Happy Birthday Gene

Today is Gene Roddenberry's birthday.

A man either lives life as it happens to him, meets it head-on and licks it, or he turns his back on it and starts to wither away.
---Gene Roddenberry

Time is the fire in which we burn.
---Gene Roddenberry

Already filled with waste

From Daily Grist, an environmental newsletter from Grist Magazine:

A PLAN FIENDISHLY CLEVER IN ITS INTRICACIES

Bush's Small Tweaks to Regulations Carry Large Consequences

In the third installment of its in-depth three-article series on Bush administration regulatory changes, The Washington Post today focuses on the way the administration circumvents public debate and legislation in favor of making small changes in regulatory wording that carry huge consequences -- removing the word "hazardous" from mercury emission regs, reclassifying nuclear waste from "high-level" to "incidental," and perhaps most portentously, changing the name of debris from mountaintop-removal coal mines from "waste" to "fill." The latter change -- the "fill rule" of 2002 -- has led to a boom in a practice that is loathed not only by enviros but by a growing majority of rural Appalachians, who object to the irremediable destruction of landscapes where their families have lived for generations. Some 700 miles of headwater streams have been buried in "fill" and more than 240 species of fish adversely affected. As it happens, the coal industry has raised $9 million for Republicans since 1998.

straight to the source: The Washington Post, Joby Warrick, 17 Aug 2004

Well I know something about coal mining. I grew up in the coal region of PA. My grandfather started 'picking' coal (sorting the smaller pieces of coal from rock) as a young boy. Friends and family earned their living and started their dying (black lung, emphysema) in the mines. My hometown of Shamokin has huge culm banks, mountains really, made from discarded coal waste.

Glen Burn Coal Mine Breaker, Shamokin, PA

And not far is the famous burning town, Centralia, where underground mine fire made the entire town unfit to live in. I think it is very clear, we don't need less environmental protections we need more! Let's not go back to the 'good old days'.

Smoldering hillside near Centralia, PA

Pictures vs words

I have been spending a lot of time taking photographs and fussing with them using Photoshop. Hence, not much time for writing or reading. It is a really interesting change for me. I am starting to think more visually, more colorfully. Sometimes it drives me crazy to be constantly looking for something to photograph, even when I don't have my camera, but my dreams are more colorful. I was doing a little bit of yoga and stretching tonight and I could even relate the feeling in my body to color and form. Here is one of my latest creations.

Taken from north shore of Long Island near sunset.

Dream: The Gifted Table

I was at a work function, a dinner with other scientists. We were discussing something about a protein with which I work, something about if there were three arginines at the C-terminus. I couldn't remember if there were (and I felt I should know this information). Another scientist (someone visiting whom I didn't know) knew the answer and did some complicated calculation in his head to solve the problem. I was embarassed. I also felt like I was 'hooked' or physically connected to one of the scientists, like our belts had got tangled. We sat down for dinner but when I looked up from my plate everyone had left to another table. Some waiters came and told me I had to move because they were moving the table. I picked up my plate and carried it to a table with people I had attended high school with. One was Kevin Wetzel. He looked at me and said, "Welcome back to the gifted table." He looked different than I remembered. The girl/woman across from me was drawing my picture and/or taking notes on what I was doing. I didn't recognize her. I felt embarassed and relieved to be back at this table rather than the one with all the scientists.

Morning going

I just spent two hours reading blogs, following links, entangled in this web of humanity and words. Here's a partial roadmap.

Started at Nomen est Numen where she writes an achingly honest question:

What sort of accomplishment is it to run a gauntlet of one's own making? I've managed only to close my eyes against the feast of the world and gnaw myself to the bone. It's hardly a mark of intelligence.

Then I followed a link from the comments to Mole. There I read a post containing this intriguing statement:

If I can't have irregular verbs, I'd rather grunt and point.

and followed the link to its source at Language Hat. Wonderful blog full of challenges and insights, quite a bit over my head most of the time, which I like when I am in the right mood. Usually when I find a new blog I like, I read the very first entry from the archives. I like to see how the blog has evolved of the years (2 in this case). First entry quite as enjoyable as the last. This one seems to be good to the first drop.

Another quizzie poo!

Believe it or not that is the way my Physical Chemistry teacher would announce our quizzes and tests! Anyway, on a lighter note (I think) here are the results of the stressful, arduous, what-flower-are-you? quiz:

I'm a Pansy. The bloom of thought. Thoughts are my haven. I prefer solitude and quiet places so I can ponder uninterrupted. What bloom are you? by Polly_Snodgrass

Searching for truth

From Hardcore Zen: Punk Rock, Monster Movies & the Truth About Reality

But if you really thoroughly question everything, if you pursue your questions long enough and honestly enough, there will come a time when truth will wallop you upside the head and you will know.

Not knowing is what brought me to the spiritual path. As a child in church, I tried very hard to believe, like a good girl should (or as I thought she should). I tried and tried and I never felt the knowing, the security, that I had read about others feeling. I was unsure, alone and scared. So then I turned to science. I thought if I could learn everything in the books, if I could become a real scientist, I would know things. But as all students of science learn, what you really find in science are more questions. And what you know, you don't really know because you have to be ready to change your hypothesis to fit any new data that may come along. You can't afford to be sure about anything. We talk to each other using terms like suggest and implicate not know and not certainty. We learn to couch our facts in may and might, to sprinkle words of caution between the statements of fact. Or maybe it is just me. Maybe I am not ready for knowing. The idea of knowing reminds me of my childhood fantasy of a man on a white horse saving me. At first, it was my father, his strong arm comforting me during scary movies and roller coaster ride. Later I hoped for a prince to whisk me off. But those ideas were fantasy. In reality, my father didn't save me, he got drunk and terrorized us. I learned to hope for a savior but at the same time, save myself, always wishing I could relax, let go and be caught in someone's arms, and at the same time, aware that there were no arms to catch me. I was on my own. I guess that's not too bad but it never seemed enough. Not secure enough, not safe enough. With me alone, there was no absolute, no independent measure. Am I kidding myself, deceiving myself? How could I know? It was this nagging question that prodded me on this path and it is still pushing me. And I am still walking, seeking, searching, and crawling. I hope Warner is right. I hope someday I will know, just simply know. Right now, I can't imagine anything better than that.

Minor White

I was in the library tonight perusing recent acquisitions and came across The Zen of Creativity : Cultivating Your Artistic Life by John Daido Loori. I read a passage where the author describes a photography course he took taught by Minor White. The course had many 'non-photography' aspects to it such as early morning dancing and meditation. I was intrigued so I looked for a book of White's work. His black and white images are beautiful and moving. He has a very zen approach to photography.

No matter how slow the film, Spirit always stands still long enough for the photographer It has chosen. -Minor White

Let the subject generate its own photographs. Become a camera. -Minor White


Barn and Clouds, 1955

The Masters of Photography website has more photographs.

Day of rest and renewal

Today has been a day of relaxation and rejuvination for me. I took the day off from work, I wrote emails to friends, I went for a loooonnnnngggg walk to shops and to the library. I treated myself to a nice Japanese lunch of miso soup, green salad and veggie California roll. I didn't take my ipod on my walk and that was very good. Without music to distract me I just thought about things, had conversations in my head, let my mind wander around any ol' place it liked. Very uplifting. I spent some time in the library, browsing books. I took out the first season of Babylon 5 (brain junk food!!). I also browsed the new books and came across Franz Wright's latest volume of poetry, Walking to Martha's Vineyard. I opened it to the first page, read this:

YEAR ONE I was still standing on a northern corner Moonlit winter clouds the color of the desperation of wolves. Proof of Your existence? There is nothing but.

After I read it, I had to look away, my eyes filled with emotion, with the 'rightness' of the poem, the truth. All in 28 words.

---

Walking to Martha's Vineyard
Winner of the 2004 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry.

Long trip

I am tired tonight. We just drove to Boston and back (~10 hours total) to take my stepson to his Outward Bound trip on Thompson Island. The course is called Passages and it is for 12-13 year old boys, like a Rite of Passage to celebrate the transition from boyhood to manhood. I was very impressed with all the instructors. I think he and his fellow adventurers will have a wonderful, challenging experience. Outward Bound does courses for women only too. The desert backpacking one sounds interesting. Today I have been thinking about exploring and challenging my body and my perception of its limitations. I looked at the other parents and many were fit and sporty, as you might expect from people who value this kind of experience for their children. I, however, am not. I am not terrible but I am not where I want to be either. This is something I need to think more about, it is just a seed right now but I hope to nuture it and have it sprout some new growth in myself.

Burning thoughts

Heard this commentary about Shambhala Mountain Center's open air crematorium on NPR on the way home. His description of watching the body burn made me wonder what I would feel watching it. I have long been afraid of the dead, of dead bodies, of hard evidence of pain and death.

Media bias

My sister sent me this article from the NYTimes about media bias.



Some selected quotes/links to whet your appetite:



As the movie "Outfoxed" makes clear, Fox News is for all practical purposes a G.O.P. propaganda agency.



In response to some of the G.O.P. scripting which portrayed the Democratic Convention as showing a 'different' side of the party (e.g. John Leo's column) Paul Krugman writes:



Luckily, in this age of the Internet it's possible to bypass the filter. At C-Span.org, you can find transcripts and videos of all the speeches. I'd urge everyone to watch Mr. Kerry and others for yourself, and make your own judgment.



Media watch sites:



The Campaign Desk

Media Matters

The Daily Howler



Other sites I have come across:



Air America Radio

Mother Jones (just started my subscription, love the July/August issue)



I'll end with a scary/funny poster published in Mother Jones from Micah Wright's Propaganda Remix Project.

Lists, perfection, and completion

Siona's (from Nomen est Numen) comment prompted me to finish the Film List (well, it will never be finished but I think it is relatively up to date) and post it. My idea is to keep a running list of the films I see with appropriate links to my posts (since Blogger still doesn't provide acceptable searching capabilities) and to other sites I like that are related to the film. I will put this on the sidebar as a work in progress. If I have the time and inspiration, I will write reviews or impressions of more of the films. Being a perfectionist I strive for completion, or maybe I am a completionist striving for perfection?

Films seen

--------2005--------
The Sheltering Sky
March of Penguins (2005) in theater
Amazons 2005 Stony Brook Film Festival
Jesus, Mary and Joey Stony Brook Film Festival
The Life of Mammals, 2002
Rashomon, 1950
L'Eclisse, 1962
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, 2004
The Life of Birds, 1998
Border, 1997
Throne of Blood, 1957

Garden State

--------2004--------

Love Liza **** [related post]
Spiderman 2 (2004) in theater **
I, Robot (2004) in theater **
Razor's Edge (1994) ***** [related post]
Prisoners of the Mountain (1996) ****
LA Confidential (1997)****
Facing Windows (2003) in theater***** [related post]
About Schmidt (2002) **** [related post]
City of Angels (1998)*** [related post]
In This World (2002) ****
Solaris (2002) ****
Moster's Ball (2001) *****
Il Posto (1961) ****
Claire's Knee (1970) ***
Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004) ***** [related post]
Heat (1995) ****
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004) in theater *****
Smoke (1995) *****
Lumumba (2000) ***** [related post]
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) **** [related post]
Wings of Desire (1987) ***** [related post]
The Crying Game (1992) **** [related post]
The Funeral (1984) *** [related post]
Superman: The Movie (1978) ****
Kikujiro (1999) *****
American Splendor (2003) ****
Anger Management (2003) *****
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) in theater***** [Cup of Chicha review]

A little chamber music

Last night we went to a concert that was part of the 2004 Bridgehampton Chamber Music Festival entitled Telemann and the Trout. The first piece that was played was an aria from the "Goldberg Variations". Then two pieces by Telemann, Quartet in D minor and Concerto for F major. The final piece was Schubert's "Trout" Quintet. All the musicians were excellent. We didn't have good seats, at least for seeing but the sound was beautiful. The concert is in a old Presbyterian Church quite appropriate for chamber music, small and intimate. Sitting there listening to the harpsichord in the Bach piece, I almost felt a powdered wig on my head. The real reason we were there, though, was for the pianist in the last piece. Joyce Yang is the daughter of a colleague of mine and an exceptional 17 year old young woman. The way she plays... I am not a gifted enough writer to explain. Anyone who is reading this and has a chance to see and hear her, should not miss the opportunity. We have traveled to NYC and to Albany to see her. We are never disappointed.

Estranged faces missing many-splendored things

I went to zen today. As usual it was hard to go, I used every excuse in my mind, but I still went. While meditating it was hard to concentrate. My inner critic was going on and on about how I will never get anywhere just meditating once a week. I started to make plans about meditating every evening, every morning, but then I stopped. How many times will I do the same thing? How many times will I make grandiose, impossible plans for the seeming purpose of disappointing myself? After the meditation, my teacher lead a discourse and as usual, gave me much to think about. He often quotes poetry during our discussion. Today he quoted Francis Thompson, especially the poem "The Kingdon of God" below.


The Kingdom of God

O WORLD invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,
O world unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!

Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air--
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumor of thee there?

Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!--
The drift of pinions, would we hearken,
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.

The angels keep their ancient places--
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis your estrangèd faces,
That miss the many-splendored thing.

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)
Cry--and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter,
Cry--clinging to Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water,
Not of Genesareth, but Thames!

by Francis Thompson

Recovering intuition

Vasalisa Approaching the Hut of Baba Yaga from MYTHING LINKS Baba Yaga page

I am still reading Chapter 3: Nosing out the facts: The Retrieval of Intuition as Initiation in Women Who Run With the Wolves. My plan was to finish the chapter and then write a summary but I think it is too complex for just one post and I am going to follow my intuition on this.

In this chapter Dr. Estes discusses the Russian folktale "Vasalisa". In this tale, the heroine, Vasalisa goes through several trials or tests and is helped by a small doll that her dying mother gave her. Vasalisa's wise doll symbolizes her intuition.

...the doll represents the inner spirit of us as women; the voice of inner reason, inner knowing , and inner consciousness. The doll is like the little bird in fairy tales who comes and whispers in the heroine's ear, the one who reveals the hidden enemy and what to do about it all. This is the wisdom of the homunculus, the small being within. It is our helper which is not seeable, but which is always accessible.

When I first started on my journey of self discovery I became very interested in intuition. I read a few books on developing it. I felt cut off from any inner knowing and I didn't trust my hunches or gut feelings.

We, like Vasalisa, strengthen our bond with our intuitive nature by listening inwardly at every turn in the road. "Should I go this way, or this way? Should I stay or go? Should I resist or be flexible? Should I run away or toward? Is this person, event, venture true or false?"

I started to do this a few years ago. Once in a while, I would act on a hunch, an impulse. I did it when nothing too unpleasant could happen anyway. I don't know how successful these initial, feeble attempts were. I remember having the feeling I should give a CD to my landlady, that she would like it. I didn't let doubts stop me. (She'll think I am crazy, she won't like it, this is stupid) I just bought it (Enya's Memory of Trees) and gave it to her. I don't know if she thought I was strange or if she even liked it. Nothing really wonderful happened as a result of this small act of following what I thought was my intuition. But I still remember doing it, years later. I still feel glad that I did it even if I don't know, and may never know if it was the right thing to do. I guess this is one time when I can live with the ambiguity of it. I have tried to repeat this 'hunch-following' tradition. I have to admit there is something freeing and joyful in doing something and not analyzing it over and over again, just getting an idea and doing it.

A woman's grasp of her intuitive wisdom may be weak as a result, but with exercise it will come back and become fully manifested.

I wouldn't say that my intuition is fully manifested, but I feel more comfortable about trusting it. And that is a big step for me.

Later in the chapter (I am skipping lot's of good parts about woman's fear of her own power and about the 'myriad faces of the subterrene feminine.') is the discussion of the 'fiery skull' as another symbol of intuition.

Each woman who retrieves her intuition and Yaga-like powers reaches a point where she is tempted to throw them away, for what is the use of seeing and knowing all these things? This skull-light is not forgiving. In this light, the old are elderly; the beautiful, lush; the silly, foolish; the drunk are drunken; the unfaithful are infidels; things which are incredible are noted as miracles.....
Yet, when one sees thusly and senses thusly, then one has to work to do something about what one sees. To possess good intuition, goodly power, causes work....
It is true, I will not lie to you; it is easier to throw away the light and go to sleep. It is true, it is hard to hold the skull-light out before us sometimes. For with it, we clearly see all sides of ourselves and others...

I am not sure I have a fiery skull yet. I am probably still in the small doll in my pocket stage and so I haven't really felt this desire to put out the light. But I can understand it and in understanding it, I hope I can be ready for it.

And further, Dr. Estes discusses how intuition gives a great power of discrimination which we can use in choosing friends, lovers and teachers who are supportive of our wild growth. She describes life as a smorgasbord, where we be satisfied to choose what is near us on the table, or we can use our intuition to determine what we want, independently from what is available.

The way to maintain one's connection to the wild is to ask yourself what it is you want.
... There is around us a constant beckoning world, one which insinuates itself into our lives, arousing and creating appetite where there was little or none before.
...To chose just because something mouth-watering stand before you will never satisfy the hunger of the soul-Self. And that is what intuition is for; it is a direct messenger of the soul.

I think this is especially important in this age because everywhere we are being bombarded with messages, advertisements, slogans telling us what we should want. After hearing these all day, it is so difficult to sort their external screaming from the internal soul whisper. But I have tried to do it their (society's) way and I wasn't happy. It is a good question, "What do I want?" I don't have an answer yet, at least not one that I really feel deeply satisfied with. I will keep asking it, keep following the murmurs of my emerging intuition, my blossoming power.

Love Liza

Last night we saw this film. It is the story of the aftermath of a woman's (Liza's) suicide. Yea, pretty strong topic for a Friday night flick. If I try to fit this into my theme of films prodding me to live life to its fullest, I would say that this film shows what suicide means to those left behind and therefore shows by reflection the importance of living. Liza's husband, Wilson (Philip Seymour Hoffman), is surprised and devastated by her suicide which causes him to tumble into addiction, specifically sniffing gasoline. It is difficult to watch the level of self hate arising from guilt that forces him to do this. Liza left him a letter, a suicide note, and he is terrified to open it, terrified that it will tell him that it was all his fault, but he believes that is what it says anyway and acts accordingly. Liza's mother is played by Kathy Bates and we see a little bit of her grief also. Both actors are excellent. As a person who has thought about suicide from time to time, I have to say this gives me new perspective on what it would do to my family and loved ones. In depression, it is easy to tell yourself that no one cares about you but I think, deep down, I knew this wasn't true and so I didn't move much further than thought. But I definitely didn't think seriously about the days and weeks and months that my loved ones would suffer. I am far from the depressed person I once was.... still I will keep the lesson of this film close to me.

Recognizing self worth

Last Friday Angel posted:

Over the past few weeks I've been really trying to consciously be kinder and gentler to myself; to recognize all the good that I've done and all the good that I've received.

I was reading it and mulling it over in my mind. I was doing that too, for a while, but somehow I just stopped and slipped into my usual hyper critical inner voice. I pick up the book I am reading, Women Who Run With the Wolves and read this:

... women who are raised in families that are not accepting of their gifts often set off on tremenodously big quests--over and over, and they do not know why. They feel they must have three Ph.D.s or that they have to hang upside down from Mount Everest, or that they must execute all manner of dangerous, time-consuming and money-eating endeavors to try to prove to their families that they have worth. "Now will you accept me? No? Okay (sigh), watch this."... However, we can see that for the deep work to continue, trying to prove one's worth to the chorus of jealous hags [internal critics] is pointless, and as we shall see, in fact impedes the initiation.

Maybe this is part of my inner drive to achieve but at what price? I am unhappy with myself most of the time. From other sources I have read that one can stop trying to prove their worth and just accept that they are worthy, just decide it. I guess it doesn't work to just decide it once, but one must keep on deciding it each day.

Catching it

My thoughts have been scattered and nearly never ending. It isn't pleasant. Brings to mind the Ten Steps of Ox Herding (and mind training).

With his horns fiercely projected in the air the beast snorts,
Madly running over the mountain paths, farther and farther he goes astray!
A dark cloud is spread across the entrance of the valley,
And who knows how much of the fine fresh herb is trampled under his wild hoofs!

This has been me, exactly, for the last three days. I have been off balance, unhappy, and anxious. Sometimes a beast snorting, others more quiet but never really in control, not even during my meditation. I especially have lost control of my Inner Predator. He has been trampling all over my newly sprouted self esteem and improved body image. Maybe it is this tender young growth that drew him out of hiding. Maybe it was also that I have some additional sources of stress and I wasn't prepared. One too many balls in the air and they all came tumbling down. That's how I feel, overwhelmed. Balls dropping everywhere and me helpless. I will get some rest. I am comforted by the wisdom of my teacher, "If you feel discomfort, just watch and wait, it will change into something else."