Spirits

Having been enthralled like many millions by the Harry Potter series, I also became ensnared by children and young adult literature. Today I finished reading Nancy Farmer's The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm set in Zimbabwe in the year of 2194. It is an intriguing future world intermixing such things as: evil genetically engineered blue monkeys; a wasteland being mined for rare plastic; a sequestered preserve in the middle of a bustling city with no modern technology; a mile-high building which is a vertical city in itself and spirits of ancestors, animals and the land. The characters of this delightful book are just as varied and colorful, but, dear reader, you can read more about that yourself by reading the link provided.

What I am most interested in discussing right now is spirits. In the book the living are constantly aware of the spiritual realm. Most important of all the spirits was the mhondoro: the lion spirit or spirit of the land. Everyone living in Zimbabwe belonged to the mhondoro, every creature that had ran, ate, played, hunted, loved and died on the land belonged to the mhondoro.

How many of us now are trying to reconnect with such a spirit in whichever land we call home? No matter how sleek our architecture or how powerful our artificial intelligence we all need to feel connected to the very essence of life in some way. Some of us only need to dig into the moist earth and foster growth, others need to explore the oceans, others pound into dough like their grandmother before them, others may hike trails or search for another bird and still others surround themselves in the sounds, motions and rituals of devotion and worship. What they all search for is a sense of belonging. Belonging necessitates relationships--a sense of community and participation in something greater than the individual.

I am a practical and dubious person when it comes to spirituality and the unexplained, or at least I was. Still, I am moved by more than the tangible. It took generations to create a modern life. Perhaps those before us linger and matter more than we realize. With each person we encounter we imprint a bit of ourselves on them--some more than others. We never know the full impact of a life: how we inspire another and what our words, actions or mere presence means.

It is strange to imagine, dear reader, that your life may impart such significance well into the future...that your spirit joins those before you and will be joined by those following you.


P.S. When I was searching for images using "spirit" as my keyword, I discovered this hauntingly beautiful photograph by Diane Varner (click on link to see the photo). Enjoy clicking through the rest of her photography of nature.

Watery Reflections

In the shower I ruminate. I am sure there are others who are more pleasantly engaged, but I think. Sometimes the thoughts are refreshing like the hot water hitting my skin and drenching my hair. Other times the thoughts in my mind scald. Still, I think about my life, who I am, of family, of friends, of silly things like cardamom or cartoons, of fairy tales and horrifyingly real issues, of beauty, of ugliness, of greater world issues and small, petty concerns of my own.

Now that I write on this blog I think of possible blog entries: books to discuss, moments in my life I want to capture in words and some images, films to recount, ideas to explore, loves to expose upon and difficulties to address.

Yesterday's shower I reflected upon how sensual and sexy food can be. When I say sexy, I mean the less sexualized meaning--it is seductive, lush and riveting much like how my grandpa calls my purple velour chairs sexy (he calls most things purple "sexy" which always makes me laugh in delight, but more on my grandpa and purple at a later date). This thought germinated from all the magazines, food blogs, cookbooks, food focused shows, food memoirs and photos of food I have consumed in my life not to mention the actual act of tasting, smelling and touching food and yet what really inspired this train of thought was the night before (Saturday night) I caught a bit of Gabriel Iglesias's Hot and Fluffy comedy special in which he highly sexualized his love of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. I felt slightly sick along with amused by the blatant doughnut eroticism, but there is certainly a granule of truth in what he was saying (anyone else remember the green M&M commercial? I am no prude, but I did not want to associate green M&M's and teenage boys fantasies). Food is often a substitute for affection, an expression of interest (chocolates for instance) or a prelude.

For me one magazine exemplifies beauty in food and cooking: Donna Hay Magazine from Australia. The photographs and food styling are so exquisite, simple and tempting I call them food porn (not a term I coined in anyway) as for anyone the least interested in food is immediately craving fresh, flavorful food and for those with even an inkling for cooking will be inspired to experiment in the kitchen. Donna Hay Magazine revitalizes commonplace food like mushrooms, grains of salt or pasta and at least for me, conjures up a childish zeal.

The visual appeal of Donna Hay Magazine led to a bit of reflecting on 300 which I saw Saturday on dvd. I meant to see 300 in the theater like I did Sin City, but for whatever reason it never happened. The story did not stir me all that much, although Spartan culture does interest me (I did take some courses on military history after all). The plot is a common tale of honor, betrayal, love, sacrifice and the reverberations of such sacrifice, but oh, dear reader, visually it is magnificent! As I have stated before, I am easily charmed by what I see and 300 is a feast. Like Sin City, there is great beauty juxtaposed and therefore heightened by great ugliness. The world of 300 is like Greek myth: ripe, terrible, violent, gory, fantastical, powerful, hedonistic and surreal.

During today's shower I thought upon my last entry and the comments. Honesty is often harsh and when someone lets you into their personal thoughts, fears, insecurities and feelings, dear reader, you will find things you do not care for or wish to know. As my mom says, people are sticky. I am no different. In my attempt to become a better person I do venture into the darker realms of my self. Even at the best of times I am not entirely lighthearted. It is my belief that only by understanding, cataloguing and forgiving my faults and who I have been may I be able to accept all of me and improve myself. I have made a lot of progress because I am treating my younger self as I try to treat others: with respect, compassion and acceptance. I am not ashamed of who I was or what I thought. That was how it was. Who I was then allowed me to become who I am now and who I am now will inform who I am to be and dear reader, I have big aspirations. I have always thought a little too big, expected too much and that is more than a little of my problem. Still, not to dream big (and also more than possibly crash hard), no matter the reality and the ramifications, would negate what I am coming to realize is who essentially I am....

I wish I could somehow take notes of the shower mental jaunts because I tend to forget the details much like dreams upon waking. I hope, dear reader, you find rejuvenation or serenity during your next venture the shower or bathtub.

Me, Two Years Ago

This entry was written on May 25, 2005 when I originally set up this blog and saved for all this time in draft form. I am posting it even though it is a little too raw and insightful about my outlook on my life then and it also isn't a complete post, but it was real and something I experienced. I am amazed at how much I am the same and also different since that day some 2 years ago. It truly is a snapshot into who I was at the moment in time. Dear reader, I hope you too can look back on your life with some kindness towards your younger self and with a little more hope and wisdom.

Due to another blogging site no longer allowing comments without signing up here I am blogging for the first time. Call me selfish and also sadistic because I have nothing to say of any interest to anyone, but still I inflict my writing on others. I can only hope this will be just be a self-indulgence that few people care about.

With that thought in mind, I am going to write what I want to write for my personal edification. Let me begin with the truths I live with. One, I know very little and therefore feel very small and damned stupid most the time. Two, I do not feel my age and never have--when you rarely hit the milestones others usually live by, how do you mark your life and progress? Three, I am constantly in a state of confusion and befuddlement. Three, I am both arrogant and self-depreciating and they feed off each other. Four, I believe in few things. Five, I am completely, utterly emotionally unsavvy--a dog has more sense than I do. Six, I am not certain about anything anymore, if I ever was. Seven, the only constant in my life is inconstancy. Eight, I have no direction. Nine, I am a perfectionist who realizes it is impossible to be perfect and yet can't or won't stop harping on all my faults. Ten, I have innumerable faults and a handful of real positive traits.

Hmm, there seems to be a theme. Mostly that I stumble through life and hate the fact that I stumble. I dislike being imperfect. I dislike emotions...or rather I dislike my emotions. And I am terrible at living. I mean I sometimes see myself objectively and am horrified by inability to do anything. I am paralyzed by a fear of doing something wrong, I no longer do much of anything and therefore I am wasting my life in most people's opinions. When not emeshed in the emotional deluge, I can honestly laugh at how much of a fool I am...I am not funny, but if you were playing a game to see how uninvolved a person can be in their own life I would be a great model. I ponder this, but I do not want to feel it. I am tired of being me. I was tired of being me when I was 4 and it hasn't gotten much better.

Friday

Dear reader, I typed away yesterday on a draft blog entry and then I lost momentum. My track record had been so beautifully consistent before I let it slip. Ah well, I did warn you that I was an inconsistent person (a dabbler), something I have much lamented about, but am trying to come to terms with at present.

Some of us are just innately erratic--going 0 to 60 one minute in one direction and then going upside down in another minute and then lazing about in yet another moment. I admit it is frustrating and I have on more than one occasion deserved the "flighty" moniker. In fact in middle school when I spent a lot of time out in the sun and had a golden hue, I was dubbed a ditzy blonde airhead. As long as friends also feed me Airhead candies, I didn't mind so much (it was not untrue after all).

It also doesn't help that I am not always present. I don't mean to have my mind focus somewhere beyond or backwards in the past that is where it naturally wanders and it requires an insane amount of will to focus on things I rather not: chores; sorting through my possessions; accounting; future negative ramifications of this precise action or that; car maintenance; maintenance of anything really; contacting someone I feel I have wronged in anyway, etc.

I remember as a teenager faced with the cleaning of the bathrooms every Friday afternoon after school I would be distracted and entranced by things that usually bored me--everything became exotic and mesmerizing when it suddenly became something I shouldn't do. My will is mightily weak, dear reader. I played cards, read books I previously discarded, noticed the patterns on trinkets, organized perfumes in order of height, tested the acoustics of my parents' bathroom and looked in the mirror trying to determine the color of my hair or eyes. All truly inane things another time and place, but on a Friday late afternoon or early evening, so much brighter than scrubbing out the tub or vacuuming the stairs.

Thankfully Fridays nights are now blissfully peaceful. There is nothing I must get done and no chores hanging over my head until the following morning. Fridays I am entirely too tired to worry about anything but relaxation. In this it is good to be an adult.

Have a lovely Friday night, dear reader!

Summer Under the Stars Begins

During the month of August every year TCM runs its Summer Under the Stars. Each day is dedicated to a chosen movie actor and each year the stars are different although there usually are superstars that show up each year (like Spencer Tracy, Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn), although this year there are fewer of these than previous years. Dear reader, I am sure you will be amused to know that I was nearly in raptures when I found out there would be a day dedicated to Vincent Price this year. I am an odd duck.

Summer Under the Stars is kicked off today with renowned raven-haired beauty, Elizabeth Taylor. I grew up believing Elizabeth Taylor one the greatest beauties of all time as my mom was a fan. Through the years I have seen several of Elizabeth Taylor's films from the time she was a young girl through her later years. I enjoy her sultry screen presence in the 1950's and 1960's best. Who can forget Maggie the Cat? Or more recently I saw a deliciously strange Southern gothic film Reflections in a Golden Eye co-starring Marlon Brando which I am convinced was an inspiration for American Beauty.

Before coming into work I caught the tail end (no pun intended) of one of Taylor's earlier films, Courage of Lassie (strangly enough the collie's name in the film was Bill and not Lassie, but you can read more about that if you are interested by clicking the link for the movie) which is one of those child and their dog movies. I feel more than a little sheepish to admit I am easily swayed by the emotional manipulation found in these films. Ah well, I am a sap. I only have to think of the ending scene of My Dog Skip to become damp-eyed.

Oh, and for those who enjoy reading blogs about movies, here is TCM's with several contributors and they cover a gambit of interesting topics related to film: Movie Morlocks.