With the idea that no one can have too many web sites, I have discovered a new way to
display and record photos...I've posted those that have been previously here at my site into one concise place. http://maurietray.phanfare.com
This blog will remain my main "brain dump" for ideas and writings, when I'm not involved with novel writing, essays. Writing is taking more and more of my time and I love it! It is becoming more a part of my life and I'm finding it both a source of pleasure and comfort.
Kathleen Brehony says that in mid-life, those artistic parts of ourselves that we may have overlooked up until now, those dormant sides of ourselves that we push down so that we can get on with the "business" of life, emerge powerfully strong. She believes from her book, "Awakening at Midlife" that it is these strong, artistic and very vital qualities that render us hopelessly lost if we fail to recognize their power.
Over the past several weeks I have been working with some ideas about my writing. It is all very new and yet very old, too. I've been writing most of my life, just never really focused my efforts much. I have had to yield over the past few months to that calling, regardless if it leads me to a book deal or just leads me to myself, more whole and more at one with myself.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Cinderella Man
Grabbed the late show last night with high expectations of the new Ron Howard film, "Cinderella Man" starring Russell Crowe, Renee Zelleweger and Paul Giamatti.
Ron Howard is a superb storytelling and creates a mood from the opening scenes. He seems to understand the role of music so very well. Often when I'm watching his films I notice the music as overall part of the experience, but it doesn't distract from the story itself. I think this subtelty is what makes Ron Howard's films so good -- he understands the importance of a subtle suggestion in a look, a gesture, an accent, a note.
Russell Crowe plays "Jim Braddock", a real life depression-era story of a boxer down on his luck. It's also a love story between Jim and his wife Mae (played by Rene Zelleweger). Finally, there are other supporting roles and relationships that fill out the film making it another -- what no doubt will be - -a box office hit. Crowe has made a career out of being the guy that everyone bets against (Gladiator, Master and Commander) and proves them wrong. His ability to look down trodden and beten wtih dignity are what make him one of Hollywood's most bankable actors.
Paul Giamatti, who plays Braddock's manager/trainer, is the real hero of this film. Masterfully, he creates the iconic image of the depression-era business man. Through Giamatti, Howard weaves the parallel images of two men, caught in the turmoil of the depression, living out their individual lives in the best way they know how. Giammati is one of those actors that you just want to get to know...his eyes give his performances soul and his ability to create the persona of Joe Gould particularly reels you in for the ride. In short, I think his performance is the best of those in the movie.
Howard also seems to understand the powerful connections between people and it is those relationships that give the story sustenance and power. The main characters are held in check, per se, by the strong performances of other characters who provide the life and the fabric of a life, in this scenario, the life of JimBraddock.
Overall, I was disappointed in this film. The trailer is superbly done and I walked into the theater expecting to laugh and cry and do all those things that movies do. I did a little of both but the film seemed to lose its timing somehow and I got lost a couple of times in all the hitting and punching.
I'd see the movie again on a rainy Sunday afternoon, cuddled in my easy chair just for to watch Giamatti at his craft.
Ron Howard is a superb storytelling and creates a mood from the opening scenes. He seems to understand the role of music so very well. Often when I'm watching his films I notice the music as overall part of the experience, but it doesn't distract from the story itself. I think this subtelty is what makes Ron Howard's films so good -- he understands the importance of a subtle suggestion in a look, a gesture, an accent, a note.
Russell Crowe plays "Jim Braddock", a real life depression-era story of a boxer down on his luck. It's also a love story between Jim and his wife Mae (played by Rene Zelleweger). Finally, there are other supporting roles and relationships that fill out the film making it another -- what no doubt will be - -a box office hit. Crowe has made a career out of being the guy that everyone bets against (Gladiator, Master and Commander) and proves them wrong. His ability to look down trodden and beten wtih dignity are what make him one of Hollywood's most bankable actors.
Paul Giamatti, who plays Braddock's manager/trainer, is the real hero of this film. Masterfully, he creates the iconic image of the depression-era business man. Through Giamatti, Howard weaves the parallel images of two men, caught in the turmoil of the depression, living out their individual lives in the best way they know how. Giammati is one of those actors that you just want to get to know...his eyes give his performances soul and his ability to create the persona of Joe Gould particularly reels you in for the ride. In short, I think his performance is the best of those in the movie.
Howard also seems to understand the powerful connections between people and it is those relationships that give the story sustenance and power. The main characters are held in check, per se, by the strong performances of other characters who provide the life and the fabric of a life, in this scenario, the life of JimBraddock.
Overall, I was disappointed in this film. The trailer is superbly done and I walked into the theater expecting to laugh and cry and do all those things that movies do. I did a little of both but the film seemed to lose its timing somehow and I got lost a couple of times in all the hitting and punching.
I'd see the movie again on a rainy Sunday afternoon, cuddled in my easy chair just for to watch Giamatti at his craft.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Slogger, Blogger
I've been chastized on two accounts for my lack of blogging. And they are are right to do so, for blogging is a way that I get into my writing, sort out ideas and basically think on paper.
There are two reasons why I've been a blog slacker...one -- I've been working on a new area of writing that is, learning how to develop characters. Since I am often referred to as a "character" then it would seem not a hard proposition for me to come up with some of my own. And actually that is true, I am finding it rewarding to think about what a character has for breakfast, how many tattoes they may or may not have, and what their ethnicity may be.
In fact, I'm finding it so rewarding that I've now created several characters and they have this little life that I've created for them. Their names will remain anonymous right now, because, who knows, I might change their names. What power a writer must wield, to create these entire realities simply by a few keystrokes and some ideas.
The other reason I've been a slacker on the blogging is simply this -- I've been working on what some might call my "real job" that is, finishing out a fiscal year end and starting a new. This always is somewhat of a reality check -- did certain goals get met? If so, why or why not? This requires a good deal of personal introspection and a good deal of personal honesty.
Now a "seasoned" veteran in the world of sales, I find that my goals and my aspirations are changing significantly. There are new reasons why I want to achieve certain things and there are old goals that, while they may be important, do not hold the same charm for me as they may have. I don't consider this failure...I consider this maturation.
I think what I'm talking about here is the idea that sucess -- and one's definition of it -- are constantly fluid, or should be. After all, when I was 7 I wanted to be Carol Burnett. Thank goodnes some goals and dreams do pass on! For there can only be one Carol Burnett, and I'm not here.
Which leads me to what I believe is a better definition of success -- at least for me. It has nothing to do with the scoreboard or how much money one can make. There must be more dimensions of success than those scoreboards. There must be more than a dollar figure put upon someone's worth to humanity and to those around them. At least, for me, I'm learning, there must be more to it than that.
I'm not saying that one should become a boehemian and live their life on the lam and shun all things material. This is not a "sour grapes" treatise that is replacing personal failure with some type of manifesto for better living. It is, I think, a mid-life correction that simply says, life is shorter now than ever and what you do with it matters. Or at least it should.
There are two reasons why I've been a blog slacker...one -- I've been working on a new area of writing that is, learning how to develop characters. Since I am often referred to as a "character" then it would seem not a hard proposition for me to come up with some of my own. And actually that is true, I am finding it rewarding to think about what a character has for breakfast, how many tattoes they may or may not have, and what their ethnicity may be.
In fact, I'm finding it so rewarding that I've now created several characters and they have this little life that I've created for them. Their names will remain anonymous right now, because, who knows, I might change their names. What power a writer must wield, to create these entire realities simply by a few keystrokes and some ideas.
The other reason I've been a slacker on the blogging is simply this -- I've been working on what some might call my "real job" that is, finishing out a fiscal year end and starting a new. This always is somewhat of a reality check -- did certain goals get met? If so, why or why not? This requires a good deal of personal introspection and a good deal of personal honesty.
Now a "seasoned" veteran in the world of sales, I find that my goals and my aspirations are changing significantly. There are new reasons why I want to achieve certain things and there are old goals that, while they may be important, do not hold the same charm for me as they may have. I don't consider this failure...I consider this maturation.
I think what I'm talking about here is the idea that sucess -- and one's definition of it -- are constantly fluid, or should be. After all, when I was 7 I wanted to be Carol Burnett. Thank goodnes some goals and dreams do pass on! For there can only be one Carol Burnett, and I'm not here.
Which leads me to what I believe is a better definition of success -- at least for me. It has nothing to do with the scoreboard or how much money one can make. There must be more dimensions of success than those scoreboards. There must be more than a dollar figure put upon someone's worth to humanity and to those around them. At least, for me, I'm learning, there must be more to it than that.
I'm not saying that one should become a boehemian and live their life on the lam and shun all things material. This is not a "sour grapes" treatise that is replacing personal failure with some type of manifesto for better living. It is, I think, a mid-life correction that simply says, life is shorter now than ever and what you do with it matters. Or at least it should.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Garage Sale Days
Ellen is having a garage sale today. She decided that she could make some money for summer this way and I was glad to have her take some of the things we have around the house.
It's not even noon and she's already sold over $900.
It's humbling to see one's possessions assembled, marked and offered for resale. There is a sense of ending and beginnings in a garage sale like this. The bedspread that I had specially made for Ellen when she was 6 is now going for $5. Nathan's soccer pic that I spent days selecting the frame will go for less than $10. And books -- many books that I've read and now have on tape or on audible are going for pennies on the dollar.
Still, it's a sense of relief to move on past the middle school years into the full throttle of high school and beyond. We are chucking the bicycles to make way for the cars. We're selling the VCR so that the DVD's will have more room. The cassette tapes? Some antique dealer will make a killing.
Life marches on and on and on and we hear the cadence, pick up the drum, march along to the beat.
We have less than three years left to "raise" our kids. The truth is, they are already raised, it's just the feeding and caring for them that we are doing now. The foundations are poured, the paths are forged and we're moving to higher ground.
It's not even noon and she's already sold over $900.
It's humbling to see one's possessions assembled, marked and offered for resale. There is a sense of ending and beginnings in a garage sale like this. The bedspread that I had specially made for Ellen when she was 6 is now going for $5. Nathan's soccer pic that I spent days selecting the frame will go for less than $10. And books -- many books that I've read and now have on tape or on audible are going for pennies on the dollar.
Still, it's a sense of relief to move on past the middle school years into the full throttle of high school and beyond. We are chucking the bicycles to make way for the cars. We're selling the VCR so that the DVD's will have more room. The cassette tapes? Some antique dealer will make a killing.
Life marches on and on and on and we hear the cadence, pick up the drum, march along to the beat.
We have less than three years left to "raise" our kids. The truth is, they are already raised, it's just the feeding and caring for them that we are doing now. The foundations are poured, the paths are forged and we're moving to higher ground.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Gardner's Journal: "rock" music
When you mention the word "garden" most people think of the plants: the flowers, the shrubs, the grasses. Most don't consider the "hardscaping" a part of the garden, but it is an essential part. In fact, it provides the structure and the design of how everything "holds" together...it is a container for what you see.
In essence, planting is only a small part of the garden and the chores of having a garden. It's the fun part and the more "glamorous" part but its not what keeps a garden looking great. The garden has to have good bones and that is hardscaping -- arbors, bridges, gazebos, fences, pathways.
We built a pergola last year and I stained it a musky gray. At first, I was unsure about the color but this year the gray is stunning and restrained against the power of all that yellow that is there. And this year, we added a new feature: a rock speaker.
I know, it sounds really corny. It may well end up in some future garage sale. But for this year, I love it.
In the mornings, I switch the cable station onto what some call "new age" music. After my run, I head to the back yard where the main garden is, and I water, weed, and listen to music.
The speaker is wireless and it creates an ethereal mood. Sometimes, with the morning light and the music, the mood in the pergola is a mystical mix of chords, light and rhythm. It is a beautiful place to think, to ponder, to pray.
In the evenings, we find ourselves drawn again to that space where the long shadows of evening begin to reach their fingers across us. When it's hot, we hook the hose up to the "mist maker" that we've tacked around the upper beams and enjoy a cool mist.
Sometimes, though, I have to turn the station to the "rock" station so I can hear Eric Clapton, Aerosmith, Foreigner and other great classic rock songs of my youth. My kids look at me in disbelief when I hear "Freebird" come on and have to get up and play my air guitar. "This, " I say, "This is WHAT I'm talkin' about!" is what I say when "Stairway to Heaven" comes on.
That's OK. Everyone needs stories about their crazy parents to tell their friends.
In essence, planting is only a small part of the garden and the chores of having a garden. It's the fun part and the more "glamorous" part but its not what keeps a garden looking great. The garden has to have good bones and that is hardscaping -- arbors, bridges, gazebos, fences, pathways.
We built a pergola last year and I stained it a musky gray. At first, I was unsure about the color but this year the gray is stunning and restrained against the power of all that yellow that is there. And this year, we added a new feature: a rock speaker.
I know, it sounds really corny. It may well end up in some future garage sale. But for this year, I love it.
In the mornings, I switch the cable station onto what some call "new age" music. After my run, I head to the back yard where the main garden is, and I water, weed, and listen to music.
The speaker is wireless and it creates an ethereal mood. Sometimes, with the morning light and the music, the mood in the pergola is a mystical mix of chords, light and rhythm. It is a beautiful place to think, to ponder, to pray.
In the evenings, we find ourselves drawn again to that space where the long shadows of evening begin to reach their fingers across us. When it's hot, we hook the hose up to the "mist maker" that we've tacked around the upper beams and enjoy a cool mist.
Sometimes, though, I have to turn the station to the "rock" station so I can hear Eric Clapton, Aerosmith, Foreigner and other great classic rock songs of my youth. My kids look at me in disbelief when I hear "Freebird" come on and have to get up and play my air guitar. "This, " I say, "This is WHAT I'm talkin' about!" is what I say when "Stairway to Heaven" comes on.
That's OK. Everyone needs stories about their crazy parents to tell their friends.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Gardner's Journal: Making Peace with Unfinished
It's driving me crazy. It's just lying there, open, vacant, ready.
I've removed all the weeds that I can see, but millions are still in there just waiting for the right mixture of sun and water. After making my crips outline, I then bury the newly thatched dirt under black coverings, where it will sleep until Fall.
I can see in my mind the garden that will go there. I see the water feature that will grace the wall and I see the gravel and the container plants. This garden will have a mediterranean or old world feel, which will be perfect for the location: South side of a brick home.
But for now, the plans for this garden will lay under wraps, shrouded in darkness, like black tombs awaiting some resurrection.
I find myself thinking, "maybe it wouldn't hurt...just an evergreen, or two.." But I know I am kidding myself. I wouldn't stop at one, just like those potato commericals from years ago.
No, for now I must sit and wait and ponder, drawing out the designs on my pad and retracing them in my head. Gardening isn't for sissies and it sure isn't for impatient sissies. I stand at the corner of the garden, thinking, imagining. Do I strip off the veil, go to work, make this idea of mine alive?
It's tough stuff, this waiting. Like a nothingness that hangs over you, fooling you into thinking that nothing really worth doing is going on. Yet it is in this waiting that all things of value come into being. In the business world, time and patience are virtues, too. Mortages mature, bonds come to be due, loans reach their end. What started out as a small thing become bigger, larger, more full. "In due course.." legal ease reads.
But I won't lie..I don't like this waiting stuff. I'm impatient to see the results of my ideas, my designs. I want to check it off my list, show it off to my friends, say "i'm done" and move on.
But that, there, is the thing. Moving on doesn't mean finished. Moving on means letting time take its course. It's nurturing, healing, wonderful course.
And so I wait, swinging in my swing, impatient to start. What I am coming to understand, waiting is starting.
I've removed all the weeds that I can see, but millions are still in there just waiting for the right mixture of sun and water. After making my crips outline, I then bury the newly thatched dirt under black coverings, where it will sleep until Fall.
I can see in my mind the garden that will go there. I see the water feature that will grace the wall and I see the gravel and the container plants. This garden will have a mediterranean or old world feel, which will be perfect for the location: South side of a brick home.
But for now, the plans for this garden will lay under wraps, shrouded in darkness, like black tombs awaiting some resurrection.
I find myself thinking, "maybe it wouldn't hurt...just an evergreen, or two.." But I know I am kidding myself. I wouldn't stop at one, just like those potato commericals from years ago.
No, for now I must sit and wait and ponder, drawing out the designs on my pad and retracing them in my head. Gardening isn't for sissies and it sure isn't for impatient sissies. I stand at the corner of the garden, thinking, imagining. Do I strip off the veil, go to work, make this idea of mine alive?
It's tough stuff, this waiting. Like a nothingness that hangs over you, fooling you into thinking that nothing really worth doing is going on. Yet it is in this waiting that all things of value come into being. In the business world, time and patience are virtues, too. Mortages mature, bonds come to be due, loans reach their end. What started out as a small thing become bigger, larger, more full. "In due course.." legal ease reads.
But I won't lie..I don't like this waiting stuff. I'm impatient to see the results of my ideas, my designs. I want to check it off my list, show it off to my friends, say "i'm done" and move on.
But that, there, is the thing. Moving on doesn't mean finished. Moving on means letting time take its course. It's nurturing, healing, wonderful course.
And so I wait, swinging in my swing, impatient to start. What I am coming to understand, waiting is starting.
"The bleep" continues
Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.- Carl Gustav Jung
The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.- Oscar Wilde
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.- T. S. Eliot
Below is an excerpt found at www.whatthebleep.com of the most meaningful part of the film for me.
Create My Day - (Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
The most often referenced interview in the film is Dr. Joe Dispenza's comments on creating his day. In response to the numerous requests, the following is the transcript of that part of the interview.
"I wake up in the morning and I consciously create my day the way I want it to happen. Now sometimes, because my mind is examining all the things that I need to get done, it takes me a little bit to settle down and get to the point of where I'm actually intentionally creating my day. But here's the thing: When I create my day and out of nowhere little things happen that are so unexplainable, I know that they are the process or the result of my creation. And the more I do that, the more I build a neural net in my brain that I accept that that's possible. (This) gives me the power and the incentive to do it the next day. "So if we're consciously designing our destiny, and if we're consciously from a spiritual standpoint throwing in with the idea that our thoughts can affect our reality or affect our life -- because reality equals life -- then I have this little pact that I have when I create my day. I say, 'I'm taking this time to create my day and I'm infecting the quantum field. Now if (it) is in fact the observer's watching me the whole time that I'm doing this and there is a spiritual aspect to myself, then show me a sign today that you paid attention to any one of these things that I created, and bring them in a way that I won't expect, so I'm as surprised at my ability to be able to experience these things. And make it so that I have no doubt that it's come from you,' and so I live my life, in a sense, all day long thinking about being a genius or thinking about being the glory and the power of God or thinking about being unconditional love.
"I'll use living as a genius, for example. And as I do that during parts of the day, I'll have thoughts that are so amazing, that cause a chill in my physical body, that have come from nowhere. But then I remember that that thought has an associated energy that's produced an effect in my physical body. Now that's a subjective experience, but the truth is is that I don't think that unless I was creating my day to have unlimited thought, that that thought would come."
(Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
At this point, I'm still ruminating and thinking on this fabulous film -- I don't really have anything profound to say. I'm thinking so hard it makes my head hurt.
The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.- Oscar Wilde
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.- T. S. Eliot
Below is an excerpt found at www.whatthebleep.com of the most meaningful part of the film for me.
Create My Day - (Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
The most often referenced interview in the film is Dr. Joe Dispenza's comments on creating his day. In response to the numerous requests, the following is the transcript of that part of the interview.
"I wake up in the morning and I consciously create my day the way I want it to happen. Now sometimes, because my mind is examining all the things that I need to get done, it takes me a little bit to settle down and get to the point of where I'm actually intentionally creating my day. But here's the thing: When I create my day and out of nowhere little things happen that are so unexplainable, I know that they are the process or the result of my creation. And the more I do that, the more I build a neural net in my brain that I accept that that's possible. (This) gives me the power and the incentive to do it the next day. "So if we're consciously designing our destiny, and if we're consciously from a spiritual standpoint throwing in with the idea that our thoughts can affect our reality or affect our life -- because reality equals life -- then I have this little pact that I have when I create my day. I say, 'I'm taking this time to create my day and I'm infecting the quantum field. Now if (it) is in fact the observer's watching me the whole time that I'm doing this and there is a spiritual aspect to myself, then show me a sign today that you paid attention to any one of these things that I created, and bring them in a way that I won't expect, so I'm as surprised at my ability to be able to experience these things. And make it so that I have no doubt that it's come from you,' and so I live my life, in a sense, all day long thinking about being a genius or thinking about being the glory and the power of God or thinking about being unconditional love.
"I'll use living as a genius, for example. And as I do that during parts of the day, I'll have thoughts that are so amazing, that cause a chill in my physical body, that have come from nowhere. But then I remember that that thought has an associated energy that's produced an effect in my physical body. Now that's a subjective experience, but the truth is is that I don't think that unless I was creating my day to have unlimited thought, that that thought would come."
(Dr. Joe Dispenza in What the BLEEP Do We Know!?TM)
At this point, I'm still ruminating and thinking on this fabulous film -- I don't really have anything profound to say. I'm thinking so hard it makes my head hurt.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
"What the BLEEP do we know?"
In two different conversations, I've had two different people mention to me what they learned from the film "What the Bleep Do We Know?" (ASIN: B0006UEVQ8 ) . There is so much that I'd like to share about this film, yet I find that I'm still processing it. If you haven't seen it, you must! It's creative, thought-provoking and helpful. I'll post more on it as I think through it.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Gardner's Journal: Fall Plans
We continue leveling the area around the new ponds. At first I thought I'd build a bridge between the small island-like area between the ponds. Now I have another idea, taken from something I saw in a magazine. I am thinking, instead, to use a pathway that is, in essence a bridge, but softer and less formal.
I've decided to get some youpons which are my favorite foundational plants. There are several varieties but what I enjoy about them is their eternally evergreen nature. They grow tall like trees (in effect some varieties are) and keep their leaves year round. They take the heat well and they grow with vigor.
I usually plant in threes, establishing a backdrop or rhythm, sometimes in a triangle so that there are lots of geometric shapes taking "shape" before your eyes as you look towards the garden. It's an old design trick...repeat in odd numbers with a similar texture, color or shape. Any good painting will have this if you look closely enough. Gardening is simply living art, which is why, I think, it can become an obsession. Art calls upon the primordial nature of our souls which can only be answered with creating new, living things. It is a call that cannot be ignored and once you hear it, you hear little else.
Today the weather is expected to reach 95 degrees so the weeks prior of mulching, watering will pay off. No more planting for this year until Fall when I hope to put the beginning brush strokes of a new garden onto the canvas.
I've decided to get some youpons which are my favorite foundational plants. There are several varieties but what I enjoy about them is their eternally evergreen nature. They grow tall like trees (in effect some varieties are) and keep their leaves year round. They take the heat well and they grow with vigor.
I usually plant in threes, establishing a backdrop or rhythm, sometimes in a triangle so that there are lots of geometric shapes taking "shape" before your eyes as you look towards the garden. It's an old design trick...repeat in odd numbers with a similar texture, color or shape. Any good painting will have this if you look closely enough. Gardening is simply living art, which is why, I think, it can become an obsession. Art calls upon the primordial nature of our souls which can only be answered with creating new, living things. It is a call that cannot be ignored and once you hear it, you hear little else.
Today the weather is expected to reach 95 degrees so the weeks prior of mulching, watering will pay off. No more planting for this year until Fall when I hope to put the beginning brush strokes of a new garden onto the canvas.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Gardner's Journal: Bermuda
I awaken around 2 to the rush of a spring storm. The heavy rain falls and I think in my pre-awaken stupor of one thing: weeds.
I know that the hard Oklahoma sun will soon bake the earth into an unmoveable clay pot, unforgiving and unyielding as May gives way to June, June to July. By August, even the hardiest of annuals and perennials are thirsting and wilting.
But not Bermuda. This spongey grass is the usual selection of most yards which face the cruel ice of winter and the heat of summer. It is heat resistent, tolerant and oh so persistent. While its beauty of a lawn can outlast other varieties, it's deadly in the garden where it inevitably makes its way. Like a great green spidery wave, it laps at my garden, threatening.
My love/hate relationship with this plant yields more towards "rage" this time of year. After weeks of carefully laying the foundation of my beloved roses, perennials each day more and more of my garden is laid in its path.
I have made counter-attacks by building borders of wood, sometimes 12 inches high. I have laid a trench of sand, covered by a rubbery length of something. I have laid rock, retaining walls as a fortress to my creations. "Stay out!" I say, each day. "Why are you here? It's not as if you don't have two other acres to fill in!" My shouting is futile, my effort seemingly worthless. It's fingers clutch at the edges of the borders, grasping for the mulch, sending itself towards the plants, overtaking all in its way.
This is its attack: Sometimes the start of one end is just a distraction...it's real root is perhaps several feet away, every few feet or so it sends its death-defying roots into the ground, anchoring itself, feeding on the healthy soil. It's a thief, this thing, keeping all the nutrients for itself, keeping others waiting, despairing, hungry for food and water.
Each day I assess the damage, weeding fork in right hand, bag in other. These are my extensions, my claws as I trudge, make my way. I stoop and kneel and begin the removal. Precision is called for, concentration needed. I point the fork into the moist ground (always better to weed after a big rain), it gives way. I push a bit more and then some more. There is a deep pleasure I feel in going deeper and deeper until the end of the root is found. Triumphantly, I push with my forked claw and I pull with my left and the intruder is removed.
Sometimes I curse at it, amazed at its persistent and strength. I believe that if I don't keep doing this work that my entire house will be a victim to its voracious appetite and strength. Drifts of it have been known to cover entire stones, eating its way through sidewalks, even walls.
Each day this is my work. I water, I weed. I water, I weed. Water, weed, water, weed. Within the counter attacks there is a certain respect I have for this persistent lodger. Its verocity and strength amaze me. I think of its qualities and I see things worthy of respect: tenacity, strength, consistency.
But Bermuda, like a malignancy runs through my yard, with its bandido ways and piracy.
Some of my friends suggest that I use weed killer and I have. But the blessed wind in Oklahoma can really be tricky with that. One small breeze and what I intended for the root of bermuda will be on my hydrangea or my begonia or worse, my roses. And if indeed the weed killer does its work, it leaves its mark with an anemic patch of yellow. Better to have the claw, I find.
My battle lines are clearly drawn, I will fight to the end. I have the same tenacity it has..I can beat this thing. So each day, I trudge, I claw, I weed.
(unfinished)....
I know that the hard Oklahoma sun will soon bake the earth into an unmoveable clay pot, unforgiving and unyielding as May gives way to June, June to July. By August, even the hardiest of annuals and perennials are thirsting and wilting.
But not Bermuda. This spongey grass is the usual selection of most yards which face the cruel ice of winter and the heat of summer. It is heat resistent, tolerant and oh so persistent. While its beauty of a lawn can outlast other varieties, it's deadly in the garden where it inevitably makes its way. Like a great green spidery wave, it laps at my garden, threatening.
My love/hate relationship with this plant yields more towards "rage" this time of year. After weeks of carefully laying the foundation of my beloved roses, perennials each day more and more of my garden is laid in its path.
I have made counter-attacks by building borders of wood, sometimes 12 inches high. I have laid a trench of sand, covered by a rubbery length of something. I have laid rock, retaining walls as a fortress to my creations. "Stay out!" I say, each day. "Why are you here? It's not as if you don't have two other acres to fill in!" My shouting is futile, my effort seemingly worthless. It's fingers clutch at the edges of the borders, grasping for the mulch, sending itself towards the plants, overtaking all in its way.
This is its attack: Sometimes the start of one end is just a distraction...it's real root is perhaps several feet away, every few feet or so it sends its death-defying roots into the ground, anchoring itself, feeding on the healthy soil. It's a thief, this thing, keeping all the nutrients for itself, keeping others waiting, despairing, hungry for food and water.
Each day I assess the damage, weeding fork in right hand, bag in other. These are my extensions, my claws as I trudge, make my way. I stoop and kneel and begin the removal. Precision is called for, concentration needed. I point the fork into the moist ground (always better to weed after a big rain), it gives way. I push a bit more and then some more. There is a deep pleasure I feel in going deeper and deeper until the end of the root is found. Triumphantly, I push with my forked claw and I pull with my left and the intruder is removed.
Sometimes I curse at it, amazed at its persistent and strength. I believe that if I don't keep doing this work that my entire house will be a victim to its voracious appetite and strength. Drifts of it have been known to cover entire stones, eating its way through sidewalks, even walls.
Each day this is my work. I water, I weed. I water, I weed. Water, weed, water, weed. Within the counter attacks there is a certain respect I have for this persistent lodger. Its verocity and strength amaze me. I think of its qualities and I see things worthy of respect: tenacity, strength, consistency.
But Bermuda, like a malignancy runs through my yard, with its bandido ways and piracy.
Some of my friends suggest that I use weed killer and I have. But the blessed wind in Oklahoma can really be tricky with that. One small breeze and what I intended for the root of bermuda will be on my hydrangea or my begonia or worse, my roses. And if indeed the weed killer does its work, it leaves its mark with an anemic patch of yellow. Better to have the claw, I find.
My battle lines are clearly drawn, I will fight to the end. I have the same tenacity it has..I can beat this thing. So each day, I trudge, I claw, I weed.
(unfinished)....
"Schlock": A definition
Schlock -- a yiddish term meaning crap devoid of soul.
Spirit -- a aesthetical sense, as the animating principle of the mind, imaginative and entirely opposed to the spirit of imitation. (Immanuel Kant)
Creativity -- natural gift or talent which gives rise to the original and beautiful. (Kant)
"A poem cold be elegant and neat but without a greter depth; a conversation might be entertaining but lack soul; a man could be handsome but not contain this soulful animation..." (Brehony)
"Creativity is a ntural manifestation of life and its origins are in the unconscious." (E.W. Sinnot)
"Creativity is a critical aspect of every self-actualized personality" (Maslow) Maslow also observed that, "all creative acts were not in the domain of certain kinds of professionals, but as with potential, was within every individual and that creativity reflected itself in everyday, mundane activities. ...a first rate soup is more creative than a second-rate painting and that generally, cooking or parenthood or making a home could be creative while poetry need not be; it could be uncreative."
"Creativity is nothing less than the 'process of making or bringing into being the way we express our being.' (Rollo May)
The English words create and creative come from the Latin creare, meaning "to cause to grow; to bring forth, create or produce."
Creativity is more than an occasional good idea. It is an attitude toward life, a way of expressing inner reality by bringing it into our outer world. It incorporates innovation, new perspectives, passion, humor, playfulness, joy and inspiration. Living a fluid creative life enriches the texture of existence, brings sensation to a new level of experience and allows for a new understanding of our connection to the great Mystery. (Brehony)
Spirit -- a aesthetical sense, as the animating principle of the mind, imaginative and entirely opposed to the spirit of imitation. (Immanuel Kant)
Creativity -- natural gift or talent which gives rise to the original and beautiful. (Kant)
"A poem cold be elegant and neat but without a greter depth; a conversation might be entertaining but lack soul; a man could be handsome but not contain this soulful animation..." (Brehony)
"Creativity is a ntural manifestation of life and its origins are in the unconscious." (E.W. Sinnot)
"Creativity is a critical aspect of every self-actualized personality" (Maslow) Maslow also observed that, "all creative acts were not in the domain of certain kinds of professionals, but as with potential, was within every individual and that creativity reflected itself in everyday, mundane activities. ...a first rate soup is more creative than a second-rate painting and that generally, cooking or parenthood or making a home could be creative while poetry need not be; it could be uncreative."
"Creativity is nothing less than the 'process of making or bringing into being the way we express our being.' (Rollo May)
The English words create and creative come from the Latin creare, meaning "to cause to grow; to bring forth, create or produce."
Creativity is more than an occasional good idea. It is an attitude toward life, a way of expressing inner reality by bringing it into our outer world. It incorporates innovation, new perspectives, passion, humor, playfulness, joy and inspiration. Living a fluid creative life enriches the texture of existence, brings sensation to a new level of experience and allows for a new understanding of our connection to the great Mystery. (Brehony)
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Writing
The first letter I remember writing was to my grandmother. We lived for a time in Louisiana and I suppose the crabs, crocodiles and humidty went to my head. I wrote her and she wrote back and offered me wonderful encouragment. "You'll be a great writer someday."
But one's grandmother is just one removed from mother, so though I was happy SHE was happy, I didn't much think of myself as being a writer. And the same grandmother also encouraged me to get a job that "pays". Even grandmother knew that not all dreams pay well.
Over the years I've dabbled in writing, reading all the time, thinking that I would still love to grow up and be a writer. There is no activity, save reading, that gives me more pleasure and a sense of being "in sync" than writing.
Recently, through a series of really interesting events I stumbled upon someone who is a "real" writer and who believes in my work. And she and I are working on getting some of my creations -- should I say "our" creations together.
And since there is a big difference between a "writer" and a "published writer" then I should hasten to add that sure, being published would be a dream come true. But just having someone say (besides a family member) that what I have to say and how I say it is worthwhile is more than enough for me.
This blog is a good "training tool" for me and a lot of the stuff that I'm working to refine may have first been seen here.
I have a lot to learn, probably more than I realize. But the adventure is calling and I'm up for the trip.
But one's grandmother is just one removed from mother, so though I was happy SHE was happy, I didn't much think of myself as being a writer. And the same grandmother also encouraged me to get a job that "pays". Even grandmother knew that not all dreams pay well.
Over the years I've dabbled in writing, reading all the time, thinking that I would still love to grow up and be a writer. There is no activity, save reading, that gives me more pleasure and a sense of being "in sync" than writing.
Recently, through a series of really interesting events I stumbled upon someone who is a "real" writer and who believes in my work. And she and I are working on getting some of my creations -- should I say "our" creations together.
And since there is a big difference between a "writer" and a "published writer" then I should hasten to add that sure, being published would be a dream come true. But just having someone say (besides a family member) that what I have to say and how I say it is worthwhile is more than enough for me.
This blog is a good "training tool" for me and a lot of the stuff that I'm working to refine may have first been seen here.
I have a lot to learn, probably more than I realize. But the adventure is calling and I'm up for the trip.
Gardner's Journal: Maintainance
My morning schedule is as follows: after walking and running, I haul the very heavy and very tangled hose out to the front and water the new plants. I then weed. And weed. And weed.
Then, I eat a quick breakfast, go into back yard where I water more and weed more. The weeding and watering is all that matters now.
There are still garden stores filled with color and plants but I'm done planting for this year. Come Fall, I will be at it again.
I've already started the grand plans for three new gardens -- one on the South side of my house which I think will have a mediterranean influence. Then, the pond garden (which I'm laying some of the hardscaping now) will need to be tended to. And then on the North side, I want to expand the front border and clean it up a bit. The previous owners really seemed to enjoy native rock -- and I don't - so I'm re-doing the borders using retaining walls.
But for now "gardening" is deadheading the roses, keeping weeds to minimum and keeping things watered. This will be the word for the next 8 weeks or so. It's not the glamorous work that creating the designs are (my favorite) but it is necessary and essential. My garden can sustain itself with new plantings just from the perennials that are now growing...so keeping them healthy is important.
I see a lot of things I want to change -- too much yellow here, not enough height over there. I need a better record keeping system than I have...I fly by the seat of my pants too much.
Then, I eat a quick breakfast, go into back yard where I water more and weed more. The weeding and watering is all that matters now.
There are still garden stores filled with color and plants but I'm done planting for this year. Come Fall, I will be at it again.
I've already started the grand plans for three new gardens -- one on the South side of my house which I think will have a mediterranean influence. Then, the pond garden (which I'm laying some of the hardscaping now) will need to be tended to. And then on the North side, I want to expand the front border and clean it up a bit. The previous owners really seemed to enjoy native rock -- and I don't - so I'm re-doing the borders using retaining walls.
But for now "gardening" is deadheading the roses, keeping weeds to minimum and keeping things watered. This will be the word for the next 8 weeks or so. It's not the glamorous work that creating the designs are (my favorite) but it is necessary and essential. My garden can sustain itself with new plantings just from the perennials that are now growing...so keeping them healthy is important.
I see a lot of things I want to change -- too much yellow here, not enough height over there. I need a better record keeping system than I have...I fly by the seat of my pants too much.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Book recommendation
I am re-reading "The Resurrected Church" by Charles Baker and find it quite helpful. I read this book about 2 years ago and picked it up again recently and am finding it that it resonates with me and what I believe about my faith. It has been a source of clarity and comfort to me.
For me the liberal discussion (sometimes called "postmodern" by some) started well after I already had been sensing some significant shifts mainly in my own industry. I began to notice that some approaches were not working well and that they lacked a certain authenticity and I felt less and less sure about them. I then started applying those same ideas to what I had seen in the church that I attended at the time.
Bayer and others have provided a "place to hang" what I knew was already there..he and others have provided a framework in which to think, discuss and reflect upon how I can be what I believe God is calling me to be in my life.
Let me hasten to add to that -- I don't think -- or hope - to save the world. On most days, I wonder if I can even save myself. But I would like to think that the work that I do even in the most practical sense of it could be at the very least not damaging to others and at the very most perhaps adding value to others in some way. I am increasingly concerned about the truly disenfranchised of my world and how I can hope to reach out to them with kindness.
I remain truly skeptical of most "christian" approaches and I find Bayer's book extremely supportive and reassuring. I'll post more on some of the quotes that I find in upcoming days.
A Resurrected Church: Christianity after the Death of Christendom
Retail Price:$19.99
^Click to Enlarge^
Author: Charles H. Bayer ISBN: 08272-32233 Product Description:"To Bayer the death of Christendom and the fall from power of the church represent the opportunity for the church to rediscover and return to its original mission and ministry, one which it largely abandoned by its alliance with political power and authority. This is a challenging book, one which it would profit all church planters and diocesan growth strategists to read, mark, and learn." - The Living Church --> PROPERTIES -->
For me the liberal discussion (sometimes called "postmodern" by some) started well after I already had been sensing some significant shifts mainly in my own industry. I began to notice that some approaches were not working well and that they lacked a certain authenticity and I felt less and less sure about them. I then started applying those same ideas to what I had seen in the church that I attended at the time.
Bayer and others have provided a "place to hang" what I knew was already there..he and others have provided a framework in which to think, discuss and reflect upon how I can be what I believe God is calling me to be in my life.
Let me hasten to add to that -- I don't think -- or hope - to save the world. On most days, I wonder if I can even save myself. But I would like to think that the work that I do even in the most practical sense of it could be at the very least not damaging to others and at the very most perhaps adding value to others in some way. I am increasingly concerned about the truly disenfranchised of my world and how I can hope to reach out to them with kindness.
I remain truly skeptical of most "christian" approaches and I find Bayer's book extremely supportive and reassuring. I'll post more on some of the quotes that I find in upcoming days.
A Resurrected Church: Christianity after the Death of Christendom
Retail Price:$19.99
^Click to Enlarge^
Author: Charles H. Bayer ISBN: 08272-32233 Product Description:"To Bayer the death of Christendom and the fall from power of the church represent the opportunity for the church to rediscover and return to its original mission and ministry, one which it largely abandoned by its alliance with political power and authority. This is a challenging book, one which it would profit all church planters and diocesan growth strategists to read, mark, and learn." - The Living Church --> PROPERTIES -->
"Kingdom of Heaven"
I'm returning today to see the movie that I viewed late last night, "Kingdom of Heaven" Which probably tells you right off that I'm a big fan of this movie...any movie that I want to see twice is a real rarity for me. (http://www.apple.com/trailers/fox/kingdom_of_heaven/)
What I like about this movie:
Fluidity of film scenes -- often in a big war picture, the scenes "jump" a little as the director/crew tend to overedit the film...it appears too often that one is "watching" a movie. In this movie, I completely was taken in with the action. I jumped when the blood squirted, in other words. It's not a grisly movie but I'd rate it a "7" on a "1 - 10" gross score. In short, my 17 year old would love it.
The complexities of the characters -- it would be very easy for a movie such as this to have a 'good guy' and a 'bad guy' or several of each. Truth is, with one exception, they are all hoodlums, all with their own agenda. I found myself sympathetic with characters that could be considered the 'bad' guys. I think this works better because it is more like real life -- most of us are a combination of good and evil...some of us more so.
Historical accuracy -- with a few minor exceptions, the battles are fought with time-appropriate armour, buildings and people are historical in perspective. What's more, I felt that these cinematic flourishes were supporting roles -- not characters in and of themselves -- they supported the story line well. I wasn't distracted by "wow, aren't those cool costumes!" or anything like that. Director Ridley Scott (who also directed "Gladiator") does a superb job of this in most of his films. He goes for historical accuracy but reigns it in so that the audience sees the story, not the cool gimmicks.
Most of all I empathized with the protoganists (Orlando Bloom) situation...a fallen man, in a fallen world in search of redemption. So it was a meaningful film to watch and think about.
I also now have more interest in the wars of Jerusalem. Historically, they all seem to run together and lose their impact...this film helped me remember in graphic ways the holy skirmishes that have been with us for thousands of years and how they have shaped history (and events today).
What I didn't like about this movie:
Orlando Bloom. Yes, he's a hottie but as an actor he reminds me a lot of Tom Cruise -- you see the same role just in different characters, different situations (although Tommy boy has widened his reportoire a bit lately). This role is played with almost a morbid sense of melancholy -- even the parts when he gets the girl. I'd like to see a bit more emotional range from him.
I think this movie could be a great catalyst for a discussion group among friends.
What I like about this movie:
Fluidity of film scenes -- often in a big war picture, the scenes "jump" a little as the director/crew tend to overedit the film...it appears too often that one is "watching" a movie. In this movie, I completely was taken in with the action. I jumped when the blood squirted, in other words. It's not a grisly movie but I'd rate it a "7" on a "1 - 10" gross score. In short, my 17 year old would love it.
The complexities of the characters -- it would be very easy for a movie such as this to have a 'good guy' and a 'bad guy' or several of each. Truth is, with one exception, they are all hoodlums, all with their own agenda. I found myself sympathetic with characters that could be considered the 'bad' guys. I think this works better because it is more like real life -- most of us are a combination of good and evil...some of us more so.
Historical accuracy -- with a few minor exceptions, the battles are fought with time-appropriate armour, buildings and people are historical in perspective. What's more, I felt that these cinematic flourishes were supporting roles -- not characters in and of themselves -- they supported the story line well. I wasn't distracted by "wow, aren't those cool costumes!" or anything like that. Director Ridley Scott (who also directed "Gladiator") does a superb job of this in most of his films. He goes for historical accuracy but reigns it in so that the audience sees the story, not the cool gimmicks.
Most of all I empathized with the protoganists (Orlando Bloom) situation...a fallen man, in a fallen world in search of redemption. So it was a meaningful film to watch and think about.
I also now have more interest in the wars of Jerusalem. Historically, they all seem to run together and lose their impact...this film helped me remember in graphic ways the holy skirmishes that have been with us for thousands of years and how they have shaped history (and events today).
What I didn't like about this movie:
Orlando Bloom. Yes, he's a hottie but as an actor he reminds me a lot of Tom Cruise -- you see the same role just in different characters, different situations (although Tommy boy has widened his reportoire a bit lately). This role is played with almost a morbid sense of melancholy -- even the parts when he gets the girl. I'd like to see a bit more emotional range from him.
I think this movie could be a great catalyst for a discussion group among friends.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Untitled
Recently I was sitting in a conference and the speaker was telling us that "success" is now being defined by women much differently than it was in the previous generation. I think this is where I want to focus these comments, however haphazardly, right now. It would be fine for me to comment on other postmodern changes but the only one that I'm really living is the current day, current year so I'll keep my comments in my blog on that topic. If you want to know about postmodern art, check out some great literary and art sites. If you want to know about postmodernism and religion, I got some swell references for you.
This is more about me sorting through some things and putting them to "paper" and making some sense of things...probably not a lot of answers here for most of you reading. Sorry.
I am in a generation that was a daughter of the feminist movement. And while we're being honest let's understand -- women and men inhabit different cultures. I don' t think this is a bad thing ..it is just a "thing" that has to be figured in whenever we talk about cultural changes. Men and Women see the world differently. I'm not going to go into the "why" or the "how" but they just do.
We were taught growing up that yes, we could do anything we wanted to do. We were told this by our mothers who, in the age of of Aquarius, who were out there finding themselves and living in Woodstock and fawning over the Beatles. They truly did want a different life than what their parents had given them. They meant well, really.
And so we were handed this world that many of us grew up in that was the world of the "un-parents". Parents really weren't into parenting that much...they were busy having their own crisis, having their own divorces, having their own lives. They were forging new ground in a lot of ways, burning bras and that sort of thing. It takes a lot of work to throw off cultural shifts of any kind. So of course, this produces kids with this obsessive "thing" about being a parent and how to parent and all that stuff. Books and tapes and support groups, oh my god.
We inherit this world with all this promise. We go to school, many of us pursing advanced degrees which is exactly what the mothers who raised us wanted us to do. Hey, if you can't live through your kids, then what's the point really, right?
And so we disdained the kitchen, and the having kids and all those things that heretofore were just "given" in a woman's life for more "important" things like the U.N. or being a lawyer or something that would give our life MEANING.
But what someone forgot to figure into the picture is that those positions don't hold meaning in and of themselves. Having three degrees in some advanced science field doesn't give a life meaning.
And so the eternal question begins to arise again -- as our parents asked themselves "why doesn't having a family in the suburbs give my life meaning?" our generation began to ask ourselves "why doesn't having advanced degrees and Prada bags and great hip friends give my life meaning?"
It's an eternal question that has to be answered by each generation as they find their way.
Let me hasten to add here that I don't have the answer. Sorry.
I know that, being a child of fundamentalist religion, I should quote book, scripture and verse. I can do that, but it doesn't mean that I have found the "meaning" of life. What I have found through that practice is a hard edge, an unforgiving edge that cuts both me and you. And while there may be some meaning to that, it hurts like hell and leaves one pretty cold and lonely.
I know that, being a child of the feminist movement, I should empower the other women of the world and unite together and share the sisterhood. And cry. Don't forget, there is a lot of crying going on with the "empowered sisterhood" thing. What I have found with that practice is that, despite the crying and the sisterhood slogans, there is a lot of back biting that again, hurts like hell and leaves me cold. And not much empowered either.
I know that being a child of the Cold War, I should have definite political views about those in other countries and understand my world view and write my congressman and vote! Don't forget to Vote. Because we know that changes the world, right? But what I learned through that approach is that the man I vote for may not be the same man in the Oval Office and maybe I changed the world in ways I hadn't bargained for.
So those of us -- female -- in the postmodern age have a lot of questions. We no longer define success as how many initials go behind our last name. We don't hang onto the name of our spouse or significant other or partner by any means. And if means that we have to miss the kids school play t make a few more bucks, we'd just as soon eat peanut butter and jelly for three nights until payday. We were told that we could have it all and we found out that we didn't really want it all.
We just wanted something that matters. To us and to the people we love.
And so, as I watch the trends in my industry begin to change even more I know the "why's" of how things are changing. I know that they are. I know that they must. I know that I am changing too, but I'm not sure into what or into whom.
And that is the question of transformation. We are all being transformed by something. Cultural ideology, societal trends, relationships. So if I'm being transformed into something, I just want that person to become something that matters. Something that has value on a deep and abiding level.
I am no longer a "religious" person having just left the community of believers that were foundational in my thinking for almost 40 years. It's been a difficult transition but a necessary one.
I still believe that there is a God, I just don't think that I know Him all that well. And what's more, I'm not sure He knows me. And that's where I'm trying to focus right now.
This is more about me sorting through some things and putting them to "paper" and making some sense of things...probably not a lot of answers here for most of you reading. Sorry.
I am in a generation that was a daughter of the feminist movement. And while we're being honest let's understand -- women and men inhabit different cultures. I don' t think this is a bad thing ..it is just a "thing" that has to be figured in whenever we talk about cultural changes. Men and Women see the world differently. I'm not going to go into the "why" or the "how" but they just do.
We were taught growing up that yes, we could do anything we wanted to do. We were told this by our mothers who, in the age of of Aquarius, who were out there finding themselves and living in Woodstock and fawning over the Beatles. They truly did want a different life than what their parents had given them. They meant well, really.
And so we were handed this world that many of us grew up in that was the world of the "un-parents". Parents really weren't into parenting that much...they were busy having their own crisis, having their own divorces, having their own lives. They were forging new ground in a lot of ways, burning bras and that sort of thing. It takes a lot of work to throw off cultural shifts of any kind. So of course, this produces kids with this obsessive "thing" about being a parent and how to parent and all that stuff. Books and tapes and support groups, oh my god.
We inherit this world with all this promise. We go to school, many of us pursing advanced degrees which is exactly what the mothers who raised us wanted us to do. Hey, if you can't live through your kids, then what's the point really, right?
And so we disdained the kitchen, and the having kids and all those things that heretofore were just "given" in a woman's life for more "important" things like the U.N. or being a lawyer or something that would give our life MEANING.
But what someone forgot to figure into the picture is that those positions don't hold meaning in and of themselves. Having three degrees in some advanced science field doesn't give a life meaning.
And so the eternal question begins to arise again -- as our parents asked themselves "why doesn't having a family in the suburbs give my life meaning?" our generation began to ask ourselves "why doesn't having advanced degrees and Prada bags and great hip friends give my life meaning?"
It's an eternal question that has to be answered by each generation as they find their way.
Let me hasten to add here that I don't have the answer. Sorry.
I know that, being a child of fundamentalist religion, I should quote book, scripture and verse. I can do that, but it doesn't mean that I have found the "meaning" of life. What I have found through that practice is a hard edge, an unforgiving edge that cuts both me and you. And while there may be some meaning to that, it hurts like hell and leaves one pretty cold and lonely.
I know that, being a child of the feminist movement, I should empower the other women of the world and unite together and share the sisterhood. And cry. Don't forget, there is a lot of crying going on with the "empowered sisterhood" thing. What I have found with that practice is that, despite the crying and the sisterhood slogans, there is a lot of back biting that again, hurts like hell and leaves me cold. And not much empowered either.
I know that being a child of the Cold War, I should have definite political views about those in other countries and understand my world view and write my congressman and vote! Don't forget to Vote. Because we know that changes the world, right? But what I learned through that approach is that the man I vote for may not be the same man in the Oval Office and maybe I changed the world in ways I hadn't bargained for.
So those of us -- female -- in the postmodern age have a lot of questions. We no longer define success as how many initials go behind our last name. We don't hang onto the name of our spouse or significant other or partner by any means. And if means that we have to miss the kids school play t make a few more bucks, we'd just as soon eat peanut butter and jelly for three nights until payday. We were told that we could have it all and we found out that we didn't really want it all.
We just wanted something that matters. To us and to the people we love.
And so, as I watch the trends in my industry begin to change even more I know the "why's" of how things are changing. I know that they are. I know that they must. I know that I am changing too, but I'm not sure into what or into whom.
And that is the question of transformation. We are all being transformed by something. Cultural ideology, societal trends, relationships. So if I'm being transformed into something, I just want that person to become something that matters. Something that has value on a deep and abiding level.
I am no longer a "religious" person having just left the community of believers that were foundational in my thinking for almost 40 years. It's been a difficult transition but a necessary one.
I still believe that there is a God, I just don't think that I know Him all that well. And what's more, I'm not sure He knows me. And that's where I'm trying to focus right now.
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