Random Non-attachments; or, A Short Post

Pop culture has been a consistent source of amusement for me, particularly when it behaves as its name suggests: when it "pops" out of nowhere. You know me, dear reader---cognitive dissonance is one of my favorite jokes.
Madder was having one of his verbal episodes yesterday, on the way to the bathroom:

Man Raid, Man Raid---
the Dir-ty Bub-ble! the Dir-TY BUB-ble!
(repeats)

And, dear reader, if Frida coming in November doesn't already make that month extra-special, look what else does!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuiH9jzHr_U

And also: Myanmar is very much in my mind.

My faith practice asks me to see all these things as "pop."
Sometimes that joke just isn't as funny.

Namaste, dear ones, all.

About That Avatar; or, That Bathhouse Makes Him Crazy

Our blogging friend Pelicano asked in an earlier post comment about my avatar here on Blogger. It is a still from what is most likely my favorite film from the master, Hayao Miyazaki: Spirited Away.
The image that I've chosen is one of Sen/Chihiro, the protagonist, and a character named No Face seated together.
For me, they are two sides of the same coin, one that spins close to my heart.
So, dear Pel, dear readers: if you've not seen the film, I would highly recommend it.
Here's the trailer as it appeared in Japan, followed by the scene in which my avatar image appears.
If you've seen the film, then you know exactly what a potent image it is.
Miyazaki is the master indeed.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QORyMLG9CyA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bOJE_F9yL0

More Practical Magic; or, Kitchen Love

When our friend Swampy wrote in her post about the warmth, color, and light of the kitchen in all its manifestations, and the green glass that transmitted that light, that love, I was delighted, and for more than one reason.
In the midst of Anita's party, I was already thinking and feeling about what we all can bring to the table, to this life, and was all the more happy for it.
I was delighted in reading Swampy's words because I was reminded that sometimes those everyday articles from the kitchen, and those we oftimes use to bring our offerings to the table, are as full of meaning to us as the gifts and the gatherings about the table themselves: metta you can hold in your hand.
I was delighted because my special kitchen feelings are evoked by green glass as well: Fire King Jadeite, the tableware used day in and day out by my grandmother, and therefore, such a powerful touchstone for all those feelings and thoughts that are so difficult to put words to---thoughts and feelings so much more easy to speak of by the dance in the kitchen, the putting on the plate, the enjoying with others---be it in the present, or be it in our memories.

Dear reader, at one point in my life, I was a single parent without a home; having only my toddler (now Big Guy), the clothes on our backs, and a garbage bag hastily crammed with favored toys; although this stage of our life lasted for a relatively short time, I still struggled as a single parent, as so many of us do.

Yet I valued so highly what the Fire King Jadeite embodied that I once bought 12 plates I found at a flea market for 5 dollars each---and believe me, at that time, 60 dollars for plates that I did not need, but merely wanted, was a frivolous amount, ridiculously so.
You see, I felt so torn from so much of the goodness I had previously known, dear reader, and flung so far away from it: I felt as if those plates were a means, a map, to help me return to what I knew once before, long ago. If I held one, if I ate from one, and served my son what I cooked on one, I could almost barely feel my heart soften and turn---some embryonic feeling that I hoped would grow, and live, and breathe.
Of those original 12, I have but 6 that remain. Looking back, I'm glad for my frivolity, that leap of faith: I bought the insurance, hope-against-hope that remains with me today, despite the bumps and bad breaks along the way. They are ever present at our table.

Do you have a favorite touchstone from the kitchen? I'd love to hear about it, dear reader.

I'm glad to know that at the flea market, some wisdom older than myself knew better: yes, I wanted the plates; yet, I needed them just as much---perhaps even more so.
Dear reader, may you always have what you need, in the same magic and beautiful ways that a stack of glass has worked for me.
Thank you so much for joining me at the table.

Older Sunbeam mixer and child's "toy" mixer

with Fire King Jadeite mixing bowls

http://decodan.com/sunbeam-id.asp

What Would Papageno Do; or, the Grecian Urn is a Decorative Peanut Butter Jar?

I want everyone to focus on the content of an education---the meat and potatoes: on how that content should be presented, mastered, put to use, and passed along to others. Specifically, I believe that three very important concerns should animate education; these concerns have names and histories that extend far back into the past. There is the realm of truth---and its underside, what is false and undeterminable. There is the realm of beauty---and its absence in experiences or objects that are ugly or kitschy. And there is the realm of morality---what we consider to be good, and what we consider to be evil.

---from Howard Gardner, The Disciplined Mind: What All Students Should Understand

http://www.muttscomics.com

I often feel, dear reader, as if in this blogosphere, I often find myself in a collaborative learning group: something I very much appreciate about this endeavor. Thank you so much for it!

Purple Worms has been holding a discussion on art over at her place, concerning a defaced statue of Mozart. Swampwitch is presiding over playtime, MI-style. Then I begin reading from one of my favorite educational theorists, Howard Gardner, and find the above quote (side note of interest/synchronicity: he goes on to give examples that embody each of those three sisters---and Mozart is given as the example of beauty), which speaks to the reference that PW made to truth is beauty, beauty is truth.

It makes me very happy, these connections.

I was somewhat surprised that Gardner used the kitschy as the antithesis of the beautiful. I've always regarded kitsch as pithy beauty: sort a zen take on baroque, or alternately, a baroque take on zen; it speaks to the referent from a different perspective, the "flip side" if you will, in a different dialect than is typical, and I like that very much. (I've become an object of amusement for Snowy at the times when I see something kitschy: I exclaim, it's so ugly that it's beautiful! and then Snowy rolls his eyes, hoping with all hope I don't bring whatever it may be home.)

Perhaps that's what Gardner was speaking to; if so, I then posit: the beauty is in the delivery.

To me, it's very much like a parlor game that allows participants to hold a conversation using only famous quotes: the quote becomes a picture, a signal, of the speaker's intent.To me, it's very much like the use of picture icons in communication systems we use to communicate with those whose language abilities differ from our own.

Or perhaps it's a game of exquisite corpse; cadavres exquis.

Communciation, in all its transmissions. The enjoyment and the challenge and the beauty arise in broadening the bands of reception, allowing for all frequencies; for their variance is the given, and not the exception.

Don't expect to hear anything: expectations are so much static. Just listen; and in so doing, the beauty is heard.

Communication begins.

What do you think?

I'm listening.

Note: I've fixed the hyperlink for exquisite corpse, and added a new one as well---dear reader, you know how I like to look at things in more than one way!

Considering the Feminine in Art; or, A Flip-book

Unicorn in Captivity, c.1505 www.metmuseum.org

Georgia O'Keefe: Hands with Thimble, Alfred Stieglitz, 1920 www.kameraclub.co.za

Madame X, John Singer Sargent (neroli's zoom), 1884 www.metmuseum.org

Self-portrait with Cropped Hair, Frida Kahlo, 1940 www.abcgallery.com

Judith I, Gustav Klimt, 1904 (neroli's edit) www.art.com

Mother and Child, Gustav Klimt, 1905 www.art.com

Red Tara Kurukulla www.exoticindiaart.com

L'invention de la vie, Rene Magritte, 1928 www.abcgallery.com

Departure, Max Beckmann, 1935 www.moma.org

Collective Invention, Rene Magritte, 1934 (neroli's edit) www.abcgallery.com

US Postal Service, sheet stamps of quilt's from Gee's Bend www.outsider-folk-art.org

Nude Descending a Staircase, Marcel Duchamp, 1912 www.artofeurope.com

Birth of Venus, detail, Sandro Botticellli, 1485 www.art.com

Simhavaktra, Lion-faced Dakini www.exoticindiaart.com

Sky Above Clouds IV, Georgia O'Keefe, 1965 www.artci.edu

Is There Such a Thing as Too Happy?; or, The Things I Find Out When I Read More Than One Newspaper

http://www.abcgallery.com/K/kahlo/kahlo16.html

(Frida as she appeared the last time we were face-to-face)

She's coming. I am counting the days; I am excited beyond words!

http://www.philamuseum.org/exhibitions/278.html

Hugo Cabret, What Have You Done?; or Why Neroli Should Not Stay Up Late Watching Serious Movies

http://bccb.lis.uiuc.edu/0407sml.jpg

Insomnia nags because I endeavored to have some time with BG, who wanted to watch a Serious Movie (Spielberg's A.I.) that began Very Late. Though we did not finish all of it, it was enough to make me think thoughts not conducive to sleep.
So I turned to the aforementioned book, and finished reading it. It is completely marvelous! Wishing to keep these lighter, happier thoughts in my brain, I began to search the web for information about Georges Melies; and to make a long story short, I came to this:

http://www.cabaret.co.uk/start.htm

please don't miss the virtual exhibition at:

http://www.cabaret.co.uk/vrexs.htm

How fun is that?

Is It Only a Paper Moon?; or, Black and White Becomes You

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Trip_to_the_Moon
I'm in love.
With a book.
With these initial pages, I was abjectly delighted, and totally, completely-swooning in love.
You can find out more about the book here.

And the fact that the author cites the glorious Le Voyage dans la lune as something that informed some aspects of the book makes me incredibly happy. It is that strange, ethereal, stop-motion-so-fast-image of that space-ship, that moon, that is one of the first visuals I ever remember being aware of seeing. I do not know in what context I saw it, only that I remember it: and in some fashion, that wavering, silvery surreal image has been informing my sensibilites ever since.

And while toodling on the site about the book linked above, I found that the author was also an enthusiast of Edison...well, I will let you discover your own happy thoughts should you go there, dear reader.
I will leave you with another link, and this one is especially for my paper-folding pals.
And how 'bout if we made this one for Swampy?
This one I've chosen for myself preparing to do the Ego-Eradicator posture in a certain kundalini kriya...or wait, how about this one: I'm just pretending that the caveman is a giant gulab jamun.
It's a beautiful, brilliant moon out tonight: same as it ever was.
I'll take my beauty when I find it, be it past or present.
I wish the same for you.

And if you can't see the moon from where you are, please click here.
(Just like a riff on a koan---we've avoided the middle-man!)
(or finger, pointing)

Sometimes Pie Just Isn't Pie; or, I'll Meet You at King's Anytime, Anywhere

I would like to revisit yesterday's post wherein an apple pie featured most prominently.
In college, I had some difficulties, as we all sometimes do. The nature of the difficulty that causes me to revisit yesterday's post? One that many of us have dealt with: an eating disorder.

So it is the apple pie brings a specific image to mind, the image of one of the best acts of kindness I've ever experienced. During this time of eating disorder, my roommate would take me to a chain restaurant, the kind that one can find all over the US, the family-style, home-style joints. Once a week, she would take me to this establishment and order one of their signature desserts, hot apple pie topped with cinnamon ice cream; and when it came, she would nonchalantly put the plate in the middle of the table, the two forks akimbo on the china plate, and pretend that that pie, that ice cream, didn't, to put it simply, scare me to death. Then we would eat and pretend, and kept at it, until we could simply eat, and enjoy.
I think often about her kindness and generousity of spirit evidenced in that simple weekly act of hers.

In doing so, she taught me how to be with Batman (code name) when he had to eat a bite of ham sandwich from his lunchbox before he could eat his favored food. (His family had consulted a nutritionist because his sensory affinities gave him one-dimensional nutrition, and he was on a schedule to sample new foods; to do this was most frightening to him.)
Whenever I am on the road, and see that franchise, I must stop.
Here, I say to my family, my joy, have some.
And we are all the more happy for it.
Never assume, dear reader, that an act of yours can be too little or too late.
Right, Nae?

All That and a Bag of Chips; or, Gotta Love Someone Who Loves Tarzan Matinees

http://www.filmposters.com/templates/LargeImage.asp?ProdID=9315


As I was just writing in reply to Swampwitch, Frida brought so much to the table that we will really never go hungry.

The fact that she absolutely loved Tarzan films and laughed all the way through them only further endears her to me, so as I still have an entire watermelon in the fridge, we will continue celebrating Frida's Centennial today. She deserves it, yes?



As part of the festivities, do follow the link, leading you to one of my favorite books. I have a Favorite Book Shelf, and I knew this one was going to be placed there before I even picked it up.

When you go there, you might understand why:






http://teacher.scholastic.com/authorsandbooks/events/frida/
Have a wonderful time.
And so it continues: Viva la vida, my friends.

Independence Day; or, How MI Theory Helped Save My Life

Visual/spatial intelligence
• Capacities to perceive the visual-spatial world accurately and to perform transformations on one’s initial perceptions.
• End states: navigator, sculptor----Gardner, H., & Hatch, T. (1989). Multiple intelligences go to school: Educational implications of the theory of multiple intelligences. Educational Researcher, 18(8), 4-10.

A system that's neat and orderly and hast to keep struggling to fight off randomness, and when randomness inevitably leaks in, the system is thrown off. Being open to a certain level of randomness, on the other hand, allows it to work in your favor.----Abrahamson, E., & Freedman, D. (2006) A Perfect Mess. New York: Little, Brown, and Company

Dear reader, please know that I do so appreciate your visits here. Such seemingly small acts of kindness are most important, and I just wanted to begin here today by thanking you. You do have the power to impact for such good in the world, and limitless opportunities in which to do it.

I've provided a link to an article speaking about the suicide of a young man, David Ritchenson. He was the victim of an extremely hateful and brutally violent act. He testifed before Congress this April during hearings concerning a proposed hate-crimes bill. He jumped to his death from a cruise ship earlier this week.

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/tx/4941295.html

Mr. Ritchenson's story resonated with me. Simply put, I have been on the receiving end of violence. I express it this way, as it is one of the most apt ways I might convey to you in words what occurred. Violence was put forth, and I received it, completely. And this is the thing about receiving something so completely: you have room for nothing else; this, this becomes what is your sustenance.

Perchance, maybe, just maybe, you had digested just enough to make a little room for something different, something good. You can scarcely believe it's there, that little space; it's a secret, you see, like a little life itself within you. Furtively, because, really, it's dubious how long that little space will remain; it's in doubt how long you can keep it, really---you reach for something good, just a little, for there's such a small space, you can only manage a little sliver: and violence hands you your order (but it's not really, it's a dis-order: it's violence's order), and shoves it down to cram that little space full.

It is considered best practice to fill the tea vessel with boiling water before brewing the leaves with fresh, hot water. A hot vessel is considered to bring forth the most fragrant tea.

The method that I eventually deployed to tailor the disorder of violence so that I might stomach it without its poisoning me completely was to visualize other things whilst the violence was active and open. It's not a new method, for many of us in these situations, and indeed, situations far removed and in much happier light, do use visualization techniques.

So whilst, say, I assented to the perpetration of most abjectly humiliating and violent acts lest my-then-toddler child be taken away for the night in a car piloted by one in an alcoholic stupor; or, say, being restrained and used as an ashtray, I would smile, picturing completely in my mind such things as say, the sunlight and shadow coming down on me as I climbed the large tree in my childhood home backyard. Or my grandmother's plump raisin cookies, always wrapped in waxed paper in pairs, flat sides pressed together (like two hands, like namaste) and presented with simple, complete affection. And so I would smile; and so violence would spit in my face or decide to go an extra hour, or light another cigarette.

Who is to say what is a good way to cope with violence and what is not a good way? And does it matter if the violence came suddenly and left, or if the violence was sustained over time? When I wrote in a previous post about wishes that one could communicate with the future in some way, so that the message was, hey, this is the picture---dear reader, I was thinking very much of myself at this time. How I would love to be like Admiral Janeway, and tell that person what will happen. That little boy so fiercely protected is now so grown and smart, so gifted, so himself. That another little boy would come, marvelous himself, with a marriage that is not picture-perfect, but perfectly suited, to someone I saw in my dreams long ago as a child. Summer nights sleeping out with the stars and the crickets and the rain on the tent lulling us all to sleep. That there are classrooms full of lively, funny, wonderful kids. Good friends, great friends. That this person's life will be so different, so good, so full of flavor and sustenance.

Would that have been true for Mr. Ritchenson. I would have loved to have been able to tell him.

I truly believe, my friends, we have infinite chances. We do have infininte possibilities to find what we need, what we love; who we need and who we love: to find home.

"Set a course...for home."

Captain Janeway, Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager)











http://www.wga.hu/support/viewer/z.html

The Persistence of Memory; or, The Treachery of Images, Redux

Today is the final day of the school year for our boys. Next year, one will be in his final two years of high school; the other, still in elementary.

Sometimes I find it interesting and useful to think about the fluidity of time, of memory. I've had occasion to see many science-fiction type stories played out in various media, and I am often drawn to thought about that common story arc, that of the parallel universe/time travel: often, one character, upon discovering that alternate realities of the reality previously thought to be the one true reality truly do exist, travel through the ubiquitous time-space continuum to a different, alternate reality.

The traveler does so for many various reasons: to avert some tragedy; to gain information; to start over; to become deus ex machina; really, to be or to do anything. Truly any number of reasons are given; that's part and parcel of the pleasure of the playing of ideas, from fingerpainting to string theory, that question begins it all: how would you like to play?

There is some strange comfort to thinking about being able to have access to such a thing. If time is like a river, moving along into the ultimate sea; or if time is like, say, moving along in a spiral as if tracing the continous coil of a Slinky-type toy with one's finger, wouldn't it be good to be able to move back upstream to leave a little sign, a little touchstone, for the ride; or to be able to convey a wish to stop thinking about the circles of motion (round and round) and begin thinking and feeling about the direction of motion (up and up)? To say, look, this is the picture.

Frida is one of my favorite painters. She speaks to me, as she does to many others, with a unique language of icons. It is accepted in art history that she did not wish to be known as a Surrealist; some say it started with her abhorrence for Andre Breton. She was not averse to labels, when appropriate; she just didn't care for the word in reference to her.

An eloquent lady in many languages, that Frida.
shown above, right:

Memory, or the Heart, Frida Kahlo

www.abcgallery.com/K/kahlo

Green and Black Lace with Lite-brite; or, Metta Unexpected

Although my school district has completed its school year, the district that my sons attend is still in session. I've taken advantage of this today by going to the University early to complete research on a paper that is due before the month is over.
It is a beautiful June day, clear and warm. I decided to save money on parking fees in one of the city parking garages and park about a half a mile or so away in the parking lot of a city park fronted by a river.
I loved walking over the river bridge. It has both a pavement walkway and an iron-work-type of walkway. I chose to walk over the iron-work. The river was glinty-green against the black of the walkway. Lovely.
At the end of the bridge, there is a crosswalk. There is a traffic light there; the street to cross is a one-way street of several lanes.
The crosswalk has a pedestrian signal, indicating when it is safe to cross the road.

The signal is two images. One is an orange hand, depicted in the classic traffic-cop signal that says "stop" (but that for some time now also can be interpreted as "talk to the hand"); the hand glows steadily and cool, as if someone had made it from a Lite-brite toy. The hand is silent. The other image is the stick-figure-type of a single walking figure. The figure is white. It also glows in the same Lite-brite manner as the hand; however, it does not do so steadily. It blinks: on, off, on; and does so until the orange hand reappears. The figure is not silent. As the image flicks off, on, off, one hears the sound of a chirping bird.
As the hand glowed, I stood waiting, happy in the sun with the river glinting and moving behind me. An old man finished crossing the bridge and he took his place on the curbside as well. The bird began to chirp and we moved together across the road. What a simple and beautiful thing.


I've finished printing the necessary scholarly, peer-reviewed articles. I will now wade through the pile, dear reader, and thank you for your help to me, aiding me in this thing that is the practice of writing.

Strange Is Your Language and I Have No Decoder; or, Why Don't I Make My Intention Clear?

The majority of our students in the classroom in which I work have a diagnosis of autism. Autism is a condition that one hears very much about these days, and one that also can cause people who wish to speak about if for any number of reasons to approach dialogue about autism in increasingly polarizing ways. I myself am reluctant to write very much about my work, and only do so here because I wish to reference a certain way that our classroom, and many other classrooms providing service to children with autism and other differing abilities, approach communication.
Those with autism process sensory input differently than those who are "neurotypical." To oversimplify: in most cases, for those with autism, spoken language is not as well received as an input as is visual input. Although it is good practice to use visual input with all students, it is especially important for our students. When using spoken language, we often use what is known as "alpha statements:" statements pared of all but the essential, placed in the most simple words with best fit. These statements are then most often paired with visual cues, such as pointing or other gestures; sign language; or visual icons.
These visual icons can be used to facilitate communication when verbal language is not as much a player in the game of communicating. There are many assisitive technology devices that employ these icons to help along functional language; some more simple than others, some more expensive than others. The most commonly used system for creating icons is a software package called Boardmaker. One may find it here by following the link to the manufacturer's website:
http://www.mayer-johnson.com/
One can also design and make one's own "device" by creating icons and arranging them in the pages of a ring binder. The icons are backed with Velcro dots, and then affixed to Velcro strips arranged on the pages.
With this method, one can create pages dedicated to different conversations: for instance, a page for greeting statements, such as: hello, how are you? (or affix another icon such as "glad to see you, and so forth)--- I am (affix the appropriate icon); a page of request statements, such as I want (affix the appropriate icon, such as "a break," "to work," "to go to the bathroom;" a page of feeling statements, such as I feel (affix the appropriate icon---happy, sad, sick, etc.)

One can customize the icons and the pages for each child. Each main page can be further organized as each type of conversation dictates: if the child communicates the desire for a break by attaching the "break" icon to the "I want" statement during the course of communication, then another "I want" page is indicated, and the student may choose from several icons representing different break activities, such as a motor activity, a quiet choice, or a trip to the water fountain.
The organization is akin to how you might organize your folders and subfolders in your computer, dear reader.
Our students' schedules are posted using icons. The icons are arranged vertically on a Velcro strip affixed to a posterboard with their names on top. The icons show the students their day from start to finish. At each schedule change, the students remove the icon for what is now on their schedule, go to that area of the classroom, and then place the icon in the icon collection basket in that area.
There is something very satisfying about that.

I think that I have a tendency to use language as the icons are used in the classroom.

For instance, when I wrote about the rose petal in the arugula, there was much more to it than what I wrote; yet I chose the words I felt best parsed what actually occurred into a manageable packet that I might be able to transmit to you, dear reader. Though I was able to do so to some satisfaction when I posted about the rose petal, more often than not, I am more often seeing the icons of my own fashioning in my head.
In the Boardmaker software, one may customize the visual icons by typing whatever text you wish. To the side of the blog, I found a free icon of the 'Boardmaker-type" online; to the icon, I typed the text to a common phrase in our classroom: "time for group."
That was a fairly straightforward meeting of verbage and visual; yet it is often difficult for me to find the appropriate words for the visuals, and indeed, the sensory, that I perceive.

It's the old chestnut, that Appollian v Dionysian debate.
Words? Pictures? Perceptions?
Mutually exclusive? Tenuous relationship at best?

Dear reader, the students in our classroom brave the front lines of that age-old battle daily.
They are some of my best teachers.

Happy Belated Birthday

To Laurie Anderson, the first person who conveyed to me in a way that made sense that there is more than one way to approach language.
My intent was to post a few favorite videos from YouTube; however, YouTube seems convinced that this blog does not exist, so I am not able to post the videos here: instead, please follow the links as you choose.
I have always loved her generousity of expression.
Isn't it beautiful?
Isn't she beautiful?

Language Is a Virus
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FeyGTmw0I0
Excellent Birds
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6qCpLOebZ0
Smoke Rings
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NnRjTKVWzw8
O Superman
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hhm0NHhCBg

Ceci n'est pas un pipe

Thanks to www.artunivers.com, one of Magritte's Treachery of Images

Dear reader, it seems that I have already resorted to the use of images rather than words, and done so in five posts or less. Truly, the only surprise is that it did not occur sooner.
It has been my habit to set the timer and to write during that proscribed time: no more, no less. The post that I began working on yesterday addresses the issue of images, words, and the someplace between the two. I've exceeded my time limit yesterday and today.
Yesterday I posted an image; today another. Both will have to speak for me until the timer is set tomorrow, dear reader. I'm glad to have your patience.