et de ce fait, le bon mot du jour.

"...falling is the pretext for the most continuous acension."

- Ranier Maria Rilke"

i feel you, Lover of my soul. every tear is yours.

[drop in the ocean - painting by michael green]

GOD

I feel that God is traveling
so much in me, with the dusk and the sea.
With him we go along together. It is getting dark.
With him we get dark. All orphans...

But I feel God. And it even seems
that he sets aside some good color for me.
He is kind and sad, like those who care for the sick;
he whispers with sweet contempt like a lover's;
his heart must give him great pain.

Oh, my God, I've only just come to you,
today I love so much in this twilight; today
that in the false balance of some breasts
I weigh and weep for a frail Creation.

And you, what do you weep for...you, in love
with such an immense whirling breast...
I consecrate you, God, because you love so much;
because you never smile; because your heart
must all the time give you great pain.

- César Vallejo -
[translated by Robert Bly]

ye tang che.

some days i just want something to last.
i want to look into the eyes of a lover, or the eyes of a friend,
and know.
they will always be there.
i want to stop time for a minute.
i want to not feel the slight vertigo of a perpetually spinning
earth beneath my feet.
i want to be still and quiet and infinite
inside the earthly shell of this dirt-and-spittle fashioned body.
and then i remember.

the beauty.
the compassion.
the birth of wisdom.
comes out of the uncertainty.
out of the brokenness.
out of abandoning hope.
and welcoming with an open heart
whatever
arises along the path.

it's still a love beyond all keeping, michelangelo, or everyone crashes down around here.

The Fall of Icarus

I looked up when Icarus came down –
but who would notice?
People are always crashing.
My neighbor's foot caught on the edge
of a furrow as he plowed
even as Icarus tumbled
headfirst down. He twisted his ankle
and tore up the ground with his hands.
While Icarus plunged down streaming,
my neighbor cursed the ants that confuse
the dirt, the feet that are blind
in their shoes and are always blundering.
The white wax ran down Icarus' arms in rivers;
he was a drenched man, a ruined,
a steaming man – I watched him fall
and my neighbor turn his ankle in the field.
That day Icarus was the toast of all the taverns.
I told everyone about the red runnels
on his shoulder where the wax plowed away
his skin. My old neighbor was there,
a cloth around his leg. We drank
a mug or two for Icarus who imagined
he could look God in the eye, another mug
for Icarus and then one for God Himself–
Here's to God's Eye which burned away
the wings of Icarus!
God's Eye! I felt wild thinking of it.
I went out to look at the sea, gilded
with the last of the light that took down
Icarus, bright as the annoyance in God's Eye
when he blazed away those wings.
I lost my head for a minute, dazzled
by light and drinks to daring and scraped
my knees when I took that tumble,
standing on tiptoe on the edge of the hill,
imagining the cut valleys, the lean spoon
of the isthmus and the shredded breezes
in the sky – how it must have looked to Icarus
as he spun down and God flicked me
off my hillock just for imagining.
Everyone crashes down around here.

-Dashka Slater-

First published in The Gamut #30, Summer 1990
Anthologized in Orpheus & Company, edited by Deborah DeNicola

she left me alone, by myself, and there my self was waiting.

Under the Elm


Under the elm for a long time
I've been waiting for you, O my soul.
Weeks follow each other like books
Perused, my thoughts elsewhere,
Full of music that's distracted too
Full of a deep buzzing where words images
Perceptions dwell in the jumble of memory
Of which our mind is composed.
And nothing comes to assert your coming
No other sign than smoke.
Is it you that we should have welcomed
When tenderness filled our hearts?
You that we should have discovered
On the shores of pity or of love?
I have not been taught to notice your presence
Even when reveille raises the limbs
Of a future happiness; even when
Tired of a long day I seek
Silence in the immense dark where I jettison
What differentiates the sun from death.
Hours accumulated, absurd riches,
I am ready to give up the trees and the cities
But I still hope to receive you, my soul,
Laden with my own eternity.
You who are me, who resembles nobody,
You that I must give back some day to who knows who.


-Pierre Martory-

(text of the poem in the original French)

how then?

as the current u.s. administration trumps the merits of 'the surge',

and presidential candidates debate exit strategy versus 'staying the course'

i think of them.
i think of their war-dead.
i think of our war-dead.
how then, do we fix this?
how then, do walk away from this?

after 5 years?

how could we ever? really?

and i know we all know,
even after our troops 'come home'

we will never be the same.
they will never be the same.
and i remember,

how imperative it is

especially now
to love

love
love like our lives, and their lives, and the future of our human race
depends on it.

loving, living, forgiving, acts of reconciliation, growing, stretching the limits of our understanding and acceptance, and embracing the 'other', looking beyond the knee-jerk reaction of fear for the unknown, the neighbor who seems different than what we know, because they are black, they are white, they are dark, they are light, they are devout, they are not, they are muslim or jewish or not citizens, or gay, or any of the other polarizing labels we tend to employ these days to keep building walls...all of this must change, if things are to change

if we are ever to truly win the war this generation, and
the whole of this world [whether engaged in conflict now, or not] is in

and that war we must win is a fight for what is fundamentally a universal, human right

the right to love
the right to hope
the right to a future

A four year old Iraq child cries as older boys stage a mock execution in Baghdad, Iraq, Monday, July 2, 2007. Children's games are under a heavy influence of ongoing violence in the country, one of the more popular ones being a clash between militias and police. (AP Photo/Hadi Mizban)

Young Iraqi girl stands next to a bullet hole in the area where clashes erupted between the US military and the Mahdi Army militia, in the Shiite shrine city of Karbala, 27 July. Nine people were killed and several more were wounded during the clashes, security and hospital officials said.(AFP/Mohammed Sawaf)

Bodies of victims of violence are seen on the floor of a hospital morgue in Kirkuk, about 250 km (150 miles) north of Baghdad, April 1, 2007. Violence in Iraq killed 1,861 civilians in March, a 13 percent increase from the previous month and despite a major security crackdown in Baghdad, Iraqi government tallies showed on Sunday.REUTERS/Slahaldeen Rasheed (IRAQ)

THOSE WHOM WE DO NOT KNOW

"To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know...is something still greater and more beautiful..."

-Pablo Neruda

1.

BECAUSE OUR country has entered

into war, we can have

no pleasant pauses anymore —

instead, the nervous turning

one side to another,

each corner crowded by the far

but utterly particular

voices of the dead,

trees, fish, children,

calling, calling,

wearing the colorful plastic shoes

so beloved in the Middle East,

bleeding from the skull,

the sweet hollow along the neck.

I forget why. It's been changed.

For whatever it was

we will crush the vendor

who stacked sesame rings

on a tray

inside the steady gaze

of stones.

He will lose his balance

after years of perfect balance.

Catch him! Inside every sleep

he keeps falling.

2.

I support all people on earth

who have bodies like and unlike my body,

skins and moles and old scars,

secret and public hair,

crooked toes. I support

those who have done nothing large,

sifter of lentils, sifter of wisdoms,

speak. If we have killed no one

in the name of anything bad or good,

may light feed our leafiest veins.

I support clothes in the wash-kettle,

a woman stirring and stirring

with stick, paddle, soaking out grime,

simple clothes the size of bodies

pinned to the sky.

3.

What we learned left us.

None of it held.

Now the words ignite.

Slogans knot around necks

till faces bulge.

Windows of sand, doorways,

sense of shifting

each time you blink —

that dune? Used to be

a house. And the desert

soaking up echoes —

those whom we did not know

think they know us now.

- naomi shihab nye -
from "19 varieties of gazelle"

and why, it is, i'm committed to taking my time fixing my vision.

[and so, it is, i awaken each night to haunt the midnight hours, and keeping me company of late, these words from my dear, good friend...i read his letters with a different vision now than i read them then. and realize, our greatest work of art is surrendering to the process of being undone to be made whole, and devoting ourselves to the gentle work of fashioning an honest, true, and real life].

------------------

Works of art are of an infinite loneliness and with nothing so little to be reached as with criticism.
Only love can grasp and hold and be just toward them.
Consider yourself and your feeling right every time with regard to every
such argumentation, discussion, introduction;
if you are wrong after all,
the natural growth of your inner life will lead you slowly
and with time to other insights.
Leave to your opinions their own quiet undisturbed development,
which, like all progress, must come from deep within
and cannot be pressed or hurried by anything.
Everything is gestation and then bringing forth.
To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself,
in the dark,
in the inexpressible, the unconscious,
beyond the reach of one's own intelligence,
and await with deep humility and patience
the birth-hour of a new clarity;
in understanding as in creation.


There is here no measuring with time,
no year matters, and ten years are nothing.
Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting,
but ripening like the tree
which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring
without the fear that after them may come no summer.
It does come.
But it comes only to the patient,
who are there as though eternity lay before them,
so unconcernedly still and wide.
I learn it daily, learn it with pain to which I am grateful;
patience is everything!

- from "letters to a young poet"

rainer maria rilke -

------------------

[i am learning, rainer, so i am learning]

et je vais donc l'amour avec un cœur libre.

Whoever makes love grow boundless, and sets his mind for seeing the end of birth,
his fetters are worn thin.
If he loves even a single being, Good will follow.
But the Noble One with compassionate heart for all mankind,
generates abounding good.


- the Buddha -

refrigerator round-up - or holy cow, whole grains!

okay, like most of my recipes, this one is another "stacha-in-my-head"...as jane's mum used to say, which is a fancy way of saying, i made it all up from scratch. fiber never tasted so good.

ingredients:

½- ¾ cup whole wheat berries
½- ¾ cup wild rice
1-2 carrots, cut into cubes
1-2 celery ribs, cut into cubes
1 orange pepper, cut into cubes
1 yellow pepper, cut into cubes
1 small bunch cilantro, chopped
½- ¾ cup dried cherries
splash of walnut oil
juice of 1 lemon

preparation:

in two separate pots boil the wheat berries and wild rice with just enough water to cover each by approximately 1-2 inches. When the water is boiling, season each with just a pinch of salt. Boil both for approximately 40 minutes to 1 hour until all the liquid has cooked out. [if the grain is getting too soft, and there is still too much liquid…pour out the excess and boil down] for the fluffiest grains, evaporate the water and turn off the heat. Cover each pot with a towel between the pot and the lid, and let the grain steam until fluffy and tender in its own heat.

When the grains are sufficiently drained, add to a large mixing bowl and combine all of the following ingredients.

Finish with the splash of walnut oil [simply, no other oil will do…trust me, the buttery-ness of this delectable liquid is worth every penny]. Slice 1 whole lemon in half and squeeze over the salad.

Prepare to eat more than you thought you would.

neuf semaines de découverte: finis ou vingt-trois.

and now, i've reached our 23rd thing, and so our journey draws nigh the end. with joy, i've ventured through each new week, and with joy i'd gladly do it again.

i'd have to say among the things we've explored as a group, i've firstly enjoyed the opportunity to document my progress as a blog...and thus have access to a more creative work process. beyond that, our exercises gave me the opportunity to explore rss feeds, podcasts, and other things i'd often seen, but never taken the time to pore through any explanation long enough to utilize the technology for myself.

i thoroughly enjoy my bloglines account...talk about a clean, easy way of keeping abreast of so, so much information...staying on top of the topics and blogs that interest me is now second nature.

so too is my de.licio.us account. [gentle reader, you should know, i'm the kind of nerdy soul who has a whole file cabinet devoted to folders of esoteric information like edible wild plants, and oliver sacks'-like case histories of neurological anomalies] this is quickly becoming an indispensable tool in my geeky learning-lovin' bag of tech tricks.

i sure could have used an online bookmarking site that time i lost my favorite calvin pelorian project link about the namennayo cats:

i imagine certain things like zoho writer will come in handy as i prepare to go back to school, but beyond any speculation, i know already, that having been given the structured imperative to explore, and the chance to play with a number of emerging technologies has deconstructed some the overwhelming mystery that had in the past caused me pause in learning new ways of doing things.

and so, to come full circle...and back to my first blog posting, and that 7 1/2 thing: it is play that has been my greatest teacher. in that light, i really liked this format. i'm so pleased we all were given the opportunity to work our way through and discover so much on our own.

on the other hand, if there could be any improvement, i know in my building alone, there were quite a few who have fallen behind because exploring in a virtual medium is not second nature to them...i'm proud of a good many around here, who at times, have asked me for help...and still ventured on their own to keep up. still...i think, if there is going to be a system-wide project...it might help to have the project's coordinators onsite at each location at least once to answer any questions along the way. i think each location's facilitators might have been a little overwhelmed with the number of staff who needed some assistance these last few weeks. maybe one sit-down session at each branch where everyone could ask their questions in a group and a little more time to work through [the final projects especially] could have been helpful.

lastly, if offered the chance to participate in another exploration project like this one, i'd be thrilled to! in all, it has been a great deal of fun for me...and i feel i've been given the chance to employ skills that will broaden my utility at work and continue to prove worthwile as the tide of technology shifts more toward a more virtual web 2.0 reality.

and so, the end, never sounded so good.
here's the song "23" - by blonde redhead

la neuvième semaine - 22e chose. [overdrive at pbclibrary: downloadable audiobooks]

well, i finally got around to perusing our own system's available e-books online. and noodled around a bit with the titles available through overdrive, and i'm glad i did...as i hadn't really explored much of what was available.

i wasn't able to download or listen to any titles on my pc, but it was curious to see that certain titles whose physical print copies were once in high demand are available online.

one thing that wasn't too clear to me [as a novice browser] on our system was, is there a waiting list for e-books? are there an indefinite number of copies for the audiobooks available? or do you have to wait, just like for hardcopies in the branches, for the digital copy to be returned by another patron?? [i noticed there were e-holds]...did i miss an online explanation for these issues?

lastly, i thought it was interesting [and this would pique my interest, because A} i'm geeky, and B} i work with a lot of activities directors at various nursing homes who are always looking for materials like this] that a lot of the old radio shows are available for download through overdrive's services.

so, if like me, family hour growing up meant gathering around for the latest episode of "The Shadow"...check out Lux's collection of "Fibber McGee and Molly"...or "The Best of Jack Benny" and spend an hour or so getting lost revisiting a simpler time.

la neuvième semaine - 21e chose. [podcasts]

still navigating my way around podcasts, i really tried to follow our assignment and listen to library journal's 'open libraries episode 4' but the website was extremely difficult to navigate...episode 4 began stating "this is the 5th episode of the open libraries podcast"...and then what followed was an introduction of all the guest panelists, and already the sound quality was so murky it was excruciating.

so...i happily previewed several NPR selections i had been interested in...subscribed to a few including, all songs considered ...and took a rambling trip down memory lane when i discovered:

thistlepod

oh, yess! the official podcast of fiona ritchie and the thistle and shamrock. my, how technology would have re-written my nerdy adolescence of music geekery when i would get up at 5:30 in the morning before middle school just to tape the celtic hour on public radio, and weep regularly while listening to the silky brogue of fiona introduce my folking heart to the likes of Scotsman robin williamson weave his spoken-word reminiscence of childhood..."with the minister in one ear, and the drunkard in the other"...in sum? podcasts: just another reason, my irish eyes are smilin'.

Florida: Cyclists flocking to trains.

From the South Florida Sun-Sentinel (Broward County), 06.24.08:

More people are bringing bicycles along on their mass transit commutes. Brad Whidden figures he saves $65 a month on gas by riding his bike and taking the train to work in Fort Lauderdale. The 44-year-old emergency medical technician...says the exercise and environmental benefits also are good, even if leaving his car at home adds an hour and a half to his commute."

I don't have to sit in traffic; my car doesn't have to sit in the sun," said Whidden, who started riding his bike about 30 miles a week to work a few months ago.

Whidden is part of a growing number of cyclists that Tri-Rail and bus officials in Broward and Palm Beach counties have noticed coming aboard recently. Fuel costs are a big reason, Tri-Rail spokeswoman Bonnie Arnold said. "Where you used to see two to three bikes in a [rail] car, now you see six to seven," Arnold said.

Ralph Cunningham, 55, started riding his bike to work in Boca Raton years ago to stay healthy. On weekdays, Cunningham bikes eight miles and rides Tri-Rail to the church where he works in maintenance and food service.

Cunningham said the number of bike commuters on Tri-Rail jumped around the time gas prices hit $3 a gallon. "Sometimes it's hard to get on here now," he said. (Read more.)

from Paul Dorn's Bike Commute Tips Blog

want to bike in florida? want a safer commute?

visit: Florida Bicycle Association

visit: League of American Bicyclists Advocacy Center

visit: The IMBA Congressional Bike Caucus [there are 2 representatives from florida] ask your congressman to support 'Bill # H.R.5951' in order to implement a safe and complete streets program.

sleep cycle.

men making tatami mats. japan 1860.

voluntary asceticism + a wistful desire to be camping + preparation [by faith] for my someday coming tatami bed = why i've been sleeping on the floor so much lately.