Spiral Crone

A new view of freedom and courage

2007-11-13T12:32:00.000-08:00

I had what will surely be my most significant observation of Veterans' Day this year. I attended a dinner for the Alliance Francaise, and the speakers after the meal were all French survivors of the war, some of them members of the Resistance. I have known the five women who spoke about their experiences for decades, but I had never heard them discuss their lives during and after the war. There was also a guest speaker who described his experiences and his subsequent efforts to establish a memorial in his town, but his talk was much less poignant since he was a stranger to us all.

Some of the women had difficulty in beginning to speak, some had difficulty stopping once they got started. To hear them speak candidly about what they went through was an humbling experience. I feel that it was courageous of them to recall it for us, in addition to their bravery of having survived the events in the first place.

They described what it was like to sit in classrooms and knit woolen hats for the soldiers who were fighting in extremes of weather. This made the war a daily part of their lives, part of the most mundane tasks for everyone. They talked about what it was like to be separated from family members, either through enlistment, capture, or death. It was sad to realize that after all this time, families are still being separated by the military, and the uncertainty of the future is no less frightening.

I also held in my mind a dear French friend who had died a couple of weeks before at the age of 92. He had been a prisoner of war and had spent the rest of his life affirming the positive aspects of living and bringing joy to others. I wonder if he might have contributed to the presentation had his health allowed.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Little Folk on the road

2007-10-02T09:18:00.000-07:00

It's all well and good to joke around about how They "borrow" stuff in the house. And to blame them for everything that I can't find. And everything that falls over, or develops mysterious cracks and folds.

It's another when they annex the car for their festivities.

Yesterday my Computer Glasses threw a screw. I got up and fetched my Regular Glasses so I could see to put it back in. Nyet. My eye-hand coordination is not good enough to get the tiny screwdriver and the tiny screw lined up and cooperating. Holding the magnifying glass in my mouth didn't help as much as I had hoped.

So, off to the opticians to get Professional Help. Computer Glasses safely tucked into a hard case, Regular Glasses on the face. The operation took a few seconds and off I went.
Enjoyed a beading class where women strung glass beads to send overseas to military and civlilans. Back home again.

On the way home, I notice that my distance vision isn't what it should be. I'm having trouble reading street signs and clearly seeing other cars. Gulp. Not only am I concerned about making it home safely, I am wondering why I am losing this vision.

Back home again in the garage, I remove the glasses from my face and dutifully open the hard case that they live in... only to discover that my Regular Glasses are already safely tucked in there. And the Computer Glasses are already in their hard case.

So... what's up with the third pair of glasses? Where did they come from? And how did they get on my face?

Blurry Blessings,
Spiral Crone

How cool is the Internet?

2007-09-21T13:07:00.000-07:00

I finally found an Internet radio option that works for me. I tried several others, but for various reasons I didn't like them. That was before Pandora Radio.

Not only does the audio come straight through, without lags or waits, it has a Brain!!
Yes, the Music Genome Project. The radio chooses selections that fit in a category that the listener specifies, and the listener can teach the radio to refine the choices. Every cut allows you to vote for or against the music, and the radio makes future choices based on the feedback.
How cool is that?!

Ok, if yer not impressed yet...

I found a selection called Siuil A Run... that turns out to be a song we sang at Girl Scout Camp. The lyrics never made sense to any of us, but that didn't stop us from singing it. Now... thanks to Pandora Radio, I can see the lyrics in the original Gaelic, and the English translation.
It's really amazing to me. Fifty years between hearing and seeing.

Now the radio is playing a selection from Maire, whom I happen to know is Enya's sister. I would never have thought to look up any of her music, but it's in my computer now.

I'm a Happy Camper.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Friends as foundations

2007-09-13T10:59:00.000-07:00

I got started on this particular rumination recently when I went over the questions in the Caring Conversations booklet about "how do you want to be remembered?" I recalled that as an exercise in the first hospice I worked with, we wrote our own obituaries, eulogies, and epitaphs. This made it possible to go forward in life with ideas about our legacies, and encouraged at least some of us to strive to live up to the projected summaries.

My reaction to the question at this point in my life was that it was kind of late to be worrying about it by now. Not only do I have less time to fulfill the dreams and wishes I might have or have had, influencing people with regard to how they will remember me is not so likely at this point. Even if I live for a long time yet, I have already established myself in the minds of most of the people who are likely to remember me at all.

Today I learned that a friend who had ovarian cancer for several years finally succumbed to her illness last week. Although we had limited contact throughout our relationship, it was over several decades, and each episode was meaningful. I am experiencing a feeling today that a cherished friend once called "existential vertigo". I feel sort of dizzy, and my thoughts keep going back to the fact that she is Really Gone.

One of the things that I have done to comfort myself is to contact other friends. I was very direct with one friend about what had happened and how I felt, and he was very supportive. But another friend made me feel much better without my even having to ask for comfort.
Last week I had mailed something to her that I thought would be of interest. Today she emailed with her appreciation, not just for the information I had sent, but for being her friend.

So. One moral to this story: build the foundation of friendships early and well. When you need them, they'll be there for you. If you wait until you need somebody, it will be too late.

I am very fortunate in that I have good friends, and I have given and received comfort and joy from them. They are my legacy, and they will remember me as they will.

A second moral here: don't wait to tell someone that you love them. It will help nurture the relationship, and you might not have another chance. Working in hospice and in the emergency room proved to me over and over again: Ya never know.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

ART is the heart of expression

2007-03-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

When I was in junior high (that was what we had before there was Middle School, Grasshopper), there were classes in Arts and Crafts that focused mainly on watercoloring, drawing, and similar activities. The student body was rotated through a cycle of courses that also included Foods (now Home Ec?), Shop, Sewing, and maybe something else. (This was soooo long ago, it could have been Dinosaur Husbandry.)

So. I managed to get in a rogue Arts and Crafts class that included no sissy activities. Somebody made a mistake in the schedule, and there was a whole class of girls (the only ones allowed to take Foods or Sewing at that time) and there was only one teacher available. The Shop teacher. Oops.

Bless his heart, he did his best. He was initially horrified at the prospect of all those girls, but he stepped up to the plate. He taught us leatherworks, metal etching, and my most favorite, printing. He had a small letter press that came complete with a cabinet of type, and I know that having learned how to lay out a page manually makes it much easier for me to use Word to create a document, or edit the pages of others.

But. This was not "Art". Or so we thought. It reinforced my belief that I could not paint, could not draw, and therefore was "not artistic".

I began to suspect that Art might have a wider definition. I know that many efficient solutions to problems are referred to as "elegant". Isn't it an art to do that? Isn't it an art to be able to express oneself creatively?

I love this definition of art that I found:

"Human endeavor having meaning beyond simple description."

Oh, yeah.

Now, many years later and no more dinosaurs to keep and care for, I realize that I AM An Artist. I still can't draw, or paint, or do some things. But I am creative, and my work has aesthetic appeal. Check out the image at the top. I handmade the paper the images are stamped on, using tea leaves for texture and interest. I stamped the characters and embellished them with markers when the images were unclear due to the texture of the tea paper. I hand-minted the antique Chinese coins and stamped them for brass embossing powder. I mounted the papers on cardstock. This *is* Art.

I use my time and energy doing stamping and other projects to renew my creativity in writing, which is just as much an art as making pictures. I love it that I can see convergence in the two activities and enjoy them both.

Art is also the expression of the heart.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Proof that cats write code

2007-03-19T11:12:00.000-07:00

I like to have "save as" on my Outlook toolbar. It saves me a click from a dropdown when I want to archive an email. Sometimes it will disappear. No particular reason that I can think of, just disappears.

I go to the toolbar and put it back. Or so I think. It doesn't show up. I try over and over again, even closing Outlook and relaunching it, even closing everything and rebooting, but it won't stick.

Until about three days later when I have given up in despair... it will show up. Like catnip mice on the rug in the den, like milk jug caps on the kitchen floor, like dirty socks that disappeared magically from the laundry basket and suddenly appear in the middle of the living room sofa.

I have my suspicions, but I can't prove anything.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

It's a Small World, after all

2007-02-18T22:20:00.000-08:00

After I went to an exhibition at the gallery at Union Station, I decided to have lunch before I left the building. It's been restored to it's former (ca. 1908) glory, and I had a good time looking at all the lovely architectural details.

I chose the Fred Harvey Diner because it was the most economical choice, and it looked interesting. Kind of reminded me of Legal Seafood in Boston, with all the white till in there.
(Am I the only one who thinks that Legal Seafood looks like a giant bathroom? Surely not.)

My waitress was rather hesitant, and seemed to have a little difficulty hearing me. This was due in part to the horrible acoustics of a place with 95 foot ceilings that has marble floors and tile everywhere. After listening to her for a bit, I detected a slight accent, and I asked here where she was originally from. She said she was Russian, from Moscow. She didn't linger to chat, as it was busy at the lunch hour, so our conversation was rather brief.

I noticed a handsome young man who was also working in the area, and I overheard him speaking to her in a foreign language. He came over to see if I needed anything, and I asked him if he was Russian also. He said that he was, and that he was from Tashkent. I frowned and said, "But that's not in Russia, it's in Uzbekistan." He was quite surprised and asked me how I knew this. He was even more surprised when I told him that I have friends in Uzbekistan. He seemed dubious until I started naming them, and then he was astonished and delighted. He was much chatty than my waitress, but he also had to keep working.

I overheard the two women at the next table talking to him in a foreign language, and when he left to go back to the kitchen I asked them what language it was. One of them told me that they had both lived in Western China for several years, and they were speaking a language that resembles Uzbek.

Now, what are the chances that four people would all happen to be in the same place at the same time with Uzbekistan in common? We might have missed each other quite easily, or even missed the connection despite having been in close proximity.

Just another example of Six Degrees of Separation?

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Cutting Edge

2006-12-10T17:21:00.001-08:00

Finger, Bagel, Knife:

First rule: Knife almost always wins.

Finger has five stitches now. And a “finger basket” to protect it.

Typing is bizarre with a disabled finger.

Bandaged Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Subjective Lines

2006-11-24T08:34:00.000-08:00

As I read down through my InBox index, I am amazed at the diversity of my email. Next to one about "body cavity searches" is one reminding me that today is Spinoza's birthday. My word of the day for today is "floriated". A personal note arrives "speeding fastly across cyberspace". NASA gives me a preview of "Thanksgiving Skies", in case I rouse myself from a tryptophan-induced coma to wander outside and look up. WhatIs tells me about the "Amazon Compute Cloud", better known as AEC2, of course. My Interesting Thing of the Day is "Skara Brae: House of Sand and Rock". Dromadaire promises me "1 produit gratuit pour 1 produit achete", which is tempting, I must admit. (That's French for BOGOF.) And who knew that "horseshoe crabs give blood for space travel"? A correspondent tries to rouse me out of that TurkeyNap with "ALERT". (It worked, too.) I am advised about the "New Trash Rules"; I have to open that one just to find out if it's new rules for trash or rules for new trash. Dromadaire proves that they have not been to the meetings I have attended by claiming that "Cette semaine nous sont tous tolerants." LiveScience gets my attention with "Some women are allergic to sex"; I have to open to see what their symptoms are. Just in case. An old (well, "former", but she's not as young as I am, either) college roommate explains to me "How dogs and cats came about". (This from a person who has no pets!)

I don't know if this makes it more interesting, or scarier: none of the above is spaghm. It's all real mail.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Spirituality at Work

2006-11-19T22:46:00.000-08:00

I just found a website that has me very interested in exploring how people can make their spirituality a basis for doing their work. Not only is the information well-written and comprehensive, it is intended to be shared and distributed. I guess you wouldn't expect anything different from an organization called Global Dharma.

I was reading along from one of the publications about how some people think that spirituality should not be in the workplace. Hmmm. If spirituality is a core part of a person, how could it NOT be a part of their work?

In one place there is a text about The Pathways of Spiritual Growth that discusses work as Selfless Service, as Worship, and as Oneness with Divinity. I thought about how each of those pathways is a road to applying Spirituality in the Real World. Far from segregating work and Spirituality, they must be combined for either of them to have any real value.

I realized another conflict that I had been trying to sort out:
Paganism (to *me*; YMMV) is about creating, practicing, manifesting, and applying.
Fundamentalist Christianity (to *me*; YMMV) seems to be about recruiting, controlling, and examining other people's beliefs and behaviors.

Well, yeah; I think we should keep *that* out of the workplace!
And I realized that this is a struggle between Religion and Spirituality. One of those should not be in the workplace; one of them must be.

I look back on all the students and colleagues that I regard as effective and compassionate people, and I realize that they have a dimension that does not come from outside. It is where they begin, and how they proceed. It cannot be taught, althought it can be facilitated, modeled, and nurtured.

I can only hope that along the way I facilitated and nurtured Spirituality in others in the process of teaching and instructing.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Those pesky House Elves!

2006-11-04T14:05:00.000-08:00

I keep an old pair of prescription glasses near the computer, safe and sound in a hard case. I am very good about keeping them protected, and I never leave them sitting out.

I opened the case the other day to get them and the case was empty. Ok, check desk. Negative. Check head. (Don't laugh; I did find them there one time.) Negative.

I spent three days looking for them. (Well, and doing other stuff, too, of course.) On the bookcase headboard of the bed? Negative. In the kitchen? Negative. By the television? Negative. In the bathroom?

This afternoon I opened the case, and guess what I found?

Yup.

Now if only I can find my credit card.

I hate to think about Elves with credit cards.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Planting Seeds and seeing Blooms

2006-10-23T21:06:00.000-07:00

I went to a rubberstamp club meeting last week, after having been gone for months. There was a young woman there who was new to me, but well-known to everyone else. She makes amazing art. She passed around some ATCs that showed creativity and imagination that were exceptional. She is bright and enthusiastic, and I wanted to get to know her better.

At a break she came over to me and asked me if I used to teach classes at a local crafts store. I told her that I had, and she said, "I *thought* I recognized you! You probably don't remember me. I helped you out to the car one night with your stuff, and you gave me a Japanese river rock that you had embossed with a gold butterfly. That was my first stamping experience and I've been in love with it ever since. You inspired me so much!"

Who knew?

Indeed, who ever knows what might come from seeds scattered out and left to The Universe to nurture? Thinking about this has often made me more careful about my words and actions.

I am delighted to see that this talent has blossomed, and I wonder, who will *she* plants seeds for?

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

On the mend

2006-08-31T09:31:00.000-07:00

After spending seven months as sick as a dog, I am feeling better than I have in over a year. I had a lot of trouble getting a doctor to take me seriously, but after two midnight runs to the ER, two inpatient admissions, and one surgery, I finally got somebody to realize that I was really, really sick.

I also realized during this adventure that I have a wonderful group of friends who love me and care for me. I had suspected this for a long time, and I had hoped that it was true, but how I have living proof.

Friends came in the night and tenderly transported me to medical help, they took care of my house and my kitty while I was gone, and they checked up on me to make sure I was getting what I needed. For the first time in my life, I was the recipient instead of the giver.

I am still astonished at the fact that I have had no pain whatsoever since the surgery. With a five inch surgical incision in my bellly, I would have expected some pain, but nope. Not so much as a twinge. I have taken no pain meds at all, not even an ibuprofen.
I asked the surgeon how this could be, and he modestly said, "Well, I'm just that good." He was grinning when he said it, so I know that he was partly joking.

I had prepared a small bag of stones to take with me, and someone cautioned me that I probably would not be able to keep them with me in the operating room. When the nurse wyo was taking inventory of my personal possessions saw the stones, she said, "Oh, you'll want to keep those right with you, won't you?" What a great gal!

I am like a woman reborn. I can relax, I can plan ahead, and I can really enjoy every day and night now. I'd like to think that this means I will blog more often, but we'll have to see how that goes. I am expecting the first chapters of a new book to write a study guide for, and that will keep me occupied for a good part of my days. But I am encouraged by feeling so well.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Honor and tribute

2006-06-24T10:03:00.000-07:00

A friend who is a Catholic priest told me the other day that he participated in the funeral of a friend of his. I was thinking that this was too bad, that he had to "work" the service.

But then I realized that especially for him, this was a wonderful, practical way for him to celebrate his relationship with the deceased. He was able to actively perform ritual that brought him comfort and affirmed their beliefs and principles.

I saw his participation as a wonderful act of service, instead of a "work situation".

This is the same friend whose Jubilee I posted about some time back.
And just to show that he truly has a sense of humor, he pointed out to me that there was a typo in the obituary in the newspaper. The description of him as the person who gave the homily came out as "homliest Father Spencer."

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Valentine for nurses

2006-02-14T16:06:00.000-08:00

I got this poem in an email newsletter, Writers' Almanac, which is published by Garrison Keillor. It really expresses the Secret of Nursing in my (not so humble) opinion. I am posting it here for all nurses and anyone who knows a nurse.

"People Who Take Care" by Nancy Henry © MuscleHead Press.

People who take care of people
get paid less than anybody
people who take care of people
are not worth much
except to people who are
sick, old, helpless, and poor
people who take care of people
are not important to most other people
are not respected by many other people
come and go without much fuss
unless they don’t show up
when needed
people who make more money
tell them what to do
never get shit on their hands
never mop vomit or wipe tears
don’t stand in danger
of having plates thrown at them
sharing every cold
observing agonies
they cannot tell at home
people who take care of people
have a secret
that sees them through the double shift
that moves with them from room to room
that keeps them on the floor
sometimes they fill a hollow
no one else can fill
sometimes through the shit
and blood and tears
they go to a beautiful place, somewhere
those clean important people
have never been.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

A book is born

2006-01-16T16:43:00.000-08:00

I had the great privilege of attending a Book Opening a couple of weeks ago. My friend Ann Pai has written about her sister's death and how the event affected all of the family members. Ann is a technical writer and a poet, so the book was bound to be eloquent and to the point. The language is very meaningful, and I was drawn in at the first page.

I had known about the event before the manuscript was completed, so I knew "how it came out in the end." This did nothing to deter my fascination with the book from beginning to end. It can be a difficult book to read because it is so personal, and so honest. I congratulate Ann for not pulling any punches in writing. She took some risks and she was very courageous, both in the event and the writing about it.

I was so glad to be invited to be a part of the sharing of the very first copies of the book. Seeing Ann surrounded by people who love her, who support her, and who honor her was really a buzz.
She seemed sort of surprised to realized that she has reached a major goal in the project, although she is well aware that there is a lot more work to be done.

There was a map cake into which she carefully placed flags in all the cities where she hopes to be doing book signings. She is hoping that the blank areas will fill in soon with the names of people who live there and will be willing to host her for a signing.

I am so very pround of Ann for doing this book. She decided to self-publish after weeks and weeks of trying to convince a publisher to take it on. She realized that she might as well be putting the energy to better use, getting it out and publicized.

In addition to signing books with an eye to selling copies, she is also doing presentations at groups of all types with discussions about obesity and its effect on individuals and on significant others. I am working to network her with a nurse I know who specializes in weight management, and gets federal grants to support her research. I think the possibilities are staggering in just this one instance of collaboration, for the two people involved as well as student nurses, patients, and family members who will be touched by the ripples of the association.

Here is one reader's response to the book:
While Ann Pai’s My Other Body is a magnificent monument to a beloved sister who struggled with morbid obesity, and, ultimately, with life itself, it is much more than that. It is a generous gift of empathy to everyone who has ever struggled with the limitations of being a fallible human being. Readers, whether they are personally fighting obesity or less visible demons, will thank Ann Pai for understanding the difference between a problem and a person. My Other Body is an advanced course on love, not the easy kind that some feel while riding a wave of good fortune, but the hard kind, that loves more deeply as what is most precious slips away.- Lawrence W. Smith, Ph.D.Clinical Psychologist, SeattleAdvisory Team Member, obesityhelp.comCo-founder, Ethix Media (ethix.com)

Don't I just have the neatest friends?!

Copies of the book may be bought at her website:
http://www.sunspotpress.com/order.html

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Art Therapy

2005-11-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

There was a joke about my rubberstamping during my last siege of physical therapy. I had mentioned (apparently a bit too often) that I had a class on the 21st and could not be scheduled for an appointment on that day. Every time the schedule came up in the conversation, one of the therapists would say, "Oh, and of course we can't put you down for the 21st," with a grin.

Of course, I, ColanderBrain that I am, went to therapy on the 21st. And when they gave me a funny look and tried not to LOL, I realized what I had done. I drove on over to the rubberstamp store and admitted what I had done, complete with the story about how I kept telling them over and over again that I had a class on Wednesday.

One of the employees of the stamp store listened to me talking to another customer, and she said, "Oh, are you here for the watercolor class?" I said that I was, and she said, "Oh, no, that's *tomorrow*." I fell for it and thought "I really *AM* a ColanderBrain!" Then she started laughing, smug about having fooled me.

And the therapists laughed when they heard The Rest of The Story. They said that they were glad that I could get my Art Therapy for the day.

What they don't really understand is how true that description is.

Last week I agreed to teach a class about using polymer clay with rubberstamps. I dragged in a toaster oven, and a pasta machine, and a shoebox full of clay bricks, and another box full of stamps and goodies for "texturizing" clay. I was afraid that nobody would be interested, and I would have schlepped all that stuff into the store for nothing.

How pleased I was to see enthusiasm and creativity fuel the class and produce some wonderful items! And each of the participants made a point of stopping to tell me how much they enjoyed the class and how much they appreciated my having done it.

One very nice lady said, "Thank you for making it so easy to understand."
Um.... isn't that was teaching is *supposed* to do?

I'm motivated now to do more with polymer clay myself. And I look forward to doing another class for rubberstampers, the best support group anyone could ever have.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Diagonally parked in a parallel universe

2005-11-14T19:28:00.000-08:00

Isn't Mercury retrograde supposed to cause *problems* with communication? It figures that this one would bring about clearing up of stuff that has been going on with me.

Forty-seven days of email problems!! Daily calls to tech support at both the ISP and the software company that made the Internet Security program. Then, slightly past midnight last night/this morning, it was fixed. After tweaking, reconfiguring, de-selecting and selecting, putting in new drivers, and rebuilding accounts, suddenly- it worked!! I'll probably never know what "went wrong", or how it was "fixed". All I care about it that it's over.

I hope.

Coming on top of a crashing of the computer, rebuilding my entire system, and massive data loss, the email debacle was really unwelcome. It's wonderful to be able to f/w and stay online again.

It's nice to see that my package made it to Freyalyn, but she needs to send me her new email address so I can post to her.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Queen of the Night

2005-10-17T17:47:00.000-07:00

You would not think that a succulent plant would do well in water. I started a "leaf" of Night-blooming cereus (Epiphyllum oxypetalum) in 1976 and now have dozens of plants from this same start. This plant is in the cactus family, but it does not have any spines. The "leaves" look like long green tongues, with slightly scalloped edges. The new growth appear from the inside of some of the scallops, so it gives the plant a rather wild and wooly look after a while. I just break off some of the small leaves and stick them in dirt or water, whatever's handy at the moment.

Last Wednesday I discovered that one of them had bloomed. Now, this is a Big Botanical Deal. Many gardners wait a lifetime and never see their plants bloom.

I did manage to figure out how to use my new digital camera enough to snap a couple of shots of the blossom, but it had already stuck itself to the glass pane of the window over the kitchen sink, so it was kind of distorted. I was still very pleased to have seen it.

And then yesterday... ANOTHER bloom!! This one looks more robust because it's not stuck to a window. Now I am going around the house to check all the plants, just in case.

Thank you, Goddess, for sending me such a lovely and unexpected gift.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Stamping my art out

2005-10-16T09:28:00.000-07:00

This time yesterday I was at a rubber stamp convention, having a wonderful time shopping and watching demos. The creativity that some people have is simply amazing! Given the variables of medium, surface, color, texture, and design, there are an infinite number of possibilites for rubber stamp art, and just when you think you've seen it all...

Rubber Stampers are special people. They are kind and generous, and funny, too. They have a sense of humor and they can express it in their art. Sometimes the joke is very subtle, a small design that you have to look twice to see. Sometimes you can look at it and not see it at all, because it's a Private Joke.

I am so inspired by the ideas that I saw that I can't wait to start trying out some of them now that I'm back home again. And I already have some variations of my own that I want to try. I want to make background paper with mica watercolors, but it might turn out like the hand-made tea leaf paper that I did. I take it out every once in a while and admire it, but then I put it away and "save" it. I did manage to use some of it in a project once, but that was Long Ago. I have lots of tea for making some more, and that might loosen me up a little bit. My brain says, "Why did you go to all the trouble of making this, just to not use it?" I haven't come up with a satisfactory answer for that yet.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Goodbye, files of my stuff

2005-09-19T21:08:00.000-07:00

I am mourning the loss of many things right now. I keep telling myself that losing data from a computer is nothing compared to what the victims of Katrina lost, but it doesn't soothe me much.

I miss the files of poetry that I had saved over a several year period. The rubberstamp graphics, the old emails, the list clips of funny, useful, and/or memorable comments made by my friends from far away. I miss the calendar that kept me oriented, the addressbook that kept me connected, and the list of Favorites on my browser.

Most of all, I miss the sense of trust that is now gone. The person I paid to install the CDRW drive so I could make backups was supposed to know what he was doing. He also put a "good" AVS program on. It was so bogus that it left my hard drive infected and ruined.

I find myself now printing a lot of things that I previously would have just saved. The last thing I need around here is more printed matter, but I'm not taking any more chances for now.

And yes, I have made more backups. And I have new security software that covers not only email and Internet virus problems, but other issues as well. And I use them.

But I'm stll mourning.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Exploring the offroad adventures

2005-08-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

Following the path of least resistance is what makes the river crooked. Utah Phillips

I have always been one to wonder what lies beyond the well-worn path. Even if it is risky, I have enough curiosity to want to know more about alternatives and options. I want to make informed choices, and not just plod along the expected trail.

It helps in these detours to have some idea of the overall goal or destination, so you can tell if you're getting too far afield. And you can also get back on track if you realize or decide that the detour is not serving your purpose.

Sometimes the alternative route is more suited to my needs. I hate interstate highways, for example. Too much noise, too much speed, and too much vigilance required. I have seen too many accidents to ever get complacent about the trip, and even if I wanted to look around, there's not much to see but billboards. I remember how delightful it was to go visit my friend Emilio in the country, and how glad I was that he was off the beaten path. (In more ways than one! )

I have to admit that there is much truth in my friend David's rationale for why I was taking a long time getting to his house after we had agreed to meet there following a shopping venture. "Don't worry about her," he told his wife. "You know how she is; she has to stop and look at every shiny thing she sees along the way." (We will not go into any other attributes I may have in common with the magpie, thankyouverymuch.)

Sometimes staying on a path means overcoming obstacles, and I've had plenty of experience with that. Being stubborn means that I can keep trying for longer than some people would deem necessary. But if the goal is important, the obstacles can be dealt with. It does require some balance to make sure that you don't exhaust yourself in the process, so that you are unable to accomplish anything when you get over them.

It always comes down to Balance, doesn't it? Meandering isn't always the best course, but neither is the straight and narrow. Gotta choose. And remember, not all those who wander are lost!

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Norman Normal

2005-07-21T12:52:00.000-07:00

A new email friend of mine (Hi, Susan!) asked a rhetorical question that got me thinking:
"that is a touch word in the education field also.. normal. who thought of that silly word anyway??"
I started looking at Merriam-Webster online to see what the definition of "norm" was:
a : a set standard of development or achievement usually derived from the average or median achievement of a large group
b : a pattern or trait taken to be typical in the behavior of a social group

Now I'm wondering how a term that started off referring to commonly observed behavior changed into The Only Acceptable Behavior.

I also realized that some people prefer to see themselves as being on the crest of the bell curve and will designate anyone to their left as Down There, and anyone to their right as Way Up There. This causes a big distortion in the curve, but as long as it makes them feel "Normal", it serves their purpose.

And naturally I segued into looking up "average":
a : a single value (as a mean, mode, or median) that summarizes or represents the general significance of a set of unequal values
Having been the beneficiary of an excellent course in Statistics in graduate school, I realized that the three different types of average can be used to create startlingly different portrayls of the same data. If you don't understand this from the definitions alone, there is a great book that explains it fully, How to Lie with Statistics, by Darrell Huff (Norton).

You may be asking by now, "What does this have to do with me?" Well, it matters in terms of who is doing the calculations about where you are in relation to them, in *their* perspective. For example, who decides about distribution of resources and interpretation of laws? Where do they see you in relation to themselves? Who decides the criteria for admission into programs and schools? Who determines the parameters of such things as "education" and "literacy"?

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

2005-06-18T11:38:00.000-07:00

I am burning incense in a special holder that was made from an old aluminum lawn chair. It has a wooden base, made from scraps left over from a carving project. It holds a lot of ash in a safe place, so it doesn’t blow all over the room. That chair also was used to make a trolley for two large trash cans. It has wheels that used to be on something else, and a nice handle for steering it down the driveway on Trash Day.

The guy who made these things was born in a sod hut in Oklahoma Territory. He only got through the third grade in school, but when he retired he was an executive at General Electric, where he had worked for many years.

He was very creative and inventive, as you can tell. He made a stereo system in our basement in the 1950s that included a Garrard turntable on a sliding shelf that retreated into a cabinet; speakers from a drive-in theater that were on a hinged door under the stairway so they could be moved at a 270 degree angle and aim the sound anywhere in the basement; and a slide projector that hid in an adjacent cabinet, with a movie screen that unrolled from behind a valence when it was time to show slides.

I know that I got my inquiring mind from him. I look at things and think about how they could be used in another way. It colors the way I look at problem solving beyond the physical world. It affects the way I use words, and ideas.

There are many things I don’t know about my father, but I do know that he was curious about how things worked, and willing to take risks and experiment. He created his own PowerPoint setup from a drafting table with a hinged glass top where he stuck three- dimensional numbers and letters that developed shadows as he changed the light source above them. He photographed them for use as captions of things that he sold for GE, and made slide presentations for demonstrations when he was on the road.

Even though he has been dead for nearly twenty years now, I find myself starting to call over my shoulder, “Oh, come and look what I found on the Internet! You’ll love this!” I know that he would be fascinated by how the computer works, and he would be willing to spend hours looking at photos of birds and articles about soil enrichment and tree pruning.

I wish I could show him the manuscripts I have written in Word, and the books that appear on Amazon.com and the journal articles that are on the Web. I wish he could hold in his hands the books and articles that have my name on them. I wish he could use a CAD program to doodle and design, making more of his inventive gadgets.

I find that the longer he has been dead, the smarter he gets. When I was little and he’d answer a question with “Well, that’s about as long as a piece of string,” it would frustrate me no end. But when I found those words coming out of my own mouth, I realized what a wise reply that was. He understood more about perspective and context than I had given him credit for. And when he talked about cost versus worth, he said, “Something is only worth what you can get for it.” I think about the huge box of my mother’s dishes in the closet in the basement and think that they are worth more to me than they are anyone else, so they escape being put up on eBay for another day. I learned “Never loan more money than you can afford to lose”, and “It’s not *what* you say, but how you say it.”

I salute you, Dad, with saltines carrying pimento cheese and tomato ketchup raised on high, and thank you for all the stuff you gave me. Maybe we can have a bowl of cottage with sugar on it for dessert.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone

Paradise regained

2005-06-14T08:26:00.000-07:00

I spent a day in heaven last weekend. I didn't have to do anything drastic to get there; I just drove two hours out into the country. It was a gorgeous day, and the highway was not crowded. I did see a lot of folks towing boats; since the Lake of the Ozarks was just another hour on down the road I was not surprised.

When I turned off the main highway onto the country road leading to my friends' house, I could tell an immediate difference. The air was so sweet and clean it was like being in that laundry detergent commercial where the clothes are hung out on the line to dry. The corn in the field was so green it vibrated. I wanted to pull over and just breathe in the air, but I was eager to reach my friends. I dodged several turtles crossing the road thoughtfully, and considered bringing one back home with me.

When I pulled up in their driveway, six dogs bounded out to greet me. Long wet tongues everywhere, all eager to check me out and welcome me. I could hardly get the car door open so I could get out. I stumbled into the house inside a herd of dogs and settled down on the couch. With dogs. After enough head-petting, most of them wandered away to nap, but one of them parked on me and made himself comfortable. He stayed there for about an hour, and seemed to enjoy deeply relaxing beside me.

We all went out to the heated pool in the back yard and splashed around in the sunlight. Natural perfume from nearby roses, mints, and other growth settled around us in pockets of scent activiated by the heat of the day. We floated on our backs and watched four eagles swirling around overhead. We staged Doggy Water Ballet with the garden hose and one of the black labs. She ran after the stream of water joyfully, lunged at it, tried to chew it, and charged at it until she was completely soaked. When one of us got tired and put the hose down, she sat on the edge of the pool and looked pitiful until somebody else picked up the hose and resumed the game.
I was disappointed to realize when I started to get out of the pool that Gravity had not been rescinded. The laws of physics combined with my reluctance to leave the pool made getting out an ordeal, but I was getting pruney and it was time to leave.

I had wonderful conversations with my friends and discovered that we had even more in common than we had already discovered in email. We had a nice brunch and managed to time our meal so that the hard rain of the day only lasted while we were indoors. How validating it is to find people who share beliefs, attitudes, thoughts, and ideas. I noticed many books on their shelves that I have on my shelves at home. I felt as if I had known these people all my life. I hated to leave, but I knew I had a considerable drive back home.

Now I'm back in The City, and I look at it in a new way. I'm glad that I have a back yard where I can go sit and enjoy birds, trees, bunnies, and squirrels. No turtles yet, but occasional raccoons, foxes, or possums do cross the lawn. The convenience of organic grocery stores and art galleries are a consolation for the lack of eagles overhead.

I look forward to having another retreat with my friends. I might even take a turtle-sized box with me next time.

Bright Blessings,
Spiral Crone