Here are some charming words of encouragement from my sister in China,
"so, Wednesday has been a pretty good day, just so you know...i mean, i guess it's late-ish morning for you now,
but i just thought i'd let you know that the rest of the day goes pretty well..."
Pass it on,
(only works if you say it to friends west of your current location)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
One of Many
This morning i exercised my eyes after watching the sun clear the trees beyond a wheat field.
My vision felt unusually sharp, (i wear glasses for driving) and i wanted to test its focusing ability. So i allowed the eyes to wander vaguely over the sea-green grain before settling on one stalk several yards in from the near edge.
It wasn't the tallest among those near it, nor the largest, smallest, brightest, darkest, etc. There was in fact nothing particularly noteworthy about it, except that i looked at it.
Hmm. Poor analogue, perhaps, yet it gave me some appreciation for God's perspective.
Later today i was reminded of Gary Larson's Far Side cartoon, "Wait! Wait! Listen to me! … We don’t have to be just sheep!"
Sometimes i wonder if spiritual growth, self-help, and other realms of personal development are just so much hot air. And then i see the humor in it again when i see this wondering as more of the same.
A cheerful weekend to all y'all out there!
My vision felt unusually sharp, (i wear glasses for driving) and i wanted to test its focusing ability. So i allowed the eyes to wander vaguely over the sea-green grain before settling on one stalk several yards in from the near edge.
It wasn't the tallest among those near it, nor the largest, smallest, brightest, darkest, etc. There was in fact nothing particularly noteworthy about it, except that i looked at it.
Hmm. Poor analogue, perhaps, yet it gave me some appreciation for God's perspective.
Later today i was reminded of Gary Larson's Far Side cartoon, "Wait! Wait! Listen to me! … We don’t have to be just sheep!"
Sometimes i wonder if spiritual growth, self-help, and other realms of personal development are just so much hot air. And then i see the humor in it again when i see this wondering as more of the same.
A cheerful weekend to all y'all out there!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Short
In gleeful anticipation of sleep, i shut down this computer. As it sighs its goodnight sigh, the tension in my neck slips down and pours off my shoulders.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Szechwan smiles
If you have some familiarity with Zulu, Xhosa, Sotho, other Southern African languages, or Welsh, then you may have heard my (current) favorite consonant that the human organism can utter.
The name Llewelyn, with its 'll' (often spelled with a second 'll' which does not reflect the pronunciation) and Nelson Mandela's Xhosa name, Rolihlahla with it's 'hl' share this sound. And those rattles hanging in a cascade around the ankles of a Mosotho? They're called Moshuehleshuehle. Say that ten times really fast!
Okay, and for those of my dear readers uninitiated to this aural pleasure/pain, i'll coach you through it if you'll bear with me.
A young boy named Tseliso helped me with this sound when i sounded silly trying to pronounce the name of a park 'Sehlabathebe'. To make the 'hl' first you press your tongue up against the hard palate. Now blow around both sides of your tongue. Oh, try it again and send the air whooshing through the saliva. [Ed. Note: i bet you thought Punkin Runner was going to call it 'salivary amylase'] Make sure there's plenty in there.
Now, recently i got a tip from a sister in China on how to say 'thank you' in Mandarin. I'm not certain, but it sounded like the same sort of sound. So next time i found myself being served bean sprouts and snap peas in a pleasant eatery in Philly i tried out my newly refined 'Shay-shay'. Both the waitress and the host's faces lit up in that way i love, like they had an unexpected visit from home through my 'thankyou'.
I wonder if their relatives lived through the recent earthquakes? I wonder if they even know yet?
The name Llewelyn, with its 'll' (often spelled with a second 'll' which does not reflect the pronunciation) and Nelson Mandela's Xhosa name, Rolihlahla with it's 'hl' share this sound. And those rattles hanging in a cascade around the ankles of a Mosotho? They're called Moshuehleshuehle. Say that ten times really fast!
Okay, and for those of my dear readers uninitiated to this aural pleasure/pain, i'll coach you through it if you'll bear with me.
A young boy named Tseliso helped me with this sound when i sounded silly trying to pronounce the name of a park 'Sehlabathebe'. To make the 'hl' first you press your tongue up against the hard palate. Now blow around both sides of your tongue. Oh, try it again and send the air whooshing through the saliva. [Ed. Note: i bet you thought Punkin Runner was going to call it 'salivary amylase'] Make sure there's plenty in there.
Now, recently i got a tip from a sister in China on how to say 'thank you' in Mandarin. I'm not certain, but it sounded like the same sort of sound. So next time i found myself being served bean sprouts and snap peas in a pleasant eatery in Philly i tried out my newly refined 'Shay-shay'. Both the waitress and the host's faces lit up in that way i love, like they had an unexpected visit from home through my 'thankyou'.
I wonder if their relatives lived through the recent earthquakes? I wonder if they even know yet?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Housefly
When was the last time a housefly brought tears of joy to my eyes?
It is late morning. I have just returned from sharing some Tai Chi and Qiqong. I feel a little sticky.
One solitary half slice of rye toast remains on the counter from another's breakfast. It is soaked with butter, slathered with dark red jam, and quite crusty. If the English like their toast old and cold, why not me? I will not let it go to waste.
So i boiled some water for barley tea and sat down to write.
A fly tangles itself in my hair, or at least the buzzing leads me to this notion. Eventually it tires of the jungle up on top, and comes to visit the vast expanse of dew-covered forehead. Ah, here is tasty stuff, it tells me.
"Sir, or Madame, do you mind?!" I think to it.
Then i lower the hand that was en route to a squashing slap, and i chuckle to myself. What do flies do? Well, i can guess with some assurance that this is not the Wrong Sort of fly, which bites and leaves pathogens behind and an itchy red welt. This is the harmless sort which makes lazy sweeping swoops through the kitchen. This sort leaves tiny circular deposits that frustrate those with a fastidious approach to window-washing.
I did not make the fly.
Flies have always gone after sweaty foreheads, no?
Well, always might be taking it a little too far back, but...
And the thoughts buzz around louder and with heavier footsteps than the fly, as Darwinist and anti-Darwinist paradigms ping off each other with the odd reference to molecular physics and behavioral psychology.
So i let them continue. And i follow the fly. Maybe i will capitalize 'Fly'.
Dear Fly, thank you for coming to teach me a little something, or to un-teach me something that has served its term. I'm not sure which.
Shye-shye, Thank you
It is late morning. I have just returned from sharing some Tai Chi and Qiqong. I feel a little sticky.
One solitary half slice of rye toast remains on the counter from another's breakfast. It is soaked with butter, slathered with dark red jam, and quite crusty. If the English like their toast old and cold, why not me? I will not let it go to waste.
So i boiled some water for barley tea and sat down to write.
A fly tangles itself in my hair, or at least the buzzing leads me to this notion. Eventually it tires of the jungle up on top, and comes to visit the vast expanse of dew-covered forehead. Ah, here is tasty stuff, it tells me.
"Sir, or Madame, do you mind?!" I think to it.
Then i lower the hand that was en route to a squashing slap, and i chuckle to myself. What do flies do? Well, i can guess with some assurance that this is not the Wrong Sort of fly, which bites and leaves pathogens behind and an itchy red welt. This is the harmless sort which makes lazy sweeping swoops through the kitchen. This sort leaves tiny circular deposits that frustrate those with a fastidious approach to window-washing.
I did not make the fly.
Flies have always gone after sweaty foreheads, no?
Well, always might be taking it a little too far back, but...
And the thoughts buzz around louder and with heavier footsteps than the fly, as Darwinist and anti-Darwinist paradigms ping off each other with the odd reference to molecular physics and behavioral psychology.
So i let them continue. And i follow the fly. Maybe i will capitalize 'Fly'.
Dear Fly, thank you for coming to teach me a little something, or to un-teach me something that has served its term. I'm not sure which.
Shye-shye, Thank you
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Dulce Pontes _ Ondeia (Agua) _ 1999
Live performance. Slideshow set to CD version below.
I'm not sure words could add anything; watch her face...
An Idea
...came to me while taking a bird bath.
I enjoy music. One might even claim that i am addicted to it, both the live performance with tangible energy and the stale recording too.
Be warned, my musical tastes are broad and odd. I go through phases, but generally i come back around to melodramatic stuff from any point on the globe.
(N.B. I will restrain myself and only link to artists whose albums i have bought, or whose concerts i have attended, or whose music is freely distributed with their blessing. Lend them your ear... in the flesh... if you get a chance.)
Tonight's pick is from Dulce Pontes, Portuguese Fado singer. The power and clarity of her voice is quite something to hear.
Check out these two videos posted above of an uber dramatic song: 'Ondeia'
It is from the excellent album 'O Primeiro Canto'. Buy it, as i did, and enjoy the others. A sweet highlight is Track 7 'Garça Perdida'.
I enjoy music. One might even claim that i am addicted to it, both the live performance with tangible energy and the stale recording too.
Be warned, my musical tastes are broad and odd. I go through phases, but generally i come back around to melodramatic stuff from any point on the globe.
(N.B. I will restrain myself and only link to artists whose albums i have bought, or whose concerts i have attended, or whose music is freely distributed with their blessing. Lend them your ear... in the flesh... if you get a chance.)
Tonight's pick is from Dulce Pontes, Portuguese Fado singer. The power and clarity of her voice is quite something to hear.
Check out these two videos posted above of an uber dramatic song: 'Ondeia'
It is from the excellent album 'O Primeiro Canto'. Buy it, as i did, and enjoy the others. A sweet highlight is Track 7 'Garça Perdida'.
The First Post
Trial run here.
I planted two trees this morning, or to be more truthful, i stuck two waterlogged seeds in some soil and did some hoping. Have you seen the 'Kentucky Coffeetree'? It's indigenous to a wide range of the eastern U.S. and part of Canada, though only scattered individuals can be found in most areas. It isn't a common tree. Appropriate, since i'm not your ordinary nut.
I'll keep this post short, since i have less than nothing to say. No guarantees that i won't run at the mouth later this evening, though.
I planted two trees this morning, or to be more truthful, i stuck two waterlogged seeds in some soil and did some hoping. Have you seen the 'Kentucky Coffeetree'? It's indigenous to a wide range of the eastern U.S. and part of Canada, though only scattered individuals can be found in most areas. It isn't a common tree. Appropriate, since i'm not your ordinary nut.
I'll keep this post short, since i have less than nothing to say. No guarantees that i won't run at the mouth later this evening, though.
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