just grandma

From: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

(A Tribute to Grandmothers Everywhere)

And , yeah, my grandmother was smart and kind and traveled to about 100 different Indian reservations, but that had nothing to do with her greatness.

My grandma’s greatest gift was tolerance.

Now, in the old days, Indians used to be forgiving of any kind of eccentricity. In fact, weird people were often celebrated.

Epileptics were often shamans because people just assumed that God gave seizure-visions to the lucky ones.

Gay people were seen as magical too.

I mean, like in many cultures, men were viewed as warriors and women were viewed as caregivers. But gay people, being both male and female, were seen as both warriors and caregivers.

Gay people could do anything. They were like Swiss army knives!

My grandmother had no use for all the gay bashing and homophobia in the world, especially among other Indians.

“Jeez,” she said. “Who cares if a man wants to marry another man? All I want to know is who is going to pick up all the dirty socks?”

Of course, ever since white people showed up and brought along their Christianity and the fears of eccentricity, Indians have gradually lost all of their tolerance.

Indians can be just as judgmental and hateful as any white person.

But not my grandmother.

that space between the legs

Dangerous Spaces
Chicas, they are a distraction from the important things, and as Luis says, sometimes to go between the legs of a chica is more dangerous than walking under a bridge in a strange barrio.

The Boat, “Cartagena” by Nam Le

As Lori says, the same is true for going between the legs of a boy.

I heard something uplifting today.

The Gaelic language has about 14 words for love and hardly any words for hate.

BBC News podcast from 14 Oct. 08


Why can't we simply be nicer to each other? Would you rather be a novel or a poem? Think about it.

Where is Hercules?

What are heroes made of?
[Warning: a nursery rhyme stereotyping the sexes will appear.]

What are little boys made of?

Snips and snails and puppy dogs' tails.
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice and all things nice.
That's what little girls are made of.

Psyche's House

Ancient heroes from the neighborhood
gather at the corner pub
trading narcissistic strategies
for escape from the siren songs
too eerie to ignore.

Despite Tiger Balm and Tylenol
rubbed and guzzled with pints of golden calories-
it's impossible to turn Helen's head
and launch anew
odyssey at dawn.

Universal Achilles' heels ache in unison.

The Graces failed in their mission:
Outwit Three Fates, or else…
Belly up to the bar boys,
and totter home tipsy.

Hollow victories haunt Psyche's house.
Where's Hercules when you need him?

-LJ, Sept. 2008

Escape Artist

Collapse of the World Order

Rubrics escaped the classroom today
and went wild on spring break.

Each level of performance,
trapped neatly in an isolated square,
sprang off the page-
hit the ground running.

Hooking up with Scrabble bums and
mingling with synonyms of defiant.

Can you imagine?
No more performance anxiety.

The rubric provides those doing the assessment with exactly the characteristics for each level of performance on which they should base their judgment.

The rubric provides those who have been assessed with clear information about how well they performed.

The rubric also provides those who have been assessed with a clear indication of what they need to accomplish in the future to better their performance.

-LJ, Sept. 2008

What does karma mean?

I'm reading "The Memory Keeper's Daughter" and it reinforces a message I find hard to hear. People do things to hurt others, and once the damage has been done- the pain inflicted, the torture experienced, verbal arrows released- it is too late. Throbbing memories fade and discolor, but the sharpness of the poke, the insult, the dirty deed remains like a stain at the bottom of a coffee cup: brown and scummy. It does not vanish no matter how much we wish to start over, begin again. Every action affects others, touches lives.


In simple terms, what does karma mean? It means that whatever we do, with our body, speech, or mind, will have a corresponding result. Each action, even the smallest, is pregnant with its consequences. It is said by the masters that even a little poison can cause death, and even a little seed can become a huge tree. And as Buddha said: "Do not overlook negative actions merely because they are small; however small a spark may be, it can burn down a haystack as big as a mountain." Similarly he said: "Do not overlook tiny good actions, thinking they are of no benefit; even tiny drops of water in the end will fill a huge vessel." Karma does not decay like external things, or ever become inoperative. It cannot be destroyed "by time, fire, or water." Its power will never disappear, until it is ripened.

- Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying from Everyday Mind

Breakfast

I had beans and rice for breakfast this morning while I was secretly desiring pancakes.

Carnal Cakes

Abstract pancake lover
syrup and honey sweet on the tongue
whet my appetite
with cake-like, crepe thin thinking
pancakes bubbling
over with salty butter
round layers tease my palate
gentle stabbing journey
between my lips
slippery hunger
why stop cravings for
pancakes?

LJ (a.k.a. Abstract) March 25, 2008

Pelicans

I saw a flock of pelicans, yellow-billed and droopy pouched, flying through Iowa skies. For those of you who don't live in Iowa, spying a flock of chunky pelicans is not an every day occurrence. Birds still fresh on my brain, I read this poem by Ondaatje on Sunday morning.

Is this itty-bitty poem worth sharing? That's for you to decide.

APPLICATION FOR A DRIVING LICENCE
by Michael Ondaatje

Two birds loved
in a flurry of red feathers
like a burst cottonball,
continuing while I drove over them.

I am a good driver, nothing shocks me.

Jihad

Jihad and Love

I finished reading the fictional novel "Finding Nouf" by Zoe Ferraris. The action takes place in Saudi Arabia where a 16 year-old Saudi girl has disappeared before her wedding.

I like this re-definition of jihad on page 275 in the hardback edition. It's not militaristic or combative; it re-defines jihad as a peace within, a recognition that fighting is not the answer.

"That was the true jihad, the giving up of goods, hopes, desires, when life demands it, when not to give up would lead to wrong."

Giving up strikes a chord in me and an affinity with my spiritual practice. Giving up things that have the potential to cause chaos in the world is a noble jihad. Here is another passage that moved me.

The 77 Words for Love

"It was disorienting to see such calculation amid such cloying romanticism. There was hubb, which meant love, and also seed; 'ishq, entanglement, and an ivy that strangles a tree; hawa, liking and error; fitna, passionate desire, also chaos; hayam, wandering thirsty in the desert; sakan, tranquility; and izaz, dignified love. Then the list grew darker, from captivation to confusion and affliction, even to depression, sorrow, and grief, culminating in fanna, nonexistence. The page stood out as a work of art…"

Horseshit or the Collective Unconscious

I have always liked the word serendipity, enjoying its carefree and spunky five-syllable trip down my tongue, so this after-sex shower scene from Michael Gruber's "The Tropic of Night" made me smile.

She kissed his neck.

"Serendipity that I called, huh?" he said.

"No, serendipity is when you're looking for something and you find something else that's even better. Penicillin. Columbus too, I guess. What you mean is synchronicity, which is when two independent variables happen at the same time, in a pseudo-meaningful way. Serendipity is scientific, synchronicity isn't."

"Why not?"

She tossed the book on his belly and slipped out of bed. "Read the book."

"Why should I when I have you? Where are you going?"

"The shower, where you can join me, if you promise not to get me started."

Under the lukewarm stream, he soaped her long back, while she held her braid away from the water. He said, "So tell me, why isn't synchronicity scientific?"

"By definition. And Jimmy, I want you to know that you are the first and only man I have ever discussed epistemology with under the shower."

"I appreciate that," he said.

"It was. In any case, science looks for causality. Event B only occurs after Event A, or is associated with it more than chance alone would allow. Lightning always precedes thunder, and so we assume that lightening causes thunder, and we look for a physical connection between the two events, and in that case, we find it, and science marches on. Synchronicity… proposes a linkage between two events that is meaningful without being causal or related in any reproducible or deterministic way… me wanting to get together with you and you happen to call me…"

"It's like luck."

"In a way. But it's supposed to be meaningful on the psychic level, too. The cosmos or the collective unconscious is trying to reach us. Horseshit, in other words." She looked down at him and let out a yelp. "Yikes, get that thing away from me," she cried, and hung a wet washcloth on it, then turned the cold tap all the way up.

READS that I wanna READ

Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Haruki Murakami

The Hummingbird's Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea

The Reindeer People: Living with Animals and Spirits in Siberia by Piers Vitebsky

Maps for Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam

Paris Journal 1944-1955 by Janet Flanner

Check out the Kiriyama Pacific Rim Book Prize winners and more...

MORE INFO

Look deeply into yourself and come face to face with the primal "Huh?" -Andrew K. Davis (2001)

Family, Family, Family

If you don't include my two cats, Seymour and Sully, this is my immediate family, although Sully decided to go on a walkabout and disappeared several days ago.

But, my two cats are in my heart, even if they are not visible in this photo.

I know that it looks as if my sister is a ventriloquist and my mother is her prop in this photo, but I assure you that is not the case. My mother usually tells my sister what needs to be done.

Superintendent of Pubic Instruction: Really??

After looking through various educational equity policies on-line, I found a policy that was comprehensive and systemic.

The policy was created in the Office of the Superintendent of Public Instruction in the State of Washington. But be careful, one small letter turns that official into

The Superintendent of Pubic Instruction

What would the job duties be? I wonder. Overall, I'm glad I caught that typo.

Peanut: the spirit, the kitten, the freedom to play

This is Peanut.

He reminds me to keep my spirit open to positive energy and opportunity and use common household items, such as shoestrings, for play!

Keep the mind open and flexible always...

take this highway

Love Doesn't Stink: but fear does

the fear at the base of human existence

Intelligent practice always deals with just one thing: the fear at the base of human existence, the fear that I am not. And of course I am not, but the last thing I want to know is that. I am impermanence itself in a rapidly changing human form that appears solid. I fear to see what I am: an ever-changing energy field... So good practice is about fear. Fear takes the form of constantly thinking, speculating, analyzing, fantasizing. With all that activity we create a cloud cover to keep ourselves safe in make-believe practice. True practice is not safe; it's anything but safe. But we don't like that, so we obsess with our feverish efforts to achieve our version of the personal dream. Such obsessive practice is itself just another cloud between ourselves and reality. The only thing that matters is seeing with an impersonal searchlight: seeing things as they are. When the personal barrier drops away, why do we have to call it anything? We just live our lives. And when we die, we just die. No problem anywhere.

--Charlotte Joko Beck, Everyday Zen, from Everyday Mind, a Tricycle book edited by Jean Smith

are you ready?

This applies to all teaching and learning.
Well said Thich Nhat Hanh.

Even if the teaching is very valuable, if you don't make it appropriate to the person, it is not Buddhist [or productive] teaching.

-Thich Nhat Hanh

a sleepy town on the prairie grows art

Arts Council on the Prairie

When I was a kid discovering what it means to be alive in the small town of Humboldt, Iowa- population 5,000 (visualize "Little House on the Prairie" with indoor plumbing and I'm Laura)- exposure to the arts was a rarity in the midst of Farm Rhythms and practical solid folks who followed the same routines of eat, work, watch some television, procreate and go to church on Sunday with slight variations.

The Humboldt Arts Council is making an effort to change art deprivation on the prairie. I sing the praise of the council members even though I don't always agree with the choices they make.

Staging "The Odd Couple" would not be not my choice for summer 2008, but there will be one more production in town this year than there was last year. Noted, only one production, but that is better than none.

wild-willed and traveling clematis vine

With all my master gardening training, I have realized that I need to take time to research how to encourage a clematis vine to climb a trellis. My vine decided to snake its way across the top of my lupine and cone flowers and bypass the trellis that I wanted it to form a bond with for life.

This pink-flowering vine is a free spirit, and since it's not choking the plants below it to death, I watch its progress with some joy; I have also chosen to take a road less travelled.

become porous: open to life

Let the barriers of your personality become porous and open to life.

The only way to achieve maximum openness is to arrive at every moment without a single preconception, judgement, fear or foregone conclusion, forget bias. We must step into the mystery of life naked and undefended.

We can learn to encounter life directly, without anything to mediate its intensity. When we truly hate what's happening, our instinct is to flee from it like a house on fire. But if we can learn to turn around and enter that fire, to let it burn all our resistance away, then we find ourselves arising from the ashes with a new sense of power and freedom.

-Raphael Cushnir, from 365 Nirvana, Here and Now by Josh Baran - May 10, 2008

I am spiritually digging the "open to life" theme of the recent Daily Dharma readings.

identify & stop the delusions: Daily Dharma: May 7, 2008

May 7, 2008
Tricycle's Daily Dharma

Stop Pretending

The great teachings unanimously emphasize that all the peace, wisdom, and joy in the universe are already within us; we don't have to gain, develop, or attain them. Like a child standing in a beautiful park with his eyes shut tight, there's no need to imagine trees, flowers, deer, birds and sky; we merely need to open our eyes and realize what is already here, who we already are--as soon as we stop pretending we're small or unholy. I could characterize nearly any spiritual practice as simply being: identify and stop, identify and stop, identify and stop. Identify the myriad forms of delusion we place upon ourselves, and muster the courage to stop each one. Little by little deep inside us, the diamond shines, the eyes open, the dawn rises, we become what we already are. Tat Twam Asi (Thou Art That).

--Bo Lozoff, from 365 Nirvana, Here and Now by Josh Baran

Elimination Dance

Elimination Dance
(an intermission)

Michael Ondaatje includes an intermission dance between the two sections of his poems in the book “The Cinnamon Peeler”. His particular intermission is sparkling with humor, exposing miniature moments of life that surprise readers with an unexpected novelty separating the doers from the observers. Here are a few of the elimination dances. I encourage you to add your own moments to the intermission.

Those who (while visiting a foreign country) have lost the end of a Q tip in their ear and have been unable to explain their problem

Gentlemen who have placed a microphone beside a naked woman’s stomach after lunch and later, after slowing down the sound considerably, have sold these noises on the open market as whale songs

All actors and poets who spit into the first row while they perform

Any dinner guest who has consumed the host’s missing contact lens along with dessert

Those who have filled in a bilingual and confidential pig survey from Statistics Canada (Une enquête sur les porcs, strictement confidentielle)

Women who gave up the accordion because of pinched breasts

Those who have pissed out the back of moving trucks

The person who borrowed my Martin Beck thriller, read it in a sauna which melted the glue off the spine so the pages drifted to the floor, stapled them together and returned the book, thinking I wouldn’t notice

Anyone with pain


Here is one of my own.

anyone who has taken a photo of a performing chicken, a strutting cock, in one of the busiest squares in Africa, Djemaa el-Fna in Marrakech- (envision acrobats, snake charmers, date sellers) and screamed at the chicken owner that she would not pay him for the shot

Thich Nhat Hanh: Speaking of Faith

CONNECTIONS

Thich Nhat Hanh was a guest on the National Public Radio program "Speaking of Faith" this morning. Hanh is a Buddhist monk from Vietnam who administers compassion and forgiveness to the pain bodies suffering inside each of us.

His poem "Interrelationship" reminds me that I am connected to others, and that what I do to others, I do to myself.

Call Me By My True Names: The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh

"Interrelationship"

You are me, and I am you.
Isn't it obvious that we "inter-are"?
You cultivate the flower in yourself,
so that I will be beautiful.
I transform the garbage in myself,
so that you will not have to suffer.

I support you;
you support me.
I am in this world to offer you peace;
you are in this world to bring me joy



Destiny, fate, chance or just life…

I stumbled across this article by Curtis Lang on the SatyaCenter.com site and Lang’s ideas on self-love and ego were interrelated to the poem "Interrelationship". Destiny, fate, chance or just life…

Back to the Garden Part 3: Self-Love: The War Between the Ego and the Higher Self
by Curtis Lang
The Law of Resonance

The importance of Self-love as a lasting foundation for a successful love relationship cannot be overstated. Without true love of self, you have nothing to share with another but your own poverty of spirit.

According to the great ancient law of resonance and attraction, like attracts like.

To attract a great love in your life, you must have great love to share and that love must first of all be true Self-love, not egoistic love.

If you have not yet attained Self-love, by that same law of resonance and attraction, you will attract an egoistic lover who, like yourself, must work to overcome social and cultural conditioning, egotistical self-centered behavior, character flaws, mental misconceptions, emotional wounds, energy attachments and karmic limitations.

Self-love is the necessary prerequisite for all successful sexual relations.

Self-love is the first step up the ladder of love for any individual.

The second step is love for another individual human being, a spouse, a lover, or an intimate friend, a teacher, a brother or sister or child.

The third step is love for humanity, manifest as compassionate actions in the world.

The fourth step is a universal love that is beyond description, a mystical Unity with the Source of all creation.

So if you wish to learn to love others, and to love God fully, first love yourself. Love is giving. By giving love to yourself, you give yourself permission to love others, and to be loved.

Note: SatyaCenter.com is a community website focusing on alternative health and healing, healthy relationships and global news. Satya means truth in Sanskrit. The Satya Center is in Hudson, New York.

Satyacenter.com

leave the yellow bark dust on my pillow

This poem is an intimate sensual understanding between two people that is earthy and understated; I smell cinnamon every time I read it.

The Cinnamon Peeler
- by Michael Ondaatje -

If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.

Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under the rain gutters, monsoon.

Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.

I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
- your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...

When we swam once
I touched you in the water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said

this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume

and knew

what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.

You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. Smell me.

The Mating Mind: Choosing Mr. Right

Men Court, Women Choose

Geoffrey F. Miller visualizes our ancient sisters in his book "The Mating Mind."

"When you picture ancestral females facing predators, do not imagine Marilyn Monroe whimpering and cowering. Imagine Steffi Graf brandishing a torch in place of a tennis racket."

One of the premises of the book is that men court (dance, give gifts, advertise and flaunt their talents in the arts and sciences) and that women choose the most desirable partner during the mating process. Fitness indicators such as height, physical fitness, kindness, generosity, witty conversation, intelligence and a sense of humor are clues to the quality of a man’s genes; Women respond to these indicators and this has helped shape the course of human evolution.

He has this to say about the male penis:

"The large male penis is a product of female choice in evolution. If it were not, males would never have bothered to evolve such a large, floppy, blood-hungry organ. Ancestral females made males evolve such penises because they liked them… larger penises led to better orgasms by permitting more varied, exciting and intimate copulatory positions."

Miller questions the traditional view that females needed males to protect them from predators because females moved around in larger groups than males while they were foraging for food. He writes that women had "many eyes and many hands to offer mutual vigilance and protection. An ancestral female would be much safer in a group of a dozen sisters, aunts, and female friends than with a single man in a nuclear family. The same group-protection effect would have guarded females against sexual predators."

The book explores fascinating possibilities involving the evolution of the human mind through sexual selection and our choice of partners. If Miller’s ideas are valid, we have the power of choice my sisters, but haven’t we always understood that reality in our heart of ancient hearts.

Miller received his Ph.D. in cognitive psychology from Stanford University and adapted his dissertation on how sexual choice shaped the human mind for a mainstream audience.

Finally, a male biologist who attempts to see the clitoris from a woman’s perspective: 



The inconspicuous design of the clitoris

"combined with its exquisite sensitivity suggests that the clitoris is important not as an object of male mate choice, but as a mechanism of female choice. It helps to select for males who provide pleasurable foreplay, copulation, and orgasms, and such discriminative power is just what we should expect from an organ of female choice."



From a sexual selection viewpoint,



"clitorises should respond only to men who demonstrate high fitness, including the physical fitness necessary for long, energetic sex, and the mental fitness necessary to understand what women want and how to deliver it. The choosy clitoris should produce orgasm only when the woman feels genuinely attracted to a man’s body, mind, and personality, and when the man proves his attentiveness and fitness through the right stimulation."



Yes

Excerpt from "Yes"
by Muriel Rukeyser

Open your eyes
Dream but don't guess
Your biggest surprise
Comes after Yes


Say yes today!

carnal cakes served here

I had beans and rice for breakfast this morning.

Carnal Cakes

Abstract pancake lover
syrup and honey sweet on the tongue
whet my appetite
with cake-like, crepe thin thinking
pancakes bubbling
over with salty butter
round layers tease my palate
gentle stabbing journey
between my lips
slippery hunger
why stop cravings for
pancakes?

written by LJ Runkle, March 25, 2008

the meaning of work

I have been thinking a lot about work: why we do it; what rewards we seek from it; the joys of work beyond monetary benefits- because money is not what motivates me to get out of bed and go to work.

Today, March 24, I read Tricycle's Daily Dharma, and now I have another book to add to my "want to read" list about the meaning of work.

Tricycle's Daily Dharma: March 24, 2008
Dharma and the Dollar

Awakening entails economic pursuits that foster self-respect and self-reliance and that serve to integrate, rather than disperse, the energies of the local community. From the perspective of the Dharma, economic goals include not only production and profit, but also their human and environmental impact. The conservation of material resources, their humane use, and their equitable distribution are taken as preeminent concerns.

--Joanna Macy in Mindfulness and Meaningful Work by Claude Whitmyer

I would add that the collective attitude of the people working together is important, as well as the positive energy that we have the ability to create in the world when we strive toward a shared goal we believe will make the planet a better place for other humans, sentient beings and the environment. This is what I call community. This is what I want to be a part of throughout my life.

Inspire: Faces of Social Entrepreneurship - NYT

"You are taught to depend on the councilman, and you are taught to depend on the senator. You pay them with your tax dollars to do things for your community. But sometimes you have to create your own government. . . . The best way to predict the future is to create it."

Divine Bradley, 25, Team Revolution, New York

The New York Times Magazine

Just an idea on my mind today

Friendship is constant in all other things
Save in the office and affairs of love:
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself
And trust no agent.

William Shakespeare, "Much Ado about Nothing", Act 2 scene 1


Excerpts from Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

Louise’s tastes had no place in the late twentieth century where sex is about revealing not concealing. She enjoyed the titillation of suggestion. Her pleasure was in slow certain arousal, a game between equals who might not always choose to be equals. She was not a D.H. Lawrence type; no one could take Louise with animal inevitability. It was necessary to engage her whole person. Her mind, her heart, her soul and her body could only be present as two sets of twins. She would not be divided from herself. She preferred celibacy to tupping.

Note: When tup is used as a verb, it describes copulation by a ram with a ewe (female sheep).

When I say ‘I will be true to you’ I am drawing a quiet space beyond the reach of other desires. No-one can legislate love; it cannot be given orders or cajoled into service. Love belongs to itself, deaf to pleading and unmoved by violence. Love is not something you can negotiate.

Molecular docking is a serious challenge for bio-chemists. There are many ways to fit molecules together but only a few juxtapositions that bring them close enough to bond. On a molecular level success may mean discovering what synthetic structure, what chemical will form a union… But molecules and human beings they are a part of exist in a universe of possibility. We touch one another, bond and break, drift away on force-fields we don’t understand.

The most reliable Securicor, church sanctioned and state approved, is marriage. Swear you’ll cleave only unto him or her and magically that’s what will happen. Adultery is as much about disillusionment as it is about sex. The charm didn’t work. You paid all the money, ate the cake, and it didn’t work. It’s not your fault, is it?

You never give away your heart; you lend it from time to time. If it were not so how could we take it back without asking?



Lori's Note: This is my first experience with Jeanette Winterson’s writing, but I am relishing this book. That passage about Louise was amazing. Has anyone else read her books? What do you think? I want to read “Sexing the Cherry” next.

A New Earth: New Thoughts

I am watching podcasts every Monday night- insert a brief commercial for my iPod because I do love the information it brings to my ears, eyes and consciousness- of Oprah and Eckhart Tolle discussing his book A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose. Although some of the information in the first two podcasts is a review of what I have already read in Buddhist literature, I realize that I need to continually remind myself of the value of living in the present moment. Knowing and actively practicing are two different states of being, and this book acts as a swift kick in the pants, encouraging me to actively practice what I preach.

Here is a condensed spoonful of the bowlful of discussion material from the first two podcasts.

The ego lives in human thought processes and confuses owning and amassing material possessions with a sense of being, the simple essence of life, the formless awareness of positive energy in the world and the recognition of these things inside ourselves. The ego interprets life though comparison and ranking of the individual among other women and men in that individual's path. This continual comparison and ranking process leads to feelings of superiority, inferiority and insecurity- a constant state of imbalance.

We are not the "I" we have invented for ourselves. The definition of "I" is simply a story we tell to create ourselves based on past memories.

There is no life other than now. Make this moment the primary focus of life. Resisting the moment is creating negativity in our lives.

When we no longer feel the life force pumping and surging inside of our bodies and minds, we fill life up with ego. We visit the gas station and fill our minds and bodies with too much food, sex, shopping, noisy stimulus and unproductive thoughts; 98 percent of our thoughts are unhelpful and repetitive and lead us to experience suffering and sadness.

Explore the podcasts at this site.

A New Earth download

leap and twirl: mama spring is around the corner

Wisdom and Time

[My friend Susan sent this to me, and I want to share it with my female and male friends.]

Women

Girls want to control the man in their life.
Grown women know that if he's truly hers, he doesn't need controlling.
Girls yell at you for not calling them.
Grown women are too busy to realize you hadn't.
Girls are afraid to be alone.
Grown women revel in it-using it as a time for personal growth.
Girls ignore the good guys.
Grown women ignore the bad guys.
Girls make you come home.
Grown women make you want to come home.
Girls leave their schedule wide-open and wait for a guy to call and make plans.
Grown women make their own plans and nicely tell the guy to get in where he fits.
Girls worry about not being pretty and/or good enough for their man.
Grown women know that they are pretty and/or good enough for any man.
Girls try to monopolize all their man's time (i.e., don't want him hanging with his friends).
Grown women realize that a lil' bit of space makes the 'together time' even more special-and go out with their own friends.
Girls think a guy crying is weak.
Grown women offer their shoulder and a tissue.
Girls want to be spoiled and 'tell' their man so.
Grown women 'show' him and make him comfortable enough to reciprocate without fear of losing his 'manhood'.
Girls get hurt by one man and make all men pay for it.
Grown women know that was just one man.
Girls fall in love and chase aimlessly after the object of their affection, ignoring all 'signs'.
Grown women know that sometimes the ones you love, don't always love you back-and move on, without bitterness.
Girls will read this and get an attitude.
Grown women will read this and pass it on to other women and their male friends.

the butterfly effect

Flapping Wings

I rarely write a blog entry with the singular purpose of recommending a book, but here is such an entry fellow readers; I want you to read The Painter of Battles by Arturo Perez-Reverte.

I have been listening to this book on compact disc while driving long distances in my car, and it has caused me to ponder human cruelty and human-created chaos in the world. The story revolves around conversations between a war photographer and a Croatian soldier whom he photographed during the War in the Balkans. The image of the Croatian soldier appears on the covers of popular news magazines and impacts the life of his family in ways that the photographer would not allow himself to imagine.

One central idea that the reader is directed to consider in the lives of the two men is the butterfly effect. Perhaps it is easier to quote a concise definition of the butterfly effect from Wikipedia than explain it in my own words.

The phrase refers to the idea that a butterfly's wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that ultimately cause a tornado to appear (or prevent a tornado from appearing). The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect

Replace the word "butterfly" with the word "image" or "camera" and you then begin to see where the story takes the reader's mind.

If something as gentle as the flap of a butterfly's wings; as soft as the click of a camera shutter, or as effortless as the pull of a trigger has the potential to release a tornado of chaos into the atmosphere…

The thought seems sensible enough to be plausible.

In the midst of the conversation, the photographer is painting a mural on the wall of a lighthouse. The mural encapsulates his experiences with war. He calls upon his own memory of photographic tragedy as well as artistic images of battles by Goya and Picasso and historical events such as the Trojan War to complete his portrait of human madness.

If you have time, I urge you to consider adding this title to your reading list.

A New Earth

It’s my responsibility to find and address the dysfunction within myself. My negativity contributes to the collective energy field in the world, so it is my job to use self-awareness to positively resolve my anger, jealousy and hatred by not allowing those emotions to control me.

The contents of A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle is so Buddhist. I don’t think its messages are all that new. The ideas in his book have been around for a long time.

I did realize while thinking about the book that I need to return to the Buddhist group to discuss. I miss all of those folks in that group.

How do I shed the years of conditioning, the old thought processes and the habitual reactions that manipulate and control me?

Abstract Image of Cat and Girl in Yellow

This photo reminds me of our unsubdued minds and the Daily Dharma from March 4, 2008.

If we let a wild elephant loose in a populated area it will cause massive destruction, but the uncontrolled wild mind can cause much more harm than such a crazed beast. If the deluded, wild elephant of our mind is not subdued, it will create much suffering for us in this life and will cause us to experience the sufferings of the deepest hell in the future. In fact, if we investigate we can see that the creator of all the sufferings of this and future lives is nothing but our unsubdued mind.

Many benefits follow from taming our mind.

- Geshe Kelsang Gyatso, Meaningful to Behold from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book

Touch

If you are falling around and about the emotions of LOVE, this poem by June Jordan may reach through the turmoil and tap you on the shoulder. The poem shoved me to the ground. I still have dirt on my pants.

June Jordan

A Poem for
Haruko 10/29


because
it’s about my anger
smouldering
because your stillness
kills simplicity
and chills
this willing ardor
swept back
into realms of doubt
and ordinary feats
of regular and unimpassioned
sensible retreat
wherein an ending to my love
for you
will stretch its scaly
full length into light
that shrivels
innocence
and warps the silent mouth
of adoration
into bitten
blighted
bloom
Oh! If you would only walk
into this room
again and touch me anywhere
I swear
I would not long for heaven or
for earth
more than I’d wish to stay there
touched
and touching you

Destination Unknown

The Human Condition

How can he explain to this impatient young man what it has taken him forty-five years to learn- that loss is an essential part of the human condition. That even as we are moving on down that long lonesome road, destination unknown, there is always something we are leaving behind. He has been trying all morning to compose a song about it.

Strawberry Fields, Marina Lewycka

write a book about it

structure a poem about it

ricardO's Valentine to his friends: dance

sweet love to you this day... Feb. 14, 2008

*heart,
ricardOxo


We have come to be danced
Not the pretty dance
Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance
But the claw our way back into the belly
Of the sacred, sensual animal dance
The unhinged, unplugged, cat out of its box dance
The holding the precious moment in the palms
Of our hands and feet dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
But the wring the sadness from our skin dance
The blow the chip off our shoulder dance.
The slap the apology from our posture dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the monkey see, monkey do dance
One two dance like you
One two three, dance like me dance
But the grave robber, tomb stalker
Tearing scabs and scars open dance
The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle
But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
Shaman shaking ancient bones dance
The strip us from our casings, return our wings
Sharpen our claws and tongues dance
The shed dead cells and slip into
The luminous skin of love dance.

We have come to be danced
Not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
But the meeting of the trinity: the body, breath and beat dance
The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
The mother may I?
Yes you may take ten giant leaps dance
The olly olly oxen free free free dance
The everyone can come to our heaven dance.

We have come to be danced
Where the kingdoms collide
In the cathedral of flesh
To burn back into the light
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
To root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced! We have come."

~ by Jewel Mathieson

promise of spring; Cub Cadet lawn tractor

I was delighted to see this lawn tractor outside of the Dayton Community Center at the Ag Expo in Dayton, Iowa in Feb. '08. Spring, we await your delicate arrival with roses and wine.

I am the mover of betweens

…for I am a mover of betweens. I slip among classifications like water in cupped palms, leaving bits of myself behind. I am quick and deft, for there is no greater fear than the fear of being caught wanting to belong. I am a chameleon. And the best chameleon has no center, no truer sense of self than what he [or she] is in the instant.

Andrew X. Pham, Catfish and Mandala

I Love Klimt

Who Should Paint You: Gustav Klimt

Sensual and gorgeous, you would inspire an enchanting portrait.. With just enough classic appeal to be hung in any museum!

What Artist Should Paint Your Portrait?

It Hurts

I'm reading "The Memory Keeper's Daughter" and it reinforces a message I find hard to hear. People do things to hurt others, and once the damage has been done- the pain inflicted, the torture experienced- it is too late. Throbbing memories fade and discolor, but the sharpness of the poke, the insult, the dirty deed remains like a stain at the bottom of a coffee cup: brown and scummy. It does not vanish no matter how much we wish to start over, begin again. Every little action matters, affects others, touches lives.

In simple terms, what does karma mean? It means that whatever we do, with our body, speech, or mind, will have a corresponding result. Each action, even the smallest, is pregnant with its consequences. It is said by the masters that even a little poison can cause death, and even a little seed can become a huge tree. And as Buddha said: "Do not overlook negative actions merely because they are small; however small a spark may be, it can burn down a haystack as big as a mountain." Similarly he said: "Do not overlook tiny good actions, thinking they are of no benefit; even tiny drops of water in the end will fill a huge vessel." Karma does not decay like external things, or ever become inoperative. It cannot be destroyed "by time, fire, or water." Its power will never disappear, until it is ripened.

- Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying from Everyday Mind

birds in yellow

If the sun won't shine, I will increase the hue in Photoshop until a warm yellow light washes through my mind.

Two birds in the sun...

Silence in the World

Mind Numb Me

Claus, a friend from Copenhagen, strongly suggested that I read Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam. I was wise to heed his advice. An excerpt of a paragraph from the chapter "Catfish Dawn" describes the silence inside of a Viet Cong death camp.

I, too, have been exploring the sounds of silence in the brutally cold environment of an Iowa winter, nothing compared to a death camp I know, but both climates bring a razor sharp awareness to human mortality and fragile flesh and muscle.

Of his last days in the death camp, Thong remembers the silence most. It was a thick creature that sat on his chest and lodged its fists in his throat. In the Viet Cong prison hut, he heard only his heart.

Andrew X. Pham

Taha on the potty

I wrote the original blog that accompanies this photo in November 2007. At that time, I had problems uploading the photo from my location in Rabat, Morocco, so Taha on the potty is featured in this month's news.

Magic moments of life come to us when we have our eyes open and our cameras at hand. I love this kid even though he could behave like a "complete asshole" on many days- those are Evi's words- but I would have to agree with her.

the unaware shot

This was taken on the last day of our desert trek in Morocco in Nov. 2007, when we had tea with Mubarak's family.

a blind pigeon: Buddhist suffering in creative non-fiction

People and Animals: The Blind Leading the Blind

I found this essay in "High Country News," for people who care about the West. (That's what the publication's blurb says anyway.) The personal essays discussing human involvement with nature in that pub are some of my favorites. I've been exploring works of creative non-fiction lately, and appreciate Laura Pritchett’s ambivalence toward suffering. Here's a teaser to help you decide if you want to read on:

My short tenure with a blind pigeon
January 21, 2008 by Laura Pritchett, "High Country News"

There is a blind pigeon - a pigeon born without eyeballs - living in my house, and I’m not very happy about it. It’s my mother’s fault; she has a new habit of adopting these eyeless creatures, which are hatched in the barn rafters at my family’s ranch. When the mama bird is done feeding her brood, she kicks everybody out, and the normal ones fly away to start their normal pigeon life. But this year, several babes have been born with feathers where the eyes should be.

http://www.hcn.org/servlets/hcn.Article?article_id=17466

Support Public Radio

I have always loved public radio.

With the purchase of my new iPod, I serendipitously discovered podcasts for “Morning Becomes Eclectic” at KCRW in Santa Monica, California. I am now branching out to explore additional programming at the station.

http://www.kcrw.com

Here are my favorite music picks that Nic Harcourt, the host of the show, recommended from 2007. Don’t miss the “Once” soundtrack!

1) Jesca Hoop, Kismet (Columbia)
2) Federico Aubele, Panamericana (ESL)
3) Once, Original Soundtrack (Sony) / I LOVE IT.

Supporting your favorite local public radio station financially is a GREAT idea.

KCRW, a community service of Santa Monica College, is Southern California's leading National Public Radio affiliate, featuring an eclectic mix of music, news, information and cultural programming. The station boasts one of the nation's largest arrays of locally- produced, nationally-distributed talk program content. KCRW.com extends the station's profile globally, with three streams featuring web-exclusive content: all music, all news and the live station simulcast, as well as an extensive list of podcasts. The non-commercial broadcast signal reaches 550,000 listeners weekly and is supported by 55,000 member/subscribers.

Spirituality in Algona, Iowa

The Day I Met Fran in Algona, Iowa

I have been thinking about spirituality in the midst of the brutal cold and wind chill of an Iowa winter. I saw this sign cheering for Jesus in Algona, Iowa and I had to photograph it. As I was putting my camera into its bag, Fran herself approached my car.

Fran firmly grasped my upper arm just below the elbow and began to tell me all of the reasons why she was a Christian. When I finally admitted to her that I prefer the principles of Buddhism to Christianity, she asked me if Buddha shed his blood on the cross for mankind.

That question was not relevant to my own world view, but the intensity in Fran's cloudy 73-year-old eyes and the firm pressure she applied to my upper arm told me that the answer mattered deeply to her.

It was at this moment that I made up an excuse and escaped. I had a dental appointment suddenly. I am still thinking about spirituality.

Note: I used a mosaic filter in Photoshop while working with the Fran's Praise Shop photo.

Iowa Thaw

My soul is telling me that it wants to live in the tropics!

Reservations?

How do you make reservations for an afterlife?

Homo Politicus

Reminder: read this book, "Homo Politicus" by Dana Milbank

Read a review at the NPR site.

Homo Politicus

afterthought:

...all we need to do is unveil our own nature, and we will find an inexhaustible source of wisdom, compassion, and power. It is nothing we need to acquire, from anywhere or anything. It has always been there. Seen in this light, the Buddha-nature requires no additions. One does not have to memorize sutras, recite prayers or accumulate virtues to create it. All one needs to do is unveil it.

-B. Alan Wallace, Tibetan Buddhism from the Ground Up from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book

Secret Service and The Press: Obama Rally Dec. '07

I enjoy watching the secret service agents and the members of the press doing their jobs at the pre-caucus campaign events just as much as I enjoy hearing the candidates speak about the issues.

Photo by LJ Runkle

You understand what I am saying??

Now you know why I was distracted from John's political message for most of the afternoon.

January 1, 2008 - shot by LJ Runkle with love and care

More than Edwards

Surprise For My Eyes

I was watching this photographer work at the rally for John Edwards. In fact, I was distracted from John's political message for most of the afternoon.

His hands were smooth. His eyes were sharp, and I thought he was beautiful. I couldn't stop watching him.

The slow and gentle way he removed his fuzzy gray scarf sent chills up my spine, and the way he handled his camera was a joy for this woman to behold.

His presence reminded me to appreciate beauty in this world wherever I find it, including during a campaign speech by John Edwards on a cold and breezy Iowa afternoon in January.

January 1, 2008 - shot by LJ Runkle with love and care

John Edwards in Iowa

His Message

When he arrived, not a hair was out of place. His plan, as I heard it, was to confront the status quo in Washington, fists swinging.

January 1, 2008 - shot by LJ Runkle

John Edwards in Iowa

Cold Caucus Season in Iowa

It was a cold and blistery winter evening when we went to see John Edwards speak in Fort Dodge, Iowa on January 1, 2008. Sun rainbows were hanging in the sky. Elizabeth Edwards introduced her husband, who was running about 25 minutes late.

January 1, 2008 - shot by LJ Runkle

Learning from the Mormons

"The church believes in continuous revelation," so its doctrines can evolve.

From Polygamy to Propriety, "The Economist," December 22, 2007-January 4, 2008 issue

I too believe in continuous revelation. Revealing information that others kept in the dark for whatever reason may change my perspective on the existing body of knowledge that was always in the light.

Reveal and evolve, reveal and evolve, this motion moves us forward as human beings. Don't be afraid to learn from everyone and everything around you, hearing revelations like the pop of a champagne cork on New Year's Eve is intoxicating.

Clinton Rally: December 27, 2007

Iowans for Hillary Rally: Bill was at his best. I would like to see these two back in the White House.

Premier Pizza, 121 East State Street, Algona, Iowa, U.S.A.

Photo by LJ Runkle

Covering the Candidate

HEY: I want their cameras. That is my holiday wish.

Up Close: Rally With Barack Obama

Rally for Obama: Wednesday, December 26, 2007

One of the benefits of participating in the first in the nation political caucuses is candidate visits close to home. This photo radiates the up-close-and-personal touch of presidential election years in Iowa.

After I took this photo and studied Obama in Photoshop, I could see that campaigning was taking a toll on him. In his speech tonight, he said that his Christmas wish was for eight hours of sleep.

Photo: LJ Runkle

Ouch: Words Hurt

The Word Continuum


Words have the ability to soothe, excite, subdue and/or execute the human spirit.

As a journalist and enthusiastic Scrabble player, words are my trade and hobby. I realize the potential of A, E, I, O, U and sometimes Y to draw blood when they smoothly and concisely couple with their consonant companions can be devastating.

It is easy to verbally stumble when we forget that our nouns and verbs penetrate the emotions of others. Our sentences have the authority to heal, cajole and/or torture the psyches of our readers.

Sadly for me, I recently waterboarded a friend with several reactionary paragraphs.

It is a long story, but to summarize the disaster, the two of us had been wallowing in a pattern of dysfunctional behavior for some time. Despite my hope to modify the destructive energy in the air, communication between us took a turn into the neighborhood of irreparable damage in late October/early November 2007.

As a woman who practices Buddhism, I am aware that we are all able to make major changes in harmful behavior patterns in our lives, a vicious communication cycle between man and woman was the problem in our situation. Dr. Andrew Weil, a graduate of Harvard Medical School and practitioner of alternative medicine, believes that when we have established negative patterns of behavior with other human beings and with ourselves, it is possible to use self-awareness to reverse the devastation and mayhem. I believe this too, but the reversal process into the light involves a commitment on both sides, a commitment to understanding why the undesired behavior is happening and replacing darkness and turmoil with luminosity and fresh air. I would have appreciated the opportunity to work together with this man in order to begin the healing process, but I don't think he wants the same thing.

I have lived, learned and currently remind myself daily to heed the advice of Sophocles, a dramatist who was familiar with the intimacy of tragedy. When our words threaten to destroy the bonds that connect us to others:

"Hush! Check those words. Do not cure ill with ill and make your pain still heavier than it is."

Relax

What's the News?


Reading ALJAZEERA.net this morning on-line caused me to mourn the loss of world news in the United States.

I return home to America in mid-December 2007, after living in Rabat, Morocco for two months, and I am immediately inundated with the American news agenda.

1. News from the Iowa caucus repeated and analyzed over and over hourly;
2. The push to remove Christ from Christmas: gasp and moan;
3. Iraq: the one country Americans should be able to locate on the map;
4. Iran: echoes of the axis of evil. Remind me what America spends on defense...;
5. Baseball players on steroids;
6. Afghanistan and the Taliban-“Look at those beautiful poppy fields! Aren’t they pretty;”
7. The story of the day that will be beaten to death by the end of the day and resemble a dead horse, whinny and neigh.

American evening news global reporting can be described in five words: “the world in one minute.”

U.S. and local news occupy the next 20 minutes. And, what would the evening news be without a countdown-to-Christmas advertising frenzy dominating the final nine minutes. (Times are approximate. I guess-ti-mated based on extensive exposure to American culture and the evening news.)

Target, Best Buy and Wal-Mart need to have their say in creating the reality that is American news. Don’t forget to buy everyone. Patriotic Americans support the economy and the troops. I plan to relax with my Mentho Balm after writing this blog entry. Happy Holidays everyone!

I feel pretty, oh so pretty...

And I am a boy!

on the road with the best of friends

The Map: Dreams and Destinations

Mubarak

I helped Mubarak round up our four camels under the light of a full orange moon. I found camels to be easy-going companions who kept a cool head at all times.

Me and the Sky

Ibrihim

Footprints

What trails of laughter or cruel human deeds do we leave behind?

Walking in the sand improved my thigh muscles more than any Western-manufactured exercise machine could.

Tea in the Sahara with Ana, Ibrihim and Mubarak

Ana at dusk on the dunes
After a one-week trek in the desert and through the mountains, I still have sand in my sleeping bag.

Love

It is difficult not to think about marriage in Rabat when so many people are trying to assist me in finding my future husband.

Tonight, I went to a marriage party, and I was asked what I was looking for in the man of my dreams. After giving everyone in the room the gory details, an attractive fellow appeared who had many of the hoped for qualities on my list.

In fact, I am going out for coffee with him tomorrow but- and this is an important but- I do not want to marry him!

I have heard many men in the country say this about their wives; I CHOSE HER. For men, it is important to know that they have taken the active role and selected their mate, but- the second important but- I feel the same way.

The thought of giving up my freedom has never been an easy one to contain inside my head, and I still am not certain if marriage is the path I want to walk.

I do know with certainty; however, that I want to say;

I CHOSE HIM!

Alone Time: privacy is culturally defined

Wow! I have the house to myself for a few sacred hours; the first time this has happened since I arrived in Maroc. I miss Taha, the 4 year-old bundle of energy, just a little bit. That kid mocks my pronunciation of Arabic and makes crazy faces while he does it. When he makes fun of me, I can hear where I went wrong, and I have to laugh at myself too.

Taha is also the light policeman. Electricity here is expensive, and I freely admit that I sometimes forget to shut off the lights. With Taha around, I always have a mini patrolman who helps me see the error of my ways.

Taha in the Potty

The Perfect Photo of the Perfect Boy on the Pot

We spent one week in Meknes, and as we were preparing to leave by train for Fes, I caught site of Taha on the potty clutching his blue car tightly in his hand. I snapped a photo of him and told him that I would delete it if he wanted me to do that. Taha told me to take another and made this spectacular face for me. Only kids!


Photo to follow soon: I had a problem with the upload

Taha

My Favorite Superhero

Taha learns many of his punches and jumps from Cartoon Network fighters for justice, and he tries these moves out on me at his house in Rabat. Some of the chops are painful. Taha is 4 years old and the youngest member of the Rachad family.

on the road in North Africa

Moulay Idriss, Maroc

Olives

Olives in the hand of Zahra

Olives are good for the health, and I am surrounded by olive groves here in Maroc.

YUM.

Volubilis, Maroc

That is me showing my Roman ego in the ruins of Volubilis.

The Berber Wedding in Imlil, Maroc

The Bride

After a trek up the mountain, at last; she arrived at four in the morning. It was a long night of eating, drumming, singing, and wondering when she would finally appear.

Help: Everything is in French

Travels in North Africa upside down

Salut

I am living in Rabat speaking French, trying to learn Arabic and hanging out with a Mexican, German, Greek and the family Rachad. I am having a ball.

Glinda and Elphaba met in college!

Did you know that Glinda, the good witch of the north, and Elphaba, the wicked witch of the west, met in college? They were roommates.



I am reading "Wicked" and searching for the land of OZ. A serious note: "Wicked" is one of the best books that I have read this summer.

The Journey Begins Again

I have this feeling stroking the soles of my feet that a new journey is beginning.

As always, photos will be a visual testament to my personal growth, so let the games begin. I have no intention of standing on the sidelines.

Liberace's words kickstart the ride:

I had to dare a little bit. Who am I kidding—I had to dare a lot. Don’t wear one ring, wear five or six. People ask how I can play with all those rings, and I reply, "Very well, thank you."

Harkin Steak Fry 2007: Such Is Life

Oh politics; My friends won't let me swim in apathy, and to be true to self, I realize I need to get involved. There is just so much about politics in America that I don't like.

Such is life!

Sept. 16, 2007

Simple Attention is not so simple

The Tricycle Daily Dharma for Sept. 18, 2007 is something I work on each day. The joy of being completely present and involved in every moment of our own lives is simple and rewarding. This dharma reminds me not to overlook the simple truths of living.

Growth

The secret of beginning a life of deep awareness and sensitivity lies in our willingness to pay attention. Our growth as conscious, awake human beings is marked not so much by grand gestures and visible renunciations as by extending loving attention to the minutest particulars of our lives. Every relationship, every thought, every gesture is blessed with meaning through the wholehearted attention we bring to it. In the complexities of our minds and lives we easily forget the power of attention, yet without attention we live only on the surface of existence. It is just simple attention that allows us truly to listen to the song of a bird, to see deeply the glory of an autumn leaf, to touch the heart of another and be touched. We need to be fully present in order to love a single thing wholeheartedly. We need to be fully awake in this moment if we are to receive and respond to the learning inherent in it.

- Christina Feldman and Jack Kornfield, Stories of the Spirit, Stories of the Heart from Everyday Mind, a Tricycle book edited by Jean Smith

Joy of Liberace in the Kitchen

I want this cookbook: “Joy of Liberace: Retro Recipes from America's Kitchiest Kitchen.”

The cover is enough to make me wish that I had been part of the editorial and graphic design team who put this masterpiece together.

Learn more at the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas, Nevada:
http://www.liberace.org/

Diamonds and Furs: A Boy’s Best Friend

If I had the national authority and calendar control clout, I would declare today National Liberace Appreciation Day. His outlook on life had so much to teach us!

Liberace in concert:

“Go ahead, try it! Live Dangerously!” [my editorial comment: Not with your sex life!]

Right on Liberace. You are one of my heroes with all your bawdy faults and human wisdom. I love you.

Practice safely.

What embraces you? What abandons you?

I love librarians and always have. Because of this love, I usually form friendships with the librarians in my life.

This passage from the current book that I am reading- “The Tender Bar” by J.R. Moehringer- was recommended by a lovely librarian and touched me when I read it. I crave the sensation of words cuddling and jolting my emotions, and I want to share. Comments solicited.


“While I fear that we’re drawn to what abandons us, and to what seems most likely to abandon us, in the end I believe we’re defined by what embraces us.”

Oh, Iowa

This photo speaks for itself. If you are not familiar with Casey's and fishing worms, welcome to Iowa.

Lingering with Delicate Sitting Ducks

I was examining the shape, color, texture and black underside of mushrooms today. They are visually interesting, a delicate sitting duck in the too-tall grass of August.

Mushrooms are popping up everywhere after the torrential rains in the state. I want to photograph them and see what comes of it.

Modern Photography: Mushrooms dallying in the breeze.

I am including a visual of marbles on fabric to demonstrate what experimenting with colors, textures, shapes and lighting can do in a photograph. I have been exploring these concepts while reading “Photographic Lighting: Learning to See” by Ralph Hattersley.

Consider this thought from Hattersley,

“We insist to ourselves that we see things, whereas our eyes are only constructed to see light. In truth, nothing else is visible.”

Words Like Rain

I am often thinking of words: words of a lover, organized tiles from the Scrabble games; in my head they tumble and fall spilling like warm rain in my hair.

Excerpt from "Romance"
by Claude McKay


To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek,
And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak

Love words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words,
Melodious like notes of mating birds;

Cy and Lori at the 2007 Iowa State Fair

Here we are, Cy the Cyclone- the Iowa State University mascot- and me. I enjoy the days that Cy strolls around the ISU campus waving the thumbs up to everyone. It's a signal that all is well in the universe when a large red cyclone bird is high-fiving humans on the planet earth.

Fully in Touch

I needed the Daily Dharma for today! I am posting it so that I can read it when I need a reminder; Feeling pain is part of life and learning.


Tricycle's Daily Dharma: August 5, 2007

Fully In Touch

The person that desires to have only pleasure and refuses pain expends an enormous amount of energy resisting life--and at the same time misses out enormously. He or she is on a self-defeating mission in any case, for just as we evade certain forms of suffering we inevitably fall victim to others. Underlying our glitzy modern consumer culture there is a deep spiritual under-nourishment and malaise that manifests all kinds of symptoms: nervous disorders, loneliness, alienation, purposelessness . . . So blanking out, running away, burying our heads in the sand or videotape will take us nowhere in the long run. If we really want to solve our problems--and the world's problems, for they stem from the same roots--we must open up and accept the reality of suffering with full awareness, as it strikes us, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, in the here-now. Then, strange as it may seem, we reap vast rewards. For suffering has its positive side. From it we derive the experience of depth: of the fullness of our humanity. This puts us fully in touch with other people and the rest of the Universe.

--John Snelling