightheaded and utterly wretched to feeling human again. of course, i am home, and had milk and cookies, too.

the lump is not cancer. it is a mysterious infection for which antibiotics are hopefully the cure. my insurance & medical professions are on it.

meanwhile--my book on underground houses arrived in the mail--nice timing. written by a guy who seems like a hippie, in the 70's, the opening paragraph gets my attention immediately:

"This is a highly personal book, perhaps too much so. I can't help it. I could no more write a dry technical manual than i could dance the Swan Lake Ballet. I have strong opinions, likes and dislikes. They are bound to find their way into these pages. If at times this book sounds like the drunk bellowing at the end of the bar, it was written, after all, by the drunk who is often seen at the end of the bar, bellowing.

"My dislikes may offend you. Tisk tisk. So that you may brace yourself, or so that we may start off on the wrong foot--whichever--I'll list a few here. I dislike businessmen, the American medical profession, "liberated" women, most architecture, agri-business, 90 percent of industry, cities, pavement, the American philosophy of self-indulgence, strip mining, clear-cutting, nuclear reactors, and anything having to do with recombinant DNA research and development. I consider television and the automobile two of the nation's greatest curses; the former beacuse it rots the mind, the latter because it rots the body and destroys the land."

for some reason this reminds me of House, mike.

a bump

there is a little bump on the roof of my mouth. it is getting bigger, and it hurts now when i eat. i am going to the dentist tomorrow. he may send me to an oral surgeon to get a biopsy.

i have no idea how scary this is. it's weird, not knowing if it is nothing, or everything.

if

if you were locked in a room that had
-unlimited cable internet access
-cable tv with a bazillion channels
-food in unlimited variety and quantity
-unlimited alcohol

hmm...what other possible addictive substances to list...what have i been addicted to...

-unlimited cool fashion magazines
-unlimited great books


what would happen? what vices would you gorge yourself on first, second? Would you gorge? or would you happily create a balanced regimen of reading, eating, and internetting?

my art

i'm pretty sure mom & dad never check this blog--besides, they're on a trip. i made them an anniversary card.




i reorganized my art supplies and instead of having them boxed up, they are visible. this makes it a lot more likely that i will use what i have and make stuff. i found that the same principle applies in the kitchen...

i just bought this. as usual, each day i have radical new ideas. they're always exciting. i am getting embarassed about all my radical ideas, because i'm not doing them. maybe i should stop talking until i actually do them.

but safe...inside my head....i keep scheming and planning and making lists and drawing pictures. endlessly.

taking the plunge

"some of us are born with unrealizable and unnattainable dreams. they push and pull our beings through life like a pack of wild dogs on the end of a hundred straining leashes. but just coming to realize that some of those dreams could be a reality can be the first big step in a person's coming of age. then comes an even scarier part, where those subtle voices that emanate from hidden pockets in the universe all around, ask you to step off cliffs! Having the guts to do that may be the biggest test of all....

"there are a few new pioneers however. souls who feel the pull of the cliff's edge more keenly and when no one is looking, leap off, falling, falling."

he's not talking about suicide--he's talking about taking the plunge and moving toward a radically different life. how frightening that is to me.

[oh--the writer is Dan Price, a modern-day Thoreau, who made a house with his own hands, stones, scrap lumber, etc, and lived comfortably and simply with very little. i enjoyed reading about his journey in Radical Simplicity: Creating an Authentic Life.]

"the answer"

i'm seeing a common theme in a lot of people's writing. they found a way to make their life meaningful/good/trancendent.

-i sold my house, car, and furniture and now i live on a boat
-i simplified my life and de-cluttered and now i am happy
-i followed my dreams, quit my high paying job, and am an artist now
-i found true love and it changed my life
-i lost 45 pounds
-i moved across the country
-i decided to go back to school

and on and on. it seems like we're all on a quest to find happiness, and when we do find it, we are eager to share with everyone what worked for us.

today, i am here to tell you that i am dusting my bookshelves, and i'm getting stressed out at all the books i've bought/borrowed/had forever that i have not read and will probably not get to this year. it is nice to have neat bookshelves, though.

lots of these books are telling me how to have a good life, but all i'm capable of aspiring to is neat bookshelves.

frayed nerves

what a day...

-an unbelievable traffic jam/construction combined with rain on the way to work, so that instead of being 20 minutes early, i was 10 minutes late to class. this was really embarassing.
-in my rush to enter the building, i left my lunch in the car, so had to go back out in the rain to get it later.
-they're out of handouts again so i spend time copying a bunch of them myself
-a very very talkative student comes to my office after class and starts telling me her entire educational history, and talks very loud, and seems generally quite fascinated with herself. none of my not-so-subtle signs of indifference seem to cue her to leave.
-people stream by, stopping to chat at regular intervals so that trying to eat lunch, relax, and focus on the class i'm about to teach becomes a terrible struggle. i put in earplugs but people can't tell. i sigh, pull them out, and wish like &#$* for an office with a door.
-i meet with the new teacher i'm mentoring, and seeing as he is older than me, he seems to be showing signs of knowing better than I about the course, even though I have taught it 13 times.
-i'm so fried that i forget all about plans i'd made for the afternoon & evening, and come home and crash. i decide a bath is what's needed, but about 5 minutes after settling into the tub, roommate gets home and needs to pee.


i actually had a very stressful day yesterday too.

but tonight got better. I stopped at the library and rented 2 movies and finished a bottle of wine.
Zelary was a pleasure to watch.

I don't know if there is a way I can manage my rat-race of an existence into something tolerable. I don't want to just survive. I'm not a grad student any more.

peru project

i love this little girl. she looks exactly like bani. only one person who read this blog knows who i mean. bani was this little boy in montero, where we grew up, who was a little wild thing. a fighter, a huck fin, he'd punch a random innocent kid and then sprint away. he had this look in his eyes--and then he'd smile and it was absolutely dazzling.

so--i have to give you the scoop on the peru project. these kids live in a shanty town on the farthest outskirts of lima--at least an hour away from the center of town where the tourists hang out. their parents have moved here from the rural areas in hopes of making a better life. i wish they wouldn't come--it MUST be better where they were before--less polluted, more natural, etc. but i really don't know. i want to find out. perhaps if they knew what they were getting into they wouldn't have come.

but that's a project for another day. [i want to make a documentary of what life is like in the lima slums and take it to the towns everyone is coming from and show them and say, please stay where you are!!]

anyway these impoverished families are already stuck. there are many single moms. as you know, teenage pregnancy is a terrible but effective way to create a vicious cycle of poverty. another case: we met a woman who came to pachacutec with her husband and 2 sons. the husband abandoned her after they arrived. (i mentioned it here.)

so--let me give you the scoop. i don't like to ask for money but i guess i feel obliged to put the facts out here at least once.

For $30, 150 kids can get a lentils & rice meal (an economic but nutritionally balanced option). Right now, what they are getting is a runny oatmeal hot drink with bread and butter or jam, which costs about $7/meal for all 150 kids.

The name of Alex's organization is Idukay Peru. This means Educating Peru, in Quechua, the indigenous language of Peru (and the Incas). This fledgling organization is currently working in three different communities. I visited Fertiza when I was in Peru 2 years ago. This past summer I got to meet people from the Pachacutec community.

In Fertiza, there is a little school that has opened its doors to idukay peru. In exchange, idukay peru fixed up their bathrooms, which formerly were squatting models. Now they have flush toilets. Also, 150 of the poorest kids in the school, as well as a few older people who have no source of support, are fed breakfast and lunch. Finally, the kids get help with their homework after school. Also, there was a Christmas party with a clown show, hot chocolate, and presents for the kids. I know that Alex took some of the kids on an outing to a park one time too.

There are ladies from the community who make the food and serve the kids.

Fertiza needs:
-steady income to keep up the meal program
-money for books for the school
-a micro loan so that someone can set up a bakery, and maybe get other little businesses started, so there can be a local economy.
-medical & nutritional help would be great, but this weird doctor that we thought was going to come turned out to be really strange, so we scratched that plan. people in spain sent medicine, though.
-people to volunteer. you could stay at alex's house, like i did. it was fun.

There's also Pachacutec. Pictures here. View them as a slideshow but speed it up, because there are 106 photos. The funny thing about the kids is that a lot of them frowned for the picture, but afterwards they'd give these adorable huge grins. So you missed the best part!

My dream is to go back and get the women in Pachacutec making some crafts: hats, scarves, jewelry, embroidered stuff. And then import it here, and sell it--fair trade style. I am doing some research. I have no idea how many barriers there are between now & doing it. I will have to dedicate myself seriously to this project if I decide to take it on--and maybe give up other interests, forget the ceramics studio membership, rock climbing, french books. Can I make this type of commitment? Maybe, just maybe.

I found some websites of others who have had the same idea, and I even got an emailed response from one of them: Rebecca of Nest. If you are inclined to shop, please look around there, and support this excellent project. She is in St. Louis, and sounded excited to hear from me.

Another organization sounded great too...Mad Imports...but they work with women in Africa.

Besides the fair trade idea, there are also micro loans. Kiva is a new website that enables people in the u.s. to give small ($25) to big amounts to help people in developing countries make the money go a lot farther--buy a sewing machine, an oven, so they can start a business, generate income, and repay the loan.

I guess my strategy is to communicate with as many people as I can who seem like they are connected to something like this or know something about it. I will make phone calls, do internet research, etc. Perhaps for once I have to go for it with a blind determination, because that's how things get done.

If you have any helpful input, please share! Thanks.

update: Ten Thousand Villages.

living with limits

"To live within limits. To want one thing. Or a few things very much and love them dearly. Cling to them, survey them from every angle. Become one with them--that is what makes the poet, the artist, the human being."
--Johann Goethe

this quote really jumped out at me. i've been struggling with wanting too many different things in my life. i could make a list--i've made so many lists. let me not detour into that. the point is, i feel that if i could be more single minded, or even just pick five things to focus on, i'd be so much more successful, i could excel, i'd be more fulfilled. it's just that i can't pick!

so then i look up this goethe fellow to see what he's all about, and here's what i find:

Johann Wolfgang Goethe (28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832) was a German polymath: he was a poet, novelist, dramatist, humanist, scientist, theorist, painter, and for ten years chief minister of state for the duchy of Weimar.

Goethe was one of the key figures of German literature and the movement of Weimar Classicism in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.... The author of Faust and Theory of Colours, he inspired Darwin with his independent discovery of the human intermaxillary jaw bones and focus on evolutionary ideas. Goethe's influence spread across Europe, and for the next century his works were a primary source of inspiration in music, drama, poetry, and philosophy.

dang! this guy doesn't sound like someone who narrowed his vision to a few key things. or maybe he did.

i think i need to pick 5 things--or less. i'll find 5 that are rich, interesting, and inspiring, and live mindfully, deliberately, within those limits.

an excerpt from "the complete idiot's guide to simple living"

I've been choosing not to listen to the news lately. (Well, I did yesterday, and got not only a big dose of 9-11 New York political coverage, but news of New Orleans houses being bulldozed.) I've been thinking that not listening to the news is one tiny step back to the primitive life I've been desiring, where the thing you are most aware of is today's weather, your family, and your neighbors.

I decided that I could only care about one big 'cause' at a time without getting really stressed out. So I care about living healthily for myself, I care about my family, and as far as the world is concerned, I will pay attention to South America. Otherwise--it's way too much, and I feel like the radio wants me to worry and take responsibility for each one of the disasters it details for me.

Of course, my attempts to time warp myself back to a simpler life won't be too effective until I stop listening to the Spanish pop album I'm addicted to. The impulse stop at KFC for 2 twisters? And I have no idea how the internet fits in here, but the internet brought me the following:

***

"In seeking more quiet in your life, try speaking less. When you do speak, make a conscious effort to communicate more honestly. Make greater eye contact. Really look at someone when you speak to him or her and allow silent spaces. Truly listen. Start eliminating garbage from your communication. By garbage, I mean all the meaningless chatter we use to fill the spaces between others and ourselves instead of allowing for intimacy and authenticity.

"Clean up your language and pay attention to the words you use. Be more precise. Stay away from jargon or catch phrases and develop a broader vocabulary. I catch myself when I respond to someone relating an experience with a shallow "great"...I know I'm just being lazy when I resort to this kind of speech and don't really participate fully in the conversation.

"Watch what happens around you when you make the change to more careful speech, even in a small way. Living simply is about living consciously. Plain speaking is about the same thing. In an age of disingenuous and downright dishonest speech in so many areas of our lives, honest, thoughtful speech is always refreshing and contributes to everyone's sense of simple well being."

"Quiet has a way of putting us in the present like nothing else. As Ram Dass said, "Be, here, now." It's hard to do that when were' constantly chattering, recounting stories from the past, or sharing future plans. There's a place for these, of course, but being in the previous present is easier when we seek silence daily."

***

I like this idea so much--that in cutting *noise* we can actually achieve more genuine connections. That I need to stop using catch-phrases that are actually my way of avoiding an encounter with another.

So here's to paring down.

feverish wanderlust

for some reason, watching a pretty bad movie last night has touched a nerve and i am filled with longing for the grimy colonial streets and soaring andean vistas of south america.

the movie was "the dancer upstairs". it tried to describe the drama surrounding the shining path guerrila movement in the 80's and what it felt like to be in lima. the central character was a detective attempting to find the leader behind the violent attacks and terror tactics.

the feeling of latin american culture was completely absent. the characters didn't have any peruvianness to them. they seemed like americans who were cluelessly bungling around peru not even pretending to be locals. i usually am not one to find fault with movies but this one failed completely at least in its portrayal of what it feels like to be in peru. i guess it wouldn't be such a big deal if movies set in south america weren't so rare.

so what was it that sparked this melancholy & longing to be back? let me try to put a finger on it. glimpses of those beautiful mountains and the loneliness of the landscape. the sense of tragedy and history that pervades. the very recent political turbulence. the reality that the story is still unfolding. the sense of urgency and excitement and unpredictability when the lights go out, your bus is stopped at an army checkpoint, or when strikes shut down cities for days.

i like the fact that the knowledge is on the street. that the best way to find out what is going on is to ask the person next to you. it's easier than trying to look things up online or in a book. the knowledge isn't always terribly reliable, but it's fresh, and eventually you get the story straight.

i'm aching to be back there, feeling my way through the chaotic, colorful, people-thronged streets. making my way across an unreliable, lovely continent. light and free, with only a bag on my back and the rattling busses under foot.

2 stories with no moral

i take a walk on a wet night. tiny water droplets mist down; trees harbor moisture that rain on me when i shake a branch over myself.

i walk down quiet residential streets. i hear tv sets in some houses; otherwise, all is quiet.

as i pass under a tree, i see a leaf fluttering down, lit by a street lamp. only--the leaf's motion reminds me of a butterfly...i look again. its fall stops as it lands on a branch...then it falls to another branch...hesitates, falls again...to the street at my feet.

it is a large moth. its wings are laden with moisture...it weakly flails about on the asphalt, trying in vain to get some lift. i watch it...it is beautiful, in a way...large as a butterfly, and yet i am vaguely creeped out by its furry abdomen. i guess that is what makes butterflies lovely and moths...noctural and eerie? you'd welcome a butterfly that landed on your finger...but as this moth flapped its wings and moved toward me, i stepped back quickly.

a car turned onto the street and headed straight for the poor creature. i motioned the car to stop and attempted to herd the moth to the side of the road with a branch. it didn't really work, so i stepped back, and the impatient driver drove by, leaving the moth untouched. finally i got it to the side of the road, up the curb...and suddenly its wings were lighter, the droplets shaken off, and it danced into the air, higher and higher...back toward the streetlamp...where perhaps the story began.

completely wiped. teaching is tiring. but i'm officially started and that's good. i've been reading some c. s. lewis, and some other stuff--found good quotes but will have to share them later.

my goal is to stay awake until 8 pm. i don't think i even have the strength to go for a walk, or to stay awake & watch a movie...

projects & ideas

-sell earrings for a profit--for a good cause (let me know if you want any of these, or click here to see more with prices)
-look into a "fair trade" set up for importing jewelry or knitted goods from women in peru & selling them here. this could evolve into my designing arty things.
-research non-profit third-world-helping organizations and try to find one that can donate food for alex's projects.

-get into rock climbing
-read an intro to philosophy text as a way to find out more about a potential change in career plans
-read mario vargas llosa and the biography of che guevara to learn more about latin america's more recent history.
-eat more healthily, walk regularly, get sufficient rest
-practice saying no

-attempt to be innovative in my teaching of math. if it's still not fulfilling, look to find something different

-learn to make hand-made soap
-make more pottery
-open a hotel in a small coastal town in south america. serve coffee & fresh bread. talk to travelers.
-get a degree from a university somewhere in latin america.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

-- Lord Byron, (George Gordon)

a new 17 inch monitor makes me see everything differently. digital photography will be completely different. the dusty old 13 inch fatscreen was a gift from a friend that carried me through the failure of my laptop monitor's screen. the laptop got replaced by a real computer a while ago...i finally caved into material desire and got this.

(this picture is of the old monitor.)

heroes

i've been mulling over the human vulnerability to the notion of a hero. our modern cynicism has crusted it over...and we back away from anyone who takes a stand, believes strongly in an ideal, or even just says something with conviction.

as a child of this generation, i do the same.

but underneath that there is something else. you can catch glimpses of hope and longing on the faces of those who watch...if they aren't guarding themselves...but you must be quick, for the moment passes and they quickly lose hope in the would-be messiah. the legend: a person of character who can be trusted completely--does he even exist?

we may speak our scepticism loudly--but in the silent pauses there is evidence to the contrary. we do want a hero, and we are looking for him, all the time.

a seattle kind of day

i spent the day with a friend who lived in seattle, among other places. today was rainy, umbrella weather as we walked to the bookstore in search of a book. we also spotted this:

my latest obsession...

...is to live very naturally: free of unnecessary complications, chemicals, and products. doing some research and reading a wonderful italian cookbook inspired me further. now, i am simplifying my kitchen, eliminating products with too many unrecognizable products added. i'm trying to go back to a simpler time, trying to go low-tech.

the italian cookbook reinforced what has been at the edge of my consciousness for a while: avoid the supermarket, buy locally grown when possible, eat pure products, avoid additives, preservatives, pesticides, hormones. it's not only healthier, it's yummier and better for the world and the community.

the amazing thing is that i actually managed to get almost everything i wanted fairly close to home, without stepping into a supermarket. it's fun to shop in ethnic stores and try to read russian or italian (i don't try chinese). in the asian store i watched as a hispanic-looking employee unlocked the knife case for two guys who seemed to be polish. i got a knife too.

the diversity is so good. [oh! i also found an african restaurant (nigerian) not too far away.]

the israeli tomatoes actually smell the way tomatoes smell when you are in a vegetable garden--so fragrant!

the ginger honey is going to be my new favorite thing, i just know it.

i found cage-free eggs for 99 cents per dozen!

my best moment was the last thing i bought. when i checked the ingredients on the russian butter, it merely said: cream. ahhh.

click here to see photos of my new religion.

peru photographs

click here to visit my favorite photos from the trip.

almost home

the plane touched down here wednesday morning. amazingly, i slept most of the night. usually i can't at all, but i was so tired that not long after i rested my head back i was wondering what that bright light was coming in the eastern windows.

my apartment isn't mine again until today. s.'s hospitality has been wonderful.

it's weird to be back in the u.s., where things are simultaneously organized, civilized, sanitized, and annoyingly complicated. when i went out to buy a white t-shirt, i ended up driving for about an hour because i went to the wrong mall and the highways were not cooperating. simple task, nightmare of roads.

i'm sure once i'm back in my own place, my own neighborhood, my own roads--i'll be home, finally. the memory of my latin american roots will fade once again.

kids from pachacutec

alex's house

so the trip winds down here, in the suburbs of lima, in a non-descript 4 story house where alex lives with his extended family.

the solo stay in arequipa was fabulously indulgent, shopping, eating, shopping and eating...not to mention extended reading and thinking about my life and its direction....and lots of fun conversations with local shop keepers. i was actually writing a detailed account of it 2 days ago when the power went out, so that was the end of that.

anyway, it´s fun to stay with a peruvian family and get the real experience. yesterday, a friend of alex's drove he & i out to a very shabby, unbelievably poor neighborhood perched in the sand dunes on the coast north of lima. we met, among others, a single mom whose husband brought her there and abandoned her. her only source of income for she and her 2 teenage sons is selling candy on buses. her knees are very arthritic and climbing up and down is very painful. when i looked at her legs i saw a lot of varicose veins as well, which i believe are quite painful too.

her teenage sons have the typical preoccupation with being cool. it is likely that they don´t appreciate the struggle their mother has to support them.

alex´s project wants to bring basic meals to 50 of the poorest kids in the community 2 days a week. well, they actually signed of 80 of them. yesterday i brought my camera and took pictures of a lot of kids so that they could get sponsors. apparently alex has some connections in spain that want to sponsor.

today i am hoping we get out and go buy oatmeal for the meal project. i actually wanted to buy books for the kids so that they can do their homework. maybe that can happen too. apparently the teacher assigns homework but the kids don´t have textbooks and so unless they can borrow them from a library (non-existent) or purchase photocopies (at 50 cents per page) they are stuck. it would be great to buy a few of each book so they could have that resource.

the cool thing about alex's project is that it is a tiny organization so very little money gets wasted on bureaucratic stuff. alex has a job and supports himself.

well, more on that later.

The Splendor Falls

from The Princess

The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.

O love they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field, or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

arequipa, peru

after two days of bussing, i arrived here last night, with legs twitching with unhappiness at being cooped up.

travelling solo has suited me fine, especially with my big stash of reading material. however it was a nice break to travel the last leg of the journey (of a 13 hour trip) with a young german guy. i thought he´d be annoying, but we actually had a lot of fun talking. the bus showed the movie "finding private ryan" and it was really cool to hear tom hanks speaking spanish fluently.

i switched hotels this morning. my new hotel doesn´t have a private bathroom, but it has amazing views of the volcano and the mountains that surround arequipa, and closer by, the mysterious convento that used to be very, very secretive. i´m sure i´ll have more to say about it after i explore it at length tomorrow.

it feels very luxurious to not plan to go do anything outside the city; just chill and eat meals and walk around and shop and see the lovely buildings. today i happened onto a restaurant that had old colonial architecture juxtaposed with a classic rock theme. since my schedule is all confused, i was lunching at 11:30 and got to chat with the mother of the chef. she was quite pleased when i told her the chicken in almond and peanut sauce was delicious. her son went to chef school in lima, she told me, proudly. i asked her how to make it and she gave me detailed instructions, which i wrote in my journal. then she said, if you have a special request, he could make it for tomorrow's lunch. but--i´m too ignorant of the local cuisine to know what to request. i said, i'll come back--i'm sure whatever he makes will be good.

then--she brought me a rocoto relleno (stuffed hot pepper), just for fun, and for free. i was already stuffed but it was delicious.

what i really want to know about arequipa is if there are any mario vargas llosa sites for me to make a pilgrimage to.

but back to my inability to ask for something interesting for tomorrow's lunch: it reminded me of my life, and my wants in life. when i look back on the best events or relationships in my life, they almost never were things that i was actively looking for or even knew enough to desire. they were surprises, gifts. so here's to the big chef: "I´m sure whatever you make will be good."

mind travel

i{ve had thoughts, too. i{m hoping that the rest of my trip is full of them. recent developments mean that the last 10 days or so of the trip will be solo.

fortunately, lots of books will go with me...and ideas are swirling quite madly lately.

s. decided to go home early...someone needed her, and also: she was tired and sick of being sick. so plans changed. it{s ok. i{m glad she is back in the heat and i get to be cold a little longer.

when your mind is bursting with connections, ideas, possibilities, and you can{t find the time or the means to satisfy your curiosity because the only way to do it would be to read 10 books at once...that's a kind of euphoria.

puno, copacabana, la paz, cochabamba

the heart strings drew me back to coch. i didn{t plan to, really, but i couldn{t resist. being a mere 10 hours away by bus was too much. i convinced s. that it would be restful and good to be in our little home here, with mom and all the old friends and memories.

puno is on the peru side of lake titicaca and it was freezing. we only stayed there long enough to recover from the 10 hour train ride from cuzco and to spend a day in a sauna that we were providentially led to to steam out our dried, freezing bodies.

then we caught a bus to the other side of the lake, to copacabana. on the way we crossed the border and got bolivia stamps in our passports. ahhhhh. things are just better in bolivia.

in copa we chilled out and hiked isla del sol like tradition would dictate. i also got to make a little pilgrimage to my favorite beach of all time (all pebbles and clear water). the 2.5 hour hike back to the south end of the island nearly killed s., as she is my kindred spirit and had foolishly picked up a large rock that was truly lovely and HAD to be brought back with us.

we met some nice colombian guys that sell handmade jewelry itinerantly. sharon got to dance and i got to try to dance. a fun game of pool. some austrian lads who had stuff in common with us: one went to the same high school as s. while on an exchange to the u.s., the other lived in ecuador on an exchange the same year that i did (the year that 9-11 happened).

i had to make a run back to puno to get our bags because we had originally planned to only make a quick 2 day trip to copacabana and then continue on into southern peru and arequipa. but then the pull toward bolivia was too much so the bags we{d left at the hotel had to be retrieved. the result was that the day after i entered bolivia, i returned to peru and then returned to bolivia. as a result i spent almost the whole day (3.5 hours each way) on the bus. when i got back to puno i strangely was offered a tricycle (sorta like a rickshaw) ride by the same guy who showed us to our hotel room the day before. he remembered me and offered to take me back to get the bags. what a hair-raising ride, dodging cars, making right turns from left lanes, near misses...

so we got the bags (s. and i have been shopping too much, i guess, even though i decided against the wonderful red poncho).

back to the bus station, board the bus, but when the bus drove away, we weren{t 4 blocks out from the station when i heard a terrible crunch.

turns out we{d just hit one of those tricycles that clog the streets of puno (they{re not that common anywhere else, strangely). the driver-pedaler was knocked to the street. the cop and his dog who were the passengers were unharmed. as i peeked out the back window of the bus i saw them climbing out, unharmed, but the driver was reeling, holding his head as he tried to stand up.

our bus driver seemed to be trying to sneak away, but eventually we returned to the scene of the accident and he got out and went to talk to someone. was the driver ok? some people said that he died, others that he had been taken to the hospital. i couldn{t see anything from my seat.

i said a prayer for the poor man who had either lost his means of income, or else his life.

but i was also concerned for myself, since i was in a race against time to get back to the border before the immigration office closed.

eventually we had to return to the station and board a new bus, since the one we}d been on was held up indefinitely. the passengers were bonding and chatting as a result of this common misfortune and the disaster we{d witnessed. i liked the girls i{d been sitting by but on the second bus a guy decided that he should sit by me and get to know me even better. i responded to some of his questions but soon had to halt the inquisition by handing him the novel by mario vargas llosa that i{d just finished. he read obediently until it got dark. then i got him to explain the peruvian political situation to me.

it was dark by the time i made it back to the border. i got the peru exit stamp but on the bolivia side the officials were locking the stamps in their desks and said i would have to come back tomorrow. well, at least i was allowed to physically enter the country. i didn{t really know what the rules were.

the shared taxi from the border to copa was filled with a bunch of men, which made me quite nervous. once i felt comfortable that i wasn{t going to be kidnapped, i started eavesdropping on their conversation. i didn{t really get it but it sounded like they were just coming from some sort of lefty conspiratorial meeting. they discussed the politics and leadership of the group and their next "action" and how soon it should come.

interestingly, the next day when i travelled back to the border to get the passport stamped, the bus encountered a road blockade, which consisted of small and very large boulders pushed into the road by lots of campesinos. the taxi driver managed to talk to a couple of the people and they obliged and rolled a couple of rocks out of the way. i asked the driver what the road block was protesting, and he told me it was because the catholic leadership had forbidden smaller communities to exist independently, and made them merge into a larger unit (or something).

so i think i got to see what the "action" was that those men had been discussing the day before.

other highlights:
-finding the streets of la paz almost completely blocked by a massive, day-long parade for "la entrada universitaria"
-looking for our colombian friends in the calle de las brujas (a touristy street that was probably more famous in the past for its witchcrafty wares including llama fetuses--which can still be found for sale)
-taking a bus from la paz to cochabamba, and YES! they played a rambo movie!! and a van damme movie too!!
-there was a darling little puppy across the aisle from us on the bus and the owners let us hold him and we got doggie kisses!
-the trip was made even more adventurous by a drug bust. apparently a woman tipped off the police at a checkpoint and the next thing you know the bus was swarming with police, their drug detecting equipment, and a sniffing dog. later, i got to see the three bags of stuff get cut open and checked, too. i have never seen anything like this before.

now we are in cochabamba and it is so nice to be here. it is dusk. from this internet cafe, i can look down into the valley and see the lights twinkle. dogs are barking, and it is not very cold. in fact, i am wearing shorts because i just washed my very filthy and only pair of jeans.

(sorry i cannot post pictures--i will have a huge job cut out for me when i return to civilization. also, sorry this post is long and not terribly well-written.)

hasta luego.

from aguas calientes

aguas calientes means hot waters and it is the town at the base of macchu picchu.

we hiked m.p. today. tomorrow, very early, we take the train back to ollantaytambo and cuzco. the following day we will be on a train to puno, on lake titicaca. by tuesday we may have bolivian stamps in our passports and be trinket hunting in copacabana. we will also be freezing.

there is this magnificent red poncho in cuzco that i keep waffling about. would i be a freak or would i look so amazingly cultural and artsy?

exploring m.p. today felt like discovering a huge castle and having the run of the place, looking for secret passageways and rooms. at one point, i went into a room which led to another and another. i sat down on a stone and relished the solitude.

then...another soul had the same idea and came upon my sanctuary. when she found me there, she was so startled that she turned and hurried away. :)

tonight s. and i were starving and ordered a large pizza. we were thrilled when a one-man band by the name of tonio zampoña came in and performed beautifully and with all his limbs! zampoña, charrango, drum, shaky things, and two percussion things i don´t know the names of. the best part was that s. got to perform with him on the charrango and guitar, and in the end even i joined in stamping one foot that had the shakers on it, and thumping the drum with the other foot. it was exhausting!

a surprising sunday in lima and a monday arrival in cuzco

it{s hard to believe we{ve been here less than a week. we arrived in lima and spent a lot of time walking around and eating. downtown lima is charming with colonial architecture, but it{s a dirty city, with lots of cars, honking, and pollution. taking long walks was somewhat difficult, since there are always so many people to dodge on the sidewalk. being conspicuously foreigners meant that we got compliments or cat calls from passing men. our favorite pickup line was "hello! macchu picchu!" i guess they thought that was a phrase we might understand. people assume you don{t speak spanish.

this past sunday was a day full of surprises. i wanted to go to a certain church, and really enjoyed the sermon. unfortunately, about two-thirds of the way through the service, i heard an incredible din outside. saxophones and loud drums. finally temptation overcame me and i snuck outside to see what was up. it was a massive parade. costumes, dancing, bands. ladies in huge skirts and others in colorful peruvian outfits. a few devils scattered in for good measure. and leading the huge procession as it made its way slowly around the plaza: La Virgen Del Carmen.

i ran back to the hotel to get s., and we watched with glee all the bizarre costumes, dances, and props. this guy with a shrunken green money-seeming head got excited when he saw me taking a picture of him and he ran out of the parade and posed with s. this had us both laughing.

there were so many beautiful cholitas in matching outfits swirling their polleras in unison.

the most bizarre cluster of costumes was a bunch of guys dressed as mafiosos: leather coats, dark sunglasses, and big guns. dancing joyfully??

it all was very confusing. is this a pagan thing, or a catholic thing, or just a crazy free-for-all? but it was super entertaining.

after leaving to find breakfast in a suitable hole in the wall, we got caught up in getting s. some new glasses for about one fifth of what she would normally pay. they are very hip too! she is super psyched about her new look.

when we went back to the plaza we were amazed to find that the dance was STILL going on, with even MORE people flooding the plaza and watching and cheering. the people dancing seemed to be having a lot of fun.

we also had the good fortune on this day of meeting two VERY cute dogs. i usually don{t even notice dogs. but s. has doggie radar that spots them miles away. then i have to get the camera out and photograph them. on this day, the dogs we met were so charming and loveable. since they were pets, not strays, we petted them and got some doggie kisses. i was intoxicated with glee when the tiny little white puppy stuck out his pink tongue and kissed my nose.

later, we decided to grab a bus to Barrancos, a nearby town that the guidebook said had an artsy community with writers and poets (mario vargas llosa wrote here). we fell in love with the atmosphere there. maybe we{ll stay there instead of in lima on the return. so quiet and idyllic, with views of the pacific: long rollers coming in slowly from a long, long way out. we caught a food festival by chance, as well as a group of young brazillians demonstrating/performing capoeira, a martial art from brazil. it was mesmerizing, because they got in a circle and sang and chanted in unison while two at a time dueled with slow, elegant motions.

monday morning we had to get up at 3:30 a.m. to catch a plane to cuzco. lucky us: a bus to cuzco would take about 24 hours, if not longer. the plane took an hour. i think after this we are going to do a lot of bus and train rides. but we cheated on this leg of the journey.

we have no plan yet of what is next. however i think bolivia is going to be part of the plan. i initially didn{t want to go the jungle, but now i think that it may well be an experience i don{t want s. to miss.

we are in cuzco now. i need another hour to write about the cuteness of the man who greeted us at our darling little hotel. it is a bit ramshackle, with a very old courtyard. we got a tip at the airport, when i insisted that i wanted a hotel with a private bath & hot water for $10 a night, not more. they balked at first (it{s busy season here--the town is packed with tourists), but then gave us a name. we were greeted by the most adorable old man, porfidio. he was wearing blue coveralls, which only added to the charm. when we filled out our forms, and he noticed it was s.{s birthday, he opened his arms wide to give her a hug! then we were offered coca leaf tea--what hospitality! i have never been greeted with a cup of tea upon arrival before. coca leaf tea is supposed to help you adjust to the altitude. i think cuzco is about 9000 feet high.

after a big nap, we started exploring. we found the non-touristy local market and have been eating breakfast there, as it{s really cheap--like $2 for hot milk and egg and cheese sandwiches for both of us. it{s the essential experience, as lots of people drop in there for breakfast on their way to work.

since it was s{s birthday we celebrated with a fancy supper of alpaca meat. even though s. is an animal lover, and we had met some beautiful alpacas earlier in a narrow cobblestoned street, we enjoyed eating it. it was seasoned with cumin, garlic, and something else i couldn{t catch. i also got to taste peru{s famous alcoholic beverage, pisco.

right now we are going to go scope out more of cuzco{s historical sites. it is hard for me to keep up with reading the guide book to find not only the typical sites, but how to do them the non-touristy way, on the off-peak days, on the cheap. cuzco is SOOOO touristy that it is kind of bad. of course we want to do all the traditional stuff and see macchu picchu. (we have heard the words macchu picchu so much from overly eager tour guides and tourists i am now calling it m.p.) but there are other less-known ruins that we want to go to. i want to try to go stay in some smaller, less touristy towns soon to get a more authentic experience.

there IS a certain appeal to getting completely immersed in the whole touristy experience, shopping for trinkets obsessively (i might buy a lovely poncho & i already got a chullo with earflaps), and watching the good-looking foreign backpackers in their hippie attire and hiking books. but part of me says, NO. i am not a gringo. i{m a true bolivian and i don{t want to be treated like a tourist.

i also have a book on the incas which i haven{t been able to read fast enough, and now we are in cuzco where it all went down. i have read several good books before but my retention is about 2%. oh well. ready or not, inca ruins, here we come!

lima

we are here, inhaling the polluted fumes of a city that contains about a third of peru´s population. car exhaust settles as a dark grime on the beautiful colonial buildings in the downtown area. our hotel is half a block from the president´s mansion. it costs $10 a night and we are really paying too much. other places apparently have rooms for $3 per night.

we are collecting pictures of cute dogs that we meet. we are also walking everywhere and eating as much goodness as possible. along the way, we´ve discovered lots of friendliness and cute people.

YUMMY foods eaten so far:
-anticuchos (beef heart shish-kabobs)
-choclo (corn with big white kernels)
-chirimoya (a fruit that is bumpy and green outside and creamy white and sweet inside)
-humintas, although peruvians call them humitas. like a tamale
-empanadas de pollo, which are like turnovers with savory goodness within. ALMOST as good as a salteña.
-chicha morada, which i though was api but i was confused. a purple corn drink.
-seco de pollo con yuca frita: chicken in a savory green sauce, with fried yucca on the side
-arroz a la cubana: rice with fried eggs and fried platanos on the side.
-flan, which is like custard.
-fanta: orange pop

i´m glad we are both ok with eating at the tiny greasy little joints where the locals eat, and where the food and the experience seem much more authentic than in the more expensive tourist-oriented places.

we met alex last night for supper. we are invited to a party tonight....and he was attempting to encourage us to go to the museo de la inquisition. i was resisting, but maybe i´ll give it a chance.

the midwest sojourn...

...is drawing to a close. i'm leaving chicago tomorrow. in the apartment upstairs, a little dog is restlessly pacing the floor. everyone else is asleep & i should be. love my family and the time with them...precious.

next week i'm off to peru for a month. the anticipation is building. little things make me eager to walk on cobblestones among old spanish buildings, breathing the high andean air. hearing quechua, feeling that indescribable something that is my south america fix.

goodnight.

when i have a house

i will paint words on the walls. like the artist T. C. Steele, whose residence Angie & I visited.

these words lift my spirit & convey an amazingly beautiful image of hope:

"The light shines in the darkness..."

from John 1.

b&w setting

another early morning

looking back

i've only got a few more days here. the picture b. posted is good advice. i want to live each day fully, with no regrets. i want to live in the present. here is another good post on the topic.

how did i spend my days? i hope well. i'm glad i took time to talk to mom, take pictures of her flowers, help her with housework. i'm glad i had some good chats with dad. i'm glad that when this bright blue mailbox caught my eye, i turned my car around and went back to take a picture. i have a feeling that in the grand scheme of things, the fact that i cleaned and cleaned and cleaned while here won't matter much. the hugs and conversations will be much more important. it's hard for me to believe and act on that. i'm so addicted to accomplishment.

for now, i'm off to put some ointment on my poison ivy. because i took time to pick up the kittens and pet them, and they frolic in the stuff.

guilt

i HATE feeling guilty. i feel guilty a lot. my battle against guilt has been long & hard. i've had some small victories.

yesterday someone asked me to do something for them. it was not a small request. it was a big one. and given who was asking, it was really hard for me to say "no." i had no idea whether they REALLY needed me to do them this favor, or if it was no big deal for me to decline. i REALLY didn't want to do what i was asked to do, and in the end this was the biggest factor i considered in making my decision. but the point is, i agonized quite a bit over whether or not to be selfless & help out.

after thinking about it for a while, i was sort of annoyed that this person had asked me to do the favor. don't they know how HARD it is for me to say no!?! why put me through this?!? but--not everyone has the same neuroses i do.

i finally called and said, "i don't think i'm up for it." the person was pretty cool with it. i was relieved. phew.

i know i have issues with thinking that i'm indispensible to the rest of the universe. is this the key to my feeling so bad about saying no? i just feel horrible if i think i've let someone down or disappointed them.

when i spend all of my time helping others and taking on their projects, i start to get resentful & grouchy. of course, being a pathological people pleaser doesn't really bother anyone except the person who is pathologically pleasing people. everyone else thinks you're the nicest person ever. they LOVE you, and it takes quite a while for you to realize that your tendency is really a pathology.

i'm learning. ever so slowly.

mummy's lovely garden...

nerves

My mom has a nervous temperament; I've always been calm & sometimes collected. [Although the one who is truly collected in an emergency is dave--he is so rational and amazing in a crisis.]

It's funny--lately sometimes I've just been overcome with anxiety and felt as if I really can't handle much more. It's a new phenomenon for me. I can only take so much tension and stress and chaos and I need to take a mental break. Today was one of those days. I mean, a mental vacation day. I woke up at 4:30 a.m. with strange dreams and worry. The pressure was too much. I went out on the porch in the early foggy morning and prayed and did my stretches (my own version of yoga). Then I took a bunch of pictures of mom's garden, including lots of insects. I'll post them here eventually.

I went back to bed after my photography spree & slept late. Spent a lot of time today reading The Shipping News, a novel by E. Annie Proulx, who I believe also wrote the book Brokeback Mountain. I am enjoying The Shipping News because it takes me to Newfoundland. I spent a summer there a while ago. Thanks, Sue, for giving me the book. I so deeply enjoy books about people living in isolated, primitive places. Living simpler, harder lives, where you survive by your wits and with the help of your neighbors. I relish the rocks, waves, and fog. The weather shapes your life.

Perhaps my desire to live in such a place is based on an over-simplified view of rustic living. My parents live here in the rural midwest. I like coming here but there are things that bother me. The small-mindedness of certain people. The fact that I'm an oddball for having lived overseas, or for a variety of other reasons. I never really did fit in.

I think I might like life here better if I could have my own little home in the middle of the cornfields and the trees. If I had a shed in the back with a potter's wheel and a kiln. Loads of books and a few gardens. Oh--the other part of my fantasy is a lovely old Ford F-150 pickup truck. Sighhhhhhh...they are so....primal.

I'm really enjoying the book. Perhaps it will inspire a roadtrip. Because for now, I have a home, and it is in the midst of urbanness, not in the country. Moving to the place of my fantasies does not seem to be imminent. I do not have the intention (or courage?) to make a radical move to either rural Illinois or distant Newfoundland, for now. Why don't I? Maybe someday I will.

how to attain enlightenment--by angie & paula

1. wear baggy multi-colored clothes--preferably made in a foreign country.
2. get dreads.
3. purchase a buddhist prayer flag & drape it somewhere in your environment
4. chant words you don't understand repeatedly
5. burn incense & eat tofu
6. anything eastern is good. eschew & conceal your essential whiteness (or whatever ethnicity you're trying not to be).
7. wear lots of accessories & big earrings made of wood, bone, or shell.

i find it funny that i have the urge to do a lot of the things i've listed here. i also have some very groovy sandals. i just need to stock up on the foreign-made jewelry & sweaters (here i come, peru) & i should be set.

desire

If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling around with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
-C. S. Lewis
(via whiskey river)

I think we all have intense desires. I think we try to satisfy those deep needs with very shallow things sometimes. I'd like to see what the Creator's offer of a holiday at the sea might be like.

home

being at home is good. not always easy or comfortable, but good. everywhere outdoors is lush, green, and quiet. the birds are chirping. i can hear dave pushing the lawnmower. the mechanism which propels the mower is broken, so it's quite a workout.

yesterday i went to the strawberry patch and visited my friends who run it. it's so good to see people i go way back with. it's good to see them married, with children.

later, i hulled and sliced strawberries to freeze. it's kind of nice to just do housework, and have mom express appreciation.

there are family struggles. some stuff is aggravating. i long to get rid of clutter that clogs this house, but fighting that battle may not be worth it. instead, step outside into mom's lovely garden and enjoy the cool breeze that stirs the leaves.

this weekend, angie & i are camping. i am looking forward to it. we'll checkout a bluegrass festival, lots of little artsy shops, and the local restaurants. we'll have a campfire and sit and...how do they say it? shoot the breeze? chew the fat?

i gotta run. dad wants his internet back.

tree shall stay and stay

tree won't pack his back and go
tree won't go away
in his first and favorite home
tree shall stay and stay.

first i loved one home.
then i loved another.
i've waved good-bye to seven homes--
and so have pops and mother.

but tree shall stay, so stout and straight
and never have to move
as i, as pops, as mother
from land he learned to love.

i don't know who wrote this, maybe langston hughes? i read it a long time ago and it has stayed with me ever since. it feels true for me today.

excerpt

la·con·ic adj. Using or marked by the use of few words; terse or concise.

"Crake had a thing about him even then, thinks Snowman. Not that he was popular, exactly, but people felt flattered by his regard. Not just the kids, the teachers too. He'd look at them as if he was listening, as if what they were talking about was worth of his full attention, though he would never say so exactly. He generated awe -- not an overwhelming amount of it, but enough. He exuded potential, but potential for what? Nobody knew, and so people were wary of him. All of this in his dark laconic clothing."

from p. 75 of "Oryx and Crake" by Margaret Atwood.

i get annoyed at stories in books where there are a pair of characters, and one of them is clearly the alpha-figure, the cooler one, the leader, the strong silent one. the other one is just a little clumsier, a little chubbier, and when the leader says, "let's do this", it goes without saying they will. i guess i just have always felt like i was the one who was fatter, more clueless, not really knowing what the socially acceptable thing was to do. so i'd follow my cooler, more confident sidekick along, but slightly resentful, wishing i could be the cool one for once.

i'm prepared to like this book, however. debbie, have you read this one?

monday

this pencil cost me 75 cents at an art museum in austin. i've been thinking about it quite a bit. i liked the message immediately (there were lots of different "art is" pencils), but the more i stare at it the more profound it seems.

as i was scribbling in my journal on the plane, the pencil flipped out of my hand and into a very awkward place between the seat and the wall of the cabin. after a couple of unsuccessful lunges, i realized i would probably not get it back without getting down on my hands and knees, preferably after the people beside me left their seats. eventually i wrangled it back.

so--what is my art, what is my struggle?

life is my medium. life is difficult. living well requires focus, mindfulness, and a vision of what i want to create. no wasted brushstrokes. simplicity, passion, vivid colors. inspired, free, but with care underlying each choice. love in every act.

the consciousness, focus, living-each-moment is my struggle. tiny brushstrokes--no sweeping acts or proclamations. just painting a little more beauty every day.

away

to discover austin, texas (by way of an educator's conference). i'll be back in a while :)

this photo is stolen from the internet. isn't it intense?

eva cassidy makes this magical. i don't know much about music--but this strikes a chord.

Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.
From glen to glen and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone, and all the flowers dying.
'Tis you, 'tis you must go, and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
or when the valley's hushed and white with snow.
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow.
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so.

But when ye come and all the roses falling,
and I am dead, as dead I well may be,
Go out and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.

And I will hear tho' soft your tread above me,
and then my grave will warm and sweeter be.
For you shall bend and tell me that you love me,
And I will sleep in peace until you come to me.

insomnia

the night before last, i suffered a very new type of insomnia. it's the type that happens when:

• you spend the night at a friend's house
• this friend is very attached to her son, a dog whose qualities i must admit are outstanding
• the dog sleeps on the floor by the bed
• the dog unfortunately ate something strange while visiting friends
• the dog's intestinal track reacts by emitting, from the lower end, stink bombs of the most overpowering strength.
• you try to press the blanket to your nose, and only partly succeed in hiding from the all-reaching power of the poopy-scented molecules invading all corners of the room.
• you are too tired to think of the very rational thought of sleeping in the bathtub, with the door closed.

yes!

body

my body is not very happy. i don't exercise or get sleep as regularly as i need. i think a major focus of the next month will be to keep my body healthy and well. the ribs are complaining about my posture and how much i sit. at least i eat fairly well. i'm eating much less sugar, much less meat.

here's to the discipline to put my body's needs onto, if not at the top, of the priority list.

rain in the forecast

i am sitting here, enjoying a beer, and the weather says some rain tomorrow. that's good. perhaps i shall go for a hike.

i have nothing to say. perhaps it is time for a poem.


The Rain by Robert Creeley

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.

update

here are the pictures i took. favorite moment: inside the cathedral of st. john the divine.

spoiled rotten II

i found a ticket for a 7 pm cruise around new york that someone gave me when they moved away. i decided that today would be the perfect day to use it. it's a slightly rainy day; i think this will make for great photographs.

spoiled rotten

you know those days when you just are overwhelmed by the prospect of getting yourself through a day of work--and you'd give anything to be able to just stay in bed till noon?

today i did stay in bed till noon. it's gloomy out, luxuriously gloomy. i slept pretty late and then got up & made breakfast and am now wasting time. not even feeling too guilty about it, either.

the only bad thing is that i'm out of coffee. must go get some of the good stuff.

luxuriously lazy. and i'm trying to enjoy it for all of you who are working today.

new passport photos

what do you call the expression on this face?

gifts

think of a person in your life who gave you a new idea--large or small--that you really cherish and remember. what is that idea? why does it stay with you? how has it changed your thinking?

father lancelot--when i thanked him for paying for the meal, he said i was making too much over the money, and thanked me instead for my company and conversation.

another nugget i gained from him was when he urged me to keep my heart's garden free of the weeds of anger and resentment.

sharon gave me an interesting idea once: i was complaining about arrogance, and she suggested that some people who are truly brilliant have a right to be a little bit arrogant, and it's not as obnoxious as stupid people who are arrogant. i'm not sure about this, but...

anson's blog is titled Hopeful Expectation. i like the sentiment expressed in his choice of title. especially since i know it's a meaningful choice.

one of mike's pet points is right vs. good. it took him a while, but i think i finally get it. it's influenced the way i talk. i choose my words differently now.

diditi chose to remain friends with me after a really awkward, bizarre confrontation. it brought our friendship to a whole new level.

once, michelle told me that i have a problem with honesty. i really appreciated her being able to tell me that. in that moment, she established herself as a friend of worth.

dad told me once that i should marry someone that i respect. i remember exactly where we were when he said that to me. (driving into bridgeport, just before you cross the railroad tracks.)

mom was a real mommy to me. i'll always have that. she gave me her time and these moments were filled with love. this is truly a gift.

there are many, many more. what gifts do you carry in your pockets?

dedication to the truth

the conversation below under this post about lying and the truth has been stirring my thoughts the last few days. while grinding coffee this morning, i realized that the heart of the matter might be something (surprise, surprise) written by one of my heroes.

all of this is particularly vivid to me in the context of a flurry of emails and a meeting we had at work yesterday (union & contract issues) that were very disturbing to me. whenever an event disturbs me at a gut level, i know there is something interesting to be learned there. part of the knotted stomach phenomenon is not being entirely sure what is at the heart of my discomfort.

i talked to various people who i respect about how it was the way things were done rather than the content of the proposed agreement that disturbed me most. it's funny: we all prefer honesty. cut-through-the-b.s. and give me scoop. doesn't it seem like the most effective way to
1)spend people's time
2)build trust
3)keep it simple
4)not get caught with your pants down

but these guys seem to have a knack for taking a carefully thought out direct question and muddling the issue until the asker is utterly baffled and literally can't remember what it was they were asking.

is this a consciously chosen, effective strategy for keeping the power to themselves? perhaps so. these guys apparently have had control of the union for about 20 years. union leaders are elected. i'm dumbfounded as to how a body of intelligent, articulate, critical thinkers (such as we believe our faculty are) can be brought to a halt by fuzzy language, vague allusions, out right lies, and wasting our time with irrelevant anecdotes. they stand before us, taking up our lunch hours with no visible sign of having prepared, and cavalierly discuss issues that are very important to us as if it were just no big deal. "leave it to us--we've got it under control--blah blah blah."

it fascinates me. i'm reduced to emailing my union rep to ask "how long till these guys retire"?

slimy is the only word that seems to apply. slimy slimy slimy. impossible to grab and shake.

anyway, i was getting to a point. what does M. Scott Peck say about dedication to the truth? here's a long exerpt:

So the expression of opinions, feelings, ideas, and even knowledge must be supressed from time to time in these an many other circumstances in the course of human affairs. What rules, then, can one follow if one is dedicated to the truth? [I added bullets for readability.]

• First, never speak falsehood.
• Second, bear in mind that the act of withholding the truth is always potentially a lie, and that in each instance in which the truth is withheld a significant moral decision is required.
• Third, the decision to withhold the truth should never be based on personal needs, such as a need for power, a need to be liked or a need to protect one's map from challenge.
• Fourth, and conversely, the decision to withhold the truth must always be based entirely upon the needs of the person or people from whom the truth is being withheld.
• Fifth, the assessment of another's needs is an act of responsibility which is so complex that it can only be executed wisely when one operates with genuine love for the other.
• Sixth, the primary factor in the assessment of another's needs is the assessment of that person's capacity to utilize the truth for his or her own spiritual growth.
• Finally, in assessing the capacity of another to utilize the truth for personal spiritual growth, it should be borne in mind that our tendency is generally to underestimate rather than overestimate this capacity.

All of this might seem like an extraordinary task, impossible to ever perfectly complete, a chronic and never-ending burden, a real drag. And it is indeed a never-ending burden of self-discipline, which is why most people opt for a life of very limited honesty and openness and relative closedness, hiding themselves and their maps from the world. It is easier that way. Yet the rewards of the difficult life of honesty and dedication to the truth are more than commensurate with the demands.

• By virtue of the fact that their maps are continually being challenged, open people are continually growing people.
• Through their openness they can establish and maintain intimate relationships far more effectively than more closed people.
• Because they never speak falsely, they can be secure and proud in the knowledge that they have done nothing to contribute to the confusion of the world, but have served as sources of illumination and clarification.
• Finally, they are totally free to be. They are not burdened by any need to hide. They do not have to slink around in the shadows. They do not have to construct new lies to hide old ones. They need waste no effort overing tracks or maintaing disguises. And ultimately they find that the energy required for the self-discipline of honesty is far less than the energy required for secretiveness. The more honest one is, the easier it is to continue being honest, just as the more lies one has told, the more necessary it is to lie again. By their openness, people decidated to the truth live in the open, and through the exercise of their coursage to live in the open, they become free from fear.

(from pages 62 and 63 of The Road Less Travelled)

I love how the emphasis shifts to discipline, love, and freedom. The focus becomes the well-being of others, not our own personal comfort. I think the second-to-last bullet above encapsulates my feelings about honesty in our world. There is so little of it, and the world sadly lacks clarity, simplicity, directness that has its roots in genuine love for each other.

So should I write the professor and tell him the real reason we declined him? Could he use it for spiritual growth? Who knows. Do I feel like going and telling the leadership of our union about their foggy, opaque leadership style and what I think of it? Heck yeah. Could they use it for growth? I don't know.

Ultimately, the person most in need of my honesty, though, is me. And the honest truth of this particular moment is that this is the first day of my vacation and I slept REALLY late (the movie last night was good, but very late) and haven't showered or made progress in the direction I'd planned. It's time to get up and go get some passport photos taken.

good things:

ahhh! time to celebrate:

• we found a good person (we think) to sublease the apartment for the summer. this will save me about $1300 or so.
• i finally bit the bullet and bought tickets to go to peru for a month...it's so freaking hard to optimize, given so many different variables: price, but also airports, times, duration of stay, # stops, whether the flight includes sitting in mexico city airport for 5 hours in the middle of the night. the ticket i bought was a little more but it's non stop, and from newark, not jfk. i'm content.
• i finished grading ALL the exams. amazing! also--
• had lunch with a great kid who i met on the new orleans trip. it was very good to chat with him and compare notes about how life develops and what we want.
• while the students were testing i was reading this book--which is really good. well the writing could be a little tighter, but the ideas in it make me so happy--about finding purpose in our life, and letting that purpose fill each small daily event with meaning and joy--if we can be mindful--and live deliberately. this requires discipline, focus. it requires us to edit out distractions, time-wasters, and meaningless 'noise'. i like that idea. i will blog more about it--i was underlining all over.
• i filled up the tank with gas, and came home to stella's wonderful supper. italian meatballs, mashed potatoes, delicious bread, and merlot (don't know what nationality--if any--merlot is supposed to be). top it off with conversation...
• i am really tired. i think we are going to go see a movie....perhaps spike lee's inside man.

p.s. i just opened my inbox and there was an email from Matt Damon!!!! bewilder-bafflement? is this a prank from a sibling who knows of my weakness for only this particular movie star? no, it's actually real. well...it's because M.D. is using his celebrity (like others do) to support The ONE Campaign. but still.....an email from Matt Damon... wow.

i found this blog that is reliably beautiful: whiskey river. i added a link to the right. anyway, today's poem was lovely. like many of my favorite poems, i'm not sure exactly what it means, but it evokes a feeling of recognition. it reminds me of a feeling i'd never named.

on truth: roommate and i are attempting to sub-lease our apartment for the summer. we wanted to meet the people to see if we felt comfortable with them. this guy emails us regarding the ad we had online--he's a professor, going through a divorce. when he comes over to see the place (and get screened by me) he lets it drop that he has a girlfriend.

roomie and i hope to be married one day, and the fact that this dood has a girlfriend while he's going through a divorce annoys us. so while he seems to be a good guy in all other respects, we decide we don't want him living in our place. and yet--here's the part where the truth comes in--when i write him to turn him down, i don't tell him the truth. i tell him "the apartment is no longer available".

polite society seems to require these small lies of us--less than the truth--to avoid awkwardness...

i didn't want to get into an argument with this guy. i didn't want to confront him about his morality...none of your business--he'd say. i didn't want to stress out a man who's clearly already got enough to worry about.

what do you think?

inchoate \in-KOH-it\, adjective:
1. In an initial or early stage; just begun.
2. Imperfectly formed or developed.

nobody...

...has a clue. i'm increasingly convinced of this. especially when we disagree...and argue...it's fascinating. we all are so different, and so opinionated...and when we have to come to a consensus...it's painfully apparent...no one knows what they are talking about.

this helps me to be a bit more confident in taking a stand. my opinion is as valid as anyone else's, perhaps. (the perhaps lingers...)

i still believe in an ultimate reality...but we're so clueless...hovering at the fringes of it, barely touching or experiencing its surface...

still...thank god we have each other to clash and disagree with...alone, i think we'd lose it completely...

the scoop

so, what was the deal with closing the other blog and opening this one?

welll........

my style has shifted...my purpose has shifted. and i wanted to set aside my archives and start fresh. it's unfortunate that i lost my old address. it was the underscore in it which is no longer allowed by blogger.

i guess i could say more...regarding the fact that the blog was linked to my last name, which i'm not really comfortable with.

but before i forget--i realized last night that i thought cinderella's dancing was far more beautiful when she was barefoot--there was such grace to it, such childlike simplicity. when she put on her magical slippers, i thought something was lost.

a sparkling afternoon

this afternoon i felt that the world might be celebrating. perhaps there was joy in the air, in the wind, in the trees, in the sun lighting up the glass hanging and twirling and winking at me. i watched, delighted, but hesitating.

are there moments when all is right with the world? peace on earth, goodwill toward men? i know that anson passed his bar exam. my summer freedom is imminent. angie called me and read her words to me, sad, but rich with insights, powerful descriptions. then i went to see a ballet...and cinderella danced with joy, shining on all around her. i think this time of year--summer coming, vacation so close you can almost touch it...it's full of expectation and new things. i keep expecting everyone to have a story, to radiate excitement.

i'm happy to be blogging again. i'm celebrating that too. rejoice with me.