In the 7th grade, Rosie played Titania for the annual class play.
I talked her dad into coming see her as Titania. I had asked him a gagillion times to come see her, indicating my willingness to bypass her court-appointed attorney/guardian-ad-litem. The guardian-ad-litem was supposed to approve all visits and the guardian said they had to have some therapy together before she'd let her dad visit her. The guardian-ad-litem forbid Rosie's father from being alone with her but I knew that Rosie needed her dad. I regularly offered to arrange visits. I also used to write to her other relatives in his family and offer to pay to fly her to visit them. No one ever acknowledged my offers.I was surprised when her father showed up for Titania. Surprised, grateful and pleased. She needed her dad.
She played Titania with a British accent. No one told her to. One of the teachers asked her why she chose to go with a British accent. She shrugged and said 'it just felt right'. It was charming.
With no school budget for costumes, it was up to parents to rig the actors. We shopped a lot for Titania's costume. We chose a soft pink and even softer, faint yellow pale paisley print, a dress with very plain lines. Then we attached a couple yards of shimmering gauzy fabric whose color was 'irridescent'. It was sorta white but it shimmered and picked up all colors because of the metallic shimmer. Although the dress was plain, whenever Titania moved, an ethereal cape of that shimmering irridescence followed her. Probably not the most ingenius costume ever invented but for a low-budget 7th grade play, I was proud of it. And she was gorgeous. She's always gorgeous.
Another parent in the class had taken charge of rehearsing with all the girls who were generic fairies. This mom was a take-charge bossy gal. We rented the small theater in the unused public school next door to our school for the play but this mother traipsed over there for her fairy rehearsals and we got charged $400 in extra rent for the rehearsal time, which had not been part of our rental agreement. She had just assumed she could use the space lah di dah. As soon as she saw Rosie's shimmery fairy cape, she went out and bought the same fabric for all the girls. She was jealous that Rosie was cast as Titania and her daughter only got to be Hermia. Hermia wasn't a fairy so no shimmer for her!! but that mom personally spent her own money to give all the other girls shimmery capes because she was jealous of Rosie's glow. Only she made tiny capes, because the fabric was expensive. Our fairy cape was a yard and half long and had cost about $15, in 1995. Rosie was the fairy queen and my daughter. It made sense to splurge on her fairy queen cape. The other girls got short capes that were barely noticeable. Queen Titania was supposed to be a fairy queen so of course she should have had the most regal, most shimmering cape.
The best way to know Shakespeare's plays it to see the same plays performed again and again by children in good schools like Waldorf. Deep community grows in a Waldorf school so I loved all the children in all the classes, all the plays. Listening to a child I love recite lines from The Twelfth Night revealed the meaning behind the words more than any other experience I have had watching Shakepeare plays, and I have watched many professional productions.
Of course, listening to my daughter memorize her major roles, for she always had a lead in any class play, even in college, helped me understand Shakespeare. She tended to memorize the entire play, as, perhaps, actors often do. It makes sense. If you spend months preparing to perform a play, you get to know that piece of art in an embodied way. The actors, even child actors, love their colleagues on stage and their friends in class. Such actors listen deeply. And loving adults in orbit around the children listen and love deeply too.
I wonder if Rosie still remembers all the lovely things she memorized in her acting career.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
J. M. W. Turner
The
DeYoung has moved a lot of European art to the Legion of Honor. I
dislike the building that is the Legion of Honor, altho it is a
spectacular setting. When I was at the DeYoung yesterday with a friend, I
asked where the Turners are now located. I was told they are all at the
Legion of Honor, with 'all' the European art. So we looked at a few
galleries. I try to only spent an hour in any art museum, unless I am
traveling and unable to see the museum regularly. I saw several European
artists, as well as an interesting contemporary (and monumental) piece
by a Nigerian. I went back to the staffer who told me all the European
art was at the Legion to inform him of the European artists hanging at
the DeYoung. Then I said "I think you moved the more famous European
painters to the Legion to generate more traffic at the Legion of Honor. I hate the Legion. I
hate its formality, its tiny galleries and, for the most part, it's
collection does not interest me."
I am primarily interested in 20th Century art and later, although Turner predates the 20th Century.
I am primarily interested in 20th Century art and later, although Turner predates the 20th Century.
After that exchange about Turner, for my main motivation in going to the Legion of HOnor yesterday was to see the Turners. But there weren't any Turners at the Legion of Honor.
Someone at the museum told me the DeYoung is doing a major Turner retrospective in 2015, with art that never leaves the Tate. I'll be there.
Someone at the museum told me the DeYoung is doing a major Turner retrospective in 2015, with art that never leaves the Tate. I'll be there.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Love's Assault
by Antoine Moore, a new friend. Obviously he owns the copyright to his poem.LOVE’S ASSAULT
(Dedicated to V.A.M.)
Nothing more distressing than to feel
the world’s suddenly gone nuts
But only I
keep coloring inside the lines of crazy
Nothing more daunting than to feel
like I am fighting alone
One person
versus an army of never ending
It’s nearly more than I can handle
Devastation cracks open my wounds
scrambles my inner compass
I was shell-shocked
lost and
tittering on the edge
Once sat humpty dumpty
but had a great fall
but none of the king’s horses
and none of the king’s men
could prevent my sunny side up
from oozing out of me
Tumbled like Alice
down the rabbit hole
into ruins and broken pieces
Landed face down in a desolate demolition zone
My mind is crumbled walls
my esteem is collapsed foundation
my emotions are jackhammered beyond repair
I have knocked down any plans
of further building up my future
since sinkholes are unstable ground for new construction
How to make sense out of the senseless?
Like that
it was your passing
but my death
Your cremation
but my burial
Like that
my everything has changed
yet the world moves on
as if nothing has changed at all
It feels so surreal
Out of nowhere
I was attacked the day you died
in the thick of night
when I was left alone and unprotected
He thrust himself on me
without my consent
and beat me sad and blue
He forcibly pinned down my strength
tore a whole in my defenses
rendered me a deformed shadow of my former self
He then drowned my ache in a bucket of ice
so I could no longer feel my soul
I cried out for you
my comfort, my solace
but mercy was not to be found
Holding myself
I sat rocking chair
and stared blankly up at the sky
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder….
What you are to me
is a mind-altering dose of morphine
Nothing settled my nerves quite the way you did
As long as I had my drip, I could tolerate any pain
but my tolerance sack has dwindled to empty
If only you were here to
help me catch
this bandit of spirits
this predator of dreams
this executioner who left me with only half a heart
Help me solve the riddle
of this unconscionable attack
Support me to survive
this vicious violation
Your staggering absence
keeps me forever thinking about
our love which
surprisingly
presents the biggest clue
to the greatest crime
I have ever known
What does love have to do with it…?
EVERYTHING
coming to consciousness: Carl Jung
There is no coming to consciousness without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own soul. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.
-- Carl G. Jung
Vision in Indigo by Darren Bresale
in Indigo Visions; my Mind drips Magenta
resisting three sixes since the Placenta.
no Sun Shining Haloes, just Poetry Flows,
didactic WordPlay born outta my Soul:
a plantation creation, my bloodline is deep.
genetically tainted but gifted to speak.
Praising The Most High, my first obligation,
my oath's for The Way, towards Purification.
cross-legged I've zoned into Deep Meditation,
spittin' at satan in correct combinations,
my destiny's written, in my estimation,
I was born to enlighten without compensation.
like poor righteous teachers, comparisons drawn,
from projects to prisons to mountains at dawn.
impregnanting minds with Proverbial Wisdom,
like Beautiful Nubia fighting for Freedom.
callin' on Martin & Malcolm & Marcus,
as greed turns Africa into a carcass.
She's bleeding profusely like who really cares,
as from wii to blackberrys you live unaware,
that African soil possesses the means
in creating these toys, now we see in h.d.
in this digital age where airwaves are controlled,
satellites are now watching you do what your told.
stop looking at me like I'm speaking in tongues
just a Poetry Shaman when I spit from my lungs.
speaking Love to Power with the beat of the drum
'cause the future is now & it's where I come from,
the 5th Realm of the Sun!
I see you really don't get that this new world is now,
meaning all who resist will be forced to bow down,
through subliminal vibes, turn off your t.v.
we're caught in a matrix we can't even see.
programmed by nonsense that aint even real,
revealed in a blueprint they've tried to conceal,
so the streets won't rebel against bilderburg plots'let them kill over colors refusing to stop.
being micro reflections of global dissensions,
where usury's causing the glocal recession,
deceiving the poor through bilderburg plans,
they planned the election of "Yes We Can"
placting the masses just to distract,
from the real politricks so stay mentaly strapped,
'cause pop mainstream finds us spiritually blind,
time to open Your Big Eye & read all the Signs.
discovering gems for mind transformation
like poetry flowing with an African cadence
in the 48th law towards a new prototype,
spiritually conscous, mathematically tight
like Indigo Visions where minds drips magenta
resisting three sixes since the placenta.
no sunshine haloes, just poetry flows,
didactic wordplay born out of the soul.
quit looking at me like I'm speaking in tongues
just a Poetry Shaman when I spit from my lungs
speaking Love to Power with the beat of the drum
'cause the future is now and it's where I come from,
the 5th Realm of the Sun!
-- Darren Bresale, wrote Vision in Indigo in 09/2009, revised 2/17/2011.
[1. The color of the sixth chakra is Indigo. The name of this chakra is
Anja which means "to perceive". It is associated with the "Third Eye" as well as the Element Light and relates to the psychic faculty of deep inner seeing or insight. It opens us up to the beauty of the inner world, the symbolic realm of archetypes and dreams, and the awakening of a guiding vision. This chakra is strongly supported by meditation.
2. Indigo is the color of perception, imagination, illusion and the ability to see patterns.
3. The Number 5 is the union of an odd and even number (2 & 3) [Or 4 & 1 TF]. It is called equiliblrium, because it divides the perfect number 10 into two equal parts. I was born 07.24.1963, under the Sun Sign, Leo. My birth date equals 5]
4. The 5th dimension is in the realm of Thought. . .
5. A Thought is Power
resisting three sixes since the Placenta.
no Sun Shining Haloes, just Poetry Flows,
didactic WordPlay born outta my Soul:
a plantation creation, my bloodline is deep.
genetically tainted but gifted to speak.
Praising The Most High, my first obligation,
my oath's for The Way, towards Purification.
cross-legged I've zoned into Deep Meditation,
spittin' at satan in correct combinations,
my destiny's written, in my estimation,
I was born to enlighten without compensation.
like poor righteous teachers, comparisons drawn,
from projects to prisons to mountains at dawn.
impregnanting minds with Proverbial Wisdom,
like Beautiful Nubia fighting for Freedom.
callin' on Martin & Malcolm & Marcus,
as greed turns Africa into a carcass.
She's bleeding profusely like who really cares,
as from wii to blackberrys you live unaware,
that African soil possesses the means
in creating these toys, now we see in h.d.
in this digital age where airwaves are controlled,
satellites are now watching you do what your told.
stop looking at me like I'm speaking in tongues
just a Poetry Shaman when I spit from my lungs.
speaking Love to Power with the beat of the drum
'cause the future is now & it's where I come from,
the 5th Realm of the Sun!
I see you really don't get that this new world is now,
meaning all who resist will be forced to bow down,
through subliminal vibes, turn off your t.v.
we're caught in a matrix we can't even see.
programmed by nonsense that aint even real,
revealed in a blueprint they've tried to conceal,
so the streets won't rebel against bilderburg plots'let them kill over colors refusing to stop.
being micro reflections of global dissensions,
where usury's causing the glocal recession,
deceiving the poor through bilderburg plans,
they planned the election of "Yes We Can"
placting the masses just to distract,
from the real politricks so stay mentaly strapped,
'cause pop mainstream finds us spiritually blind,
time to open Your Big Eye & read all the Signs.
discovering gems for mind transformation
like poetry flowing with an African cadence
in the 48th law towards a new prototype,
spiritually conscous, mathematically tight
like Indigo Visions where minds drips magenta
resisting three sixes since the placenta.
no sunshine haloes, just poetry flows,
didactic wordplay born out of the soul.
quit looking at me like I'm speaking in tongues
just a Poetry Shaman when I spit from my lungs
speaking Love to Power with the beat of the drum
'cause the future is now and it's where I come from,
the 5th Realm of the Sun!
-- Darren Bresale, wrote Vision in Indigo in 09/2009, revised 2/17/2011.
[1. The color of the sixth chakra is Indigo. The name of this chakra is
Anja which means "to perceive". It is associated with the "Third Eye" as well as the Element Light and relates to the psychic faculty of deep inner seeing or insight. It opens us up to the beauty of the inner world, the symbolic realm of archetypes and dreams, and the awakening of a guiding vision. This chakra is strongly supported by meditation.
2. Indigo is the color of perception, imagination, illusion and the ability to see patterns.
3. The Number 5 is the union of an odd and even number (2 & 3) [Or 4 & 1 TF]. It is called equiliblrium, because it divides the perfect number 10 into two equal parts. I was born 07.24.1963, under the Sun Sign, Leo. My birth date equals 5]
4. The 5th dimension is in the realm of Thought. . .
5. A Thought is Power
I am enough
I am full of love, empathy, compassion, joy and humor. I want to make the world a better place. I love well and practice kindness. I am not afraid of the truth. I am loyal, adventurous, supportive and surprising. I am a lot of fun to hang out with. I am a woman.
I am enough.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
we have lost our center
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
slogging along
Today I had strong resistance to doing my laps but I valiantly made myself put on my swimsuit, throw on some clothes and walk over to the pool. My membership card didn't work and the counter attendant said the computer indicated it had been cancelled as of Jan 19th. On 9th, I had paid for this semester. She let me in, telling me I could check with customer service which I did, and that problem was resolved.
The pool was closed!
So I removed my swimsuit and took a hot shower, turning the water off several times to conserve water as I soaped and shampooed up, put on hair rinse, etc. I feel so pious when I do that. The drought in N. Cali is still very serious. Ah, we squander our water supplies for fracking profits, we destroy the fertile soil that sustains our food system and we pollute our food with chemicals and genetic modifications. I have read that wheat is far less nutritious than it was 100 years ago.
I think water and food wars are going to come along, that competition for increasingly inadequate survival needs is going to get uglier than anyone, at least anyone I know, wants to contemplate.
Did anyone reading this read about the gagillion gallons of oil that spilled into a pristine river in Yellowstone National Park? An oil train derailment. More of that shit is coming at us and I don't think it's going to stop, at least not until things get a whole lot uglier and then, if fortune smiles upon this greedy, rapacious and, perhaps, undeserving race, maybe things will improve.
Not in my lifetime.
So why do I eat so carefully, exercise a lot. I would be just fine if I died in my sleep tonight. There really isn't anything I want to do. I go through the motions. My health discipline runs on autopilot. As a friend recently pointed out, I take care of myself so if I do get very old, I will have a more enjoyable quality of life. I'm not sure about that kind of thinking.
I refused my annual mammogram in 2013 and I let 2014 pass without getting one. The second miss was an oversight. Now I am thinking maybe I'll stop mammograms. Right now, some of my health care providers are focussed on my latest thyroid test, wanting to do another biopsy of my thyroid. I had a biopsy two years ago. I've had the nodules on my thyroid all my life. What if I did get thyroid cancer or breast cancer?
Sometimes I think about folks on the Paleo diet. I eat somewhat Paleo but they don't eat legumes and I love my lentils, cannellini, navy beans, etc. Anyway.
It seems illogical to me to attempt to recreate what contemporary humans guess was the human diet in the Paleolithic era yet submit to modern allopathic medicine. Paleolithic era humans did not have biopsies, or insulin when a pancreas stops making insulin.
Is insulin okay on a Paleo diet?
Once day, somewhere in the not too distant past,
The pool was closed!
So I removed my swimsuit and took a hot shower, turning the water off several times to conserve water as I soaped and shampooed up, put on hair rinse, etc. I feel so pious when I do that. The drought in N. Cali is still very serious. Ah, we squander our water supplies for fracking profits, we destroy the fertile soil that sustains our food system and we pollute our food with chemicals and genetic modifications. I have read that wheat is far less nutritious than it was 100 years ago.
I think water and food wars are going to come along, that competition for increasingly inadequate survival needs is going to get uglier than anyone, at least anyone I know, wants to contemplate.
Did anyone reading this read about the gagillion gallons of oil that spilled into a pristine river in Yellowstone National Park? An oil train derailment. More of that shit is coming at us and I don't think it's going to stop, at least not until things get a whole lot uglier and then, if fortune smiles upon this greedy, rapacious and, perhaps, undeserving race, maybe things will improve.
Not in my lifetime.
So why do I eat so carefully, exercise a lot. I would be just fine if I died in my sleep tonight. There really isn't anything I want to do. I go through the motions. My health discipline runs on autopilot. As a friend recently pointed out, I take care of myself so if I do get very old, I will have a more enjoyable quality of life. I'm not sure about that kind of thinking.
I refused my annual mammogram in 2013 and I let 2014 pass without getting one. The second miss was an oversight. Now I am thinking maybe I'll stop mammograms. Right now, some of my health care providers are focussed on my latest thyroid test, wanting to do another biopsy of my thyroid. I had a biopsy two years ago. I've had the nodules on my thyroid all my life. What if I did get thyroid cancer or breast cancer?
Sometimes I think about folks on the Paleo diet. I eat somewhat Paleo but they don't eat legumes and I love my lentils, cannellini, navy beans, etc. Anyway.
It seems illogical to me to attempt to recreate what contemporary humans guess was the human diet in the Paleolithic era yet submit to modern allopathic medicine. Paleolithic era humans did not have biopsies, or insulin when a pancreas stops making insulin.
Is insulin okay on a Paleo diet?
Once day, somewhere in the not too distant past,
friendship for a healthy heart
This link takes you to The Atlantic's story on friendship being integral to heart health.
friendship-for-a-healthy-heart/
friendship-for-a-healthy-heart/
Thursday, January 22, 2015
King Tut
King Tut is in the news today. Part of his gold-plated burial mask was broken during cleaning. The cleaning staff, apparently, hurriedly glued the broken bits back on with epoxy, further damaging this revered relic.
I saw the King Tut burial mask, his burial chamber and lots of relics from his tomb at the Chicago Museum of Natural History. My dad took me, my younger brothers and my baby sister to see King Tut during a college break. I think it was at Christmas time.
There were huge crowds. Back then, selling admissions to museum galleries at fixed times was not common. Plus, no one sold tickets to museum shows online in the early seventies, which was when I was in college. People showed up and waited in long lines that snaked down the many stairs of the museum. I think there were three or four stories of stairs. The line to see King Tut snaked down the stairs and around the museum, almost going all the way around.
My dad took one look at the unanticipated line and told the big kids to keep an eye on the little kids. Then my dad rushed up the stairs to the ticket window.
He soon came back down with tickets for immediate entrance to the King Tut exhibit. He had told the ticket seller that he had a son at the bottom of the stairs in a wheelchair. This was also before all museums had wheelchair ramps. Dad had told her he didn't want to carry his son up unless he could be sure he would get tickets. The ticker seller sold my dad tickets and told him to bring his wheelchair son right on up.
Us kids were embarassed. We imagined that everyone standing in line might somehow know how unjustly we had gotten our tickets. "But dad," someone said, "When we go up, the museum staff will see there is no kid in a wheelchair." Dad said "No way. The place is a zoo, the staff won't know when we hand over our tickets how we got them. And they are all overwhelmed by the crowds."
Dad was right. We all ran up those stairs, entered the museum and saw King Tut.
It was, I acknowledge, a fascinating show. I had read about King Tut's tomb several times. It was nice to actually see such amazing antiquities.
I carried the sting of mild shame for a little while but not too long. The exhibit was so interesting that I forgot about the dishonorable way my dad had gotten us to the top of that very, very long line.
I saw the King Tut burial mask, his burial chamber and lots of relics from his tomb at the Chicago Museum of Natural History. My dad took me, my younger brothers and my baby sister to see King Tut during a college break. I think it was at Christmas time.
There were huge crowds. Back then, selling admissions to museum galleries at fixed times was not common. Plus, no one sold tickets to museum shows online in the early seventies, which was when I was in college. People showed up and waited in long lines that snaked down the many stairs of the museum. I think there were three or four stories of stairs. The line to see King Tut snaked down the stairs and around the museum, almost going all the way around.
My dad took one look at the unanticipated line and told the big kids to keep an eye on the little kids. Then my dad rushed up the stairs to the ticket window.
He soon came back down with tickets for immediate entrance to the King Tut exhibit. He had told the ticket seller that he had a son at the bottom of the stairs in a wheelchair. This was also before all museums had wheelchair ramps. Dad had told her he didn't want to carry his son up unless he could be sure he would get tickets. The ticker seller sold my dad tickets and told him to bring his wheelchair son right on up.
Us kids were embarassed. We imagined that everyone standing in line might somehow know how unjustly we had gotten our tickets. "But dad," someone said, "When we go up, the museum staff will see there is no kid in a wheelchair." Dad said "No way. The place is a zoo, the staff won't know when we hand over our tickets how we got them. And they are all overwhelmed by the crowds."
Dad was right. We all ran up those stairs, entered the museum and saw King Tut.
It was, I acknowledge, a fascinating show. I had read about King Tut's tomb several times. It was nice to actually see such amazing antiquities.
I carried the sting of mild shame for a little while but not too long. The exhibit was so interesting that I forgot about the dishonorable way my dad had gotten us to the top of that very, very long line.
my rock is still rollling
"There is no sun without shadow and it is essential to know the night." Albert Camus on Sisyphus.
"The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart." Albert Camus on Sisyphus.
"The rock is still rolling." Albert Camus on Sisyphus.
My rock is still rolling, I thought as I lay in bed this morning.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
no separation when we love w/heart & soul
Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes, because for those who love with heart and soul, there is no separation.
~ Rumi
Rilke: love your solitude
“Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away... and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast.... be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.... and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
W.B. Yeats on magic
The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our sense to grow sharper.
-- W.B. Yeats
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
love is better
“You can never know anyone as completely as you want. But that’s okay, love is better.”
-- Caroline Paul, in Lost Cat
hold the gate open
It seems counter-intuitive to romantics and those who feel ready to partner when someone walks away from a beautiful love connection. But some people can only handle a half love because whole love shines a light on their dark places. Real intimacy requires real presence, and if someone isn't ready to be truly here on an individual level, they will find it very difficult to manage all the triggers that come up when real love comes. Only a small few can hold the gate open when profound love enters. A blessed and courageous few.
-- Jeff Brown
