Life is full - not all bad, not all good - and I have so little time that blogging does not often cross my mind these days. You do, you who have been faithful, but blogging is just not climbing into the priority range. But there is time for this. A friend on Facebook (proof that online friendships can be as compassionate and deep and caring as any other) forwarded this piece to me.
Thank you Elizabeth. I love you Mom.
In the Absence of Words | EOAGH:
thinking out loud
well, not 'out loud' because, you know, I'm not talking per se. maybe 'in print', but that's not right either. digital print? sort of? this isn't going well at all...
Tuesday, August 28
Wednesday, July 25
the newsroom
I’m infatuated
with a TV show. It’s been a while. I mean, of course I watched Game of Thrones.
What self-respecting fantasy writer (or aspiring fantasy writer) hasn’t? And
it’s great entertainment, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no infatuation. I
just like it, a lot. But this new show – it’s infatuation, moving towards love.
I doubt very
much that you’ll be surprised when I tell you that the show is Aaron
Sorkin’s The Newsroom. I didn’t watch
much of The West Wing – no cable at the time and the Internet was not yet all
over streaming things like that – but the couple episodes I saw were enjoyable.
From a distance though, it seemed like a bit of a fairytale: centrist,
pragmatically progressive president making the decisions we wish the American
president had been making, and showing the heart we wish he’d been showing,
during the height of the Dubya debacle. In the absence of regular exposure to
the show, I just never developed an attachment. I never had a chance to
properly suspend disbelief.
Friday, July 20
right now
Disclaimer: You don't need to read this. This post is about
staying honest to me and about being true to my writing ethic. As such,
it's not necessarily for public consumption. If you choose to proceed, I'll
explain why I'm posting it at all a little farther down.
I was going to post today about The Newsroom, a review of sorts.
And then Colorado
happened. The media is still trying to get the facts together and not trip over
itself too much trying to scoop the competition, so mostly we just have some
numbers and some sensationalism, and the truth is a ways away just yet. There's
a lot of speculation and supposition. A motive is profoundly absent.
Wednesday, June 27
it is normal people that are revolutionaries
Had to share. Sekou Andrews and Steve Connell at TEDMED 2011. Enjoy...
...and, because the sentiment is similar...
p.s. ...cheers...
...and, because the sentiment is similar...
p.s. ...cheers...
Monday, June 25
the love essays
It’s been too long. Seriously, too long. Not that
anything is about to change profoundly in that department, but I miss you… this…
really miss it.
Anyway, tol isn’t the only thing I’ve had a hard
time finding time for. I finally found an afternoon to dedicate to the reading
of Judy Clement Wall’s Love Essays which I downloaded earlier this month. The
reading of those essays brings me out from under the bridge to make a brief comment
here.
Look right and you’ll see links to Judy’s blogs,
Zebra Sounds and A Human Thing. If you’ve been around for a while you’ll
recognize her name, her blogs, her writing. You’ll remember her Love Project
last year at Zebra Sounds. You’ll know A Human Thing for the dedicated
extension of that project that it is. I’m a fan, and have been for a while.
The Love Essays are Judy’s condensation of that
year of Loving Fearlessly, a wonderfully dense, honest, and lyrical exploration of how the year
changed her and, in her humble way of saying, how the year changed the lives of
the many that followed her journey. It’s kind of amazing. That is understatement, if that wasn't clear.
This is not an unbiased review of her work. To be
fair to myself, I think my opinion would be similarly glowing if it was
unbiased; if, for example, I’d been handed a copy with no name on it. But I
wasn’t handed a copy. I downloaded it from Judy’s site. In typical Judy
fashion, she’s left the cost for her work up to the downloader. If you can’t afford
to pay, don’t let that stop you. For Judy, getting the truth of the Love
Project – the power of what she calls Fearless Love – out there, is more
important than monetizing them.
To be clear, I love that. The only thing I love as
much as her giving it away is the thought that every person that can afford
to pay for them will, and that she’d be able to do a world tour on the profits
(because then I could actually meet her).
…
I'm stoked about Linkin Park's new album...
...just sayin'...
...
P.S. What? You’re still here? Go! Sheesh…
Monday, June 4
Wednesday, May 2
surfacing for a Liebster
The concept intrigued me profoundly, and on
several levels: a collaborative blog that the host, Varun Kothamachu, intended
to be an exploration of style and opinion from around the world; each new
blogger recommended by the previous blogger; each week a new experience, a new
perspective, a celebration of the things that make us unique and the things
that unite us as humans.
I’ve kept tabs on the Vie Hebdomadaires site from
the start, sometimes with a more participatory intent, other time – like the
last several months with everything online – just lurking, reaching out
regularly to touch it and assure myself that it was still there, still moving,
growing, thriving.
Like most things, the thing that I love most about
Vie Hebdomadaires is simply that it exists, that it aspires, that there is a
journey happening there worth being a part of. It is an idea and an ideal, and
it evolves. We should all be so lucky.
And then, in spite of my general quietude and lack
of (overt) involvement, Varun emailed me this week and honored me again,
offering me a heretofore unknown (to me) version of the pay-it-forward blog
award, a Liebster.
Web consensus is
that the Liebster Blog Award originated in Germany –
Liebster means favorite or dearest – and is intended to give bloggy love to
writers with fewer than 200 followers. I qualify. What moved me most though was
that Varun remembered me; I was the seventh writer in the Vie Hebdomadaires
daisy-chain and they’re striding along into week thirty-four right now.
...he likes me,
he really likes me.
So, I’m
flattered. Time to pass it forward. The rules for the Liebster are as follows:
1. Thank the one
who nominated you. Varun and Vie Hebdomadaires, here’s to you;
b. Nominate five
blogs with fewer than 200 followers;
trois. Let the
nominees know by e-mail or comment on their site;
四. Copy and paste the Liebster Award Icon
to your site.
I hereby
nominate the following for a Liebster Blog Award...
Melissa
Wolfe’s No Such Thing as Never. I first found Melissa’s former blog, Finding Melissa,
and was immediately attracted by her honesty and courage and the seeming
inevitable arc of her growth and journey. I’ve never been disappointed.
I don’t know if it qualifies on the “under 200”
measuring stick (I doubt it, frankly)), but it deserves mention. A Human Thing is the extension of Judy Clement
Wall’s year-long Love Project from Zebra Sounds, another blog that Varun
nominated. Now Judy’s covered both ways.
I can’t even remember how Holly and I met online.
She is bright, opinionated, takes great pictures, and has experienced a
profound amount of life at a young age, a quality that she and Melissa share in
common. Her blog, Eating a Tangerine, is
a combination of feminism, political opinion, astute observation, and
courageous self-discovery.
Lance Burson was the one that daisy-chained me
into the Vie Hebdomadaires list of writers, recommending me after he was writer
number six. Lance writes about life, love, parenthood, music, and integrity.
Even when he doesn't write about integrity directly at My Blog Can
Beat Up Your Blog, it infuses everything he says. More than any
other one factor, that’s why I like reading Lance’s non-fiction stuff – he’s
sincere and honest. He also posts a lot of his fiction, which is just fun.
Aside – honesty may be a theme here…
Yes, that’s only four people, but I mentioned two
of Melissa's blogs. Also, I am both an iconoclast that loves breaking arbitrary
rules, and prefer to focus on the now. Right now, this is what I’m reading
consistently that may realistically qualify under the 200 parameter. I might
still be (am probably) wrong on A Human Thing, but I’ll be happy to err on the
side of caution there.
Anyway, there you go. Thanks Varun, it’s much
appreciated. Back to revising…
Saturday, April 14
truth and intentions
Somewhere between grades eight and nine everything
changed. I mean, things had changed a lot already. Dad was gone, a few years
gone, and Mom had turned home into a group home, and I was living in the shed,
and I was still awkward and happier in my own company than anyone else’s.
Labels:
Dad,
depression,
intentions,
journey,
Mom,
Pearl Jam,
the novel
Saturday, March 10
paradise lost
My Dad is a very involved and devout evangelical
Christian. I used to be, twice. If you’ve been reading, you know I’m not any
more, not at all. This makes for some interesting conversations.
Tuesday, March 6
flip
The weather is changing here, winter giving up
ground to spring, even though there's a fight for it, and everyone seems really
tired this week. It felt that way in Aikido, at hockey, even in yoga where a
majority, independent of one another, asked Julie if the vinyasa was going to
be hard today.
Seems like the change of seasons is just taking it out
of folks this year. Or maybe it was the winter that took it out of us, and now,
with the promise of spring around the corner, we just finally feel safe enough
to acknowledge it, safe enough to let the fatigue bubble up to the surface.
Me, I think it’s more like the way a lake will flip,
the bottom water exchanging with the top as the temperature rises or falls,
spring and fall. When it does, it dredges up all the silt, increasing turbidity
for a week or two as the flip occurs. I have this theory that our bodies know
better than we do. And the flip dredges up all the toxins
to make space for the new season. If we’re listening, if we’re on it, it’s a chance to clean things
up, wash the toxins out, let the current take away the silt.
The other thing the lake flip does? It re-oxygenates
the water, bringing the life up to the surface again, just in time for the sun
to reestablish dominance. Hello sun.
Equinox is in two weeks. Get out your shorts and
flip flops, folks. Maybe grab a metaphorical broom too.
And...
Friday, February 24
gratitudes and inclusions
Hold on, buckle in. This is messier than I intended.
But I’m going for it. See you on the other side…
*
Labels:
#ows,
Cheryl Strayed,
climbing,
gratitude,
hockey,
inclusion,
journey,
Ki_Aikido,
life inversion,
Lylune,
Matthew Good,
Sugar,
yoga
Monday, February 20
rituals of grief
I mentioned on Saturday afternoon that Lylune,
beloved kitty of my beloved, Gena, was very sick. In the space of a week she
had shed a third of her body weight, stopped eating and drinking. Gena had her
in to the Vet on Friday and they could only speculate – renal failure or
cancer - probably, considering the rapidity and the symptoms - cancer. They
hydrated her, filled her full of electrolytes and nutrients and drugs to try to
get her kidneys working again, and that was about all they could do.
“If she
responds,” the Vet told Gena, “we’ll talk about treatment options on Monday."
But she didn’t respond. She was in less distress
thanks to the IV, but she never got her groove back, not to mention her
appetite, and she passed away quietly on Saturday evening.
the most delicate paw in the history of paws |
Saturday, February 18
learning to miss
I have only a little time today. Forgive me if this
seems a bit abrupt, but Gena’s tiny, delicate, beautiful kitty Lylune is really
sick. This is stolen time right here, and there are priorities to attend to. And yet, I have to put some thoughts down. It's a precious responsibility - to catch the thoughts, the moments, before they pass.
Wednesday, February 15
the long ones
There are days, with dementia, when good memories
abound. When I visit Mom, almost all of the time, that’s the case. We're very lucky so far. She doesn’t
put together my visits into any kind of continuum very well, so every Monday
and Friday the visits seems a bit like a treat – like I haven’t been around for
a long time – and the good will ensues (there is a lesson to learn in this, I
think). Lots of love, lots of nice memories, smiles, laughs.
But not always.
Saturday, February 11
yoga conundrums
I’ve been trying to figure out how to write
something about yoga without sounding completely fucking pretentious. I’m
hoping that being unnecessarily vulgar will help. Only that once though. Maybe.
Yoga’s one of those things that I’ve done for a
while as a sideline, intermittently as it were, and as a means to an end. The “end”
has been improved flexibility for climbing, hockey, Aikido. That’s served a
purpose to date, I suppose, but I’ve never really had the kind of breakthrough
with my bad hip that I’ve dreamed about. So I’m trying to go a bit deeper, make
yoga a focus, and end in itself.
This is one of those risk and reward things.
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