https://voxpopulisphere.com/2016/10/23/mary-oliver-the-artists-task/
Sunday, April 2, 2017
The Last Word
Shirley MacClaine's character, Harriet, is a crotchety old woman disliked universally by those who know her, even her only daughter.
When she sets about to have her own obituary written, she finds that a good obituary contains four ingredients--none of which she has.
When Harriet grows more pleasant (to live up to a worthy obit), she unearths some wisdom in herself that changes herself and the people around her.
"Don't tell me to have a good day!" she says on the speaker when she lands a job as a deejay. "Tell me to have a meaningful day, a true day, an honest day--but not a good day."
And to her obituary writer who's afraid of making mistakes, she counsels her to make more, not fewer mistakes. "We don't make mistakes," she says. "Mistakes make us."
When she sets about to have her own obituary written, she finds that a good obituary contains four ingredients--none of which she has.
When Harriet grows more pleasant (to live up to a worthy obit), she unearths some wisdom in herself that changes herself and the people around her.
"Don't tell me to have a good day!" she says on the speaker when she lands a job as a deejay. "Tell me to have a meaningful day, a true day, an honest day--but not a good day."
And to her obituary writer who's afraid of making mistakes, she counsels her to make more, not fewer mistakes. "We don't make mistakes," she says. "Mistakes make us."
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Z
Z-z-z-z
Except for zebras and Zorba, both of which (and whom, in the case of Zorba) I like very much, the only Z that comes to mind is the series of Zs that are shorthand for sleep.
I love my sleep--seven or eight hours at night with a nap right after lunch or yoga. I love to rest, to listen to the birds outside my window, and watching as my subconscious entertains me with dreams--movies of the mind.
Except for zebras and Zorba, both of which (and whom, in the case of Zorba) I like very much, the only Z that comes to mind is the series of Zs that are shorthand for sleep.
I love my sleep--seven or eight hours at night with a nap right after lunch or yoga. I love to rest, to listen to the birds outside my window, and watching as my subconscious entertains me with dreams--movies of the mind.
Y
Yoga
At yoga today, Jane gave us a lesson on playfulness. "Don't concentrate so much on doing the postures perfectly," she said. "Just play with them."
Play, she said, is whatever connects us with joy and happiness. Whatever it is we should do more of it and more often. We were to imagine things that bring us joy and plan to do some of it this weekend.
The universe--she read this to us--is like a "big magic show." It's going on all the time, we just need to be attuned to it and pay attention.
At yoga today, Jane gave us a lesson on playfulness. "Don't concentrate so much on doing the postures perfectly," she said. "Just play with them."
Play, she said, is whatever connects us with joy and happiness. Whatever it is we should do more of it and more often. We were to imagine things that bring us joy and plan to do some of it this weekend.
The universe--she read this to us--is like a "big magic show." It's going on all the time, we just need to be attuned to it and pay attention.
X
The "X" Factor
In algebra, X stood for the unknown, what you did all that work to find out.
The "X Factor" is that mysterious (but essential) aspect of so many things--friendship, falling in love, personal aesthetics, why we like certain people more than others, and lots more attractions and preferences that are hard to describe sometimes.
It's the sine qua non, the essential ingredient, that little tiny dab of cinnamon without which apple pie would be, well, not apple pie. It's often the trace elements, the little-bitty, the almost-invisible qualities that make things what they are and that set one person apart from others.
I'm reading a unique novel called On Love, by Alain de Botton. What makes it stylistically unusual as a novel is that each chapter is divided into numbered paragraphs that both tell the story and reflect on the meaning of love and how humans choose each other.
As for falling in love, the narrator believes that his meeting Chloe was a happy accident of fate, with a probability factor of 1 in 989.7. Then he muses continuously on what makes her the object of his affection and vice versa.
A couple of snippets:
"Desire had turned me into a relentless hunter for clues, a romantic paranoiac, reading meaning into everything. But whatever my impatience with the rituals of seduction, I was aware that the enigma lent Chloe a distinctive appeal. The most attractive are not those who allow us to kiss them at once (we soon feel ungrateful) or those who never allow us to kiss them (we soon forget them), but those who know how to carefully administer varied doses of hope and despair."
"What is so frightening is the extent to which we may idealize others when we have such trouble tolerating ourselves--because we have such trouble....I must have realized that Chloe was only human, with all the implications carried by the word, but could I not be forgiven for my desire to suspend such a thought? Every fall into love involves the triumph of hope over self-knowledge. We fall in love hoping that we won't find in another what we know is in ourselves, all the cowardice, weakness, laziness, dishonesty, compromise, and stupidity."
In algebra, X stood for the unknown, what you did all that work to find out.
The "X Factor" is that mysterious (but essential) aspect of so many things--friendship, falling in love, personal aesthetics, why we like certain people more than others, and lots more attractions and preferences that are hard to describe sometimes.
It's the sine qua non, the essential ingredient, that little tiny dab of cinnamon without which apple pie would be, well, not apple pie. It's often the trace elements, the little-bitty, the almost-invisible qualities that make things what they are and that set one person apart from others.
I'm reading a unique novel called On Love, by Alain de Botton. What makes it stylistically unusual as a novel is that each chapter is divided into numbered paragraphs that both tell the story and reflect on the meaning of love and how humans choose each other.
As for falling in love, the narrator believes that his meeting Chloe was a happy accident of fate, with a probability factor of 1 in 989.7. Then he muses continuously on what makes her the object of his affection and vice versa.
A couple of snippets:
"Desire had turned me into a relentless hunter for clues, a romantic paranoiac, reading meaning into everything. But whatever my impatience with the rituals of seduction, I was aware that the enigma lent Chloe a distinctive appeal. The most attractive are not those who allow us to kiss them at once (we soon feel ungrateful) or those who never allow us to kiss them (we soon forget them), but those who know how to carefully administer varied doses of hope and despair."
"What is so frightening is the extent to which we may idealize others when we have such trouble tolerating ourselves--because we have such trouble....I must have realized that Chloe was only human, with all the implications carried by the word, but could I not be forgiven for my desire to suspend such a thought? Every fall into love involves the triumph of hope over self-knowledge. We fall in love hoping that we won't find in another what we know is in ourselves, all the cowardice, weakness, laziness, dishonesty, compromise, and stupidity."
W
Where-To-Go
On Wednesday, Elena heard me ask someone at La Cantera for directions to a particular store. "Go left, then you will see a Y, then go right. It will be on your left."
When we arrived, Elena said. "I never did see a Y!.... How did you know how to find the Y?"
I imagined her looking for an upright Y, an obvious sign or a marker, while I was following a horizontal map in my mind.
"When I was three, I used to do Where-To-Gos better than I do now," she said.
Already at five, Elena's sentimental about her short past. At my age, the equivalent is forty-something!
On Wednesday, Elena heard me ask someone at La Cantera for directions to a particular store. "Go left, then you will see a Y, then go right. It will be on your left."
When we arrived, Elena said. "I never did see a Y!.... How did you know how to find the Y?"
I imagined her looking for an upright Y, an obvious sign or a marker, while I was following a horizontal map in my mind.
"When I was three, I used to do Where-To-Gos better than I do now," she said.
Already at five, Elena's sentimental about her short past. At my age, the equivalent is forty-something!
V
Vicarious
If we had to learn everything first-hand, it would take many lifetimes to navigate the world.
Fortunately, we learn a lot vicariously, by watching other people in real life and on screen. My narrative addiction provides an unlimited menu of vicarious adventures and misadventures of those who, for the space of the movie, are me, my own self.
In murder mysteries, I'm the detective, never the victim. In love stories, I'm the irresistible beloved one. In Frankie and Grace, I'm Frankie with her colorful aging-hippie garb.
If we had to learn everything first-hand, it would take many lifetimes to navigate the world.
Fortunately, we learn a lot vicariously, by watching other people in real life and on screen. My narrative addiction provides an unlimited menu of vicarious adventures and misadventures of those who, for the space of the movie, are me, my own self.
In murder mysteries, I'm the detective, never the victim. In love stories, I'm the irresistible beloved one. In Frankie and Grace, I'm Frankie with her colorful aging-hippie garb.
U
Upside-Down
I love watching little kids move! There isn't a nanosecond of hesitation between one position and another. They climb, cartwheel, somersault, hang from bars and limbs, run, jump, hop, and turn upside down.
When I get down on the floor to paint with Elena, she already knows it's going to take me a minute to get back up, so she reaches for my hand and says, "I'll help you, Yenna."
Upside-down is not a posture most of us favor on purpose--though a few months ago, I experienced it accidentally traveling down a flight of stairs head first. I wish that I had chosen a more elegant expression of the upside down position, but there you have it.
I love watching little kids move! There isn't a nanosecond of hesitation between one position and another. They climb, cartwheel, somersault, hang from bars and limbs, run, jump, hop, and turn upside down.
When I get down on the floor to paint with Elena, she already knows it's going to take me a minute to get back up, so she reaches for my hand and says, "I'll help you, Yenna."
Upside-down is not a posture most of us favor on purpose--though a few months ago, I experienced it accidentally traveling down a flight of stairs head first. I wish that I had chosen a more elegant expression of the upside down position, but there you have it.
T
Travel
Leaving home for a short while, knowing you have home to come back to, is one of the best eye- and brain-refreshers on the planet.
It's best to avoid heavily trafficked routes as much as possible unless you're after speed, which is why back roads are so appealing.
I'm excited to have two trips coming up before summer--a ten-day visit with my Virginia family, during which I'll explore back roads while they are at school. Then a longer road trip with Carlene in May--heading out toward New Mexico. In the final scene, season 3, in Frankie and Grace, the two friends are in a hot air balloon in California, Frankie trying to decide whether to stay put with her best friend Grace or move to Santa Fe with the man she loves.
"Let's just see where the balloon takes us," she says, leaving us hanging. I love that style of travel!
Taking Turns
Yesterday I picked up Nathan and Elena from their schools, then brought them home to play with the boys next door.
Nathan and Sebastien played Legos inside while the two 5-year-olds blew fantastic bubbles. Five-year-olds take turns reluctantly. Each would rather get all the turns, so it takes a little refresher on the finer points of sharing.
Leaving home for a short while, knowing you have home to come back to, is one of the best eye- and brain-refreshers on the planet.
It's best to avoid heavily trafficked routes as much as possible unless you're after speed, which is why back roads are so appealing.
I'm excited to have two trips coming up before summer--a ten-day visit with my Virginia family, during which I'll explore back roads while they are at school. Then a longer road trip with Carlene in May--heading out toward New Mexico. In the final scene, season 3, in Frankie and Grace, the two friends are in a hot air balloon in California, Frankie trying to decide whether to stay put with her best friend Grace or move to Santa Fe with the man she loves.
"Let's just see where the balloon takes us," she says, leaving us hanging. I love that style of travel!
Taking Turns
Yesterday I picked up Nathan and Elena from their schools, then brought them home to play with the boys next door.
Nathan and Sebastien played Legos inside while the two 5-year-olds blew fantastic bubbles. Five-year-olds take turns reluctantly. Each would rather get all the turns, so it takes a little refresher on the finer points of sharing.
S
Senses
The letter S abounds in words associated with the senses--often at the beginning, sometimes in the middle or at the end. "S" is a sensory sound.
Smell: fragrance, jasmine, sandalwood, soapy, stinky, sour, smoky
Sight: spectacular, scenic, shimmery, shiny, sparkly
Touch: soft, sudsy, slow, silky, sticky
Sound: sharp, silence, staccato, slow-dance music, raucous, soothing
Taste: salty, sweet, sour, delicious, savory
Yesterday's "Science Friday" on NPR was about new prosthetic devices that allow the wearer to feel. A 12-year-old was interviewed (along with one of the engineers who invented the new prosthetic arm and hand) about what it was like to feel textures and pressures in a robotic hand.
Listening to that program, I was reminded of an excellent book I read many years ago: A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman.
The letter S abounds in words associated with the senses--often at the beginning, sometimes in the middle or at the end. "S" is a sensory sound.
Smell: fragrance, jasmine, sandalwood, soapy, stinky, sour, smoky
Sight: spectacular, scenic, shimmery, shiny, sparkly
Touch: soft, sudsy, slow, silky, sticky
Sound: sharp, silence, staccato, slow-dance music, raucous, soothing
Taste: salty, sweet, sour, delicious, savory
Yesterday's "Science Friday" on NPR was about new prosthetic devices that allow the wearer to feel. A 12-year-old was interviewed (along with one of the engineers who invented the new prosthetic arm and hand) about what it was like to feel textures and pressures in a robotic hand.
Listening to that program, I was reminded of an excellent book I read many years ago: A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman.
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