I want to hear these cold wet daffodils
as poetry in my storm tossed mind
I want to hear the world described
from out of the fog rolling through the trees down into the valley
In words that float or sing to which
I feel a dance coming on
I want to swim the gray air hovering over the garden
swim through it to the hidden
sun
Then afterwards I will know once more
what colors to paint the easter eggs
The dance of spring revealing itself again and again.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
What are you Sinking About?
It is Friday evening, Viernes, and the start to a much deserved spring break for the teachers who live in the greater Portland area. Teachers, go out and a have a few really good beers, laugh a lot, go off to a warm place... I am your fan. Let this be my fan letter!
Today I was given the opportunity to work a full day in a local Elementary School, so I feel an even greater kinship with the teachers in our midst. I must say it now, and with gravity, the teachers, classroom aides, staff in every field - they all should have an instant pass to heaven, they are all angels, they are the best humans, giving every day in ways those of us not at the 'front lines' of education could never imagine.
Picture this:
A ten year old boy, in diapers, with limited reasoning capacity, laying on a bathroom floor...throwing a tantrum for an hour ....
while the little girl, 8 years old, who cannot speak, has to be fed intraveniously, cannot walk or speak.. she hears the shrieks of the boy and begins to thrust her legs spastically and bang her head against her wheelchair supports... while the 5 year old who cannot walk on his own, decides to spit at his teachers while they work closely with him.. while the staff calmly assesses the situation and talks kindly to the child, bringing him slowly back to reality.
Miraculously the end of the day comes, when we walk the children out to the buses, and a 7 year old who has limited communications ability suddenly throws up in the center of the hallway as the whole school passes by departing at the end of the day..... her aid saying "I don't have any gloves... ' and me, the newbie running to the office to find the health room and some gloves.
Not till I walk out the door headed for my car do I wonder if I have contracted some kind of stomach flu from the little sick girl, with whom I worked in close proximity all day. I have family who cannot afford to get sick right now, so I must quaranteen myself, on this Friday night.
Again I wonder why those who work with children are put at the lower ends of the pay scale. Such hard work, requiring far more that just the physical motions of work deserves huge rewards in a society based on justice.
All this is going on while a nuclear reactor in our climate zone is melting down. This blog is not meant to be negative, only realistic. There is so much it seems we cannot talk about anymore, in this feel good, Pollyanna land. Where are we headed? I have just joined the 'Coffee Party'.... for real. Just when I think the cause is lost, I read about cool people with fabulous imaginations doing something proactive and positive. Viva la vida!
Someday when I am not fresh out of the epitome of a wierd day I will edit this essay, but if you see it now you get the full effect of where I am. ( The moon in the gloaming of this evening, one day away from full, but still shining white and magical in the night sky may or may not have something to do with this day... )
I hope we all have springs with flowers, some sun, new ideas, healing and love. If you would rather have passion than love, then her it is.... I hope we all have passion, I wish it for the world.
Today I was given the opportunity to work a full day in a local Elementary School, so I feel an even greater kinship with the teachers in our midst. I must say it now, and with gravity, the teachers, classroom aides, staff in every field - they all should have an instant pass to heaven, they are all angels, they are the best humans, giving every day in ways those of us not at the 'front lines' of education could never imagine.
Picture this:
A ten year old boy, in diapers, with limited reasoning capacity, laying on a bathroom floor...throwing a tantrum for an hour ....
while the little girl, 8 years old, who cannot speak, has to be fed intraveniously, cannot walk or speak.. she hears the shrieks of the boy and begins to thrust her legs spastically and bang her head against her wheelchair supports... while the 5 year old who cannot walk on his own, decides to spit at his teachers while they work closely with him.. while the staff calmly assesses the situation and talks kindly to the child, bringing him slowly back to reality.
Miraculously the end of the day comes, when we walk the children out to the buses, and a 7 year old who has limited communications ability suddenly throws up in the center of the hallway as the whole school passes by departing at the end of the day..... her aid saying "I don't have any gloves... ' and me, the newbie running to the office to find the health room and some gloves.
Not till I walk out the door headed for my car do I wonder if I have contracted some kind of stomach flu from the little sick girl, with whom I worked in close proximity all day. I have family who cannot afford to get sick right now, so I must quaranteen myself, on this Friday night.
Again I wonder why those who work with children are put at the lower ends of the pay scale. Such hard work, requiring far more that just the physical motions of work deserves huge rewards in a society based on justice.
All this is going on while a nuclear reactor in our climate zone is melting down. This blog is not meant to be negative, only realistic. There is so much it seems we cannot talk about anymore, in this feel good, Pollyanna land. Where are we headed? I have just joined the 'Coffee Party'.... for real. Just when I think the cause is lost, I read about cool people with fabulous imaginations doing something proactive and positive. Viva la vida!
Someday when I am not fresh out of the epitome of a wierd day I will edit this essay, but if you see it now you get the full effect of where I am. ( The moon in the gloaming of this evening, one day away from full, but still shining white and magical in the night sky may or may not have something to do with this day... )
I hope we all have springs with flowers, some sun, new ideas, healing and love. If you would rather have passion than love, then her it is.... I hope we all have passion, I wish it for the world.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Kindergarten
Last night, when the job listing showed up in gray, the jackpot color, not the usual red "no jobs at this time", I read the words "Kindergarten" and immediately thought of 1990, the year my youngest son was a kindergartner, and I was his teacher's regular sub. I knew all the kid's names, and the routine of the class. I knew about Eli, the little guy with FES, and I had usually talked with Pat, the gregarious lovely teacher, at length in advance. I knew the lesson, the interval for recess, how the routine on the rug went. (Children adore routine). I welcomed the chance to spend the day with my own son. It was a win/win, in our little rural school where everyone knew everyone, and the principal met the kids as they disembarked from the bus with a hearty welcome and a joke.
Teaching a pack of little ones who want anything but sitting still can be sort of like doing aerobics. I know this, and I know that unfamiliarity makes it much harder, but still, I was excited to be in kindergarten again!
So, 22 years later I walked into a Kindergarten room, unrehearsed and right out of my new 55 year old life. They whupped me into shape right away. Little kids are so wonderfully transparent. Just when I thought I was a goner, I would put my hand on the shoulder of the kid who could not sit still, and felt him calm. I whispered in ears often, and this they listened to. We sang some songs, lullabies our parents sang to us. It was precious to hear the high child singing recount the song they loved best. In a few years it will be impossible to get them to sing a song alone, in front of their peers. How lucky I felt today, letting them perform, gently reinforcing to the class how "we listen with respect".
At the end of my day with them, I wanted a small amount of closure, so I said, "I teach yoga, and we have a way of saying goodbye, namaste,.. ) and I bowed to them. Every child's eyes were on me, they were still and silent for the first time in 4 hours. It was cosmic. It was the perfect way to end my morning with them.
I didn't practice yoga in 1990. I wish I had, it might have calmed me in my racing, anxious, fragmented young widowhood. It might have.
To be grateful now for my practice is what I have. To see little kids, and to always see my own kids within them.. To see myself mirrored in their guilless responses, and the future of the world in their eyes.
Teaching a pack of little ones who want anything but sitting still can be sort of like doing aerobics. I know this, and I know that unfamiliarity makes it much harder, but still, I was excited to be in kindergarten again!
So, 22 years later I walked into a Kindergarten room, unrehearsed and right out of my new 55 year old life. They whupped me into shape right away. Little kids are so wonderfully transparent. Just when I thought I was a goner, I would put my hand on the shoulder of the kid who could not sit still, and felt him calm. I whispered in ears often, and this they listened to. We sang some songs, lullabies our parents sang to us. It was precious to hear the high child singing recount the song they loved best. In a few years it will be impossible to get them to sing a song alone, in front of their peers. How lucky I felt today, letting them perform, gently reinforcing to the class how "we listen with respect".
At the end of my day with them, I wanted a small amount of closure, so I said, "I teach yoga, and we have a way of saying goodbye, namaste,.. ) and I bowed to them. Every child's eyes were on me, they were still and silent for the first time in 4 hours. It was cosmic. It was the perfect way to end my morning with them.
I didn't practice yoga in 1990. I wish I had, it might have calmed me in my racing, anxious, fragmented young widowhood. It might have.
To be grateful now for my practice is what I have. To see little kids, and to always see my own kids within them.. To see myself mirrored in their guilless responses, and the future of the world in their eyes.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Riddles
I have a young reading student who I thought might respond to humor, so I looked up some riddles. There are plenty - I am happy to report- of clever people writing these ditties and posting them in easy to locate sites. Bravo humor thinkers!
Periodically I get the sense that we don't laugh enough, that we take life too seriously. (Except for the weird celebrities and pundits that are journalistically puffed up and watched for diversion, which does nothing to tickle my funnybone)
So here are some of my favorite recent finds :
What is the cannibals favorite game?
Answer: Swallow the leader.
I wonder if Barack Obama can relate to that.
I just read that they want to oust David Wu because he sent a photo of himself in a (gasp) tiger costume to some of his staff. Wow. What has become of this place? The ghosts of the Puritans are busy busy. Someone thinks that a tiger costume makes a person unfit to be a Congressman. I like David Wu, and I think he looked cheerful in the costume. What is wrong with being cheerful?
Now, if you want to loose weight, take the advice of Miss Piggy:
"Never eat more than you can lift."
If that is taken out to it's pure end, well, you do the math. It can be applied to anything.
I really like this one - What do you do when a bull charges you?
Answer: Pay him!
That is good advice for living within your means. But don't live being mean.
Maybe this is my reaction to the fact that Congress is trying to eliminate funding for all the best parts of our country - like Americorps and Planned Parenthood. Shock has caused me to wax nutty.
Those union members in Wisconsin are fantastic... I hope they live forever.
Periodically I get the sense that we don't laugh enough, that we take life too seriously. (Except for the weird celebrities and pundits that are journalistically puffed up and watched for diversion, which does nothing to tickle my funnybone)
So here are some of my favorite recent finds :
What is the cannibals favorite game?
Answer: Swallow the leader.
I wonder if Barack Obama can relate to that.
I just read that they want to oust David Wu because he sent a photo of himself in a (gasp) tiger costume to some of his staff. Wow. What has become of this place? The ghosts of the Puritans are busy busy. Someone thinks that a tiger costume makes a person unfit to be a Congressman. I like David Wu, and I think he looked cheerful in the costume. What is wrong with being cheerful?
Now, if you want to loose weight, take the advice of Miss Piggy:
"Never eat more than you can lift."
If that is taken out to it's pure end, well, you do the math. It can be applied to anything.
I really like this one - What do you do when a bull charges you?
Answer: Pay him!
That is good advice for living within your means. But don't live being mean.
Maybe this is my reaction to the fact that Congress is trying to eliminate funding for all the best parts of our country - like Americorps and Planned Parenthood. Shock has caused me to wax nutty.
Those union members in Wisconsin are fantastic... I hope they live forever.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Blue Sky
It is still muddy here, the jory soil, gummy and brick red, sticks to the shoes if you walk on the non-gravel roads. Three mountains are out, shining white. The violets are blooming even as there is frost on the grass before the sun hits it. Spring seems very close today, a tease, but I will take it as a birthday gift anyway.
I am celebrating my life today, having permission because it is the day I came into my first breath 55 years ago. I have to thank my parents for wanting me. They were 30 years old, I was their 4th kid. They were so worried that I would actually make it after Mom had 2 miscarriages. They gave me this gift, of being alive in a body to know the joy and the pain, to see the beauty and the trials.
Our breath is the one thing which connects us to the beginning and the end of life. Our practice offers us the reminder to notice that breath. Today I notice how lucky I am to have clean, fresh air to breath.
In our travels last month I experienced the fright of having unclean water cause angry red blisters to form and spread on my skin without my understanding of what was happening for a week.
A good doctor took one look and gave my 5 days worth of penicillin. Even as I assiduously took my required 6 pills a day, and no alcohol or spicy food, I could only imagine times before the penecillon option . One might have had to sit and watch the body rot. Of course there was less bacteria in the water. The increased propagation and domestication of animals for food and otherwise has given us crazy new viruses and compromised water. Human overpopulation is the other big factor.
In short, I am so grateful for antibiotics. I can't change the world, make the water cleaner, stop overpopulation, except to attempt to live simply in the ways that present themselves. The skin on my arm is healing slowly, I watch it everyday with fear and amazement. The thoughts of others who live with compromised air and water weigh heavily for me. If I am more specifically grateful for these simple things, this should cause me to be more active in the protection of the environment.
It should...
I am celebrating my life today, having permission because it is the day I came into my first breath 55 years ago. I have to thank my parents for wanting me. They were 30 years old, I was their 4th kid. They were so worried that I would actually make it after Mom had 2 miscarriages. They gave me this gift, of being alive in a body to know the joy and the pain, to see the beauty and the trials.
Our breath is the one thing which connects us to the beginning and the end of life. Our practice offers us the reminder to notice that breath. Today I notice how lucky I am to have clean, fresh air to breath.
In our travels last month I experienced the fright of having unclean water cause angry red blisters to form and spread on my skin without my understanding of what was happening for a week.
A good doctor took one look and gave my 5 days worth of penicillin. Even as I assiduously took my required 6 pills a day, and no alcohol or spicy food, I could only imagine times before the penecillon option . One might have had to sit and watch the body rot. Of course there was less bacteria in the water. The increased propagation and domestication of animals for food and otherwise has given us crazy new viruses and compromised water. Human overpopulation is the other big factor.
In short, I am so grateful for antibiotics. I can't change the world, make the water cleaner, stop overpopulation, except to attempt to live simply in the ways that present themselves. The skin on my arm is healing slowly, I watch it everyday with fear and amazement. The thoughts of others who live with compromised air and water weigh heavily for me. If I am more specifically grateful for these simple things, this should cause me to be more active in the protection of the environment.
It should...
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Obesity Linked to Right Wing Ideologies
OK, it is still winter, and I am very soon to turn 55, yikes... so it must be time for a spot of humor:
I can't eat 'Onion', so I'll call this my 'Garlic' (form of satire):
Clinical research is now finding a direct causal relationship between the amount of excess body fat a person holds, and the hours that person spends listening to fox new's glenn beck, or talk radio's rush limbaugh.
'Top scientists' have studied groups of adults, many of whom are 20 - 50 pounds overweight, and guess what? Yes, just as you might have suspected - anger, vitriol, misinformation and hatred all contribute to poor eating habits, lack of meaningful activity, and, consequently, fat.
How would that make us think, and act... to believe that holding mean thoughts makes the body hold onto calories? This could be a new take for the billion dollar weight-loss industry. Is a patent in order?
I think it is at least partly true. Kind thoughts and kind words, compassion is the diet of the happy future.
I can't eat 'Onion', so I'll call this my 'Garlic' (form of satire):
Clinical research is now finding a direct causal relationship between the amount of excess body fat a person holds, and the hours that person spends listening to fox new's glenn beck, or talk radio's rush limbaugh.
'Top scientists' have studied groups of adults, many of whom are 20 - 50 pounds overweight, and guess what? Yes, just as you might have suspected - anger, vitriol, misinformation and hatred all contribute to poor eating habits, lack of meaningful activity, and, consequently, fat.
How would that make us think, and act... to believe that holding mean thoughts makes the body hold onto calories? This could be a new take for the billion dollar weight-loss industry. Is a patent in order?
I think it is at least partly true. Kind thoughts and kind words, compassion is the diet of the happy future.
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Last Day
Life is really a series of endings and beginnings, it is only our perception which creates the title and the definition of where the boundaries are.
There is one more day for Curtis and I to traverse the streets of D.F. and feel the sun, as well as the dust.
Last night I thought of how my mind has reconfigured itself because of language barriers, and how I spend time learning words like a child, the mind as a sponge, to soak up the world. Let me stay in this.
The thought of returning to the tea party is frightening, I must admit, but one must face life with courage. The people I love have been dealing with the rain, and the politics. My heart goes out to you, and I hope soon to be sitting with you in yoga practice to soften the world.
I have been traveling with my purple soft mat, the very first yoga mat I ever owned, and tonight I shall go to Liliana's apartment and leave it with her. My heart, corazon, is in the places I have been, and the places I will return to. It is with the world of kindness which is so huge, so much larger than our fears will let it be, in the dark of the night wondering about survival.
I close this with a story about another traveler we met, named Buddy, a house painter/musician from Alaska. He was having dinner on the square in Patzcuaro, where beggers, singers, and women selling trinkets with babies on their backs make a continuous parade through your meal.
He had a big pile of change on the table, and a particularly haggard woman came along. He could not help himself, and gave her all the money at once. He and she were both crying he told us. I was not there, but I can see the scene in my mind, and I will carry it with me as comfort, like I carry those I love in the rucksack of my heart.
There is one more day for Curtis and I to traverse the streets of D.F. and feel the sun, as well as the dust.
Last night I thought of how my mind has reconfigured itself because of language barriers, and how I spend time learning words like a child, the mind as a sponge, to soak up the world. Let me stay in this.
The thought of returning to the tea party is frightening, I must admit, but one must face life with courage. The people I love have been dealing with the rain, and the politics. My heart goes out to you, and I hope soon to be sitting with you in yoga practice to soften the world.
I have been traveling with my purple soft mat, the very first yoga mat I ever owned, and tonight I shall go to Liliana's apartment and leave it with her. My heart, corazon, is in the places I have been, and the places I will return to. It is with the world of kindness which is so huge, so much larger than our fears will let it be, in the dark of the night wondering about survival.
I close this with a story about another traveler we met, named Buddy, a house painter/musician from Alaska. He was having dinner on the square in Patzcuaro, where beggers, singers, and women selling trinkets with babies on their backs make a continuous parade through your meal.
He had a big pile of change on the table, and a particularly haggard woman came along. He could not help himself, and gave her all the money at once. He and she were both crying he told us. I was not there, but I can see the scene in my mind, and I will carry it with me as comfort, like I carry those I love in the rucksack of my heart.
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