Play-doh tectonics and corn candy cartwheels,
Pop bottle geysers and cornstarch magma,
Electro-nail magnets and funky earth science.
Class should be a blast on Friday...
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Gaining Perspective
When an important event is coming up, it looms so huge on the horizon that we cannot see past it. It dominates our vision, like the mountain before us on a hike. Step by step we approach it, excited in anticipation of the peak views and weary of the long trudge. Once at the top we seem to see it all before us; everything is revealed. But not quite.
A week, month, year or so later the mountain has receded--perhaps not even in view. We have moved on to something else and the mountain has shrunk in size--at least in our memories.
Less than two weeks ago, I had an actual physical mountain in front of me. It evoked a dread in my heart by the terribleness of its size. I did not climb all of it, but it is waiting for me to come back and conquer it. Within days I was flying home. Looking down, the mountains made me wonder but not fear. From miles up they had flattened out. They had not changed, but my point of view had.
We encounter numerous mountains in our life. Some seem insurmountable. Others daunting, but hike-able. Still others are just a short-term, body-numbing task to get past. We cannot always tell which is which, and hope that we don't waste too much of our life on the impossible, and not too much on the too easy.
If we could do a fly-by on them, we might gain perspective, but we would also lose the mysterious spiciness of doubt and the grittiness of persistence. Perspective is a good thing, but it can also deceive if it comes without hands-on experience. I respect a mountain before me. I shrug off one below me. Climbing it gives me a perspective that a fly-by never will.
A week, month, year or so later the mountain has receded--perhaps not even in view. We have moved on to something else and the mountain has shrunk in size--at least in our memories.
Less than two weeks ago, I had an actual physical mountain in front of me. It evoked a dread in my heart by the terribleness of its size. I did not climb all of it, but it is waiting for me to come back and conquer it. Within days I was flying home. Looking down, the mountains made me wonder but not fear. From miles up they had flattened out. They had not changed, but my point of view had.
We encounter numerous mountains in our life. Some seem insurmountable. Others daunting, but hike-able. Still others are just a short-term, body-numbing task to get past. We cannot always tell which is which, and hope that we don't waste too much of our life on the impossible, and not too much on the too easy.
If we could do a fly-by on them, we might gain perspective, but we would also lose the mysterious spiciness of doubt and the grittiness of persistence. Perspective is a good thing, but it can also deceive if it comes without hands-on experience. I respect a mountain before me. I shrug off one below me. Climbing it gives me a perspective that a fly-by never will.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Dream On
I had a very weird dream last night, and I won't bore you by telling all about it. But everyone has dreams like that and we all (usually) enjoy them because of their illogical, disjointed and bizarre details that all seem so reasonable while we are in the dream. Last night's dream had no relevance to my current life and there was no plot moving forward. It did not give me any insights into problems I am pondering. It did not seem to mean anything.
I think when we dream our brains just start wandering haphazardly through our memories. It connects unrelated things, or hacks bits and pieces of our visual memory together, like a patchwork quilt of leftover little snippets of this or that. It's like a scrapbook done by a kindergartener, who cuts and pastes only to please the moment, and with no thought for the whole effect. Totally unrelated people and events find harmony simply by showing up and participating in a montage of your life--a multi-sensory collage.
Too often we wake from them, grasping the fleeting images that fade so quickly. We know we have been in an adventure, but amnesia, like a memory tsumani, erases dreams so quickly. They are slippery eels that resist being remembered.
I could not have come up with last night's dream using my conscious imagination. It was beyond my logical and sensible ideas of events and stories. It was truly a confetti parade--smidgens of everything that I have forgotten. This morning it was disappointing to wake up. It would have been more fun to dream on.
I think when we dream our brains just start wandering haphazardly through our memories. It connects unrelated things, or hacks bits and pieces of our visual memory together, like a patchwork quilt of leftover little snippets of this or that. It's like a scrapbook done by a kindergartener, who cuts and pastes only to please the moment, and with no thought for the whole effect. Totally unrelated people and events find harmony simply by showing up and participating in a montage of your life--a multi-sensory collage.
Too often we wake from them, grasping the fleeting images that fade so quickly. We know we have been in an adventure, but amnesia, like a memory tsumani, erases dreams so quickly. They are slippery eels that resist being remembered.
I could not have come up with last night's dream using my conscious imagination. It was beyond my logical and sensible ideas of events and stories. It was truly a confetti parade--smidgens of everything that I have forgotten. This morning it was disappointing to wake up. It would have been more fun to dream on.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Here It Comes!
You'd think I'd learn what I can get away with. I ignored my caffeine intolerance all during our trip. Once I realized I had accidentally gotten real coffee, I knew I had to either keep up the intake or put up with a headache during my vacation. I decided to postpone the headache and drank caffeine every day to hold off the pain. But today, almost exactly 48 hours after my last dose, I can feel at the back of my head an approaching migraine.
It starts like a dull ache that makes it hard to think and grows till it is a throbbing ache that makes thinking impossible. Sometimes I feel like I'm a little kid, doing something that has inevitable consequences, yet still hopes that THIS TIME it won't work out that way. I can appreciate that worn out saying, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." So I made an insane choice, hoping that THIS TIME I could get away without a headache. And yet here it comes.
It starts like a dull ache that makes it hard to think and grows till it is a throbbing ache that makes thinking impossible. Sometimes I feel like I'm a little kid, doing something that has inevitable consequences, yet still hopes that THIS TIME it won't work out that way. I can appreciate that worn out saying, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." So I made an insane choice, hoping that THIS TIME I could get away without a headache. And yet here it comes.
Friday, October 15, 2010
If You're Happy And You Know It
Almost two weeks of sunshine.
Lovely leaves, comfy temperatures.
Working enough to be happy, not cranky.
Goals being met--big ones, ones I've been waiting for for a long time.
Having someplace new to go to and explore.
Being healthy, hearing better, weighing just right.
Reading like a starved POW at a banquet.
Getting enough sleep to not be tired.
Being sleepless enough to read like a starved POW at a banquet.
Loving my boys, and my boys' girls.
Anticipating seeing my girl in Scotland.
Having lots of ideas and someplace to go with them.
Being loved by the man I love.
I am happy.
I know it.
Lovely leaves, comfy temperatures.
Working enough to be happy, not cranky.
Goals being met--big ones, ones I've been waiting for for a long time.
Having someplace new to go to and explore.
Being healthy, hearing better, weighing just right.
Reading like a starved POW at a banquet.
Getting enough sleep to not be tired.
Being sleepless enough to read like a starved POW at a banquet.
Loving my boys, and my boys' girls.
Anticipating seeing my girl in Scotland.
Having lots of ideas and someplace to go with them.
Being loved by the man I love.
I am happy.
I know it.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Out My Window
Not a breath of air to move the trees,
Not a hint of life or airy breeze,
No flicker of flames from fiery leaves,
No twitch of movement from grassy sheaves.
Autumn morning crisp and bright,
Cloudless skies and shimm'ring light,
Dewy grass on leaf-strewn lawn,
A molten sun greets new day's dawn.
Not a hint of life or airy breeze,
No flicker of flames from fiery leaves,
No twitch of movement from grassy sheaves.
Autumn morning crisp and bright,
Cloudless skies and shimm'ring light,
Dewy grass on leaf-strewn lawn,
A molten sun greets new day's dawn.
Monday, October 11, 2010
It's Complicated
I've been reading through stacks of World War II history books lately--a project I've been considering for a while and throughly enjoying since I embarked upon this adventure. As with most things that you only have a general knowledge of, once you break the surface, you find it complicated. The war was more widespread than I realized. Both sides struggled with and against technical advances. Unexpected people played unexpected roles. Suffering was universal. Cultural differences, particularly between east and west, gave birth to disasters, lack of preparedness, and unleashed viciousness. Noble sacrifice, unbridled ambition, maniacal hatred, and heroic vigilance motivated soldiers and civilians, the elite and the destitute, the virtuous and the depraved. It was sometimes hard to know a friend from a foe, and even harder to know if they held the same position a day, week, or month later. Truth was hard to come by; rumors were cheap and plentiful. As I dig deeper, layer upon layer of complication makes me realize what a precious treasures wisdom, mercy and compassion are.
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