Visiting Cleveland for a second year and going for a beer at the same tavern we'd gone to last year, I looked behind and saw the holiday it was to the holiday it was going to be.
It may be cold and dark, but beautiful and wonderful it surely is also.
Magical Moments
Driving to the movie I saw a squirrel looking out from a knothole in the tree. See it?
Yes? Great!
No?
Well, you're with everyone else. No one saw what I saw.
I was positive someone had painted the guy into the tree. They all headed to the Mexican restaurant for lunch.
Me? To the tree. Art is art.
Imaginary Art
Working in a reading room today. Someone took a fancy to taking a scruffy surface and turning into whimsy. I love it!!
Caught My Eye
If you want a symbolic gesture, don't burn the flag, wash it.
~Norman Thomas, minister and social reformer (1884-1968)
Read this today on my word a day site. Laughed, thinking I'd have to wash it many, many times before I'd be proud of it again. Right or wrong, I can't look to a flag that the likes of Trump, his minions, and followers have debased with their actions.
And, that's sad, because I had a mother and father who served in WWII, and I have a dear one today who gave twelve plus years to the army, and once retired used his time during election season to convince others to vote.
Yes, we'll need to wash and wash and wash that flag to be seen as a country who cares for others, who knows right from wrong, who has morals and values and who understands who our allies are and who aren't.
So instead of the stars and stripes, let me continue to give hope with the Junteenth flag, a flag commemorating the idea of freedom for all. On my garage, it'll be there until freedom rings.
I'd like to think that someday I can look to Betsy's flag, fly it and believe in it again.
Here's Hoping
In a flip from last week, the novel I just finished, The Satisfaction Café, went quickly. A novel of a woman's life, it was a quick read of a sort I appreciate. Looking at another's life often times gives me understanding into my own and a realizatioon that I am not unique. While a lighter read than the last of this type, The Correspondent, The Satisfaction Café had many moments of insight.
In yet another switch, last week's New Yorker, with its many articles that I spent time not only reading but thinking and writing on, was unlike this week's. In fact, the longest article, on Laura Loomer, was painful to read. Loomer is a person I have no desire to spend time with, let alone my precious morning minutes. But, like many articles in NYer, I often feel I'm in the 'first to know' seat. Elon Musk's use of drugs was another, as was Rowan Farrow's on Hollywood and the depth of sexual abuse of women. I learn what others will in the weeks to come. In Loomer's case, the monetization, perhaps, of her beliefs.
Leaving Loomer, two articles did give me a bit of myself, one on a director of movies, and the other on David Byrne, the lead singer in a band from my past.
In the first, what I like. I love to be reading along and have a surprise. Bill Bryson comes to mind. Descriptive, seemingly serious writing, with a wallop of hilarity to end the passage.
Suspense, on the other hand, is hard on me. Being chased in dreams has always been a fear of mine. What's to come?!? is a feeling that builds to dread. I guess it's the same with reading. One of Erik Bachman's hockey novels is an example. The suspense became so fraught for me that I had to text a friend to see if I would be able to keep reading.
The passage, succinctly, gave clarity to the writing style I prefer.
The second passage was on the lead singer of the Talking Heads,* the band honored at our last festival in October. I'd loved a song - a new song I'd never heard - that two bands played, albeit, with totally different vibes. I thought of that time when reading this passage.
Reading Bryne's explanation today, I thought, yeah, exactly. Songs can be two dimensional. We internalize the words but move with the beat.
Aha Moments
*In my twenties we followed a local band, who loved the Talking Heads, often playing a number of their songs. I once was heard yelling, "House on Fire," which was really me asking for the song, "Burning Down the House." It was a mistake in wording that my boyfriend told me was probably not the best thing to yell in a public place. He was known for deciphering what I said and what I meant. A case of clarity from confusion, I guess.
I just finished a book, Arcana Academy, given to me by a woman I sat next to at a festival this past summer. The cover reminded me of the Harry Potter series. And while the woman said it was a bit like that, it was also for adults in that there was anticipated sex (and then there was). Finishing the book, the woman handed it to me. With such a nice gesture, of course I was duty bound to read it.
Finally, coming through to my kindle, I began the book. I liked the graphics and the part of magic done by cards. but the rest moved too slow for me, and having read a Harlequin romance a day back in one of my high school summers, I was not a fan of the story arc: dislike bordering on hate, a slow attraction to an awakening of desire, which then became anticipation, backtracking, and more anticipation, until, yes, the burning desire fulfilled.*
What was fun was that another person, one I had given the actual copy of the book to, read it at the same time. Her thoughts (while harsher) aligned with mine. Reading and discussing, I made it to the end with, literally, ten hours to spare before it would (magically) disappear from my app.
Once I made it to the last seventy pages, I enjoyed the book. Prior, I think a heavy edit, very heavy, would have made the novel better. What I did love, though, was the phrase used often, "Don't cry over an empty coffin." Looking it up, I saw it means to not give up hope. To me, though, it was better an idea against needless worrying. Wow. So true.
I doubt I'll read the sequel - and this one is set up so much more than any other book I've ever read to have a sequel - since, truly, it just took me too long to get to the end, or what there was to the ending.
With that said, while not my favorite book, having the quote and a person to read it and discuss in real time was worth the read.
Gives Gifts
*It was this reading, though, amusingly enough, that I used when I finally decided to teach story writing. Introduce character and setting, add in a conflict, work to solve it, have it fail, and then ultimately find success. I'd stopped after the first few years because the stories written could be pages and pages long. When starting again (after telling of my own failed story in high school, ten pages long of love and the west, neither of which I knew anything about, and all written with terrible dialogue), I had the structure down to 7 seven to 10 sentences. Tight writing to work from until they were ready to go with more.
The real index of civilization is when people are kinder than they need to be. Louis de Bernieres, novelist (b. 8 Dec 1954)
Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom. Theodore Rubin, psychiatrist and writer (b. 11 Apr 1923)
Neither genius, fame, nor love show the greatness of the soul. Only kindness can do that. Jean Baptiste Henri Lacordaire, preacher, journalist, and activist (12 May 1802-1861)
The highest result of education is tolerance. Helen Keller, author and lecturer (27 Jun 1880-1968)
One and the same? Has artificial intelligence caught up to human thought? That was the question posed in today's article. There was much to it, but for me it wasn't the history of AI (while interesting) or the question of good or evil to AI or even whether AI can truly think (like a human). It was the use of science to explain our thinking and how it fit with AI's thinking.
Understanding. We understand through seeing, and hence we have intelligence.
Memory. With intelligence, comes memory, which then helps to build our intelligence, by connecting the right memories to new situations ( a concept I used in teaching content reading.)
Experimentation. Children gain knowledge through testing their environment.
And finally, curiosity. After everything, the article ends with curiosity and where we as humans go with it. Comparing today to the 30s and the development of the bomb, like the article did, we can anticipate the dangers, but we can't ignore our desire to know. The bomb was detonated and fear came with it, the fear of where it would take us. The same is true here: where will AI take us? I wonder: Could this be a moment for the proverb, "Curiosity killed the cat," or will we, as we have from the 40s (so far), have "Satisfaction brought it back"?
Humans can't seem to retreat, so I'm betting it's onward, and hopefully, upward.
Our Decisions
Back in late 2020, when the vaccines were coming out, one train of (ridiculous) thought on the right was that the shot was going to actually be implanting a chip instead of a vaccine. It was thought to be a chip with our medical history on it.
I said then, only half joking, that if that were true, I'd be happy. Remembering all the answers to all the questions I get at appointments would be over. It'd be right there. It was an offhand comment to the silliness of the right.
I knew that, while the implementation of the vaccine was fast - which is what they were worried about - it was because enormous work had been done years before when SARS hit. Researchers then were working on a new type of vaccine, and while it ultimately wasn't needed, it was perfect for this. Still, that speed created a hotbed of conspiracy thoughts.
Could Be Coming True
There are good days, easy days and challenging days in subbing. I do my best every day and try to walk away knowing I've done some bit of good for someone. With that, I'm still left wondering, some days, if I'm doing what needs to be done.
We all come to the school with past experiences; me included. I have 33 years of teaching and eleven subbing, not forgetting 69 years of living. But education is also an evolving profession, and I want to change with the times too. The past, once in a while, collides with the present, and I can wonder. Am I still effective? Am I still helping students?
I was thinking along those lines on Friday. Walking the halls to that days' room, I was questioning another days' work, and then I saw this.
A reminder that what I believe and strive for is still relevant. Good.
Can I improve? You bet. Along with expectations and experience there's empathy, the ability to read and understand who is in front of me on any day. These are the three cornerstones for my days in education. They give me balance and guidelines for growth.
High Hopes
Ps. Two days later. As I've said, there will come a time when it's time to walk away, not because they're (the powers that be) wrong and I'm right, but because I just can't adapt or change or sever - use what word works best - my beliefs enough to be a positive force. I think that time has come for one building I work in.
And another article on a subject I have so little knowledge of: Kant. Writing from the 18th century, this article was a work at convincing us that Kant was still relevant today. It was an interesting, and short, read, giving me so much more than I knew of him, but then this passage came, and I felt a connection. The author of the article was successful.
Today, in this age of having facts, verifiable facts, at our fingertips, too many people rely on so much else. Opinions assault us, and it is our job to take in, weed out, and ultimately come to our own conclusion. Does that mean I don't believe in listening to experts? Not at all. I believe in science, medicine and the law, common sense, courtesy and compassion. Are there people, corporations, and groups I find offensive? You bet. And that takes us back to Kant. We must be open minded and intelligent, willing to learn for ourselves.
What's amazing to me is that Kant wrote this passage 200 hundred years ago, and we still need to be reminded of what Kant knew. Can we listen?
How Can We Not?
I know I'm not an intellectual, but if I didn't, the New Yorker would show me every week. An example? This week's Critic At Large article was on monsters over time. From vampires to Frankenstein I was taken on a literary tour of our evolving beliefs, until, ultimately, I ended up in politics.
When wanting to write this piece, I realized I hadn't documented the transition. Finding it, I saw it was from the eyes of a young girl. She had been taught, like most of us in the world today, that monsters are made through circumstances. It was a fairly easy leap to go from imaginary monsters to political beings, the monsters we have made of our opposition.
Thank goodness for the people who can take the time to look behind our thinking, who can disprove our beliefs, who can, surprisingly, show through numbers that neither side - yes, we're a country of sides now - that what we think we know and what others think they know is wrong.
The dichotomy of what we believe and what truly is gave me hope. We believe our others, like they do to us, as inherently evil, and yet they're, and we're, not.*
To end, I'm left with the question: monsters changed, but now, can we?
How About Us
*To be fair to myself, and most Americans, evil is too strong of a word; I've only gone so far as to wonder at their lack of reasoning and knowledge.
Yesterday, subbing, I was waiting at the door to the classroom to take attendance when a student walked by and said, "Love your shoes!" Taken by surprise, I replied, "Me too," and then said that everyone should have red shoes; they're shoes that make us happy just looking at them. She agreed and life went on. It was a great beginning to my morning at the high school.
Today, putting them on again - same outfit, different schoolI - I smiled again.
Making Moments of Joy
Today's long read began like many, me wondering if it would be a slog or a surprise. It was the latter. The article was on aphantasia, a lack of mental imagery, and its opposite, hyperphantasia. an overabundance of mental imagery. Of course, most of us, including me, are of the middle. But that middle, like any spectrum, has its range. I saw myself of the opposite of aphantasia and near the other, hyper.
It didn't begin that way, though. My first connection was a naming of a phenomenon that I've found happening to me more and more. I'm sitting on the couch, having come home from subbing or walking or errands, and treating myself to a bit of reading. But then, for a few moments, I drift off. Reading one moment and the next few, I'm in a dream state of images having nothing to do with anything. It's discombobulating. But, like a lot of this article, it's reassuring (interesting) to find there's a name for my condition.
Reading on,* I find myself more and more. Sometimes it's me in the opposite, like the first passage. I was once told I had a strong sense of self, which came as a surprise to me, because I reflect on most everything that is said to me. It was interesting to find this definition. But the other two passages? Me in a nutshell. I've had another friend tell me, while walking, that she thinks I miss parts of conversations because I'm in my head, with the last passage perfectly describing my mind in so much of my life.
Then there came some examples of me and how images have (too) much power. I avoid graphic images, (to protect myself) but can read what I can't watch. (Think In Cold Blood. Could read. Think me leaving the movie theatre within minutes of trying to watch The Exorcist and not sleeping alone in my bed for a week, or Fatal Attraction, leaving after just a few because I was having such a visceral reaction to it.) I also don't watch the movie version of books I have loved, for the most part, because my connection is too strong to allow others in. (Call me inflexible; friends have.)
Finally, there's the end, back with Nick, the one with aphantasia from the beginning. While having found examples of ways that aphantasia can be beneficial, he searched for aids - like video cameras - but found the idea lacking. Our memories make us, and I can't imagine not having them, even as I know that they can be a distraction to a hindrance at times. It has, too, taken me years to realize my memories might not be totally accurate, but they are mine and they make, and remake, me.
And so, quite the morning for me. A time travel to my own mind through the minds of others. Memories flooded my reading. Keeping track of my ability and connection to mental images, I also had to track the images that weren't of me (on either end of the condition) but still described me. In short it was a morning of traipsing through the forest of my mind, losing and finding myself before alighting, once again, in this very real day.
The irony of it all was not lost on me. An article about mental images creating more mental images, with the solution being.... this piece.
Mind Boggling
*An aside: this article is a perfect example of how I describe the New Yorker's writing to people. Often on a topic I know little about (which is most of the articles), it begins with one person's story before expanding out to others', all while giving facts, reasoning and explanations on the topic at hand. Each person leads us to another, until finally ending back where we started, in this case, Nick. I love this style of people-forward writing. I learn so much but through a medium of my comfort: people.
Ps: One of my first thoughts when reading was, yes, a mental image of us watching Fantasia, the Disney movie of images and music. Ah, of course.
"Our task is not to search in vain for some lost paradise,
but to look for tiny sparks of light
in the divine debris that is around us."
~ Angela Buchdahl
Morning Glory
Usually I read through a good book in record time, struggling to put it down and wanting to find out what happens next. But My Friends, yet another wonderful book by Fredrik Backman, is slow going. Perhaps because of my misconception that it would be a fast and light read, which it isn't, but probably more so because there's so many swirling and insightful thoughts in it, that I need time to process. I'm not quite two-thirds through the book with more to come, I'm sure, but here are just a few of those ideas.
On what we leave behind.
A humorous take on men (and remember, this is a man writing the book. Backman is incredible in that, in all his books, he is able to write intuitively from so many perspectives.)
On what is art (and for me, why I write this blog - to get the stuff out of my head. Art, that's stretching it; I just, must, get it out of my head so I can stop thinking about it. If, for anyone, that writing turns into art, well, wow!)
Finally, the best idea (so far) from the novel. I love this and have spent time thinking about family and friends and what the "one really good now" would be for each. That moment encapsulates all the nows of all the other memories of that person.
Maybe I've conflated heaven and memories. But then, aren't good memories just that, slices of heaven on earth?
To be sure, they are.
Thoughtful Thinking
