Creative Blockage

Someone in our house recently had a colonoscopy and that has got me thinking about my own chronic mental constipation.  There is so much I want to be doing, but NEVER get to...and it's not like I don't have the time.  If anything I probably have more free time, in small bits at least, now that the kinder is getting older.  So, as I used to say to the eating disordered patients I worked with, "It really doesn't matter why, we may never know why, so let's focus our energies on moving ahead- toward what it is we want".

So, substituting sienna for Senna, I am going to paint, write, or work on a print daily.

A Random Olio of Things Occupying Space in My Bean

Declaration of Cultural Revolutionaries
multipotentialates
creating a better band aid vs. applying them
winter
Simplicity Parenting
the failure of public education
fiddle playing
art making
writing as a life's purpose
how much I love that little dog asleep downstairs
being youthful is about changing with the times-call Rachel Rae-a for cripe's sake
don't be a Debbie Downer
strive for hardiness and resilience
crossfit
love and embracing it
art
Canada

They Don't Call It Planet Fitness For Nothing

A new piece of equipment showed up at the gym the other day.

We all reacted to it like the hominins to the monolith in 2001 A Space Odyssey. Fortunately, nobody was clubbed to death-this time.

Existential Chafe

E.O. Wilson in his book Letters to a Young Scientist suggests that if you are not good at math, all is not lost, if your desire is to be a scientist  He coaches the importance of finding a field of science that supports your level of math competency while you continue to strengthen your skills. Oh, how I wished I had this guidance when I was in my early college years. While never the top of my class in my high school Regents chemistry and physics classes, I was able to hold my own. In college I withdrew from freshman chemistry with an average of about 19 the first go around.  I took it again and failed it. Third time, a night class after I had graduated, I nailed it with a B average, but by then my confidence and self image had been annihilated. This required a total revamping of my two year college plan and precluded me from advancing in the medical technology program I was in.  The problem was not the "science" but the math.

Helping Maisie ( who is quite skilled ) with her math has been exciting as I am finally getting some of the concepts and seeing patterns that I did not during my own education. Math is beautiful and extraordinary. I love reading and thinking about theoretical topics in physics and new ideas and advances in mechanics, computers,electronics, solar, energy, natural sciences. and yes, even math. This is more about the language and art of science.

Dr. Wilson also suggests one find what one was meant to do and pursue it-doggedly. If only knowing what I was meant to do was clearly defined and I could be passionately devoted and dedicated to it! I have made my career(s) in the social sciences and often try to think of myself as a social scientist. I know I have done some good and helped a few people and I hope that I have not caused any harm or suffering to those I have tried to help in my work (and in life for that matter). There have been times when my work has been exciting and felt noble and rewarding and many times when it has not;  when it has been a total soul suck.

What if what I am good at is something that I don't like?

When I worked in an eating disorders program years ago, we often had group discussions around ethical, moral and existential dilemmas ala Scruples. I recall one question being along the lines of if you had to choose between keeping your physical health or your cognitive/mental abilities which would you choose.  Without hesitation I chose my physical, corporal abilities. There was much surprise among the group as I had always positioned myself as a strong proponent of cognitive, rational thought and inquiry. I remember reasoning at the time that if one is able to move and function in day-to day living, they could always do things to improve their mental short comings. Like in the Star Trek episode with Jeffery Hunter who played Captain Kirk's mentor, Captain Pike... He had been badly injured.  He was mentally alert and sharp, but physically diminished to a "talking head" as his atrophied body was housed in a machine in order to keep him alive, but it was dead. To me, this seemed intolerable. A cruel fate.

At 51, I am experiencing arthritic changes in my knees that at times limit my activity. It is the fruition of a warning given to me by a nurse who completed one of my required sports physicals in college.  She foretold of my joint pains and advised me to eat fewer french fries.

Today, I stood on the back porch and watched two dynamic and wholly magnificent dogs chase and wrestle one another. They are in the prime of their youths muscles rippling, bodies freely bending this way  and that way-alive. I stood behind a porch pillar to protect my most recently inflamed knee (Meniscus tear). Made me think of Mary Oliver's multiple poems about her dog Percy.

I live with a 7 year old who embraces the wonders of her body and fully inhabits it and all it can do.  Youth in dog years or human years is truly amazing from a vantage point of 60 decades on the planet.

I feel old. I do not think myself old as I do believe 50 is the new 40, but it is still a shock when my body does not do what it seems to me it ought. So, I try to be mindful and grateful for what it does manage and I work at cultivating more mobility, strength and pain free days-and especially nights.

Here's to many more years of life-french fries and all!

This is How We Do Winter-Well, One Way Anyhow

Stand on the bulk head

Forgo a sled-use your back instead

Do some American Gothic s'more eating

use the buddy system to eat more s'mores

enjoy said s'mores

have a fire

invite the dog

so she can guard your s'mores

Some of the Things That Have Distracted Me From Attending to This Blog or How My Pagan Ways Brought Snow to Maine

As Spring approaches I get melancholy and suffer in the throes of my self-diagnosed  SAD (seasonal affective disorder) Atypical. I LOVE Winter. This winter started off extremely promising with measurable snow on the ground at Thanksgiving, but by Christmas-nada. On 12/27/14 I predicted in a month's time the ground would be covered. It wasn't, but I was only off by a week or so. After a long ski weekend back home to the Adirondacks it began to snow. 

 And snow. 

And then snow some more. 

love the fish bones pattern on the snow from the picket fence and the winter sun

 I attribute this great fortune to my purchase of lapel pins at Lapland Lake XC Center

 and my hanging snow altar.

 

You're welcome to my "snow mates".  For all the others, I encourage you to embrace Winter.

Exhibit A

she's from Georgia

but still gets her kicks from the white stuff

C'mon, get out and play.