Sunday, May 31, 2009

Weekend Snapshot: The Shape and Color of Love

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I love that rhododendrons are weeds to some and prized possessions to others. Seems to be lot each of us has inherited. When they bloom each May, I realize all over again that if you're beautiful, you're beautiful. That's all there is to it without any help or explanation. And if you're not, that's all there is to it. But I am comforted and pleased that so much in this world is beautiful.

Weekend Snapshot

Saturday, May 30, 2009

One Single Impression: Denouement

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A miracle of circumstance
Like a great cosmic hand
Pulls together 
Earth and air
Light and water
To transform dust
Into a blossom

You are a wild thing

And you are beautiful--
The sun at the center of a
Great green cosmos

Until some child comes along
Yanks you up in one pull
Says some nonsense
And it's off with your head

Though you are a miracle.

You go to seed

Another child takes you in hand
You hear wishes--
Something for herself--
And she blows your seed 
Across the universe

If the stars you have become
Scatter in just the right way
Her dream comes true

That is all we know


One Single Impression

Friday, May 29, 2009

Blog Your Blessings: Life in Turtle Time

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You stop the car and jump out. You lift him and carry him across the street. You place him near the water. He goes on. Again and again and again.

Because this world has more than its fair share of self-absorbed jerks who won't look, who won't care, who won't give a damn if they kill these guys.

Turtles are everywhere right now, and they are looking for partners to continue their bloodline. They have been here since the earliest of times, they have survived every circumstance Mother Nature has delivered, and now all they need to do is cross the road to keep on.

To survive, they must compete with the self -absorbed fools who will drive at top speeds in their shiny pick-up trucks to impress their girlfriends they are not afraid of the speeding ticket, the pedestrian, the geese, the turtles.

I spent a lot of last weekend helping turtles cross the road.

I spent a lot of last weekend thinking on the one turtle I helped cross the road but could not keep alive. Some brute in a silver pick-up drove over the back of him and crushed his shell and damaged his legs.

My daughter and I witnessed this heartless maiming. We watched this silent creature try to continue his journey across the road to do what he was meant to do--keep on. He lifted himself and dragged his damaged and bleeding body despite the trauma. 

I lifted him and placed him in some cool, tall grass. I apologized for the idiot in the truck. All the while, the blood streamed out of him, a horrifying crimson that told me life would soon be over for this animal. Because some heartless, self-centered man who didn't slow down to consider he was not the center of the universe but lived in a beautiful part of the world that hosts myriad life crushed him and moved right along.

Later that day, I stopped the car in a driving rain to chase another turtle across the road. Next day, a box turtle in no hurry at all let me take his picture before I brought him to safety. A few days later, I escorted a snapper across the road and into a swamp. "We're in this together, dude, so make it quick," I thought as cars zipped by.

Two women stopped to ask me if the snapper was mine. "Hell, yeah," I thought. "But he's got to do his own thing."

That little turtle who was crushed but kept on because you do what you do taught me all over again to love and honor life. 



Thursday, May 28, 2009

Skywatch Friday: Calm Evening

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Just an ordinary evening at the bottom of the hill. Here's where I wait for the geese and the turtles and the frogs, watch the fishermen, make a phone call or two, watch the flag take shape in the breeze, and listen for the insects that say night is here. I like ordinary. A lot.

Before I got to my piece of heaven last week, I enjoyed this view of the sky along the way:

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Skywatch Friday

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Wordless Wednesday: Soft, Soft

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I was experimenting with my new camera and took these photos. They're far from great--I was at the end of my run learning new things for the evening when the geese caught my attention yet again--but I liked it for the softness they capture. Truly, they are beautiful babies, beautiful creatures.

Wordless Wednesday

Monday, May 25, 2009

My World Tuesday: Southford Falls, Southbury, Connecticut

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My World Tuesday

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Weekend Snapshot: Happy Memorial Day

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"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things.
The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling
which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse."
(John Stuart Mill)

Weekend Snapshot

Saturday, May 23, 2009

One Single Impression: Dropped


Silence falls in drops like rain:
A sprinkle, a shower, a fall,
Then a deluge
That sweeps me away
In the vast and merciless
Mystery of itself
No up or down,
No daylight or dark
In this secret space.

So it is.

Silence is a watery death.

What do you say to, for, about
A drowned man
A young man
A loved man
A beautiful man
Who died at sea

Riveted to his battle station
And believing above all else
In the mother who sent out his
Christmas cards

Because he was too busy
Having fun

Before that last patrol?

Silence is a watery death.

I'd go there for the answer--
What was it like to be you, to be there, 
To do this thing?--

But I'd want to come back
And tell it over and over
Again.

The photo above is my great-grandfather, Harvey Isbell (left), and his fourth child, Laurence Isbell. Laurence served on the USS Herring and was lost at sea when the Japanese sank his submarine. My Uncle Bud (Allan Isbell) took this photo in my great-grandfather's backyard before Uncle Laurence left home for his last tour in 1944.

One Single Impression

Friday, May 22, 2009

Blog Your Blessings: Six Things that Make me Happy

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I came across a meme asking participants to name six unimportant things that make them happy. I thought about that for a minute or two and then realized nothing that makes me happy is unimportant to me. That got me thinking of the ordinary things that make me happy just because they are there.

1. Remembering my Grandmother. She was a lovely, lovely lady. She loved me and accepted me when I was a teenager. I was a misfit and felt it to the bone, but it didn't matter when I was with her. She was good to me. We'd play cards, drive around, stroll the grocery store. It didn't matter. Her company was a treasure to me. She helped  me feel good about myself when nothing else did.

2. Boxwood. The fragrance of a boxwood tree makes me think of my grandmother. One of her great gifts was a family history. She would tell me about her cousins and aunts and uncles and siblings and parents and neighbors. She had a boxwood under a living room window, and the fragrance would fill the living room on a summer night. The smell of a boxwood reminds me there is a bigger story. And I am a part of it.

3. The doll that sits in my front hall and belonged to my grandmother when she was a child. It reminds me that life goes on and on, that we are durable, that we really don't know what part of our story will continue, so we better make it good.

4. My daughter. Who was born 17 years to the day my Gram left this world and is the joy and love of my life.

5. The geese down the road. They remind me life goes on and show me what is possible with a little cooperation as mother and father shepherd the babies around with love and care and fierce protectiveness. Beautiful thing.

6; Coffee. Of course.

7. The alarm clock that tells me it's a new day. Amen.

Blog Your Blessings

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Skywatch Friday: Good Night, Baby

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This was the view from my daughter's (dirty) bedroom window last week. I like these late sunsets. Some days I wonder who will fall first--me or the night. It feels good this time of year to be tired from being outside for hours of taking in the flowers and the wildlife and the peace of a cool end of the day.

The trees are very close to the house, and they have been like old friends as my daughter has grown up. When she was tiny and I'd put her into her crib, I'd stand still and take in those trees while I waited her to fall into a deep sleep. At the time, her floor creaked very badly, and one false move would undo the sometimes very hard work of helping her to nod off. I wasn't a risk-taker in those days.

We have watched and admired the snowfall and rain and the comings and goings of the blue jays and squirrels through these trees. These trees have always softened the afternoon sunlight in her room and created a sense of a safe and secret place all her own.  I love 'em.

Skywatch Friday

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Wordless Wednesday: The Lotus Position

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I never saw an ugly thing in my life: for let the form of an object be what it may - light, shade, and perspective will always make it beautiful. (John Constable)

Wordless Wednesday

Monday, May 18, 2009

My World Tuesday: What's Good for the Goose

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The geese are up and about and giving me heart palpitations lately. I live near a broad, wide road that borders a swamp where they do their swimming and fine dining. There is water on either side of the road, and these rascals tend to go to and fro very much like they own the place, which I think they do. But don't tell that to the self-important idiots driving at crazy speeds to get from one end of the road to the other. The same fools will honk their car horns in attempt to rush these animals who won't be rushed. People are crazy.

If I'm out for a walk and see the geese in the road, I stand in the middle and play crossing guard. I am a bigger target for the nut cases, but killing me might come with a jail term (or not--I am after all fool enough to stand in the middle of the road), so they might slow down. 

Am I Mother Goose or just a crazy lady with a camera? Call me what you want; just go easy around my birds!

Every day we do things, we are things that have to do with peace. If we are aware of our life..., our way of looking at things, we will know how to make peace right in the moment, we are alive. (Thich Nhat Han)

My World Tuesday

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Weekend Snapshot: Loving Family

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Weekend Snapshot

Saturday, May 16, 2009

One Single Impression: Tolerance

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Years ago 
I lived on a hill near the sea
Where strong winds
And grey skies were steadfast

And I taught myself
To walk straight up and open
Without feeling cold

To let the wind pass through me

To stop resisting the wind

And I was warm. 

Walking into the wind
And breathing
Making of the wind my breath
My life
My way
My life

Transformed the cold
Into here and now
Into my pulse

It was good.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Blog Your Blessings: The Sweet Smell of Spring

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Honeysuckle. Lilac. Magnolia. Daffodil. Tulips. Hyacinths....

Just thinking of the wonderful fragrances of spring and working my way back to the beginning of the season. Lately the honeysuckle has been in bloom. There's a stretch of highway along which honeysuckle blooms in a soft white haze of subtle blossoms rich in perfume that drenches the air so that the interstate might as well be a country road. 

I think it's one of the best parts of spring--stepping out the front door and taking in all those ephemeral, magical perfumes that make spring so thoroughly beautiful.

Blog Your Blessings

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Skywatch Friday: Pattern

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Skywatch Friday

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Wordless Wednesday: A Fluid Idea

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Wordless Wednesday

Monday, May 11, 2009

My World Tuesday: The Nature of Protest

I came across these ribbons attached to a fence around a church in Manhattan a few Sundays ago. IMG 7217
I took a look up to get a sense of where I was. The answer: New York. It's all big in New York.
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I moved along to find this message inside a marquis at the corner of the Dutch Reformed church.
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So I spent a few more minutes taking in these ribbons. And I walked away thinking this message on this signpost outside this church I will never enter says exactly what I have come to think about that war, the lives of good people who serve well, and how we pursue the truth, honor life, and eschew the kind of propaganda--from whatever side--that cheapens everything.

My World Tuesday

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Weekend Snapshot: A Rose of a Day

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I took a break from the housework on Friday afternoon when I noticed the sunlight--a novel and welcome sight at the end of a rainy week--illuminating these rose petals. Sometimes the little things are celebrations all by themselves. 

Weekend Snapshot

Saturday, May 09, 2009

One Single Impression: What's That Like?

You add 
To the immense 
Vocabulary of love
A drop of deceit

It trickles down the page
Taking with it
In its darkening course
Passion, purpose, truth
An unclothed soul vulnerable
To the vast and holy secrets
Of passion, purpose, truth

Every permutation 
Of I love you
Runs 

One drop reduces
The immense vocabulary of love
To a sequence of letters on a page

Symbols become scribbles

Then dissolve in a puddle
That eats the page.

One drop
And it's all gone.

What's that like?

OK, dark mood here. A friend pointed out to me that this was an angry piece. "Angry?" I thought. It was just a question. Indeed, for me it is. I do wonder what it's like to tear heart and hope from another person so that she goes through life looking behind every word as if it were a boulder shielding a sniper. What's it like to kill language, that lifeline to the heart? To destroy trust? 

Emerging from this nightmare into the light of day brings this: here.

Friday, May 08, 2009

Blog Your Blessings: From Baghdad with Love

This week's blessing is the best book I've read in a very long time that shed some light ona situation I have never quite understood....

It's no small task to build suspense--and maintain it until the last page--after you've spilled the beans. But that's exactly what Lieutenant Colonel Jay Kopelman does in his 2006 international bestseller From Baghdad with Love.

Kopelman's memoir is set in Fallujah, Iraq, during the 2004 US-led invasion. Though the story advertises its happy ending before it begins, the setting alone is enough to tell you getting there is going to be a bumpy, bumpy ride. There's no way of knowing what's around the corner; only that there is a corner to turn.

When Marines enter an abandoned house, they hear a strange noise and are ready to open fire. Instead, they find a fiesty puppy who makes his home in their hearts and sets Kopelman and his buddies on an obstacle course that doesn't end until Lava--the Marines name the dog after their battalion, the Lava Dogs--settles stateside.

The road from Iraq to California involves a vast network of people that includes reporters, officers, taxi drivers, vets, dog food executives.... Ironically, many of them have worked together more than once before to help other soldiers get their adopted pets home--this, despite military regulations that that are clearly stated and that everybody knows that forbid soldiers from adopting pets. There is even an organization or two set up for this very purpose. 

Which you have to love. The irony is beautiful. To be an effective soldier, you have to put aside that warm, fuzzy side of yourself and focus on the task at hand; to survive war at all, you need to cleave to all that is warm, sensitive true and love it well. That network of people pulling together to reunite soldiers with their pets knows that as well as the soldiers know that.

We all know that, right? 

Maybe not. Kopelman points out that there were soliders available to shoot, bury, or drown dogs in the interest of enforcing policy. 

How the hell could you?

But then, how do you worry about stray cats and dogs when there's a war on, when people are injured, sick, hungry, and desperate? Why all this for a dog?

In the final chapter as Kopelman recounts his reunion with his dog at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago, he describes embracing a loving, hearty friend with whom he shares some ineffable understanding, a reporter asked him the very question. "Why wasn't my time spent people instead of a puppy?" Kopelman recounts.

His reply: "I don't know, and I don't care, but at least I saved something."

From Baghdad with Love was for me a way into Iraq. I learned a little about what motivates a Marine to be a Marine, to go to places like Iraq, to serve as they do. Kopelman took me down some pretty horrifying streets, threw open the doors to brutality I couldn't not have imagined, and threw some sense around it. 

Ultimately, every choice comes down to being human. That's something to think about.

The book was a blessing this week. It taught me plenty. 

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Skywatch Friday: Riverside Girl is Back to Point the Way

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OK. I'm obsessive. I had to add yet another picture of this monument this week. From this perspective, the stone on which she writes "he shall live" reflects the heavens on a warm spring day. Heaven, indeed. And oh, so alive.

Skywatch Friday

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Wordless Wednesday: Life is Just a Mirror

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Life is just a mirror,
and what you see out there,
you must first see inside of you.
(Wally 'Famous' Amos)

Monday, May 04, 2009

My World Tuesday: Riverside Girl

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This is my favorite memorial statute at Riverside Cemetery in Waterbury, Connecticut. She is so vibrant, so sensual, so alive. So young. So sad. I love the way she unselfconsciously insists on life, is life. 

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Weekend Snapshot: The Little Things

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We experienced a heat wave early last week that surged through the veins of spring so that we were surrounded by gentle spring blossoms high and low. I took the low road and was satisfied.

Saturday, May 02, 2009

One Single Impression: Tactile

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A soft touch
I am one
I have one
You will know me
I swear it
By my soft touch
Though you are anything but
A soft touch yourself.
Hold me in your hand long enough
And you will take my shape
Loosen your hold
Feel
What I am
Whatever I am
I will warm to your touch
You will warm to mine
You are soft
You will say
I won't argue
Won't say a word
You are soft;
I know everything about you
I have become you.

One Single Impression

Friday, May 01, 2009

Blog Your Blessings: Pennsylvania

I am always looking for stuff I think my students might like to read. I have found good material in The New York Times, Wikipedia, movie reviews, print news stories, travel brochures....If it's there to be read and it's interesting, it's fair game.  I want my students to latch onto the fact that reading is a real world activity and that reading everything they can will enrich their lives. 

While my daughter and I were in Pennsylvania, I grabbed a copy of a 146th Gettysburg reenactment newspaper because it was full of stories about life in the 1840s. I looked forward to horrifying my students with the news that there could be a 30-year age difference between a husband and a wife. Or that some women dressed in drag to fight in the Civil War, that Lincoln was neither the first nor the only speaker at the commemoration of the battlefield when he delivered his address..

I was delighted when my students read the Department of the Interior's brochure on Gettysburg and discovered that General Meade's headquarters was "a messed up farm." I enjoyed watching them read and take in the fact that  more than 5,000 soldiers died in an hour in the battle called Pickett's Charge.  It's was good to see them grasp that violence begets death; that choices come with consequences.

But I was happiest when a student who had also been in Pennsylvania over spring vacation asked me if I'd use her material on the Flight 93 memorial in class. I was delighted she knew she had good, worthwhile stuff. Delighted she wanted to read it. I was thrilled.

She gave me that material on Wednesday. On Thursday, when I had her twin brother in a different class, he told me he had been looking for the brochures but couldn't find them. I told them his sister had given them to me and that we would use it. He was happy about that, though he had no idea she had done that.  Next day, he pulled a folded up document from his pocket as another source of reading material.

I was thrilled. To believe you have something worthwhile. To say, "How 'bout we do this thing?" To share it. To believe in the value of a text. That was my blessing.

And then at the end of class, the young man handed me a wooden token stamped with an image of the memorial chapel created in memory of the 40 passengers of Flight 93. I looked at it and complimented it and handed it back to the boy. "No," he said. "I want you to have it."

Later that day in the pile of classwork I had collected, I came across a paper that belonged to this kid. He had worked hard. That was a first.

Amen and alleluijah. Things happen. How and why, I don't know. But I think it had something to do with being in Pennsylvania at the same time. I am grateful to the Keystone State.