Agenda for the Meeting; or, the World Keeps Turning

Our blogging friend Captain Corky recently posted about his and Corky Jr.'s goals for the immediate future. As always, I learn best in a collaborative setting, so I've decided to take the Captain's lead. There's little time for posting some things ripe for posting, so the list of coming events here is most functional.
Little and Big Guys return to school tomorrow; the school district that employs me resumes after Labor Day. This means I have some open all-by-myself-time: a commodity that normally only avails itself to me in times of insomnia or commuting on the interstate to the university.
What this means, dear reader, is that in addition to having as many lunches out as possible, I may have more time to write that post that's been swirling in my head about theories of motion, equilibrium, behavior analysis, and a famous quote from the Gospels; or perhaps the post wherein I am attempting to reason how motion as symbolized by the visual may be used as a vehicle for the exploration of language acquisition at the preoperational stage, and perhaps sooner: ideally for children with autism, but certainly for any students who may find that such a thing speaks to them. Or perhaps the post in which I attempt to describe the origins and patterns of my continually growing obsession with spoken and written language: the whys and hows of its efficiencies in communication, and how those with intelligences much stronger in areas other than the linguistic can feel facile in this environment of language.
Can you hear that calliope playing circus music?

Once my school district begins, my fall semester of graduate school will have already begun.
You might, dear reader, see posts only on a weekly basis; you might see short daily posts. I've commited to this practice of language; you've reinforced my efforts with your presence and your kindness. We'll figure it out together.

Objects in Motion Stay at Motion; or, Would You Like a Chainsaw with That?

Dear reader, as you might have guessed, I've been somewhat scattered here of late, what with the finishing of summer coursework, the insomnia, and several other issues that have lately arisen. With the scattering came many questions; and I believe that from time to time we often begin to question the capacities, our abilities to maintain the rhythm of all the objects in the air when we begin to juggle, so to speak.
That's when we have to remind ourselves to stop thinking about it so much, and enjoy the show for what it is: and most especially since it's our show to put on.
We can juggle what we wish, and throw back and forth to whoever is willing.
We can swap plates for bowling pins; bowling pins for flaming torches, for chainsaws or pineapples: we just need to keep it in motion.
We can keep it to ourselves. We can let it all sit as we rest for awhile. We can pass it back and forth to someone waiting to jump in, or pass off to someone completely unawares: see what happens.
What's the worst that can happen?
Pick it up and begin again.
Find out that you prefer chainsaws to pineapples.
Or be touched by delight at the back-and-forth; happy for the synchronicity of motion.

And so it is, dear reader.
On Sunday morning, I saw the father of one of our students, Vermillion (a pseudonym, of course). He said that when called by name at home, Vermillion often responds, I'm not Vermillion, I'm _______!; and that Vermillion will often choose one favorite character from stories to "fill in the blank" on that day for the "I'm not Vermillion." So on Saturday, it was I'm not Vermillion, I'm neroli!
Such an unexpected happiness, dear reader: as if Vermillion had passed a pineapple to me: me, completely unaware, and all the happier for it.

On Sunday night, I was unable to see the meteor shower, for the cloud cover was drawn completely over the sky. Yet the night was still gorgeous, and I remained outside to hear the sibilance of insects with the knowledge of the motion above me, hidden from sight.
I began to do the metta meditation:
may you be safe and protected
may you be peaceful and happy
may you be healthy and strong
may you have ease of well being, and accept all conditions of the world
and then went inside and had the best night's sleep I've had for some time.
A lovely, delicate surprise.

Yesterday I was running on behind, and feeling that I've been juggling too many things, as has been my usual of late. When I got to the university, I logged on to do some blog reading before the beginning of class. I was surprised and touched to learn that Bee and Jai had chosen to gift me with this:

I've long admired their work: they are master jugglers who craft an amazing juggle, and are most generous in the tossing-back-and-forth to others---you know what I mean?
I arrived at home late last night, stiff and tired, and decided to go for a walk, for the night this night was clear and glowing, most conducive to the coaxing of stiff joints and muscles. As I walked in the bend of the road, the one place without streetlights, and thought of all these things---of Vermillion, the metta meditation and the lovely sleep that followed it, of Bee and Jai and the community of friends here in the blogosphere---I looked up; and there, just so, dear reader, there it was: a meteor, long-lived and colorful, falling down through Scorpio, and fading just as quickly, as if it had been sugar melting into the warmth and skipping of my heartbeat.

Sometimes it seems life loves to toss to you the pineapple, the chainsaws, the flaming torches not because it wants to cause you to feel overloaded, but because life has a way of knowing just how fun it is to juggle and to take joy in the moving; of knowing when you just need to walk into a surprise party.

When it came to decide where to bestow this gift next, I looked to the point in time before I myself arrived here, to those whose words I've followed for a long time.
I thank you, dear writers, for your words, and sharing your show with us.
I'm passing this lovely juggle to:

Carolyn at Field to Feast
ArtistFKAPW at The House of the Purple Worms
Estee at Joy of Autism
Kristina at Autism Vox
Adam at Genkaku

Keep those plates and chainsaws spinning.
I'll see you all soon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYS80f32i0s

Insomnia Becomes Her; or Yearly Reunion

I know I'm late, dear reader, lagging behind, with schoolwork and insomnia, but for those of you who still have time, the Perseids meteor showers are coming to a peak.

Please read about it here .

Tonight I will be most glad to be an insomniac.

How many of us haven't wished upon a star at some point in our lives? I mean, Jiminy Cricket knows what he's singing about, yes?

(Side note: how wonderful is it that I loved Jiminy Cricket as a child, and now have the pleasure of working with the students that I do, and am able to laugh again and again with them at the Jiminy Knock-Knock joke that they created? Believe it, my friends: life is often beautifully strange and ofttimes strangely wonderful; expressing the wishes of your heart in ways so much more eloquent than your own, in ways that you had not foreseen.)

Make as many wishes as you want, dear reader: I will be awake, and watching, and will send them along for you.

It would be the least that I could do. I'm glad for your kindness: something I had not foreseen, and so much more than I could ever have wished for.

Clear skies to you, dear reader.

I'll talk to you soon.

www.nasa.gov