Sunday November 14, 2010
Some More New Things(why does everything seem so new recently?):
-I love eggs. I eat fried eggs all the time. Ever since I have decided the grocery list I have not bought eggs. I don’t mind the taste, but they make me sleepy. Until about a month ago. I bought some eggs and fried one for breakfast the morning before I left for San Jose to fly back to New York in October. And now I’m hooked. I hardly eat meat or cheese here and think my body is asking for protein.
-My body has been asking for lots of things lately. When I’m hungry its not just hunger, it’s craving. It’s always craving. I get more exercise here then I’ve gotten since high school and I feel my body responding. It’s become gluttonous for exercise. I’ve always felt better the more active I’ve been but it’s risen to a new intensity. Even one day without at least 20 min or exercise and I find myself slipping into cranky and sad. I’ve always been intimidated by people who NEED to exercise every day and now I am one of those people. I wonder about the month I will spend in Brooklyn over Christmas and New Years. How the hell will I exercise in the freezing cold?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Changes
Tuesday November 9 2010
The weather here has taken a somewhat sudden turn. Gone are the endless rainy days and here are the freezing-cold-crazy-windy days. Just like that. I woke up one day and that was how it was. No gradual cooling off of the days and lessening of the rain. And now I go to work in my long underwear and wool hat.
Showering in the cold is…an experience. I have what I’ve heard called a “suicide shower.” Cold water running over hot electric coils for a warm shower. The hotter I want the water the slower I have to pass it over the coils which means less water pressure. These days my choice is usually between low pressure with lukewarm water or a falling trickle of scalding hot water. Believe it or not the second option seems pretty great on some of the colder mornings.
I am happy about this change in the weather because it means I get to wear my long underwear to work under my pants. I know I already mentioned that I do this but I did not mention how happy it makes me. How warm and snugly it feels. I love layers. Today I wore wool socks, long underwear, pants, tank top, t-shirt, sweater, hoodie, raincoat, wool cap and scarf. And. I loved it.
Another cool thing that has happened recently: a sloth sanctuary has opened by my house. Right by my house. For all intents and purposes, right next door. I like this for a number or reasons:
1. Now I can cross “live next to a sloth sanctuary” off my list of things to do.
2. I feel safer.
3. Lazy bears are cool! That’s a direct translation from Spanish. Oso perezoso = lazy bear. I picture Care Bears.
(How many items must a list have to merit the making of the list?)
On Sunday I went to the last free open house (are all open houses free?) before the official opening on Monday. This is what I learned:
• Lazy bears are not actually related to bears. They are related to armadillos and anteaters. Common characteristic: strong back. Lazy bears use them for hanging, armadillos and anteaters use them for digging.
• Like a cow, sloths have four chambers in their stomachs.
• It takes about one month for food to pass thru the digestive system of a lazy bear. This process takes about 32 hrs for humans.
• Lazy bears poop once a week. They have to come down to the ground to do it.
• Lazy bear digestion is so efficient that they don’t have to drink water. They get all the water they need from the leaves they eat (or fruits, flowers and leaves depending on the type of lazy bear).
• There are two types of lazy bears: two-toed and three-toed (two toad, three toad, one fish, blue fish). I don’t remember which is which but one kind has external genitals and the other internal. The way to differentiate between the sexes for the type with internal genitals is by the color of the patch of fur on their backs. Yellow = male, white = female.
The sloths at the sanctuary have been rescued from a wide range of trauma – sideshow, dog attack, kid attack, animal attack, hunters, hit by car, electrocuted on power lines. There is one lazy bear at the sanctuary by my house who had one arm burnt badly by a power line only to fall to the ground and be attacked by a dog on the same arm. When she arrived at the sanctuary they amputated the damaged arm. She is the only three legged lazy bear in the sanctuary She is also the only (not so)lazy bear that has escaped from her enclosure in the sanctuary, and she has done it three times.
The weather here has taken a somewhat sudden turn. Gone are the endless rainy days and here are the freezing-cold-crazy-windy days. Just like that. I woke up one day and that was how it was. No gradual cooling off of the days and lessening of the rain. And now I go to work in my long underwear and wool hat.
Showering in the cold is…an experience. I have what I’ve heard called a “suicide shower.” Cold water running over hot electric coils for a warm shower. The hotter I want the water the slower I have to pass it over the coils which means less water pressure. These days my choice is usually between low pressure with lukewarm water or a falling trickle of scalding hot water. Believe it or not the second option seems pretty great on some of the colder mornings.
I am happy about this change in the weather because it means I get to wear my long underwear to work under my pants. I know I already mentioned that I do this but I did not mention how happy it makes me. How warm and snugly it feels. I love layers. Today I wore wool socks, long underwear, pants, tank top, t-shirt, sweater, hoodie, raincoat, wool cap and scarf. And. I loved it.
Another cool thing that has happened recently: a sloth sanctuary has opened by my house. Right by my house. For all intents and purposes, right next door. I like this for a number or reasons:
1. Now I can cross “live next to a sloth sanctuary” off my list of things to do.
2. I feel safer.
3. Lazy bears are cool! That’s a direct translation from Spanish. Oso perezoso = lazy bear. I picture Care Bears.
(How many items must a list have to merit the making of the list?)
On Sunday I went to the last free open house (are all open houses free?) before the official opening on Monday. This is what I learned:
• Lazy bears are not actually related to bears. They are related to armadillos and anteaters. Common characteristic: strong back. Lazy bears use them for hanging, armadillos and anteaters use them for digging.
• Like a cow, sloths have four chambers in their stomachs.
• It takes about one month for food to pass thru the digestive system of a lazy bear. This process takes about 32 hrs for humans.
• Lazy bears poop once a week. They have to come down to the ground to do it.
• Lazy bear digestion is so efficient that they don’t have to drink water. They get all the water they need from the leaves they eat (or fruits, flowers and leaves depending on the type of lazy bear).
• There are two types of lazy bears: two-toed and three-toed (two toad, three toad, one fish, blue fish). I don’t remember which is which but one kind has external genitals and the other internal. The way to differentiate between the sexes for the type with internal genitals is by the color of the patch of fur on their backs. Yellow = male, white = female.
The sloths at the sanctuary have been rescued from a wide range of trauma – sideshow, dog attack, kid attack, animal attack, hunters, hit by car, electrocuted on power lines. There is one lazy bear at the sanctuary by my house who had one arm burnt badly by a power line only to fall to the ground and be attacked by a dog on the same arm. When she arrived at the sanctuary they amputated the damaged arm. She is the only three legged lazy bear in the sanctuary She is also the only (not so)lazy bear that has escaped from her enclosure in the sanctuary, and she has done it three times.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Reflections
October 24, 2010
This morning at meeting an older man came in wearing dress shoes, slacks, a button down shirt and a cardigan. Half of the cardigan was tucked neatly into his pants with his shirt, the other half was not. I imagined him tucking in his shirt and not realized that he’d also tucked in his sweater. I couldn’t help but think that it was somewhat adorable, cute, endearing. I feel like it’s patronizing to call old people cute, but I also feel like its true.
Both of my parents have recently fallen into this Cute Older Person category. They have both also recently had their 60th birthday which maybe allows them to be cute, or allows me to see them as cute. Their most recent cuteness?
In the Charlotte airport during a layover on my most recent trip back to the States I call my dad to let him know that…well…that I’m in the Charlotte airport on a layover. This is what is wonderful about parents: it’s so easy to call them just to say hi. He barely registers this information and launches into something which sounds to me like bullfighting school. It must be a poor connection.
The following day when my family gathers in NJ I realize that I heard correctly. He and my Uncle are going to sign up for bullfighting classes in CA. While he’s at it, my Uncle is going to take stunt-driving classes in NJ. Ji-Soo is with me and I look to him to gauge his reaction only to see him launch into conversation with my Uncle about how fun and relatively affordable stunt-driving classes would be. I wonder if my wacky family is a surprise for him or if somehow, through knowing me, he is prepared for this. I wonder: in his mind, am I part of this group?
Mom, just in time for her 60th birthday, has joined the local rowing club. She updates constantly about the goings-on of the Indian River Boat Club. She is excited. I comment to Ji that although both of my parents are mature and capable adults, they both have a certain childlike quality about them. They both get very focused and excited about new endeavors they take on. I wonder if this has been passed on to my brother and I. I wonder if this is part of what first drew my parents together. I wonder, am I part of this group?
A few months ago during children’s meeting the facilitator had the kids draw two pictures of themselves: one of how they see themselves and one of how they think other people see them. I was at the same time overwhelmed by the difficulty and depth of this task and by my desire to try it. How do I see myself? How do others see me? In a recent email to a friend I confessed, “It may make me a total sap, but I just miss hanging out with you.” She responded, “You’ve always been a total sap, and I miss you too.”
This morning at meeting an older man came in wearing dress shoes, slacks, a button down shirt and a cardigan. Half of the cardigan was tucked neatly into his pants with his shirt, the other half was not. I imagined him tucking in his shirt and not realized that he’d also tucked in his sweater. I couldn’t help but think that it was somewhat adorable, cute, endearing. I feel like it’s patronizing to call old people cute, but I also feel like its true.
Both of my parents have recently fallen into this Cute Older Person category. They have both also recently had their 60th birthday which maybe allows them to be cute, or allows me to see them as cute. Their most recent cuteness?
In the Charlotte airport during a layover on my most recent trip back to the States I call my dad to let him know that…well…that I’m in the Charlotte airport on a layover. This is what is wonderful about parents: it’s so easy to call them just to say hi. He barely registers this information and launches into something which sounds to me like bullfighting school. It must be a poor connection.
The following day when my family gathers in NJ I realize that I heard correctly. He and my Uncle are going to sign up for bullfighting classes in CA. While he’s at it, my Uncle is going to take stunt-driving classes in NJ. Ji-Soo is with me and I look to him to gauge his reaction only to see him launch into conversation with my Uncle about how fun and relatively affordable stunt-driving classes would be. I wonder if my wacky family is a surprise for him or if somehow, through knowing me, he is prepared for this. I wonder: in his mind, am I part of this group?
Mom, just in time for her 60th birthday, has joined the local rowing club. She updates constantly about the goings-on of the Indian River Boat Club. She is excited. I comment to Ji that although both of my parents are mature and capable adults, they both have a certain childlike quality about them. They both get very focused and excited about new endeavors they take on. I wonder if this has been passed on to my brother and I. I wonder if this is part of what first drew my parents together. I wonder, am I part of this group?
A few months ago during children’s meeting the facilitator had the kids draw two pictures of themselves: one of how they see themselves and one of how they think other people see them. I was at the same time overwhelmed by the difficulty and depth of this task and by my desire to try it. How do I see myself? How do others see me? In a recent email to a friend I confessed, “It may make me a total sap, but I just miss hanging out with you.” She responded, “You’ve always been a total sap, and I miss you too.”
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Just One Big Queja
Disclaimer: This entry is just one long complaint.
And now I'm sick. And everything is wet because it hasn't stopped raining for days. Even my tea infuser for my Get Well tea (thank you Mom!) smells like mildew. And it's cold and damp and I'm behind on my work and I wake up scared in the middle of the night because of the robberies and assaults that have been happening.
What being scared in the middle of the night makes me think and do:
-if someone abducted me and dropped me in the middle of the cloud forest I'd be screwed because I don't know what I can eat and I'd never find my way out
-If you climb up on the roof of my house and swing down on the balcony I bet you could break into my house and the dogs wouldn't even notice.
-Even if its raining, if I'm walking at night and hear voices I'll take my umbrella down and grasp it in my fist to make me feel safer
I can't wait for October break. I love my job, but I can't wait for October break.
And now I'm sick. And everything is wet because it hasn't stopped raining for days. Even my tea infuser for my Get Well tea (thank you Mom!) smells like mildew. And it's cold and damp and I'm behind on my work and I wake up scared in the middle of the night because of the robberies and assaults that have been happening.
What being scared in the middle of the night makes me think and do:
-if someone abducted me and dropped me in the middle of the cloud forest I'd be screwed because I don't know what I can eat and I'd never find my way out
-If you climb up on the roof of my house and swing down on the balcony I bet you could break into my house and the dogs wouldn't even notice.
-Even if its raining, if I'm walking at night and hear voices I'll take my umbrella down and grasp it in my fist to make me feel safer
I can't wait for October break. I love my job, but I can't wait for October break.
Downfalls To Teaching
9.24.10
This morning I crouched naked in the shower for 30 minutes pouring vinegar over my head to get rid of lice. What a funny thing to be doing, I thought. I wonder if they told me to do this as a joke, I thought. I wonder if I’ll have vinegar left over to cook with, I thought.
Vinegar does not smell as strongly as I’d thought. After shampooing the smell does not stick as strongly as I’d worried. Or I just got used to it. Today was a stinky mess anyway – I pulled out clothes I haven't worn recently (the others tossed in the laundry) and with them a comfy, musty, mildew smell. Tonight I sit in mildew pajamas after my vinegar shower. How often do I need to work vinegar into my scalp? When will the lice be gone? I don’t know. But I do know that vinegar makes my scalp warm, 30 min is a long time to sit on my heels and reading with my head between my knees and vinegar dripping off my nose is barely worth it.
This morning I crouched naked in the shower for 30 minutes pouring vinegar over my head to get rid of lice. What a funny thing to be doing, I thought. I wonder if they told me to do this as a joke, I thought. I wonder if I’ll have vinegar left over to cook with, I thought.
Vinegar does not smell as strongly as I’d thought. After shampooing the smell does not stick as strongly as I’d worried. Or I just got used to it. Today was a stinky mess anyway – I pulled out clothes I haven't worn recently (the others tossed in the laundry) and with them a comfy, musty, mildew smell. Tonight I sit in mildew pajamas after my vinegar shower. How often do I need to work vinegar into my scalp? When will the lice be gone? I don’t know. But I do know that vinegar makes my scalp warm, 30 min is a long time to sit on my heels and reading with my head between my knees and vinegar dripping off my nose is barely worth it.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Continued Thoughts
I'm not finished with the book. Here are some thoughts, lifted more or less directly from a letter I just wrote to a good friend on her way to Bogota, Colombia:
I'm just now finishing an essay by William P. Roberst Jr. I love the way he writes. Its sort of crazy and poetic, which I think fits pretty well with his actions. After more than a year in prison he got paroled to work in a hospital and wrote this to his still incarcerated pacifist friend Larry (the guy who put the book toether):
"In my first ramble among snow and trees I had a long talk with a terribly wise and ancient maple druid and he asked especially about you, Larry, and wanted to know what this conscription thing is that has the ghastly power to pin you to cement, where he can't talk with you. But druids know how to wait and I told him you do too."
Later he said: "Although there is much that hurts, there is so wonderfully much that sings - which, after all, is life."
This is also the guy who was initially in a minimum security prison and told the authorities that he was going to leave because he didn't want to be his own jailer. He was immediately transferred to a higher security setting. Then he was happily paroled in Boston for a bit but decided his life would be much more productive and meaningful it if were his own so he wrote to the parole board: "... I want to tell you that I no longer consider myself under the authority of the parole board." He was re-arrested. Who does such a thing? I feel like he must be either wise or crazy.
And lastly, the title of his essay is "Prison and Butterfly Wings". He says, "We flapped our butterfly wings in prison. Who can know their effect in our interconnected world?" What a wonderful, uplifting thought.
almost forgot - in following up a reference to Mann Act (the prisons had many conscientious objects but also men violating the Mann Act) I went to wikipedia and found this super interesting: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mann_Act
I'm just now finishing an essay by William P. Roberst Jr. I love the way he writes. Its sort of crazy and poetic, which I think fits pretty well with his actions. After more than a year in prison he got paroled to work in a hospital and wrote this to his still incarcerated pacifist friend Larry (the guy who put the book toether):
"In my first ramble among snow and trees I had a long talk with a terribly wise and ancient maple druid and he asked especially about you, Larry, and wanted to know what this conscription thing is that has the ghastly power to pin you to cement, where he can't talk with you. But druids know how to wait and I told him you do too."
Later he said: "Although there is much that hurts, there is so wonderfully much that sings - which, after all, is life."
This is also the guy who was initially in a minimum security prison and told the authorities that he was going to leave because he didn't want to be his own jailer. He was immediately transferred to a higher security setting. Then he was happily paroled in Boston for a bit but decided his life would be much more productive and meaningful it if were his own so he wrote to the parole board: "... I want to tell you that I no longer consider myself under the authority of the parole board." He was re-arrested. Who does such a thing? I feel like he must be either wise or crazy.
And lastly, the title of his essay is "Prison and Butterfly Wings". He says, "We flapped our butterfly wings in prison. Who can know their effect in our interconnected world?" What a wonderful, uplifting thought.
almost forgot - in following up a reference to Mann Act (the prisons had many conscientious objects but also men violating the Mann Act) I went to wikipedia and found this super interesting: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mann_Act
Sunday, September 12, 2010
An (Unfinished) Essay on Emptiness and Confusion
August 30, 2010
I have come across a book that has really shaken me by the soul. Its funny how books like those come into our lives. I found this one in the Monteverde Library on a rainy Saturday. I stopped into the library for a break from the rain and a rest on my trek up the hill to my soggy house.
Sometimes I am no good at choosing books and sometimes I know just by glimpsing the spine that we are going to be great friends. The latter was the case with this book, a few small candles: war resisters of wwii tell their stories by larry and lenna mae gara.
I loved this book from the start for its all lower case title and black cover (who writes WWII in lowercase?!? Unfathomable! The “i”s no longer look like roman numerals and the only reason left to do it is because that’s the way its always been done but it doesn’t even make sense any more but somehow I suspect that’s the whole point! Genius!) I don’t remember if I started this book that same evening or the following morning but I do know that by the time I walked to meeting on Sunday morning I was filled with ideas and questions.
…
And that was two weeks ago. I’m still not finished with larry and lenna mae and their collection of war resisters. Everyday I plan out another small piece of the detailed and insightful essay I will write and post about pacifism, ideals, religion, support, beliefs, spirituality, politics and history. Every book I read and every podcast I listen I relate back to what I’m reading in this book and I add another small section to my essay.
But lets be real – unlike Laura Norton-Cruz and Raquel Maldonado (my inspirations when I think about how I want to write about powerful ideas and share them with the world) I will never write this essay. Maybe I’m just not an essay kinda girl. Maybe I’m not a war resister and locked in a cell 23 hours a day for going on a work strike because I’m not down with segregated dining halls even though it’s the 1940’s and I’m white and now I have nothing left to do but read and write. Maybe I love my job more than ever this year and find that I don’t have much down time between work and exercise and reading and phone calls to Brooklyn and sleep.
This is my wish: that you will read this book and then talk to me about it. Maybe you will be as touched as I was by John H. Griffith’s father who supported him through his resistance with the same fervor that he supported his other son who was in the navy because he felt that they were both trying to do the right thing. Maybe you will stop and sit up when you read Ralph DiGia’s account of how he realized that he was going to jail because “what would ideals mean if one gave them up when they were put to a test?” Maybe you would then spend days searching for your own ideals and wondering what you would stand up for if given the opportunity. Maybe you too will realize that you’ll never be a Quaker because even though you think pacifism is important and admirable, you think the butt-kicking scenes in The Girl Who Played With Fire are just so cool you want to go out and take Thai Kick Boxing classes so you too can beat up bad guys. Or maybe you’ll have a totally different experience with the book and we’ll discuss and clash horns but it will still be a wonderful conversation.
I’ll leave you with my list of “Things to follow up on from a few small candles: war resisters of wwii tell their stories” even though I am just over half way done:
1. U.S. support of Hitler in the late 1930’s
2. Anti-Nazis in Germany in 1930’s and 40’s
3. U.S. immigration policy from Germany during this time. What did the U.S. know?
4. Nazi-Soviet Pact 1939
5. All Quiet on the Western Front and Johnny Got His Gun, two anti-war novels
6. The Power of Non-Violence by Richard Gregg
7. “Civil Disobedience” by Thoreau
8. Gandhi
I have come across a book that has really shaken me by the soul. Its funny how books like those come into our lives. I found this one in the Monteverde Library on a rainy Saturday. I stopped into the library for a break from the rain and a rest on my trek up the hill to my soggy house.
Sometimes I am no good at choosing books and sometimes I know just by glimpsing the spine that we are going to be great friends. The latter was the case with this book, a few small candles: war resisters of wwii tell their stories by larry and lenna mae gara.
I loved this book from the start for its all lower case title and black cover (who writes WWII in lowercase?!? Unfathomable! The “i”s no longer look like roman numerals and the only reason left to do it is because that’s the way its always been done but it doesn’t even make sense any more but somehow I suspect that’s the whole point! Genius!) I don’t remember if I started this book that same evening or the following morning but I do know that by the time I walked to meeting on Sunday morning I was filled with ideas and questions.
…
And that was two weeks ago. I’m still not finished with larry and lenna mae and their collection of war resisters. Everyday I plan out another small piece of the detailed and insightful essay I will write and post about pacifism, ideals, religion, support, beliefs, spirituality, politics and history. Every book I read and every podcast I listen I relate back to what I’m reading in this book and I add another small section to my essay.
But lets be real – unlike Laura Norton-Cruz and Raquel Maldonado (my inspirations when I think about how I want to write about powerful ideas and share them with the world) I will never write this essay. Maybe I’m just not an essay kinda girl. Maybe I’m not a war resister and locked in a cell 23 hours a day for going on a work strike because I’m not down with segregated dining halls even though it’s the 1940’s and I’m white and now I have nothing left to do but read and write. Maybe I love my job more than ever this year and find that I don’t have much down time between work and exercise and reading and phone calls to Brooklyn and sleep.
This is my wish: that you will read this book and then talk to me about it. Maybe you will be as touched as I was by John H. Griffith’s father who supported him through his resistance with the same fervor that he supported his other son who was in the navy because he felt that they were both trying to do the right thing. Maybe you will stop and sit up when you read Ralph DiGia’s account of how he realized that he was going to jail because “what would ideals mean if one gave them up when they were put to a test?” Maybe you would then spend days searching for your own ideals and wondering what you would stand up for if given the opportunity. Maybe you too will realize that you’ll never be a Quaker because even though you think pacifism is important and admirable, you think the butt-kicking scenes in The Girl Who Played With Fire are just so cool you want to go out and take Thai Kick Boxing classes so you too can beat up bad guys. Or maybe you’ll have a totally different experience with the book and we’ll discuss and clash horns but it will still be a wonderful conversation.
I’ll leave you with my list of “Things to follow up on from a few small candles: war resisters of wwii tell their stories” even though I am just over half way done:
1. U.S. support of Hitler in the late 1930’s
2. Anti-Nazis in Germany in 1930’s and 40’s
3. U.S. immigration policy from Germany during this time. What did the U.S. know?
4. Nazi-Soviet Pact 1939
5. All Quiet on the Western Front and Johnny Got His Gun, two anti-war novels
6. The Power of Non-Violence by Richard Gregg
7. “Civil Disobedience” by Thoreau
8. Gandhi
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